Fate has four legs

Granger     Russet fur slips between fallen debris that litters the pathway Granger’s small paws carry him on. It would be faster to assume his human form despite the lengthy amount of time since his last shift but the thought doesn’t occur to him, so comfortable within his compacted mouse shift when going about his day to day life that doing so any differently is out of the question as far as he’s concerned. And while it does take him longer, taking a break every so often to clean his snout of any dust with his forepaws (and a breather), before he’s back on the trail into the settlement.     Granger had hoarded enough scraps during his last visit to last him a few days while nosing around exposed beams and abandoned houses, but even a small mouse needed to eat more than a few crumbs a day. Between the small town and the outskirts where he made his home in between a decaying brick building, the breaks in the wall the perfect size for a mouse like him, the young Attuned had made a comfortable nest for himself; if not a bit bare boned. However as he came across the main street through the settlement, his stomach growled and was accompanied by a squeak as he darted between the heavy steps of the humanoids that towered over him, reminding him of his mission for the day.     Get food.       Get out.     Years of the same routine left little for him to think about when it came to acquiring food. Vendors set up their booths in the same places every day for years and every few weeks the young man made it a habit to hang around the feet of merchants peddling their wares. He didn’t think anything of it when he jumped over the foot of one person and proceeded to use his small claws on all four paws to get a grip on the next persons pant leg, hauling himself up until he was level with the booth.     With a short jump from pant leg to the booth he landed with a small squeak of surprise at the impact. Crumbs didn’t allow him to be the strongest mouse around but at least he didn’t have a third eye or two tails like some he’d seen in recent years. Paying no attention to those walking among the vendors, as nobody ever paid attention to him, Granger set about nosing at the husks of vegetables to find the smallest one he could drag back with him.

Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight

Jigano - or Smith, as Cera would know him now - had been a faithful guide and an emphatic teacher. Though it was disorienting to have another form, Cera had enough experience with magic to pick up the transition rather smoothly after being introduced to it. Still, he found himself wandering and exploring the reaches of the town on two feet rather than four, fonder of conversation than ease of travel. There was so much to see and explore, a veritable encyclopedia of information to absorb about the land and its inhabitants that tantalized him from the start. Though he regrettably has to allot a certain amount of time to keeping himself alive at the very least, Cera spends most of his days wandering the settlement he was slowly coming to understand.

On one such day he is wandering - aimless as always these days, solitary as he was - through the markets. A small pouch hangs at his hip, strung across one broad shoulder and a long-fingered hand resting on the strap as he peruses the daily selection. Bartering was something he could partake in, unsure of the monetary system as he was, and he'd had luck with bringing in kills wrapped in leaves and leathers to ensure he had a broader selection of more human-attuned tastes. A few fresh selections of meat were tenderly wrapped in some of the butcher paper he'd been kindly given by one of his more frequent bartering buddies, ready to be frozen or cooked by whoever he traded with that day.

Instead, fate seems to have other ideas as weight pulls fabric taught against his legs. Cera startles, but years of a companion running up his limbs keeps him from kicking out against whatever bold creature climbs up his trousers. Verdant eyes glance down, wide and surprised as a small mouse scampers from his hip to the closest vendor's table. Luckily whoever runs this stall is haggling with another customer, allowing Cera a moment to watch the little thing.

Inching closer, not wanting to startle it and unsure if it was Attuned, companion, or simple mouse, Cera bends at the waist to whisper to the little creature. Yes, he does feel a little silly, but his soft heart cannot help but sympathize with the way it scrounges. A hand delves into his bag to pull out a small pack of meat and a handful of berries, unsure which would appeal more to the little creature. Nimble fingers peel back the butcher paper on the meat, and he edges closer.

"Little one," he whispers, heat coating his ears a charming shade of red in his embarrassment at the idea of being overheard. His hand opens to very slowly offer the food. Hopefully his soft tone will not frighten the mouse, especially if it is a wild one with no way of understanding his language. "Surely this is more appealing than scampering away with such a heavy piece? Let us not bother the poor vendor, I will happily share with you," Cera murmurs almost nonsensically. As a follower of the God of the Earth in his youth, speaking to various fauna and flora alike had never bothered him or struck him as particularly odd.

