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littlebitlizbit · 4 years

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The Two Year Miracle

Tinker... Where do I begin? With his spirit, his sass? His grumble meow, or his cooing purr? The crook at the top of his long broken tail, or his blown out oracle eye? There are so many feelings and emotions that his name brings up, and I hope that I have the words to get them out right...

So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning.

About two and a half years ago my household lost one of our cats to old age. Our other cat, Rufus, was never a huge fan of his late sibling, but he was still used to anothers cat’s company. I wanted to bring him in a new friend, but knew that financially it would be a stretch. I have a rare genetic disorder that gets in the way of full time work, and vet bills, especially for older cats, tend to add up... but still, Ruffie needed a companion. I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt. It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs. I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates. I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home. It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much.

And then the boys were home.

Smigeon pranced around the house like he was the happiest prince. He LOVED water, like would let the tap drip on his head he loved it so much (even tried to jump into the bath with me once.) Rufus was wary of Smigeon, there were a couple hisses, but for the most part didn’t seem to mind him. Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space. That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before.

Sure, I’ve had some great cats, amazing cats, sweet silly cats. One of my favourite cats growing up was exceptional, Taz. He was a rescue, a smushed faced himalayan persian, who would jump from the floor up to my stomach then from stomach to shoulder and perch there. He’d give me kisses and hugs, sat on my lap every meal and whenever I was on a couch. He slept at my feet and used to love to sit on my chest and just stare at me, purring. He was the cat that made me fall in love with grumpy old man cats... but he has long since passed and I didn’t think I’d ever get that lucky again.

I was wrong.

As the days went by, Tinker thrived. Him and Rufus seemed to be bonding exceptionally fast, and he would devour any food that was put in front of him. He loved fresh water, and would drink loudly while padding the floor, and then would put his paw right into his mug. Oh yes, he drank out of a Batman mug, he wouldn’t drink out of a bowl, but the mug was his jam. Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home.

He and Smigeon did not come from a safe/loving home. Tinker had scarring that showed not only a once broken tail, but also ribs. Some of his teeth were broken, and he wasn’t born blind, but one of his eye was completely blown out. Both cats were surrendered after a raid, completely matted and dehydrated. It boils my blood to think that some people can be so cruel... Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2 to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day. During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly.

Finally, after getting the final check/ok from the vets, the boys quarantine was over. (Funny side story, during that visit Tiker needed to have bloodwork done... I could hear him yowling down the hall, and when they brought him back in the vet tech was wearing a fully padded suit, and plastic neck and face guard. She basically threw him at me...poor feral guy, but was calm the second he was back in my arms) Tinker was the first out of the room, slowly but surely relishing in his new freedom. Rufus was a little more cautious upon exiting the room, but cautious is kind of his default.

Slowly but surely more of Tinker’s personality started to come out, as he blossomed. We’d now had him for about three months, and he was showing no signs of slowing down...in fact quite the opposite. After watching him one morning accurately swat at and chase a fly, I realized how good his hearing was. The pet store near me sold these crinkle balls, that made the slightest noise while being batted around. As soon as I dropped it for him, a new Tinker was unleashed. He chased and batted around that thing with the energy and accuracy of a kitten. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could the vet. On his next check up they were pleased at his weight gain, and the fact that his fur was starting to grow back in (the exact same shade as Rufus, who knew!?). His tumour wasn’t growing, but it also wasn’t shrinking, so he was put on some pain meds to make him a little more comfortable. He became even more active after that. It’s funny, he would sing, literally sing and coo to his crinkle ball wherever he would catch it and carry it around in his mouth all proud like. If he’d lose it under some furniture, we’d have to go on our hands and knees around the house to see what he lost it under, because he would cry if he couldn’t find it. Finally I bought him a pack of 12 online, so that if he lost it, we could just pop him out another. Well that didn’t work out.... turns out this one crinkle ball in particular was his baby, and no matter what, we couldn’t trick him into a different one.

As winter started to melt into spring, and we started to let Tinker out into the front yard. It’s completely fenced in, and I'd sit with him while he explored, sniffing everything he could, with a lust for life. When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him.

Before I knew it, a whole year had gone by with this little miracle. I was falling more and more in love with him as time went on, all the while painfully aware that every moment with him was a gift. He started to get a bit more grumbly, and eventually started developing mouth ulcers, apparently something common in cats with stomach cancer. During a check up the vet said it might be time to let him go, but he was still super active. Still eating and drinking a ton, still purred when getting love, and still played actively with his crinkle ball. We decided to treat the ulcers as best we could, and upped his CBD dose. The vet said that if the ulcers didn’t shrink with this treatment, that it might be time to let him go. I knew his lust for life, but alo didn’t want him to suffer. I remember getting him home, and telling him that I would fight for his life as long as he did. I know that cats can’t understand our language, but I feel like some of them are really excellent at picking up intent. He would always look me square in the eye, with whatever vision he had left, and seemed to be intently listening. He would talk back often too, it was pretty incredible. That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going.

I started working from home, and that really pleased Tinker, though he became even more bonded to me than I thought possible. It got to the point where I'd open the bathroom door, and there he’d be, sitting like a patient dog, waiting to crawl back into my lap. He took his meds like a champ, and just like that, we were passing the two year mark of bringing him home.

Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.

He started to pee on the floor once in awhile, around the litter box, rather than in it. He prefered to do his business outside, but if someone wasn’t around to take him out, he would let his displeasure be known this way. He started coming and asking for his pain meds at the exact time he was supposed to get them, if not a little earlier. He was getting slower and slower, and I knew that the time was near. I started to build up this steel wall of protection around my heart, because everytime I thought of life without him, I’d feel this overwhelming sense of loss, and couldn’t stop from crying uncontrollably. We took things a day at a time, and things were mostly normal, other than him getting a little slower. A couple of days after my birthday he was playing with his crinkle ball. The next day he didn’t eat much, but still drank a ton and went outside. The next day he didn’t eat anything, but still drank and went outside, albeit slowly. Three days after playing with his crinkle ball he had trouble standing. I looked him in the eyes and could see that my little miracle, the grumpy old man of my life, the cat love of my life, was done. I called the vet, and found out that our favourite Doctor was just getting home from Japan that night. The receptionist booked him in to be put to sleep the next day and I hoped, selfishly, that our she could make it in. I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him.

Afterwards I felt strangely numb, but also calm. I did what I had set out to do, two years previous, and was given so much more than I ever could have hoped for. As I’m typing this I’m crying, and have had to take multiple breaks. Knowing that such a special relationship is over, in these forms, has been harder than I’d care to admit. Being prepared to lose him from the get go hasn’t made grieving any easier. Greif is such a funny thing, that comes for you when you’re least expecting it. I’m bursting into tears much more than I’m comfortable with, but I know things will get easier with time. I’ll never stop missing him, but will always be forever grateful for every single bonus day we had together.

