this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow
If Niki didn't know better, and really perhaps he should, he'd swear that the cat on his lap has understood every word he's said. What's more, not only is there understanding but there's disapproval too, and as the kneading stops and a sound that might become something eldritch if left alone long enough starts to rise in the feline's throat, he raises his eyebrows. "Hey," he begins, but then Vesper is gone, springing from his lap and across to the windowsill in a movement that turns him briefly into liquid shadow.
Only then does the splashing reach his ears, Niki's brow furrowing as he turns towards the window as well. "Oh," he says, understanding the sudden upset (sort of) but not seeming too bemused by it. "They are just glotters." Because if the cat is going to act as though he understands him, why not continue with a one-sided conversation?
"The woods do not often bring the Symphony here," he continues, getting up from the bed and moving to join Vesper at the window amid his chorus of hisses and baps against the glass. "They will move on soon enough. Perhaps they will even leave some gold behind."
Only then does the splashing reach his ears, Niki's brow furrowing as he turns towards the window as well. "Oh," he says, understanding the sudden upset (sort of) but not seeming too bemused by it. "They are just glotters." Because if the cat is going to act as though he understands him, why not continue with a one-sided conversation?
"The woods do not often bring the Symphony here," he continues, getting up from the bed and moving to join Vesper at the window amid his chorus of hisses and baps against the glass. "They will move on soon enough. Perhaps they will even leave some gold behind."
Niki
i used to have strength but i ran out of hope
