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Apr. 13th, 2021 01:15 pmThe cat is tense and still in El's arms, wrapped in her light jacket. It growls steadily, but doesn't struggle, and doesn't bite. She isn't sure if it's because it knows she's trying to help it, or if it's because all the fight has left it. She wouldn't be surprised to find it's the second, though.
She'd come across it while the children were still trying to kick at it. Their commotion had caught her attention and she'd gone to see what they were doing.
El has hurt animals, before. She'd lifted a squirrel and thrown it against a tree, hard enough to kill it. But she'd eaten that squirrel; she hadn't done it out of cruelty, or to see what would happen. She'd done it to survive. That isn't what these children were doing. Two of them had sticks, and they were blocking the cat's escape as it tried to hide under and behind a dumpster. Two more children were kicking rocks and dirt and other things at it. And when the cat had made a mad dash away, one of the children had kicked the cat, so hard it hit the dumpster and sagged to the ground, dazed.
Eleven shouted — maybe a word, maybe not. She swung her arm and sent three of the kids flying into a heap a few feet away. The other cowered, staring at her in fear as she glared at him. The cat had laid there, unmoving but panting fast. The kid had reached for it, and Eleven had broken his wrist without moving. He screamed and ran, hugging his arm to himself. The others, still stumbling from being thrown, chase after him.
Then she'd run forward and gently touched the cat.
It's a shabby thing, with a ragged ear and a crooked tail. Its fur is messy, dirty, and patchy. One of its legs lays at a wrong angle, and it's as she begins wrapping her jacket around it that it begins to growl.
She doesn't know where to take it. She knows who to take it to, but she doesn't know where she is. She can find out, though. She sits, cradling the cat in her lap, and pulls her phone out to start up the white noise. She places it on her shoulder, then squeezes her eyes shut. It isn't as perfect as wearing a blindfold, but it works well enough. Slowly, haltingly, Daine appears in the Void. The room she's in comes next, flickering into perception around the flashes of color dancing across her eyelids. Slower than she'd like, she finds out where Daine is. She snaps her eyes open and pockets her phone, then carefully stands, still holding the cat.
It struggles now, just a little, and she gently shushes it before going towards Daine. She can help. She helped Cranberry. She can help this cat.
She'd come across it while the children were still trying to kick at it. Their commotion had caught her attention and she'd gone to see what they were doing.
El has hurt animals, before. She'd lifted a squirrel and thrown it against a tree, hard enough to kill it. But she'd eaten that squirrel; she hadn't done it out of cruelty, or to see what would happen. She'd done it to survive. That isn't what these children were doing. Two of them had sticks, and they were blocking the cat's escape as it tried to hide under and behind a dumpster. Two more children were kicking rocks and dirt and other things at it. And when the cat had made a mad dash away, one of the children had kicked the cat, so hard it hit the dumpster and sagged to the ground, dazed.
Eleven shouted — maybe a word, maybe not. She swung her arm and sent three of the kids flying into a heap a few feet away. The other cowered, staring at her in fear as she glared at him. The cat had laid there, unmoving but panting fast. The kid had reached for it, and Eleven had broken his wrist without moving. He screamed and ran, hugging his arm to himself. The others, still stumbling from being thrown, chase after him.
Then she'd run forward and gently touched the cat.
It's a shabby thing, with a ragged ear and a crooked tail. Its fur is messy, dirty, and patchy. One of its legs lays at a wrong angle, and it's as she begins wrapping her jacket around it that it begins to growl.
She doesn't know where to take it. She knows who to take it to, but she doesn't know where she is. She can find out, though. She sits, cradling the cat in her lap, and pulls her phone out to start up the white noise. She places it on her shoulder, then squeezes her eyes shut. It isn't as perfect as wearing a blindfold, but it works well enough. Slowly, haltingly, Daine appears in the Void. The room she's in comes next, flickering into perception around the flashes of color dancing across her eyelids. Slower than she'd like, she finds out where Daine is. She snaps her eyes open and pockets her phone, then carefully stands, still holding the cat.
It struggles now, just a little, and she gently shushes it before going towards Daine. She can help. She helped Cranberry. She can help this cat.