Rufus is doing ok now, though he is grieving too. His tail had a droop to it, and was yeowling the nights away... So I did what I did the last time he lost a sibling... He now has a new PF brother, Clue. I may not have much money, or energy, but I saw first hand the difference love and affection can have on a life. Clue is an all black fluffy guy, just like Smigeon was, and has asthma. He’s drooly and sweet, and him and Rufus have already started sleeping on the couch together. There is no way that Tinker could ever be replaced. That’s a hole in my soul that I don’t think will ever fully heal...but knowing that I’m making a difference in another life helps. There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.

My time with Tinker taught me to really appreciate life, and see things to be thankful for with crystal like clarity. He’s taught me compassion and patience on a new level, and gave me a lifetime's worth of cat love memories.

Think of all that your next rescue could teach you, and start looking. Nothing would make me happier than if this story can inspire you to open your heart, and home. It can be hard, it can be painful, but I promise you, it’s worth it. Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue. http://katiesplaceshelter.com/ Thank you.

Love always,

Elizabeth xoxo

#animal rescue #adoptdontshop #testimonial #catlove #silver lining

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sakichi56 · 6 years

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Servamp Character Appreciation week Day 1 Part 3:

His father acted extremely kind toward the officers for helping him get his son back, and he was even nice to Ash, until they got home behind closed doors anyway. That was when he went back to being his old self that Ash knew him as. He immediatly dashed the boys hopes of having a normal life with his father. It wasn't bad enough that he had ruined Ash's life, but he had gotten that innocent and kind woman arrested for nothing, ruining her life too. This was why he never tryed to make friends, it would only end badly. Dragging others down and ruining their lives.

His father laughed cruely as Ash realized how futile it had been trying to start a new life. He would never escape his father as long as he lived. And his father was quick to tell him as much, respouting all the same things he had told him up until he left, that he was a useless, hopeless piece of trash that only destroyed everyone and everything he came into contact with. Something inside the boy broke then, as he resigned himself to take the beating that his was so eager to deliver. Quietly taking every blow, verbally and physically. It continued for an entire hour until the man tired himself out and left the boy crumpled, bleeding and gasping for air on the floor of the living room, to retire to his room for the night. But not before he promised that he would pick up where he left off tomorrow since it was the anniversary of the day his beloved was taken from him by that monster of a son of his.

Ash didn't even have the strength to move himself to the couch before he passed out. His last thought was that his father was right, that he was an awful monster that only existed to ruin peoples lives. And he hated himself for it. When he woke up it was 7 in the morning, staggering to his feet, he stumbled out the front door with no specific destination in mind. He just wanted to leave that place with bad memories behind. He realized however, that no matter where he went, the memories would follow him. The only way to erase the memories, was to erase himself from this world, to end it all.

So that is what he decided to do. It would get rid of the pain, and it would keep him from destroying anyone else's life. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to do it, but he knew he was going to die today. The same day that his mother died, the same day he born. It was ironic really, to have your birthday and your deathday be one and the same. Just 18 years in this world and he was already done with it, it was too much of a pain, too troublesome. So he kept walking he thought about slitting his wrist, but that would be slow and painful, as would throwing himself into a river to drown himself, he had already felt enough pain in his life, to the point that he didn't even scream anymore.

He just wanted to end it all fast and painless.

Somewhere along the way he must have passed out again, because he came to in a dirty alley with stray cats feeding from the nearby dumpster as his only company. "Life's hard even for you huh? But even still, at least your cute. I'm sure it would be easier to live as something so small and loveable like you. Ah, maybe in my next life I can be a cute little house cat. That sounds like a nice life, being able to sleep whenever you want, have all your meals handed to you, and get all the pets and attention you want. Yeah, that sounds like a great life to me."

One of the cats meowed back almost like it was trying to answer him, and he almost laughed at the pure silliness of the situation, talking to a dirty stray about wanting to die and become a cat loved by its owner. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall of the building behind him to rest and build up some strength to go on, or maybe if he was lucky he would just die here. That was when a man with hair almost the exact same color as his peeked his head around the corner of the building and saw him. He said that he thought he heard someone talking and he wanted to make sure that everything was alright. When Ash only scoffed and told him to leave him alone the man ignored him and walked up right beside him.

"How could I just leave you alone? You look awful. You need help, your parents must be worried sick."

Scoffing again Ash told the man that it was his father who did this to him and that he didn't want help, he just wanted to die. The man smiled at him and said that he was going to help him, and for a moment the teen thought this would play out just like it did with Ms.Brown, the man began to lift him off the ground and throw him over his shoulder as Ash struggled against him. "Shhh. I'm helping you. There is no reason to be afraid little one." Was all he heard before he had a rag shoved over his mouth and nose that reeked of chloroform, as the world went black he thought that god couldn't be any crueller than this.

When he woke up again, he was strapped to a table, there were dead bodies piled in the corner of the lab, and tubes of various colored fluids all over the place. Well, if he were to die here it would all be fine with him.

But it seemed the man who brought him here had different plans. He told him it was a 50/50 chance, either he died like he wanted, or he proved the mans experiments successful. He shook his head at the man, he didn't want to be a part of some wack-jobs experiments. He just wanted to die. The man of course ignored him and stepped forward with a vial of some strange liquid, it smelled awful and tasted even worse as the man forced it down his throat.

It burned, the pain was worse than any beating he had ever taken from his father, it was so bad that a wave of silent tears began to roll down his cheeks as he writhed under the straps securing him to the table before going deathly still, his eyes burned, begging him to shut them, his whole body felt like it was shutting down and for a minute he thought he got his wish. Eyes sliding shut as his conciousness faded.

But no, fate still had more instore for Ash it seemed, he was very disappointed when he returned to the world of the concious. Opening his eyes slowly, he turned his head to see the man taking notes while looking him over, almost as if he were apraising him. "Well, it seems like it worked. I just need to run a couple tests. What was your name sleepy boy?"

He glared as best he could at the man before deciding it was pointless to try and fight him when he was still strapped to a table. "Ash." He mumbled.

"Ah, yes Ash, well from noww on you will be known as Sleepy Ash of Sloth. Congratulations, boy, you are my first success! The first in the set! What a joyous day it is. Now hold still and open you mouth." That was a strange command, but the boy obliged, he disn't know what the man was talking about, Sleepy Ash of Sloth? What kind of nickname was that? Was it because of the bags under his eyes? Maybe if he played along he would get an explanation. "Perfect, they are there, and your eyes have turned red, fascinating. Then the only thing left is to see if you are truly immortal."

Wait. What? Immortal? But he wanted to die! A second later the man had shot him through the chest 3 times, it hurt, but not as bad as it hurt when he had that fluid shoved down his throat. After 10 minutes the wounds had closed up all on their own.

Apparently passing the maniacs tests. The man then set about explaining to him that he was now the first of something called a 'Servamp', some kind of vampire butler. It all sounded extremely farfetched, like some kind of anime. The man was exstatic. He began to tell him that he would go on to do great things in his immortal existence, that he would meet and serve many humans by obtaining an item from them, as well as a new name and that once those two things were done he just had to drink some of their blood and a contract would be formed. Some kind of bond that would make him stronger.

