I'd burn the bridge

VESPER

Something in the kitchen goes over with a sharp, deliberate crash, the sound of ceramic shattering loud enough to split clean through the quiet of the house, and it isn’t an accident, not remotely, not with the way Vesper has already stepped back from the edge of the table, tail held high and still, blue eyes fixed on the spreading ruin as though assessing the effectiveness of the statement he’s just made. The pieces lie scattered across the floor in a pale, jagged spill, whatever had once been contained now bleeding outward in a slow, creeping mess, and he watches it for only a moment longer before his attention flicks instead toward the hallway, toward the shift of movement that means Niki has heard, because of course he has, because that was rather the point.

He doesn’t wait to be discovered; the moment the necromancer’s presence begins to press closer, Vesper slips from the kitchen in a streak of black, silent and precise, already pivoting toward the bedroom with something far sharper than idle curiosity guiding him now. He has seen the bags, the careful folding, the quiet dismantling of a space that had, for a time, settled into something dangerously close to routine, and if the house has begun to feel different, thinner somehow, then he will answer that in kind. The mouse is carried with the same exacting neatness he applies to everything else, its body limp but not lifeless, a small, deliberate cruelty held gently between his teeth until he reaches the centre of Niki’s careful arrangement and lets it drop there, right where it cannot be missed, right where it will interrupt and stain and refuse to be ignored. Blood marks the fabric in slow, dark blooms, bright against the order, and Vesper steps back just enough to observe it, ears forward, posture composed, as though he has simply corrected something that had been placed incorrectly.

By the time Niki reaches the doorway, Vesper has already settled himself back on Niki's pillow, tail curled neatly around his paws as if this. There is no apology in the set of him, no trace of guilt or even mischief, only a quiet, simmering displeasure sharpened into action, the feline stillness wrapped tight around something far less patient beneath it, because if the house is going to change, if this small, contained arrangement is going to be packed away and carried somewhere else, then he will make certain it does not happen cleanly.

rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

"I am beginning to suspect that I have done something to offend you." Niki's voice is wearily amused in the way that it only can be when an animal is the source of chaos. Were it Vesper as a man who had knocked his coffee off the counter or deposited a mostly-dead mouse onto clean sheets, his reaction would not be nearly as measured. But as he enters the doorway after clearing up shattered ceramic and a dark spill of coffee, he can only raise his eyebrows at Vesper - and then at the twitching mouse trying to limp its way across the bed.

"See, this is what I am talking about. Whilst I appreciate the gift, you are normally one for a very clean kill. This is unbecoming of you." Luckily the mouse is maimed and therefore on the same playing field as Niki, so it doesn't get far before he's able to capture it between his hands. "Now I will have to do the dirty work." That work being to end the poor rodent's suffering. There is little to hand in his bedroom compared to his workshop, but Niki does select the top of a set of drawers and the hard heel of one of his shoes to do the job.

It's as quick and humane as it can be given the gruesome job, and he departs to get rid of the little body and to wash his hands before returning to the bedroom. "Is there something you would like to talk about?" he asks conversationally, sitting on the edge of the bed farthest from the bloodstain.

Niki

i used to have strength but i ran out of hope

VESPER

Vesper watches him with the same steady, unblinking regard as before, blue eyes fixed and bright as Niki speaks, as if weighing each word and finding them, at best, insufficient. His tail moves in a slow, measured flick behind him, back and forth with the quiet regularity of a metronome marking out irritation rather than time.

When the small body is dispatched, Vesper’s response is nothing more than a wide, languid yawn, jaws parting to reveal a flash of teeth before closing again with quiet indifference. At the question, Vesper rises without hurry, stretching through his spine in a slow, deliberate arch before stepping across the bed and down onto the floor, then up again onto the edge nearest Niki. There is no hesitation as he crosses the remaining distance, before settling himself squarely onto the necromancer’s lap. His purr starts almost immediately, low and steady, vibrating through him as he arranges himself into comfortable weight, tail curling neatly into place as though this has always been where he belongs.

And then, as if to underline the point in a language Niki might actually understand, his paws begin to press in slow, alternating rhythm, claws extending just enough to catch, to prick, to make the contact felt rather than merely tolerated. It is not careless, not quite cruel, but neither is it gentle; the pressure deepens incrementally, each kneading motion deliberate, measured, accompanied by that same unbroken purr that hums with quiet satisfaction.

rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

"I see. Quite." Niki can't help the smile that tugs at his lips to watch the feline stretch and prowl around the bed as if surveying a territory, only to spring up and into his lap in the end. This is routine by now, though the irritation is something felt in tiny pinprick claws against his thighs and knees, but Niki doesn't flinch away from it. He doesn't reach out for the silken black fur either, not until the first thrumming purrs begin; only then do his clever fingers start to scritch around Vesper's ears.

"A lot of things are changing, I know," he says as though the feline has communicated as much without ever saying a word. "The house does not look or smell the same. Things keep disappearing and moving. I am sure it must all feel rather overwhelming, especially for you." Animal senses being what they are, he means. "I am sorry for that. But once things are settled in King's End, it will be as though we have always been there."

Niki

i used to have strength but i ran out of hope

A splash breaks the river’s surface as a Glotter darts past, followed by another and then a third. They twist and tumble through the water, clearly more interested in play than caution.

One surfaces briefly, chittering before diving again, while the others chase in tight circles, sending ripples racing outward.

The group remains close, splashing and weaving through the current with boundless energy, turning the river into their personal playground.

