bigapplesauce | cat got your tongue? [closed]

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Current Music: August 27th, 2013

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cat got your tongue? [closed]

Today has been...interesting.

That's certainly a word for it.

Fortunately, Daniel has experience with "interesting." He does not, however, have a whole lot of experience with handling felines, particularly of the roommates-turned-felines-who-may-or-may-not-be-incapable-of-digesting-normal-food variety, so figuring out what Seth could eat in his somewhat furrier form has been an exercise in exasperation and barely bit-back amusement. It certainly was a trial attempting to cook while inexplicably hovering two feet above the ground, though cautious experimentation proved that Daniel could pull himself down to regular ground-level, in a manner of speaking, if he clung to a table leg or even the edge of the couch. But as soon as he let go, he would simply float back up again, perfectly suspended two feet over the apartment floor with next to no explanation as to how.

Hopefully this won't last long.

Daniel's phone has been buzzing intermittently all day, which has been both rewarding and frustrating. He's been able to tell a few things - for one, it's not just them. For another, everyone's being affected very differently, from being forced to spill out a slew of secrets to being practically forced to tell lies. Whatever Rift thing this is, the initial amusement at dealing with Seth's feline shape had faded very quickly.

Speaking of which.

Daniel glances up from his phone after punching out the last message to favor the curled-up ball of brown fur with a look of concern. He seems pretty much asleep from his position next to him - well, sort of next to him. Daniel is, for all intents and purposes, sitting cross-legged, though he's still levitating a good foot or so above the bed.

"Someone's coming," he says cautiously, unable to keep the note of apology from his voice. "He's, ah - bringing cat food." Wince. "Sorry."

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It probably doesn't help that Seth doesn't particularly want to be handled. He's very used to being self-sufficient and independent, and right now he can't even feed himself. Or at least, not without making a mess or going to hunt for actual live animals, which is something he absolutely does not want to do.

At Daniel's voice, Seth looks up - a lot more up than he would usually have to, given both his smaller size, and physics refusing to work properly when it comes to Daniel.

He lets out of grumbly sound and his curious looks turns to a frown at the mention of cat food. Ugh. It's not as unappealing as the thought of eating mice - which he actually does have a bunch of in the freezer, as food for Monty. But even if it's not that, it's still cat food. However, Daniel seems perfectly aware and apologetic, and Seth is getting really hungry.

"I know, I know." He dips one hand down tentatively to brush fingertips against Seth's ears. It feels weird to be petting him because it's Seth and he's just - in a different shape, so he's kept it strictly confined to petting in the very, very loosest sense of the term. "I'm sorry."

He stands up - because friction apparently works the same way even while he's in the air, which Daniel hasn't even begun to work out the scientific basis of on the grounds that it makes absolutely no sense - and moves to the window, peering out.

"But, honestly, you can't really go the whole day without eating. Cat food's safe for both humans and cats, so," he turns and shrugs loosely, opening a hand, "whatever you - turn out to be in a few days, it should be safe."

As much as Seth dislikes the need to be handled, he doesn't mind being petted or touched - not by Daniel anyway. It's a nice platonic gesture of affection, and Iman's right, he can get away with it without it being too weird. But if it were a stranger it would definitely be weird. Which is another reason he doesn't want to go outside. People are just so eager to pet cats, and he doesn't want to spend every moment dodging hands.

He gives a grudging huff in reply, then stands and stretches. He better not still be a cat after multiple days. Even just for a day of this, there's a lot of adjusting to be done, and communication is only one of the challenges.

And speaking of communication, he wants to know more about this person who's coming over, but at least he trusts Daniel not to let anyone dangerous in. Have coffee with them, maybe, but not let them into Seth's safe space. He jumps off the bed then up onto the windowsill, looking out, then giving Daniel a questioning look.

It's a good thing Daniel's been getting alarmingly good at interpreting nonverbal facial expressions coming from a cat, but it helps that the cat is so obviously Seth. It's simply something in the way he carries himself.

"Ah," says Daniel, drawing back in case anyone below might happen to look up at an inopportune moment. Generally speaking, glimpsing a cat on a windowsill is a perfectly natural thing. And equally generally speaking, seeing a guy hovering a good twenty-four inches above the ground isn't. "Met him in a dream. Er - really not the best one, actually. More or less destroyed a house." This is probably not giving Seth the best impression, so Daniel smiles weakly. "He's called the Balladeer, though I'm not really sure if that's more a title or a name. But he's all right."