"Oh, and I heard you in the alley. You said that you wanted to be a cat in your next life, well guess what? This is your next life! And your prayers have been answered! Since you are a vampire, you cannot maintain your humanoid form in the sunlight, so you transform into an animal to deal with the suns rays. And the animal that you get to transform into is a cat! Who knows what else you will be able to do? This is truly marvelous! Don't you think Sleepy Ash? Hahahaha!!!"

Marvelous he says. What's so marvelous about all this? Now he was stuck being this mans puppet forever. He just wanted to die and he couldn't even have that now because he was immortal. He really was a monster now. YES A MONSTER. What was that? DADDY'S LITTLE FREAK. HELLO SLEEPY ASH. He blinked and was suddenly brought into a strange new world, everything seemed to have a hazy static to its washed out colors. And there was a cat with a stictched shut mouth and large pupilless red eyes. ITS NICE TO MEET YOU. LOOKS LIKE WE WILL BE ROOMMATES SLEEPY ASH. "What are you talking about? Who are you? And where am I? What is this place?"

#Servamp Week #Sleepy Ash/Kuro

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ghostingnovel · 7 years

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Chapter Two

“Daddy, do you know what I’m thinking?”

Sammi had escaped her thirteenth birthday party and sat behind her house, clutching a birthday candle she’d stolen from her cake. The candle flickered, annoyed.

Of course I can. I live in your mind.

“Okay, what am I thinking then?”

The candle sighed – a very peculiar thing for a candle to do – before replying, You’re very happy that your father is able to be here for your birthday party.

“And? What else am I thinking?”

… And you love your father, very much. Even though I am dead.

Sammi smiled, holding the candle tightly – before suddenly dropping it, startled by the hot wax dripping onto her finger. She let out an anguished cry as the candle extinguished on the ground. She hurriedly picked the candle back up, trying to wipe dirt from the hot, sticky wax, even if it burned a little.

“Dad? I’m so, so sorry,” she frantically apologized, “Are you alright?”

Of course I’m alright, Samantha. My essence isn’t contained in a silly candle. Now, get back to your party, the voice responded. After a moment, it added, But Samantha?

“Yeah, dad?”

I love you too. Happy birthday.

It didn’t matter that Sammi lived directly above her uncle’s bar; she still managed to be late to work.

“Hey Samantha, I could use a hand down here you know,” Uncle Sam’s voice called up to her, followed by the muffled voices of patrons that were already strolling in at ten AM. Sammi quickly swished her mouthwash, spat, and shouted back.

“Be down in a minute. Do you know where my hair dryer is?”

“Check your brother’s room. You have five minutes.”

Sammi cursed, stubbed her toe on her way to her brother’s room, cursed again, and immediately found her hair dryer on her brother’s nightstand. Finding it wasn’t hard, as her brother’s room was neatly organized and the bright blue hair dryer was the only thing that didn’t match. Her brother's room was as neat and well put-together as her brother was as a person. He had even found time to make his bed before he left this morning.

Sammi scowled at her comparative inferiority and returned to the bathroom to dry her hair.

By all accounts, despite being almost twenty-six, Sammi didn’t look like someone who should be working at a bar. Everyone assumed that the accident her father died in had somehow stunted her growth, but whatever the cause, it had left Sammi at just a hair over five feet, with facial features that made most people ask where she went to high school. It didn’t help that her ghost problem had left her chronically pale and chronically thin – not pale and thin in the pretty way, but more "The Fault in Our Stars". Polite people called her "petite" and "youthful", but she heard the words “waifish” and “sickly” thrown around enough that she knew better. Once her hair was dry she padded on some blush with a fat makeup brush, but it didn’t do much to help her complexion.

Besides giving off the impression that she might snap in half if the wind blew a little too hard, Sammi had two features that were noticeable: Her hair and her eyes. Her hair was noticeable by choice, dyed a shade of pastel pink that she’d been sporting since her mother had been alive. She kept it pink because her mother used to dye it this color while Sammi was still in elementary school, and after her mother’s death Sammi continued to wear the pink as a memento. Sammi's natural hair color was probably some shade of blonde similar to her brother’s, but she couldn’t remember it at this point.

Her second prominent feature, and the feature she hated the most, were her eyes. One iris was a normal, albeit sharp, shade of icy blue that she shared with her uncle; the other was black. Not black as in "a dark shade of brown" black, but black as in "doesn't reflect light" black and "there is no visible distinction between the iris and the pupil" black. She used to have two blue eyes. She also used to be able to turn off her powers. The black eye, and the powers that never turned off, and the dozens of short, pale scars on her hands and arms, were the parting gifts of the fire.

In any case, her mismatched eyes made people very unlikely to maintain eye contact with her for very long. Even her uncle and brother would usually look away rather quickly. Only the Reaper Diana didn’t seem perturbed by her eyes, which was one of the many reasons that Sammi liked her so much. A family friend had gifted Sammi with a medical eye patch to help Sammi get through school without being bullied too badly, but it itched and destroyed Sammi's depth perception, so she hadn't worn it much recently.

“Samantha Eliana Gwendolyn Parish, if you’re not down here in sixty seconds, I’m docking your pay,” her uncle’s voice called up the stairs again, louder this time.

"That's only a threat if you start paying me," Sammi shouted back. Still, she didn't like being late. She tossed her mostly dry hair into a pastel bun on top of her head, rushed to her room for a moment to put on a stray t-shirt from the floor, and sprinted down the stairs.

“Oh, look who finally joined us,” Uncle Sam greeted. “However," he added, pointing down at her feet, "You’re still wearing your slippers.”

Dammit.

By noon the little pub was already half full, the nocturnal types getting their drinks in before going home to sleep the afternoon away. This was commonplace. After all, there were few places in the city limits that serviced non-humans. At midday the bar was filled with vampires, ghouls, and all sorts of magical folk who worked night jobs nearby. They passed Sammi as they entered: She was out front, reattaching the welcome sign that had been knocked out of place by a very tall and probably drunk patron.

Probably a giant, Sammi guessed. Or a werewolf. Regardless of who or what, the sign was knocked down enough that Sammi wondered frequently and loudly why her uncle didn’t just affix the damn thing above the door like a normal shop owner, but her uncle claimed the hanging sign provided “ambiance”, whatever that meant. Sammi knew her uncle was just too cheap to buy a new sign. Still, he’d have to soon – the first S in “Schrodinger’s Beer” was about ready to fall off, and the thing hadn’t lit up properly in ages.

“Did the sign fall off again? We ought to get that thing fixed above the door.”

At the sound of the voice, Sammi put down the battered sign and the hammer she was holding and waved. She also used the opportunity to wipe flaking paint and grease off her hands with a napkin she’d snagged from inside.

“Yeah, well, tell your fellow co-owner that," Sammi sighed, "He might actually listen to you.”