---

Glotters Areas Found: Greatwood — Common These massive otters love to adorn themselves with the shiniest, glitteriest things they can find. As people so often lose shiny valuables in the river, the Glotters have found this the perfect place to call home. Following one might either lead you to treasures of your own, or result in you getting your toes bitten off. Challenge Rating: Easy HP: 201 | To Hit: +26 | Dmg: 12 Movement: Swim 40 ft.; Walk 20 ft.; Dive 30 ft. SPECIAL SKILLS Treasure Sense: uncanny knack for nosing out glittering objects buried in silt or reeds; Capricious Guide: may lead followers to hidden troves...or into sudden rapids and thorny banks; Toe Nippers: defend stashes and personal space with savage bites aimed at ankles and toes

TRAITS River-Bred: dense, waterproof fur and webbed paws for powerful swimming; Glitter-Mad: irresistibly drawn to shiny trinkets and jewelry; Social Foragers: travel in noisy pods that cooperate when hunting or thieving; Dexterous Paws: nimble grip for prying stoppers, unlatching boxes, and pilfering pockets ACTIONS Bite: a sharp, crushing snap meant to drive intruders off; Tail Batter: a sweeping tail slap that knocks foes off balance at the water’s edge; Splash Blind: kicks up a sheet of spray and silt to obscure vision while escaping; Chitter Lure: excited trills and playful bobbing that bait onlookers into deeper water

VESPER

The steady rhythm of his paws falters at the mention of King's End, the purr stuttering beneath it as something sharper cuts through the borrowed ease of this body, and though he does not lift his head, does not break the illusion of languid contentment outright, the sound that slips from him is low and unmistakable. It hums beneath the surface like distant thunder, a warning more than a protest, his claws pressing once—just once—more firmly into Niki’s leg before stilling entirely, the kneading ceasing as abruptly as it began.  He is already deciding his next move when the sound of the glotters reaches him, sharp and sudden and entirely out of place, a splash that shouldn’t exist where it does, followed by another, and another, the bright, chaotic chatter of something far too close to the house.

He is off Niki’s lap before the thought has fully formed, a streak of black cutting across the room with sudden purpose, landing lightly on the windowsill in a single, fluid motion. The world beyond has shifted again and where there should be trees, now there is water, the surface breaking with sleek, darting shapes that gleam and twist and chatter like they own the place. Vesper’s ears flatten hard against his skull, a hiss ripping from him, the sound sharp and vicious as his paw lifts to strike the glass, once, twice, claws clicking uselessly against the barrier as one of the creatures turns its bright attention toward him.

His tail lashes behind him, no longer the controlled, measured thing it had been, but something far more volatile, slicing the air in tight, agitated arcs as he stares the glotter down through the pane. Another sharp hiss escapes him, softer this time but no less pointed, as though the creature outside might understand exactly how unwelcome it is, how entirely out of place, and how very close Vesper is to deciding that the boundary between them is a problem that could, and perhaps should, be solved.

rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

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."

Niki

i used to have strength but i ran out of hope

VESPER

The dismissal lands worse than the name had, a low, simmering growl threading its way out of Vesper’s throat at the casual just of it, as though the intrusion amounts to nothing, as though the shifting edges of this place—what he was coming to think of as his place—are something to be accepted without protest. His body tightens along the windowsill, shoulders bunching beneath sleek fur, tail lashing in sharper, more agitated strokes as the creatures outside continue their bright, chattering play like they haven’t already overstepped.

When Niki steps in behind him, close enough now that the warmth of him presses faintly at Vesper’s back, the reaction is immediate and instinctive, his ears flattening hard against his skull as he turns his head just enough to bare the line of his teeth in a sharp, warning hiss. It isn’t fear, not remotely, but something far more irritable, a refusal to be crowded, to be soothed, to have this smoothed over into something acceptable when it is very much not.

The yowl that builds in him is quieter than the hiss but no less charged, a strained, frustrated sound dragged low through his chest as his paw lifts and slams once more against the glass, claws striking uselessly against the barrier with a sharp, hollow tap.

rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

this world is a wasteland where nothing can grow

It isn't the first time Vesper has hissed at him - Niki doesn't consider it a normal day if he isn't treated to some degree of spice from his feline roommate - but it's never sounded quite like this. The sound and the bared teeth have him stepping back from the windowsill automatically, giving the distance demanded and raising the hand not on his cane as if to placate or perhaps keep at bay. "Alright," he says, "point taken."

The display combined with the earlier swatting and smashing of his mug and the half-dead mouse on his sheets are more than enough of an indicator to leave things be, and so he retreats from the room and the frolicking glotters at the window to leave Vesper to whatever petty destruction might follow. The majority of his possessions have already been boxed up and stacked out of the way, so there is little to be batted from shelves or off the edge of tables, but the feline is welcome to destroy anything left.

In the meantime, Niki returns to the kitchen to finish the last of his packing there, though he doesn't dare try for another cup of coffee.

Niki

i used to have strength but i ran out of hope

VESPER

The room settles into silence the moment Niki leaves, unknowingly seeing his cat for the last time. For a time, Vesper remains exactly where he is, watching the dark beyond the glass until it reflects nothing back at him but his own narrow, blue-eyed stare, until even that begins to blur at the edges. The silence stretches, and in it his irritation sharpens into something colder, before Vesper departs from the windowsill.

In the morning, when the light creeps pale and thin through the windows, Niki will find the kitchen counter cleared save for two things. A note, simple and unadorned, bearing only a single word: don’t.

And beside it, a dead magpie.

~FIN

rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!