All right will have to count as a favorable assessment for now, even if Daniel really wishes he could elaborate.

"Pretty sure he got hit with the same - thing that's affecting us, whatever it is. Except he can only tell lies." He shakes his head, scrubs a hand wearily through his hair in helpless bafflement. "Still not sure what the whole theme here is yet."

Seth gives a nod - he really wishes he knew sign language or something. Daniel knows like five dozen languages, he would probably know some sign language, right? But hopefully this doesn't last long enough for that to become necessary.

Balladeer, then. Unlikely name, unusual occupation. Given his title, it immediately strikes Seth as somewhat ironic he can only tell lies. Sounds pretty inconvenient, but at least easy enough to work around once the person he's interacting with knows what's up. Just assume the opposite.

And Seth's starting to wonder if the theme merely is inconvenience itself, though he only responds with a shrug - bit strange to do as a cat, but at least the meaning is clear. He feels like they give the Rift far too much credit in expecting it to make sense, or at least any kind of sense easily discernible to them. The Rift's only consistency seems to be its refusal to be consistent.

It's really, really odd to see a cat try to shrug. There's no other way to define it, but Daniel chews on the corner of his lip to keep from making a quiet sound of amusement. Seth didn't seem to appreciate it before.

"Hopefully I can just toss the key down when he gets here." He drops his gaze to frown at the solid two feet of empty space between his shoes and the apartment floor. Would extended his height be consistent if he left the apartment? Would he always remain two feet above the ground, or this specific floor? Is his current height fixed? If he were to, say, step out the window - would he continue hovering at this specific height or drop to land two feet above the sidewalk? Inertia apparently still affects him, so he'd probably still experience an impact tantamount to normally stepping out a window.

In short, Daniel's not going to be leaving the apartment anytime soon.

It's really difficult to maintain your dignity when people keep laughing at you or taking pictures, okay? Especially when it takes you a while to figure out how your limbs work.

As for the keys, well, Seth can bring them down. It's a bit tricky throwing the keys down from the third floor, with the fire escape in the way and everything, and Seth would rather Daniel didn't hit this Balladeer guy in the head.

He points at himself with a paw, then jumps off the sill and then onto the desk where his keys are, bringing them back in his mouth. Rather than giving them to Daniel, he takes them out onto the fire escape and lies down, waiting for someone who looks like they're coming here. What does this guy even look like? It'll probably take him a while to get here, but it's not like Seth has anything better to do.

Meanwhile, after a very strange and generally unpleasant interaction with a cashier, the Balladeer finds himself walking up to an unfamiliar apartment building with a shopping bag full of cat food. He knows very little about cats, but the wet stuff in the cans seemed like the best, so he got a couple different kinds of that. Bad enough being stuck as a cat without having to eat kibble, right?

The bells outside aren't labelled with any names, so after glancing around he fishes his phone out of his pocket to text Daniel. He probably won't want to come down, with the floating and all, but maybe he's got a window on this side.

It's Seth's warning meow that tips him off, and Daniel hastily makes his way back to the window to peer somewhat uncomfortably out. Someone's stopped outside the building - someone he definitely recognizes.

"Yeah, that's him," he mutters, more for Seth's benefit than for himself.

At the affirmation it's the right person, Seth picks up the keys in his mouth again and makes his way down the fire escape. He sticks his head out between the bars to look down at the Balladeer, who looks extremely normal for someone with a name and/or title like that. And for being a rifty on this particular day, where normal is a bit of a rarity.

Since he can't exactly say hello, he lets out of greeting meow to get his attention, then drops the keys down to him.

The Balladeer glances up, scanning the ladder once before noticing the little cat. "Oh! Hi! You're the roommate?" Questions are good, he's found. Asking a question isn't the same thing as stating a truth, so he can usually get out the words he wants.

Luckily his reflexes are good enough to snatch the keys out of the air. "Jerk." The Balladeer blinks, brow furrowing. What? He was trying to thank him - is it because he was trying to express gratitude? He assumes Daniel mentioned what's going on, though, so he just shrugs in vague apology up at the cat. "I'll be going then," he says, and then enters the building to head up to the apartment and knock on the door.

Sure enough, Daniel catches part of the one-sided exchange, complete with a confused-sounding insult. He bites his lip in suppressed amusement, shooting Seth another rueful look.

"He - yeah. Just take the opposite of everything and, you know." Floating might be inconvenient but at least Daniel can still communicate properly. It looks like he'll be the only one between the three of them.