Jonathan Graves, the co-owner of Schrodinger’s Beer and Uncle Sam's longest business partner, was a bear of a man, tall enough that Sammi might have suspected him of knocking down the sign if the man wasn’t so careful. Despite his hulking appearance, Graves was quietly polite, fastidiously organized, and was the main reason that the bar hadn’t gone under ages ago. Sammi’s uncle was excellent at bringing customers in, but it was Graves who really handled all the details.

Graves also had a missing eye, and a story to go with it that changed every time someone asked. Between the eye, his general aura of intimidation, and his incredible attention to detail, Sammi had a theory that he was probably ex-mafia, but she never bothered asking. Over the years she and Graves had bonded over the fact that no one could look either of them in the eye for any length of time. They even had staring contests sometimes, when the bar was less busy.

Graves made the expression of a man doing very advanced math in his mind before nodding quietly to himself. He gestured for Sammi to set the sign aside.

“Leave that for now. I think it’s about time we ordered a new one, anyway. We have the profits. Is your uncle inside?”

“Of course, Jamie too," Sammi replied, smiling wryly, "Where else do you think we’d all be on a Monday afternoon?”

Entering Schrodinger’s Bar was a lot like entering a seasonal Halloween store. You see, while Uncle Sam didn’t have magical talent himself, he enjoyed surrounding himself with it; he also was a master of satire and loved cheap, kitschy things and overused stereotypes. The bar was the embodiment of the above ideals: it had broomsticks propped against the entryway, accompanied by smiling ceramic pumpkins and plastic knee-high gravestones ; cobwebs in the corners that he claimed were fake but probably weren’t; several ugly paintings of witches, werewolves, and vampires that he found in a clearance rack at the local thrift store; and, of course, an abundance of candles - that weren’t actually candles, but rather remote controlled replicas that could be activated at the push of a button. The finishing touch was the bar’s mascot, Schrodinger, a black cat that was very large in height, fluff, and girth. He wandered between the tables freely, meowing and acting as the bar’s janitor by eating any food that fell on the floor. He was very good at his job.

Schrodinger greeted them with a yowl when they walked in, purring loudly and nearly bowling Sammi over when he collided with her legs. Sammi knelt to pet the massive feline before he trotted off again. Sammi watched as he found his way under a nearby table, where he curled up under the chair of a very large, very ugly man who was sloppily eating a burger.

Halfling, probably, Sammi guessed, sizing up the man. On his way to being a troll. To Schrodinger he was merely an excellent food source.

“Sammi!”

Sammi was almost bowled over again, from the other direction, as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her up in a bear hug. She laughed, struggling only half-heartedly against the attack.

“Put me down you dumbass, we’re at work,” she chided. She was quickly returned to the floor, her hair was ruffled, and the person who had grabbed her smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I just was excited to see you.”

“You’re always excited to see everyone, Jamie. Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re just always excited in general.”

James Parish, Sammi’s younger, but significantly bigger, brother, was a constantly smiling, blonde haired, blue-eyed man who would probably be mistaken for a prince if he ever set foot in Disneyland. In his early twenties, James was too young to remember his and Sammi’s parents in any detail. He couldn’t remember their deaths, either. Sammi guessed that was why he was everything Sammi wasn’t: Happy, healthy, attractive, charismatic, and entirely non-magical.

Sammi loved her brother. She also had a tiny, jealous, bitter part of her soul that couldn't stand him, and especially hated how inferior he made her feel simply by existing. This was a part of herself that she zealously hid – but hiding it still didn’t suppress the gnawing shame.

To Sammi, the worst part was that, if she ever told James about how she felt, he’d probably just forgive her. He was that kind of person.

She gave James another hug, pushing away the unpleasant thoughts.

“So Sammi, did you get the sign out front fixed?” James asked, resting his chin on top of her head. He still had to lean over a bit to do so. Sammi shook her head a little.

“Nah. Graves said that the sign is too far gone.”

“Oh, finally? I thought we were going to be stuck with that ugly thing until this place closes down. Which I don’t see happening for quite a while.”

“Right? But Graves said we’ve made enough profits to get a better sign. I’m pretty excited to not have to fix it every week.”

“Good," Jamie said, and Sammi could hear the grin in his voice, "that means that you’ll have more time to bus tables and serve customers.”

Uncle Sam appeared behind both of them, dressed in a suit, a tie, a hideous hat, and carrying a very overfilled bin of dirty dishes. He passed this plate to Sammi, pointing to the back room where the sink resided.

“Sibling moments are good for business and all, but I’ve got two orders to fill and these to clean. Get back to work, you’re still on the clock.”

Sammi sighed, taking the bin obediently with a nod. Still, as she walked to the kitchen she quietly beckoned Schrodinger. He was thrilled to help clean the plates.

You would already be done with these dishes if you’d use your magic to clean them.

“I prefer to clean them by hand. It relaxes me.”

You promised, Samantha. Practice.

Sammi made a face, sure he could see her just fine even if she couldn't see him. If he had seen her, though, he didn't say anything - just waited patiently. He kept waiting until Sammi grudgingly relented.

"Yes, sir," she sighed, setting the plate and the sponge she was holding aside. She closed her eyes. She breathed.

Using magic was a lot like flipping a sock inside out. First, Sammi reached within to herself, mentally searching and grabbing onto a pinprick of power that she could feel lodged deep within her chest. It felt... kinetic, two magnets pushing away from each other. She grabbed the slippery thing, focusing on holding it by picturing her hand wrapping around it entirely, and pulled it outward.

The magic flipped, now pushing outside her body and attracting things outside of her, inward. Sammi could sense the dishes, the air, the water in the sink, the water pipes below her feet and running through the walls, as if each item had a magnetic charge that pulled all of them toward her chest; she could sense Schrodinger, sitting alert at her side and watching her intently with his giant eyes and quick, tiny heartbeat. She tested each of them, gauging the pressure and the weight of everything. She singled out each of the dishes, the soapy water, and the water coursing through the pipes around her. She breathed again.

Then she pulled on the water in the sink and the dishes, while simultaneously pushing back on the pipes to keep the outside water at bay.

The lights flickered. The dishes spun, getting faster, wrapped in a thin sheath of soapy water until they sparkled and shined. Sammi felt her heart pound faster, thrilled that she was able to maintain, one, then four, then eight micro-spells at once. Once they were clean Sammi began to heat the air, spinning it, using it to dry the dishes she had just cleaned.

Then Schrodinger yowled.

Her concentration collapsed. Sammi cursed, but her words were lost in the sound of crashing dinnerware shattering on the floor. She caught six of the pieces before they fell, quickly throwing out a levitation spell, but a plate and a glass met the hard tile and sent ceramic and glass scattering dangerously over the kitchen floor. Her uncle was there in an instant, quickly throwing open the kitchen door but smart enough to stop before stepping on the glass.