He only hopes that if this little creature does understand him, that it will deign to trust him enough to either take the food or allow itself to be carried to where Cera could safely set him down with the food. He could not help but worry about the poor thing being trampled, with how bold it was to have leaped upon him in the first place.

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Granger        Due to his size and the nature of his shift, he was easy to miss. It was just the way Granger liked it, blending in and out of the shadows. Most creatures were too self absorbed to notice a small mouses comings and goings. It certainly made his occasional thieving all the more convenient when nobody took note of him rummaging around, trying to at least keep his small, dirty paws off of every piece of produce. Even if he wasn’t being noticed the young man tried to remain somewhat courteous in respect to his late mother. She’d already be disappointed enough in his actions as it was. The thought gives him pause, paws stopping their struggle to grasp the length of a vegetable at the edge of the stall.        The moment of thought is interrupted when he hears someone speaking softly. Large ears twitch at the sound and the soft breath that follows, his fur coat shivering at the unexpected sensation. This soft voice is much too quiet to be speaking to the vendor, already engaged in conversation with a customer, but his beady eyes blink before he turns to see who could be… addressing him? Nobody noticed him, why would this person notice him now? If he wasn’t shifted he’s sure his cheeks would flush as red as some of the root vegetables in front of him, his paws caught in the candy jar.        On all fours he turns, leaving his objective behind for a moment to see who he attracted. The man standing in front of him, hands spread wide with more food than he could feasibly drag back in one trip, and fair skin as flushed as Granger imagined his own to be under a layer of fur. A tilt of his head is all he gives to indicate his attention is caught, hesitantly stepping closer to the boons offered in front of him. Dark eyes flicking to the mans face once more before he reaches out to the berries, he takes a smaller one between both paws and nibbles it, jaw moving furiously as he swallows it down as fast as he can take a bite. If a mouse could moan, his squeak of approval was the closest thing this strange man was going to get. It was easily the freshest meal he’d had in gods know how long.        His concern for a man that speaks to a random mouse is briefly allayed as he hops into the open hand with the berries, stuffing his cheeks until he’s sure he could burst. Only then does he turn his attention to the odd blonde man he sits upon.        "Who do you think you are, old man? You could get rabies from something like this.” Though his mouth doesn’t move, still chewing on the ripe flesh of the fruit, he projects his thoughts onto this stranger. If a mouse could scoff he would, instead his tail whipping across the outstretched palm. If anything, a bit of a scare might be funny if the old man isn’t expecting it, as long as he isn’t dropped.

Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight

Large ears shiver and twitch at the sound of his soft voice, and it brings a smile to Cera's full lips. At least the little creature doesn't startle and scamper away, which is a minor win for the young man. He watches with bated breath as the small, furred body tentatively crawls closer to the proffered food in his palm. It's like time seems to slow, a small victory, an act of kindness in motion that fills his breast with warmth. The smallest actions often had the largest rippling effects after all.

Tiny, dexterous paws grasp one of the berries and brings it up off his skin, devouring it with gusto. Even that would have been enough, to know the small creature had gotten a fresher morsel for the day, but the breath in his throat hitches as the mouse climbs boldly into his cupped hand. "There you go, isn't that better than some old vegetables?" he says quietly, unable to help his golden smile. The little paws tickle against his skin, but he holds as still as he can, letting the mouse gorge itself on whatever selection it desires.

Already the mouse has his attention when it sits up and peers imperiously at him, so he doesn't jerk when a voice presses into his head. His fingers twitch the barest amount, but Cera laughs softly regardless at the insolent words.

"I certainly wouldn't be surprised to be bitten with how you're devouring that," he teases back, voice still dropped quietly. It had become apparent during his brief traveling with Smith that in human form, he could not respond telepathically. He pulls on a faux affronted look, though his emerald eyes still glitter with amusement. "And I'm certainly no old man! How old are you anyway?" It's an underhanded trick, teasing the little spitfire into revealing the information, but his manner of speech alone makes Cera worried for his age and the stability of his life.

