I'm at your back door with the earth of a hundred nations in my skin...

[cyfor]

And suddenly in the OT3's home where there was once nothing behind the fireplace grate, there is a cat. And a great number of shotgun pellets which are rolling everywhere, much to said cat's frustration. She has one of them in her mouth

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[nothingsodivine]

On the coffee table in the middle of said living room, there is a pile of papers from which one Desmond Descant is trying to use as a means to figure out an adequate plan for infiltrating an Oklahoma slave camp for Nephilim, although at the present moment, he's scribbling a note to Grace in his journal. The moment he finishes it, he's alerted to the sound of something in the fireplace... And damn, it's a good thing they don't actually keep a fire going in there, but then again, the damn rift sort of... Makes that difficult.

"Whoa!" He balks, going over to the grate (and sidestepping the shotgun pellets) with the intention of unlocking it and letting the cat out. "Lucky I was here, kitty. Our friend the hideous cat-beast might have made a snack out of you."

Because he trusts that thing can probably get past that damn grate if it wants to. Either way, best not to tempt fate.

[cyfor]

And Cy somersaults into the living room, a shotgun pellet still in her mouth. She drops it at his feet. "Phwaw. Watch that first step, it'll eat your toes."

And with that, she sets about gathering up the rest of her runaway children pellets, carrying each one daintily over and dropping it next to the first by his foot.

[nothingsodivine]

Des is stunned. So for a few moments, he just watches her carrying her shotgun pellets in blank silence, before taking heed of the fact that nothing ever got done by staring blankly at the talking cat with a fondness for ammo.

"Okay. Talking cat. Not the weirdest thing that has ever come through that grate," he mutters to himself before stooping down to get more on her level. "Uh... What're you doing?"

Because... That's clearly the question here. Not why can you talk? Or you know, some vague explanation on how she got here. No, he wants to know what the deal is up with the shotgun pellets. THAT IS THE WEIRD THING.

[cyfor]

She looks up at him, twitching her ears back and forth in surprise. "I'm bringin' out the dead."

And she picks up another one and drops it with a plink on the pile. She is unconcerned with the fact that she is now in a strange house, in a strange Chicago in a strange universe. Strangeness is in fact something to which she is accustomed. Lucky her.

[weallendupalone]

Maria is well-acquainted with being stuck behind that grate, though with her it was significantly more cramped. She hears the thump and, curious thing that she is, tiptoes over to peek through the grating.

"Oh, a kitten!"

The grate is open in record time and Cy scooped up in her arms. "Hey, little one, you're alright, yeah? No harm done, just a little dirty."

[cyfor]

She blinks up at this strange rescuer and makes a sequence of noises around the shotgun pellet gripped delicately between her teeth. Cy is filthy not just with soot, but with mud, streamers of water-based vegetation, and something that may or may not be an old ad for cigarettes, which is stuck to her foot. She drops the pellet.

"Hallo!"

[weallendupalone]

Maria yelps and nearly drops Cy, just barely managing not to, and then stares.

"You... you can talk!" she says, more than a bit shocked. She, unlike Des, hasn't had millennia to get used to weird things. She's got a few months on her. Forgive her.

[cyfor]

"Zounds!" She inspects herself. "Did I break something?"

She rolls out of Maria's grip, hitting the floor with a rather uncoordinated splat. "Fee fi fo fum, testing one two three."

And a mud-spreading somersault.