“Aw, hell – James, get the broom, would’ja?” Uncle Sam called, pulling the large black cat out of the wreckage. The cat yowled again. Blushing furiously and tears stinging her eyes, Sammi shook her head, gesturing to her uncle.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can clean it myself,” Sammi insisted, but her uncle waved her off.

“It’s fine, just let Jamie sweep it up. What all was broken?”

“A glass and a plate.”

“That’s not too bad. That’s replaceable and pretty cheap.”

Uncle Sam thought for a moment, but stopped to glance at Sammi, flashing a reassuring smile. It just made Sammi feel worse.

“Hey, no crying sweetheart. It’s fine, honest. Just a couple dumb dishes,” he assured, hefting the large, still agitated cat. “You hurt at all, pumpkin?”

“No.”

“Good, that’s all that matters. Now come out of there, I don’t want you getting cut on any glass.”

Sammi could feel the eyes of the patrons staring at her as she came out. She felt a sudden burst of rage, a desire to cast out a burst of force magic and send them all flying into the walls, just to get their eyes off her. But that was stupid. After all, she wasn’t angry at them. She was just angry at herself, and that she’d broken concentration because of a damn cat.

James passed her with a large broom of the non-witchy variety, flashing a broad smile before going into the kitchen.

“Hey Sammi, besides the glass, things look amazing in here! I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this clean,” he called over his shoulder.

Sammi wanted to be dead.

The disgruntled little witch sat behind the bar and made drinks for the rest of the night. After normal work hours, the place got its second rush: it filled with a pack of werewolves in construction uniforms creased with dirt, witches from various local covens dressed in business attire, fae and changelings with inhuman grace who settled down with flowery drinks and vegan dishes, some more humane vampires settling down with pigs blood and the expressions of those who just got out of bed, and countless others that drifted in and out of the bar for a respite from mundane human society. Eventually a group of Paragons, the police of the magical world, came in and settled down at a large table with glasses of beer and a couple large pizzas. James joined them immediately, pulling up a chair and quickly joining their conversation.

“That boy is still jonesing to be a Paragon one day,” Uncle Sam sighed as he picked up a couple drink orders from Sammi’s station. “That’s gotta be rough. They’ve still never let someone who was non-magical join – too dangerous.”

“Yeah, well if anyone could be the first, it’s Jamie,” Sammi shrugged.

“You ever think about joining them? You could be good at it, you know. And it’d give you a way to hang out with more magic types.”

“Me? A Paragon? Hardly. Besides, I’m too scrawny. I’d get broken in half.”

Her uncle barked out a laugh. "That's probably true."

The real reason Sammi had never become a Paragon was because it required extremely rigorous magical screening, and Sammi’s father had warned that the process would lead to him being severed and reaped. Young Sammi had desperately not wanted that to happen. Then, by the time her and her father’s relationship had deteriorated to the point she wouldn’t mind being severed from her father, Sammi was generally too sickly and too nervous about using her ectomancy to try out. She also assumed that she would be under-qualified.

Besides, most of the Paragons she knew she’d met through the investigation of her father’s death, and she didn’t like the look they gave her. It was too much like pity.

“Hey, earth to Sammi. Get out of your damn head, you’re slowing down on the drinks.”

Sammi scowled, quickly pulling up several more beers before starting to mix some bizarre mixed drink containing elderflower.

“You know, it’s funny. I always assumed that you’d end up being the Paragon or whatever,” Uncle Sam said nonchalantly, coming behind the counter to grab the drinks. “But that’s probably just my bias talking.”

Sammi looked up at her Uncle. “Watch it now, you’re not saying that I’m your favorite child? Jamie would be heartbroken.”

“Of course not, that’s favoritism. But when your dad and I were growing up, he was always the one who was better at everything, so I guess I just assumed the things would be the same with you two,” Uncle Ben sighed, holding the beers on a tray and leaning against the counter, “You know, the kid without the magic getting the short end of the stick and all.”

“Hey, you calling me a failure old man?”

“I'm not, but you are. Oh, don’t give me that, I’ve seen the way you look at James when he’s not looking,” her Uncle snapped, giving her a knowing glare that stoppered the words in her throat before she had the chance to create a comeback. “It’s the same look I gave your dad when the two of us were growing up.

"Look, Pumpkin,” her Uncle continued quietly, leaning a bit closer, “I saw your face today after the dumb thing with the dishes. Honestly I’m just proud that you’re using complex magic again, to hell with a couple plates. So stop being so damn hard on yourself. You’re doing good. And you don’t need to be so jealous of your brother – I’ve been there, and it’s not a good feeling. You’ve just gotta find your niche, you know?”

Uncle Sam straightened up as some of the werewolves began to howl, clearly impatient for the beers Sam was holding. Uncle Sam winked.

“Give yourself a break, kid. You’re doing just fine.”

Sammi felt a little happy, a little sad, and a little offended for the unsolicited advice. She liked to pretend that no one else was aware of her failings.

I’m aware of them too, you know, her father’s voice whispered into her mind nonchalantly.

“Oh, shut up dad.”

Your spellcasting was actually superb today, you know. You are very talented. The complexity with dealing with a city watermain while casting multiple micro-spells is hardly insubstantial. If you simply hone your concentration –

“Dad. Please shut up.”

“You say something, pumpkin?” her Uncle Sam turned from the werewolf pack he was joking with. Sammi waved and shook her head.

“No, everything’s great over here,” Sammi assured. She flashed a smile and vividly imagined killing her father a second time.

That’s rather impolite of you. I was trying to give you a compliment.

“I don’t want your damn compliment,” Sammi responded - under her breath this time.

Fine. In that case, when do you plan on searching for my pocket watch?

“I’ll stop by the precinct after work. They probably have it in evidence.”

Good. Have a lovely day at work, Samantha.

With that the voice in her head went silent, and she was once again alone with her thoughts. The bar seemed oddly loud after that.

“Hey Sammi, hit us with a couple more beers!” James called, still sitting happily – and possibly a little drunkenly – with the Paragons, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the young man next to him who was also grinning. “And maybe another order of fries!”

“Coming right up!” Sammi shouted back. She pulled out some beers, slipped back into the kitchen, nodded at Graves who was taking inventory, and got to work, drowning out everything else with the sound of boiling water. As she worked, she thought about going to the precinct later that day, surprised to realize that it had been almost three years since she’d last visited.

A drop of hot water hit her hand as she dropped the fries into it and she reflexively pulled back, her heart immediately beginning to pound. That was stupid, it was just water. She relaxed, returning to her work.

Still though, especially when she was going back to the precinct, the feeling of the burning water lingered. It brought back the memories of when her dad died: the months of police officers and Paragons investigating the remnants of her home, and the weeks after that her hands had been wrapped in bandages while she healed from burns that ran from her fingers up her arms.

She knew that it was all in her head – she’d been healed by the best medical magicians and mundane doctors in the city, after all – but at times like this, her palms still itched.

“Just find the stupid watch, Samantha,” she whispered to herself, dunking the fries into the water again. “Find the watch, and you can finally leave this all behind you.”

