There's a wild wind blowing down the corner of my street

[cyfor]

Cy has been cornered by bullies. This time, bullies of the fluffy variety.

One of them just called her smelly.

Currently, she's tearing off his ear.

Ragnar is sitting on a bridge over the Chicago river, staring at the water. He's been doing this a lot, lately. He's gotten several odd looks from passerby, but no one wants to--or sees reason to

Comments

[nowinprint]

Dmitri is... you know. About. Stopped by a street vendor elsewhere and had crepes; is considering wandering to the Conrad and seeing what's up. Maybe raiding their kitchen and baking something for the hell of it; seeing who joins in. She's crossing the river bridge, feeling the familiar badump-dabump-badump as a bus roll past, and she stops to enjoy the sights along with... a cat, who seems to be sitting there.

Now, it's Chicago, and given her Chicago, one generally gives wild animals the benefit of the doubt re: sentience. So as long as she's taking in the sights, she might as well say "Allo, kuroneko-sama. If you're thinking of going fishing, I know a few better spots."

[prince_stupid]

"I was not fishing. Simply contemplating the place into which I fell when the rift took me. Wondering if, perchance, my kittens remember my scent, or if my queen has found someone to take my place. After all, the kittens have been born--what need is there of my own presence any longer?"

He shifts his weight and curls his tail around his paws. "Though I doubt these matters are of interest to..." He examines her. "Not a human, precisely, but one close enough in resemblance for the differences to matter little."

[nowinprint]

Mark your calendars, folks. Dmitri Lang, queen of projectile confusion, has just done a double-take.

"Holy human articulators, Batman," she says, tilting her head at Ragnar. "Okay. Ordinarily I'd ask you how you did that, as there's a very good physiological reason humanoids speak and cats meow, but... I have a feeling everybody's friend the rathole in reality has something to do with that." She leans over, bringing herself more to his level. "...you know, it's a rift in space and time. If anyone ever figures it out, maybe you could go back to when you came from, not just where."

She exhales.

"Time is... wimey, anyway."

[prince_stupid]

It takes a moment for that to sink in, but something small and tense in Ragnar's chest seems to ease a little. "Truly?" He looks up at Dmitri, whiskers splayed out and ears forward. It's an expression that is at once lonely and trusting. "I would have a tale for them, my kittens."

[findaconstant]

Ruvin moves fast.

Or maybe Dan's just dragging, he doesn't know - but he misses Ruvin by a few minutes every time he arrives at her last spot. Eventually, though, he catches up to her and spots her under that big shiny thing in Millennium Park. He doesn't know what it's called.

It's pretty cool, though.

He approaches carefully, hands tucked in his pockets. "Ruvin?"

[changingtheodds]

She looks up at his approach, drawing in on herself instinctively. She fiddles with her toes where they show through her flipflops. "Hello."

When she smiles at him, it's almost completely genuine, only a veneer of worry instead of the hollow looks she's given some of the people and places she should know. She still seems off, small and skittish like a runaway cat. Or maybe a stray dog. Ruvin clears her throat and tries to sit up straighter. "I'm fine. If you're going to ask."

[findaconstant]

Dan was kind of hoping he could plaster on a facade of "so hey what's up I am not worried about you at all!" buuuuut he sucks at hiding his emotions. This is not news to him.

"I'm glad," he says, carefully plopping down beside her. "All that talk in the journals had me worried."

[changingtheodds]

"I'm sorry." She moves to playing with the hem of her pants. "Robin left. And then..."

And then, nothing. "I don't know."

She told him she's fine. She's fine. Say it until it's true. "I'm just tired."

[biverbam]

A ways upriver from the bridge Ragnar is sitting on, there's River. She's been wandering (wanderers, she keeps hearing that word and it seems appropriate, fitting, and her bare feet easily follow the suggestion) the streets in ever widening ellipses around the Conrad for a few days now, trying to latch onto a trail that would lead to Sark.

She needs to return the keycard.

Unfortunately, large bodies of water with which she shares a name are incredibly distracting, and even skilled dancing weapons can lose their balance looking for tadpoles.

Thus, Ragnar might notice her as she floats downstream beneath him, ducking under the surface to bubble and bobbing up again every once and again, seemingly too preoccupied with thought (River in a river, a division into itself, a prime, eroding integers and cement) to attempt paddling herself to shore.

[prince_stupid]

He looks down, not quite believing what he sees in the young human bobbing contemplatively up and down on the current. She's not screaming, not begging for help, and so--not surprisingly--the humans nearby notice nothing. Ragnar sighs and drags himself to his feet, skipping lightly up onto the railing and then taking a fantastic, flying leap over the water, shifting as he goes. Passerby who took no notice of a silently drowning girl will probably stare at her apparent rescuer--a primeval, glowing catbeast plummeting toward the river feet-first.

[biverbam]

River isn't noticing much of the other humans, either, to be honest. Everything else in her head is far too interesting, but she loses count of all the minnows she bumps into when she goes under the bridge and looks up to examine the architecture and birds nests (Columbidae, crops and milk and little ones taken care of except for one that fell in the river and died two months ago) wedged beneath it. And the cat on top of it.

Bob up, breathe.

Bob down, burble.

A little further and she's underwater with her breath held as she watches Ragnar shift and sputters a little as she bobs back up and gasps quietly again for air.

So... Not a cat after all.

[prince_stupid]

Ragnar hits the water with a sound akin to a mini sonic boom, slamming water up against the cement sides of the channel and momentarily disorienting himself. He paddles to stay above water. The motion looks ridiculous on an animal his size.

Now for the business of fishing the small human out. It doesn't take a great deal of effort to reach the burbling girl, but then he can't do much more than say "Waaauuugh," and hope she gets the idea.