He's also, unfortunately, the only one capable of opening the door, and has to kneel on his private invisible platform of air to do so.

Seth gives a nod to the question - through really, it's Daniel who's the roommate, and Seth is the primary inhabitant of the apartment. But everything's relevant, supposedly.

His ears prick up at the insult, more out of surprise than anything else. He thinks he gets the gist of what the Balladeer was going for though. He heads back upstairs and gives a sound of acknowledgement in response to Daniel as he pops back inside, then goes to take a seat on the couch.

He tried, you guys. The Balladeer knew about the floating already, of course, but he still can't help but raise an eyebrow at the sight of Daniel kneeling on thin air to get the door. See, that he would be okay with. Sure, he'd be stuck in the apartment for a while, but as long as it really DID wear off after a day or two, it could be fun. At least he'd still be able to call people and have real conversations.

"Hello!" He steps in quickly, to limit the amount of time people could conceivably see the floating from the hall, and just proffers the bag of cat food to Daniel without a word. Things would be easier, really, if he just kept quiet during this whole incident.

He isn't good at keeping quiet. "You need to pay me back right away."

Daniel's grateful for the level of tact with which the Balladeer's handling the situation, even if his current condition is trying to defy that as much as possible. He nudges the door shut with a toe and accepts the bag with a rueful smile, first at the Balladeer, then at Seth.

"Sorry." He can't seem to decide who he's directing that particular apology to, so he just lets it hover where it is. "Um. I can pay you back now, it's no trouble. Er - this is Seth." He nods at the cat politely by way of introduction. "He's the actual, erm, owner. Just happens to be, well. You know." They can all see well enough what Seth's particular affliction happens to be today.

There's really nothing to fear regarding the rest of the building. Gabe's the only other person who even lives here anymore, after Johnny moved out - Seth wonders if he's going through something like this, but Johnny hasn't exactly been the most communicative lately, understandably enough. And well, Gabe's not even home, he's apparently somewhere with Peter-in-the-form-of-a-goose stuck to his hand. The mental image is still funny as hell.

Seth eyes the bag of catfood with mixture of distrust and gratitude. He is hungry, but catfood has never smelled particularly appealing in human form, so he's a bit wary of it. He pulls his attention back to the Balladeer though, and raises a paw in greeting.

Well, the receipt is in the bag. The Balladeer's not even going to attempt to tell Daniel how much he paid for it, he's sure he'd start spouting some outlandish figure. He can practically feel it on the tip of his tongue right now. It really wasn't that expensive.

Instead he just lifts a hand to wave at Seth the cat. "Terrible to meet you," he says in a completely friendly tone, before following it up with a more sarcastic "Great day we're having."

And the surreality just keeps coming and coming, doesn't it? Ah, well. Daniel's used to handling the surreal. A little too used to it, some might say, but he wouldn't be the one to say it. He extracts the cans and receipt with some difficulty (the bag wafts forlornly to the ground, well out of his immediate reach to pick up, and he gazes after it mournfully for a minute) and soon digs out the appropriate amount of bills for the Balladeer. Probably best to cover that now before today gets any more chaotic.

"Oh, yeah," he agrees with a grouchy quirk of an eyebrow. "We're doing great here, obviously. At least floating's not so bad. Er, compared to - others." He levels equal looks of sympathy upon both Seth and the Balladeer, well aware that he's the only one out of the three of them who's remotely able to accurately communicate.

"I mean, Iman's phone started texting people without her knowledge and Peter's a goose, so." He shrugs. "Could be worse?"

His optimism might not be entirely appreciated here.

If a cat could snicker, that's what Seth would be doing right now. Most people he has sympathy for, but Peter absolutely deserves to be a goose for a little while. At least cats can be somewhat dignified - hell, Daniel could probably ramble for hours about how they used to be worshipped. He's big on Ancient Egypt and all that.

And it turns out interpreting the Balladeer is a lot easier than expected. He can imagine imparting specific information must be tricky, but as long as you know to flip the meaning, the general idea of what he's saying is easy to grasp.

As he doesn't have anything he can really add to the conversation, at least not in the form of words, he jumps off the couch and heads over to Daniel to inspect what sort of food the Balladeer brought. On the way there he picks up the bag in his mouth, since Daniel is a bit too far up to easily pick it up himself, and jumps onto the kitchen counter.