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noinchan · 7 years

Text

KuroFay Drabble: Those words we can’t say

It had almost been a month now. A month since they had officially ended their journey and returned the kid to his princess. Both he and the mage was happy, and also quite proud that they had been able to see it all through. Getting the kid safely back, with his price finally paid. It had been a hard journey, probably harder than the one they had gone through with collecting the princess’ feathers. Yet, none regretted the journey. Kurogane had thought he would have grown homesick, that he would worry about Tomoyo even worse than before as he by his own choice had decided to not return to her yet. But here he was, set to return home to his old home in under a week, and he couldn’t word how he felt.

It was close to the feeling he had at times after losing his parents. A lonely feeling.

He would soon be all alone again.

If he didn’t find words, he would travel back to Nihon all alone. He bites his lips at his own certainty again. Even if he said something, it didn’t mean anything would change. He would probably still end up going alone. The other kid had already sent them an item through Mokona that he could use to travel back to his own, the payment had been traveling with Syaoran, and the last remnants of the ward Tomoyo had once used on him. He hadn’t even known there was anything left of it. He had thought it had been a onetime thing, but it sounded like some good will had remained in the ward, and in a dire situation he could have been saved.

A tired groan, as he rubs his temple. How hard was it to just tell someone he didn’t really mind his company? That he didn’t mind his company to the point that he would actually miss it? At this point, just the thought of leaving the white bun behind made him feel down. As it was now, he was the only one that would be alone after this.

The kids had gotten married, the white bun would remain with them to work as a communication with the other kid and the black bun, and as far as he knew, the mage was remaining with the kids. After all, he had been offered the job as a court magician, as he himself had been offered the job as a court knight. So far only he had said no.

Honestly, it was probably for the best. He kept telling himself.

Fay was better off having the white bun close. They had already gone to a world once where he had been so out of his comfort zone. 6 months without understanding anyone had probably been hard for him. And just who was he to ask Fay come and live with him in a dangerous country? Where you could get killed by demons? And where he couldn’t understand what anyone said, and he would be the only one he knew.

The two of them were just friends after all. It was just that Kurogane had come to enjoy having a friend close. No, maybe it was more that he had a partner? Someone that he trusted with having his back? He felt like he didn’t want to be without that safety anymore. He and Fay had been through hell together. He could never get a bond like that again. However, who was he to even ask Fay to come with him? It was almost selfish to ask.

Just three more days now, and he would get away, and then he didn’t have to feel this pain anymore. Then it would be too late, and he wouldn’t have to think about this choice anymore.

Then there would be no way back.

“Kuro-rin! We are late! The party is starting!” A loud cheerful voice makes him jolt up, as he knew the blonde did not care about knocking, and just barged into his room the second after announcing his arrival.

“It isn’t a party, it is a ceremony to give safe travels or something.” Kurogane complains, as he had been able to strain his thoughts so much he had a headache by now. He wasn’t the sort of person to dwell on things. When he wanted to say something, he said it, he wasn’t used to this sort of stress.

“If there is alcohol served afterwards I call it a party.” Fay laughs, and Kurogane just groans and lets the other pull him along as he seemed eager to go and have some fun. One of the reasons he didn’t think asking would make a difference, was that the mage didn’t seem down about this at all. He was just acting the same as usual. Smiling, being cheerful and not looking like they were going to say goodbye in a few days at all.

“Please say that someone made sure the kids won’t drink anything this time.” Kurogane looks down at the pale slender hand holding unto his arm, fighting his sudden impulse to just grab unto it.

‘I don’t want to be alone’. Just how hard was it to utter those words?! After all this time, Fay was the one he should be able to say it to.

“Well, since they are married now, they can’t be seen as kids anymore, so they won’t listen to daddy’s rule about no drinking anymore.” Fay sings, as he just beams as they walked along. He currently had no worries in the world. Two of the people he loved the most in the entire world had just gotten married, and everyone he cared about were safe. That was more than he had allowed himself to hope when they started this journey.

To him, everything was perfect! And it would just keep getting better. For a while, no one he loved would have to die. Hopefully.

------------------------------------

“If you pretend meow one more time in my direction I will personally put you on a no sake diet!” A soft laughter from the blonde, as he had tried to not do it, but when the eager Sakura and Mokona had started running around mewling again, he had to pick on Kurogane a little again. He would never get over that first time they all drank together. “Honestly.” Kurogane gives his usual sulk as he looks away from the still chuckling Fay. His chest hurt. He would really miss this. The closer the time came, the more he was overwhelmed by a desire to just cry. This had been why he didn’t want to get involved with people, cause then he would care. Then he could suffer loss again.

Even if he had protected everyone, he was still losing everything.

Fay looks worried as Kurogane was clearly feeling down. The others probably didn’t see it, but he did. He could remember how his eyes would sometimes show sadness or worry when they had been preparing for battles. When he went out to fight and didn’t know if he would come back or if he could protect those he wanted to return with him.

“Hey, Kuro-tama.” Fay starts, as the now pouting ninja turns grumpily towards him. “Everything is going to be alright. The kids will be safe, even without you there to protect them. They will be okay.”

Fay didn’t know what he had expected at those words. Maybe that the sour face would fade? That the ninja would stop sitting for hours in his room with his head in his hands, and enjoy the last of the time he had with their small family.

What he hadn’t expected was the quite honest reaction on the other’s face, as he for a split second looked like he wanted to cry.

The mage goes over to panic, before he makes sure no one were looking at them, quite sure Kurogane didn’t want to worry the kids. He had suspected it lately, that Kurogane had been moody because he would miss the kids. It was the sort of guy Kurogane was, he was a big softie.

Honestly, the mage probably noticed before the ninja did how the words had made him react. Slender hands reach for his face with a tissue before he even realized tears had started falling. He had started this journey to get home, but now at the end, he didn’t know where home was anymore! He had gained strength that could protect those he loved, and now he was leaving those people behind? It just didn’t feel right.

Kurogane retired early that night, everyone else than Fay thankfully too drunk to really notice it, as he needed to clear his head a little. He didn’t find himself alone though, as the door opening right away as he had settled down on his bed. A familiar blonde mop of a head peeking in, accompanied by some really enticing sake he had grabbed on the way there.

“Want to try drinking ourselves silly? I still want to see Kuro-wan wan run around on all fours barking.” He chuckles, and skips in as he sees a smile spread across the tired man’s face.

“I told you it Is not going to happen, idiot mage.” Kurogane chuckles, as he accepts the bottle as Fay came over and settled down on the floor with his own bottle. “You will be mewling like an idiot before I even feel breezy!”

“Challenge accepted! The loser has to be a slave to the other for the next month!” Fay complains, and with that the two of them starts drinking, Kurogane not wanting to be the one to break it to him that they didn’t have a month.

They just had another day.

