patheticvillain | fifty-five ➢ spam & voice

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fifty-five ➢ spam & voice

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[Recovering from being disemboweled physically took about forty-five seconds. Recovering psychologically is taking a little bit longer. Cassel takes comfort in simple tasks and routines in the meantime, trying not to think about what happened with Creed or what happened in the Enclosure or what's going to happen next. There's this feeling like the other shoe is going to drop - not uncommon on the Barge, but not something he wants to deal with, either.]

[During the day, when he's not in the gym, he spends time in his room or in the common rooms with yarn in his lap, curled up in an armchair, knitting and purling on autopilot. He has no idea what he's making, which is usually how he goes about things. Eventually he casts off and picks it up, examining it in the light. It appears to be a tiny sweater with at least three arms.]

[He never said he was good at this.]

[At night, a lithe black cat roams the halls. To Cassel's credit, this time he's wearing a little blue collar with a name tag. On the other hand, it took him this long to come up with that, so maybe he's not so smart after all. He curls up on the backs of couches, winds between people's legs, and wanders into cabins behind their occupants, purring loudly and very insistently.]

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[Pietro still hasn't exactly figured out how to go check in on Cassel without acting like he... cares. He doesn't, of course. This is just strategic. Keep Cassel happy, maybe learn a bit about how Creed caught him out. Or something. He needs a plan.

But he finds himself heading down to level seven, anyway. But Cassel's not in his room, so he should just leave, right? Maybe one quick look around the common room.

But the only thing in the common room right now is somebody's cat. Pietro huffs a little. So many damn animals on board, it's ridiculous.]

[He perks up when Pietro sticks his head into the common room. He hasn't talked to him in a few days - even though he's seen him all over the network - and really should have checked in about the whole Enclosure thing before now.]

[Feeling vaguely guilty but mostly excited, he hops down off the back of the couch and trots over to Pietro, purring loudly.]

[Oh, worse. A friendly cat. Pietro rolls his eyes and takes a step back, waving his hands at the thing.]

Shoo, shoo. Get out of here, will ya?

[Nope, sorry. Cassel is twining around Pietro's legs, staring up at him adoringly and still purring.]

[Hope you're not wearing light-colored pants, buddy.]

Jesus fucking christ. I'd kick you, but your owner can probably kick my ass.

[He grumbles and crouches down, trying to grab the cat's collar and get a look.]

[Purr, purr, purr, purr. He holds very still, tucking his chin up so that Pietro can get a good look at the little silver tag that says CASSEL. He may be smirking a little bit. Sort of. As much as cats can smirk.]

[Too bad Cassel was never very specific about what kind of things he could do.]

Cassel has a fucking cat? Jesus.

[He runs a hand through his hair. Or someone named their cat after Cassel. Which is just creepy.]

He's not fucking home, so don't expect me to let you back in or whatever.

[Well. Technically this is true, but Cassel's cat is much greyer and fluffier and meaner, and also hardly ever leaves his room.]

[He wrinkles his nose and yowls because he can't laugh. Then he winds his way around Pietro so he's standing directly behind him, getting as much fur on him as possible, and yowls again.]

[Pietro brushes himself off, grumbling.]

Ah, shaddup. Do you know where that asshole's gone to?

[As if the cat understands him. Great. He's losing it.]

[He cocks his head as if he's thinking very hard, then turns around and hops up onto the couch again, sitting carefully with his tail wrapped around his front paws. He looks at Pietro pointedly, then faces forward and closes his eyes.]

[What happens next is . . . pretty gross. The cat's limbs begin to shift first, with a slight crunching noise, lengthening, fur receding. Then everything starts to grow, ears pulling back and sliding down the side of his head. The last thing to go is the tail, with another crunch, and Cassel's sitting on the couch with his legs tucked up under him.]

[He looks at Pietro expectantly.]

Edited 2015-06-27 03:03 (UTC)

[His first thought, as impossible as it is, is Mystique. He tenses, stepping back, but not because of the grotesque display. He's pretty used to that, though Mystique's quicker.

