> Nepeta: Ascend to the highest point of the bar.

[nepetaleijon]

A just-barely-adolescent catgirl troll is perched happily in the rafters, surveying the bar.

There's just something so satisfying about being where you can see everything and nothing can reach you.

Comments

> cat: Be awakened from a perfectly good nap.

[withhistailhigh]

On the next rafter over, something sleek and black stirs, opening two yellow-green eyes to blink muzzily at Nepeta.

[nepetaleijon]

... !

Nepeta blinks back.

[withhistailhigh]

For a long moment, the creature just stares. Then, it blinks, slowly and deliberately. If Alternian felines are anything like those on Earth, then Nepeta will recognize this as a gesture of trust, perhaps even friendship--a predator will not deliberately break eye contact with anything it considers an immanent threat or a potential meal.

[nepetaleijon]

Nepeta muffles a tiny squeak of happiness, and very deliberately lids her own eyes in a reciprocal offer of trust.

It's a KITTY. And such a tiny one!

(The narration feels obligated to point out that Nepeta's referent for average cat size is her lusus, who was large enough for Nepeta to ride.)

[withhistailhigh]

"Good evening," says the cat, in a voice like the voice in the back of your head. Except that Nepeta's inner monologue is probably not male, nor vaguely British-sounding.

[nepetaleijon]

... !

"Hi," she says back, delighted. "I'm Nepeta! What's your name?"

[withhistailhigh]

The cat stretches and settles into a sitting position on the rafter. "Cats," he says, "don't have names."

[nepetaleijon]

She frowns. "My lusus was a cat and she had a name."

[withhistailhigh]

"Oh?"

[nepetaleijon]

"Yes! Her name was POUNCE DE LEON and she was my favorite kitty in the world."

Nepeta looks a little downcast. She misses Pounce.

[withhistailhigh]

"And where did her name come from?" the black cat inquires.

[nepetaleijon]

Nepeta pauses, frowning again -- this time in the effort to remember.

"I don't know," she admits finally. "I think that was always her name."

[withhistailhigh]

"It was applied to her," says the cat with the utmost confidence, "by someone who felt the need to use a series of syllables to define her identity. It was not hers."

[nepetaleijon]

She folds her arms. "Maybe cats are diffurent where I come from. You don't sound like any cat I ever met."

[withhistailhigh]

"Oh, really?" It sounds faintly amused.

[nepetaleijon]

"Pawsitively." She sounds serious. "But that's okay! I've met LOTS of people here who don't sound like anyone I ever met."