------------------------------------------

“You two don’t look well.” Sakura stammers worried, as the older men had woken up late that day, and both looked really horrible. Maybe the two of them had gotten drunk? Little did she know, the proud warriors had ended up probably emptying the party of alcohol and used the entire night devouring it. Neither of them had even felt breezy, but had ended up laughing and talking about stupid stuff Mokona, Syaoran and Sakura had done through the years. They had been up all night talking. Kurogane was happy actually that Fay had stayed there with him. He had probably needed someone to talk to more than he had thought himself.

Now he would use his last day there with the kids, even the white bun. He had been depressed long enough. Then he would deal with his own problems before he left. Seeing Fay talk about the kids had made him realize just how selfish it had been to even think about making Fay pick who to remain with. He would also be sure he left them in the safest hands. He trusted no one more than Fay, and now he trusted his most treasured people to him. It was how it should be, and he could return to Nihon feeling safe. He would be alone, but that was a price he would have to slowly accept.

The last day passed fast, too fast for his liking. Sakura and Mokona kept begging him to stay, as the brave Syaoran had accepted that his mentor and friend had his own world waiting for him. He knew how hard it was to leave your home behind, and even if he himself could never return to his, he wished Kurogane could return happily to his.

Then his time was up. Because It was a paid for travel, it had to be enacted at the set moment, and there was no way to get more time than set. So, when one of the priests came to get him, he knew there was no way back. With a heavy heart, he got his old clothes on, feeling like he was walking to his execution as he walked the steps down to the reservoir. Trying hard to not think back to his different descends on those stairs. He had lost friends in these halls before. He had lost the kid, he had almost lost the mage. In the ruins that had been above he had once bound himself to the mage for what would have been the rest of his life.

A lump in his throat threatens to escape, but he does his best to keep it in, as he didn’t want to show any tears. He wanted them all to see him off with smiles.

However, as the door opened, those hopes fades, as the kids were already crying, getting hugs from the worried blonde, that to Kurogane’s confusion were dressed in a kimono that he thought for himself could have been a creation of his wicked little mistress.

It actually was. But he didn’t know this yet. That Tomoyo and Fay had been talking a lot behind his back. After all, Fay had wanted to surprise Kurogane with actually knowing the language as they moved to Nihon. Their plan was of course to not let him know this right away, and then after some weeks show Kurogane Fay had understood all he had said all along. It would be hilarious!

“Ah! Kurogane! You are so late!” Mokona cries, as she bounces from Fay to nuzzle the ninja, that don’t stop her, and actually pulls her closer for something close to a gentle hug. “The portal is opening soon! Don’t go Kurogane! Stay here with us!”

No words, as he just pats her gently on the back, letting the small bun cry as he really couldn’t say anything back he hadn’t before. Soon Mokona jumps back to hug and cry to Fay again, as Kurogane says goodbye to Syaoran and Sakura in turn, making sure to tell the two of them all the safety advice he could give them. Most was to not start wars with other countries in the future, keep away from evil people, and don’t trust people blindly ever again. After he was done giving them all the safety advice he could think about at the top of his head, he leaves them traumatized before a bright light suddenly appeared on the water surface in front of them.

“The path to Nihon is open.” Mokona hiccups, as she jumps to rub her little round sad face all over Kurogane again, Kurogane once more feels the lump, as he looks up at the still smiling Fay, about to do the hardest thing he had ever done outside of fights. To say goodbye to his partner. “Ah! Hurry! Or it will close! Kurogane! Fay!”

Kurogane opens his mouth to utter the brave words of parting he had planned for so long now. It was just a short goodbye, telling the other something like how he had been a good ally, and how he had seen him as a friend on the battlefield. But the lump stopped his words, as he felt like he was breathless. Like the need to cry burnt his chest, everything worse as he looked into the bright blue eyes.

“Come on Kuro-tama! We are going to be late!” Kurogane looks down, as he noticed he had been about to reach and grab Fay’s hand, but the blonde grabbed his first, and before he even knows what is going on, he is pulled into the bright light, their loved ones yelling after them as Fay waves their hands with a bright smile. Kurogane were soon over the worst shock, and he tries to compose himself with waving as well.

A hard jab, as Fay drives his elbow merciless into the ninja’s side, Kurogane groaning as he covers, trying to hide a pained expression as Fay just keeps smiling. “That was for thinking I wouldn’t come with you, Kuro-sama.”

“Shut up…” He whispers, as he still had no idea what had just happened.

To Fay, it was obvious that he would stay with Kurogane. Not once had he thought anything else since they kept traveling together.

“I have no home anymore. My family is gone, and my two home worlds are both gone as well. The man I saw as a father is gone, and I have nothing.” Fay starts, as there was no sign of the others anymore, the light circled around them as they were sent off together. “So, since Kuro-rin once told me to live, I decided Kuro-tama had to take responsibility and take care of me. It is like picking up a stray cat, you have to keep feeding it, or you are a terrible person!”

Fay gives a painful whimper, as Kurogane starts ruffling his hair hard over how he had worded the entire thing.

“The truth is…” Fay chuckles as Kurogane looked away from him again, trying to hide how happy he was to have been able to do that again. “I see Kuro-rin and the kids as my family now, and since they will be okay, wherever you are will be home.”

Fay expects some sort of pissed reply, or maybe some shy remark, as Kurogane often got shy when people poured out their emotions to him. What he got though, as the light grew to the point of blinding them, was a warm hand grabbing his own, and the last he could see, was the overwhelmed smile on the ninja’s lips.

“Idiot mage. I was thinking the same.”

#kurofai #kurofay #drabble #For Sandra XD #hope it gets your feels go doki doki XD #Tsubasa RESERVOIR CHRONICLE

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littlebitlizbit · 4 years

Text

So right, where do I begin? I guess at the beginning.

I started to look online at some of the various animal rescues around the lower mainland, and stumbled across Katie’s Place. It is a no kill cat rescue, that offers a unique option for those looking to adopt.

It’s called the Permanent Foster Program. This program exists to get the most in need cats into a household asap. It applies to the senior cat’s, in Kate’s Place care, that have non life threatening issues. The hardest part about adopting out older cats is people’s concerns over vet bills, and this is where Katie’s place differs from most shelters... They work with vets who continue to see the cats for the remainder of their lives, and Katie’s Place covers any fees or medication costs.

I started looking through their cats available for adoption gallery, and finding out which ones were available for the PM program. There were at least three that could have been a good fit, so a friend and I headed out on one of their open house days to meet the candidates.