Then he sees a familiar, smirking, stupid face. And he sighs.]

Fucking hell, Cassel.

[The look on Pietro's face is just. Fucking amazing. Cassel laughs, so hard it's almost silent, bent double and leaning on the arm of the couch for support.]

Holy shit, your face. Your face. You have a really expressive face, you know that? I have to do this more often.

[He hops up off the couch and sidles over, hands in his pockets.]

You fucking asshole!

[Pietro grabs something off one of the chairs - a pillow - and throws it at him.]

I thought you were - whatever. Doesn't fucking matter. You never fucking told me you could do that, okay?

[He ducks, but the pillow bounces off his head anyway. Laughing, he grabs it and tosses it back at Pietro overhands. His aim is not great.]

There's lots of shit I've never told you. Like my sign. I never told you my sign. You wanna know my sign?

"I turn into a fucking cat sometimes" is a pretty damn big thing to just not mention!

[The pillow goes wide, but Pietro grabs it anyway. And tosses it again. His aim is excellent.]

You little fucking snot. Guess dying didn't change anything, huh?

Edited 2015-06-27 03:52 (UTC)

Oh, that's not--

[The pillow hits him in the face. He splutters, picks it up again, crosses over to Pietro, and tries to just hit him with it.]

That's not actually all I can do. Just sometimes.

[A half-grin.] Why? Did you seriously think it would?

[Pietro grabs the pillow before it can hit him, easily, and holds it there. He might not be a full-on speedster, but his reflexes are still on the edge of inhuman.]

What the fuck do I know, man? I've never died. Why the hell are you wandering around as a fucking cat?

[Goddamnit. Cassel wrestles with the pillow for a few seconds, trying to smash it into Pietro's face, then gives up and lets go, folding his arms over his chest.]

I mean, usually it at least puts a crimp in somebody's style. Not mine, though.

Because I want to. Because I can. Because it freaks people out. Because sometimes people say things to or around cats that they wouldn't say to my face.

[He cocks his head curiously.]

Like you. You were looking for me, weren't you.

[Pietro tosses it back onto a chair, then crosses his arms and scowls.]

Nah. I was just trying to get your stupid cat back before someone who's a bigger asshole than me fucked with it.

[Liar.]

Oh. Okay.

[That's a patently obvious lie, but, well, if that's how it's gonna be. Cassel shoots him a positively dazzling smile.]

Thanks. I mean, for trying to help. It's really nice of you.

[Are you uncomfortable yet.]

Aw, shut it. I didn't want it following me back to my room, okay?

[He looks away and huffs.]

I haven't caught you at the gym, lately.

Me. Not it. Someday I'm gonna set Ilia on you if you keep that shit up.

[Still dazzling over here, even if you're looking away, the dazzle is palpable, Pietro. You cannot escape it.]

I missed a couple shifts. Coming back to life was - weirder, this time. I didn't death toll, but, I mean. Still. Super bizarre.

They're just, y'know, cats, man.

[What does it matter if he calls them he or she or it?]

So... coming back to life usually isn't weird, huh?

[Okay, now he gives Pietro a stern look. He has Very Strong Feelings about cats, okay. Someday Pietro will unlock his tragic backstory and he'll know.]

[Along with the stern look comes a shrug.]

It's usually weird, but it's usually more - I don't know. Natural-feeling? Like you'd think if you came back to life, you'd feel like shit. Usually we do, with the death toll. But this - I just felt clean. Organized. Like nothing had ever happened.

I know that's backwards, that I should feel better because of that, but I don't know. It was just off.

[He's used to girls getting mushy over animals. But, well, this is Cassel. Pietro rolls his eyes a little but doesn't push the cat thing, for now.]

I dunno. Knew a guy who did something like that, once. Put dead people back together, I mean.

Seemed pretty un-fucking-natural then, too.

[Of course, Apocalypse had brought them back as puppets to his will... Pietro shudders at the memory.]

fifty-five ➢ spam & voice

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