Or he tries to, but instead he steps on the plastic bag still held in his mouth, so when he goes to leap it stops his creation of momentum halfway, and he crashes headfirst into the counter. Well. Forget the part about dignified.

The Balladeer takes the bills and slips them into his pocket without bothering to count them. "Yeah, my friend Greta's still at her house." He considers that statement for a second, decides the meaning isn't quite clear, and adds, "We know where she is? Iman..."

He trails off, just giving Daniel a rueful look and a shrug. If he's been talking with her, then the subject of Greta's likely come up already. The poor woman seemed frantic looking for her. The Balladeer's pretty worried too, to be honest; he knows the city is still a bit large for Greta to bear, and it's not really like her to walk out without her phone or anything. But he's already checked the park, and he isn't exactly sure where else she may have gone...

Seth's little slip-up startles him out of those thoughts, at least. "Oh, god! Are you alright?" He leans down to peer at the fallen cat. This is already starting to remind him of the last time he was around Daniel.

It takes Daniel a minute to interpret that. He has only a vague idea of who Greta is, but last he heard was Iman going to her place. That begs the question of what, exactly, is going on there. Is Greta - is she okay? The Balladeer didn't sound urgent, but who knows? He fingers his phone nervously for a minute, considering whether he should text her and ask if she needs any help - though, really, it's not like he could do much. Seth might, possibly, if he ever gets used to functioning as a quadruped.

"Careful," he says belatedly, somewhat resigned, forehead crinkling into yet another concerned frown. This isn't anywhere near the first time this has happened and Daniel knows that cats are generally hardy creatures, but he can't help but worry that Seth might do some actual permanent damage to himself.

The thing mostly likely to get permanent damage today is his pride, really. The Balladeer is getting a great first impression. Really, Seth isn't usually this hopeless and infantile, he's a responsible adult, he can drive a car and do his taxes. Except for how he does neither of those things here.

He gives a disgruntled sound in reply to them both, giving his head a shake and reaching up with a paw to rub at it for a second. He appreciates the Balladeer's concern though - not so much because he needs it, but because it obviously shows that he's nothing like the asshole his words have been making him sound like. Seth's just going to.. bring this bag to the Balladeer - he should at least be able to pick it up without incident.

And he knows it would just be simpler to indicate he wanted to be picked up himself and lifted somewhere, but that's just not going to happen. He refuses to be carried. At least when he makes a second, bag-less attempt at jumping up onto the counter, he succeeds without crashing or knocking anything over.

To be fair, Seth, the Balladeer has never driven a car OR paid taxes in his life. You're probably much more of a normal responsible adult than he is.

Right now, anyway, he's the only person here with both gravity and hands, so he grabs the bag and straightens, putting it on the counter. "Shame." Wow, it's like this thing is going out of its way to make him sound like an awful person. "You said it'd probably only last a few days, right? You'll probably never get back to normal. I got the food that looked the worst, hope it's disgusting."

Daniel can't fully suppress the baffled smile at the disparity between the Balladeer's words and the tone he's using to deliver them, perfectly polite and friendly and probably more suited to the man's actual personality.

"Thank you," he adds again, and has to kneel on his patch of air to retrieve a can opener and then one of Seth's bowls to set on the counter. The cat food looks fine, perfectly digestible for human or cat alike, so hopefully it'll tide Seth over for however long he's going to be...like this.

"Stuff like this has happened before," he offers as he opens the can and deposits its contents into the bowl, then slides it over to Seth with the nudge of a toe and a hopefully raised eyebrow. "Some kind of rain that made people invisible or, or unable to be perceived. Lasted, uh - three days. I think. Two or three days. Not really convenient, but hopefully this one won't last long either."

He's also helped bury quite a few bodies, almost caused an apocalypse, and spent most of the past decade working illegally as a dealer. So, you know. Adult? Sure. Responsible? Eeehhhh... Normal? Yeah, no. Maybe not the wildest by Rift standards, but "normal" is a stretch.

Seth sniffs cautiously at the bowl of food. It smells a lot less gross than he imagined. And, well, he has completely different tastebuds, right? This is the stuff cats usually eat. And he is really hungry. Ugh.

Before he can convince himself to taste, Daniel mentions the rain-induced imperceptibility, and Seth has to make his feelings on that topic known. He does so by raising his head and letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a moan, best interpreted as him swearing about that fucking rain. That first day ranks pretty high on his list of Worst Days Ever since his escape from the rebel base. And he's had quite a few bad ones.

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