I remember thinking how smart of a set up they had, to house the rescues in a comfortable way. You pass through a safety gate and into a comfortably lit portable, with rooms running down either side of the hall, each with an connected covered patio. Instantly we were greeted by the “hall cats.” We entered the first room, that comfortably housed about 6 rescues. One of the PF cats was sleeping in her bed, and she perked up as I put my arm near her bed. She was a beauty white fluffy girl, who was sweet, but wasn’t a fan of other cats, so not the best fit. As we popped in and out of the rooms, I had my eye out for one named Smigeon, a black fluffy guy who sounded chill on the website. He was in one of the rooms towards the back, on the porch, a volunteer informed me. On the way through to him, my eye was draw to this miserable looking cat, with very obvious sight issues. He was bald and covered in scabs, raising his paw cautiously in front of himself from on top of a cage within a cage. There was something about him... but not wanting to startle him, I let him be, and continued through the door to find Smigeon snoozing utop a cat tree. He instantly rolled over and gave me the sweetest look and started purring at my pets. I was sold, and went to tell the woman in charge that I would like to take him. As I was petting some cats nearby her and another volunteer, I overheard the volunteer tearfully say “I don’t want him to die in here.” I went over and asked what was up, and was told that Smigeon came in with another cat, but this other cat was super sick, and had a stomach tumour, and wasn’t expected to last more than two weeks. I called home and asked my partner if he trusted me, and he said yes. I told him we were getting two cats. Turns out the mostly blind scabby guy was Smigeon’s old house mate. I knew that I could give him so much love in the time he had left, and though it would hurt, resigned myself to this short term guy. I was told to really have a think about it overnight, and was there the moment they opened the next day with carriers ready to bring them home.

It was as if this scabby cat, this Tinker, knew we were coming for him. He was off of his smaller cage, and at the mouth of his big one with his paw outstretched towards me the moment I walked in. My friend helped cage up Smigeon while I got Tinker into his. Smige fell asleep in his cage on the way home, while Tinker, sat half in his cage, half on my lap, staring either at me or out the window. He could see a bit...but not much.

And then the boys were home.

Tinker was another story... the poor guy walked into walls and chairs, but could see at least a little bit and had great hearing. Rufus was mesmerized by him. Like he could tell that something was wrong with this guy, so wasn’t aggressive in the least bit. If Tinker hissed, Ruffie would just quietly sniff near him, and give him space.

That first night, all the cats were on the bed. Tinker couldn’t jump up on his own, so I made him a set of makeshift stairs, that he ended up being really good with. He then marched, with all the grumpy sass of an old man, onto my chest, and promptly curled himself around my neck, falling almost instantly and deeply asleep. I knew then and there that this cat had my heart, in a way that I’d never experienced before.

I was wrong.

Smigeon, our clean, other than being older, bill of health kitty, on the other hand, was not doing well. No matter what I’d put down for him food wise, he wouldn’t eat. Not even fresh cooked meat or bacon. I started to “baby bird” him and would fill a thick syringe up with moist food, and feed him that way. He ate a tiny bit of dry food one day, and he’d drink tons of water. After a week I brought him and Tinker in for a check up, since Tinker’s skin condition didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Smigeon was getting weaker. Turns out Tinker, and now my house, had ringworm. But poor Smidge, the vet wanted to keep overnight, to see if he’d improve after being on an IV. I was called the next day by the vet, Dr.Gold, who told me that they did some more tests on Smigeon, and it turned out that his entire body was riddled with tumours. He was weak and in pain and the vet said there was nothing they could do, and that we needed to let him go. I rushed out in time to hold him, give him lots of loves and pets, as he crossed the rainbow bridge in my arms. It was hard, and unexpected, but I’m thankful that he at least got to have a final couple of weeks in a loving home.

Back home, now Rufus had contracted ringworm, and both Tinker and him had to be quarantined in the spare room, while we disinfected the entire house. Tinker was on cold meds, as well as ringworm meds, and it took me a few times to figure out the best way to administer it. He would go full on feral if I tried to pinch his mouth open at all, but the liquid meds seemed to be the easiest, while I held him with my arms and legs. Both boys had to get bathed once every 2 to 3 days for about two months, and we had to completely disinfect their room a couple of times a day.

During this time I would go, in my massive Batman onesie, and just lay down with them. Rufus was never big on pets and cuddles, but everytime Tinker would march straight up my chest, and lay claim to the real estate around my neck. My guess is that my breath on him from there was comforting, like he knew he was safe... The two boys became inseparable in that time, and Ruffie actually started to want tactile love. Rufus had never liked to sleep near any other cats, but the two of then now cuddled almost constantly.

When I was home (Which was most of the time) he would be my constant shadow. I sew, as well as make jewelry, and whenever, wherever I had a project on the go, Tinker would be right there beside me. I ended up getting him these vintage stools covered in padded fabric, and he would snooze lazily on them beside me as I worked away, occasionally waking up for some fresh water and head pets. Him and Rufus were still super close, cuddling for hours every day, an absolute first for Ruffie. He adopted a small Batman stuffy of mine, and started cuddling with it daily. The days that I had to go to work, he would give me sass all morning (if I put on makeup that seemed to be the give away that I was going out) and then come trotting to the door, as fast as he could, upon arriving back home. He did this hilarious thing when he was upset with me for going out... he’d crawl onto the bed and start biting the blanket. The first time he did it I thought he was stuck or something, but then I tried to pull the blanket away, and he grumble meowed. He would do it anytime I had to go out of town (The longest I was ever away was three nights) and usually when I’d come home from work. It turned out to be like a game of tug of war for him.

That week he upped his active factor... Played more than usual, wanted to go outside more, cuddled a ton, and was just an overall super happy to be alive cat. I sent the vet videos of him from that week, and she couldn’t believe it. She agreed that this was a cat who still had living to do, so ulcer meds got added to the pain med list, and he kept on going.

Things with him were mostly great, but he was starting to slow down little by little.

I was with him 24/7 that final week, and spent the last 48 hours on the floor with him. The morning of his appointment i brought him onto my chest, one final time onto the bed. He fell fast asleep, and I got to just feel his warmth and breath for about 4 hours. Finally, but way too soon, it was time. My friend picked me up, and we drove him out, as we had for multiple check ups, him wrapped in a towel on my lap. The wall of protection around my heart was suffering terrible fissures, but I knew that I had to be strong for him. I did my best not to cry or allow my energy to get upset, so as not to upset him. Thankfully Dr.Gold, our favourite vet, was able to make it in. She set aside a room fo us for an hour, dimmed the lights, and had a beautiful hand knit blanket for him. Remembering what he was like that last time he got poked with a needle, I asked them if I could go in the back with him to have the IV put in, and they were kind enough to just do it all right in the room. He didn’t even squawk when they administered it, which just solidified for us how done he was. We were offered more time with him, but I knew he was done, and every moment with him now was a selfish one. He closed his eyes for pets, then looked at me one final time, as the rainbow bridge opened in front of him.

There are so many animals in need of loving homes, and not enough homes to house them. If you can, please consider adopting from our local shelter or animal rescue. I get the impulse for wanting a certain breed, but going to a breeder or a pet store is unnecessary. Just as many pure breeds cycle through rescues as not, so if you’re patient you can become the furrever home to the pet of your dreams, for a fraction of the price, and every fee paid to a rescue ensures that they can continue to help more animals.

Please consider donating to Katie’s Place if you have the means. Or your own local animal rescue.

http://katiesplaceshelter.com/

Thank you.

Love always,

Elizabeth xoxo

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