He'd had nieces, nephews, a...a daughter, once. Little ones had always seemed to flock to him, and he'd taken them in with open arms and open heart, as his adopted father once had. Paying it forward, he would call it, if he didn't love them all so dearly. It had never been a burden, winning over their trust and seeing them grow. He wanted to ask where the (suspected) child's family was, whether he had a home, why he was scavenging - though that was perhaps the easiest question to answer. Clearly the little mouse Attuned did not have a steady source of food, and that was...concerning. But he had a feeling asking those questions in general was going to be a battle with the child's already apparent personality, and asking them so soon after meeting him would likely be disastrous.

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Mercutio had followed Ashe to town but soon after their arrival he’d broken off on his own to explore the small collection of streets. She hadn’t seemed concerned at traversing human village as a wolf and so Mercutio assumed he’d also be welcome here. Though he’d enjoyed the she-wolf’s company she had seemed just a little too pleased to meet him and so he was carefully asserting that pleasant acquaintances was all he could commit to being for now. She’s been perfectly friendly but Mercutio was especially wary nowadays of even the suggestion of any form of attachment.

He’d already made the mistake of following someone home, and all that had gotten him was this awful feeling he was trying his damndest to ignore. He hated it, missing someone, and someone he wasn’t sure he had the right to have known in the first place. He’d spent nearly his whole life trying to do the exact opposite and apparently couldn’t even get that right.

It was Ashe’s comment that had put it in his mind, surely. Conjured up the image that he had formed in a dream or two, hardly acknowledged, when Mercutio had been human. When the wolf caught a flash if golden hair the little rising feeling in his gut only served to feed a growing anger at himself for being such an utter fool. His glance down the alley showed a blonde figure bent over some vendor’s stall, but the wolf only let out an exasperated huff and moved down another street and out of sight. No use imagining green eyes and angel smiles; he wouldn’t be that lucky in this or any life.

Mercutio

go take this the wrong way
you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

Granger     The fact that he wasn’t dropped was good enough for Granger, rolling a particularly small berry in between his paws as he listens to the man’s soft voice. Despite the soft tone, the small mouse puffs his chest out with indignance, but not before the berry is shoved unceremoniously into the pouch of his cheeks. He knew how to control where his teeth went, thank you very much. Forgetting one's manners when it came to fresh food was entirely different when one was presented with a finger in front of a curious snout. He’d like to see this buffoon try and control his body as succinctly as Granger had learned to do in his attuned form.     The thought makes him laugh, as much as a mouse can, a small squeak wracking his body as he swallows the berry down. Even the annoyance of his mission being interrupted could be put aside for a few moments when he got a treat as delightful as fresh berries. It was still irksome to be detoured in such a manner, but he only had to put up with the old man for as long until he grew bored, just as he expected of any other creature.     So despite paws stained with the juice of too many berries, and the full belly to match, Granger sits up on his hind legs. His front paws rest on where hips might be if he was human, his long tail flaring out to stabilize his form on such an uneven plane as the palm of a stranger's hand. It had been a long time since he had had to start looking out for himself and the fact he was still here to talk to this man was something the boy prided himself on. Not many mice could say the same, and not entirely due to the fact of their short natural lifespans.          ”I’m fifteen, so you’re probably ancient, looking like that. I thought old men were supposed to be wise. Not stupid and talk to strange animals.” Granger slumps back into all fours, paws leaving wet prints of berry juice as he scampered over to the hand with meat, scrambling for purchase when getting caught on the sleeves of the blonde’s shirt. He’d only take a little of this before going off. He’d dallied long enough for his liking, already wishing for the seclusion and darkness of the hole he had made a home. His delicate paws start to make work at the edge of the marbled meat, tearing into the fascia that holds the muscle together.     He pauses in his work, moist snout twitching at the cool air as he glances at the man once more. Would he have talked to any mouse, regardless of attunement? What a strange man. Definitely an Outlander with that behavior.             Oh well,             he'd probably end up dead within a week anyway, may as well take advantage of his misplaced kindness.

Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight

Cera has to bite his lip against his own laughter as the little mouse squeaks while simultaneously shoving a fat berry in his cheeks. He's entirely convinced that the mouse is going to either give itself the hiccups with that manner of eating - can mice get hiccups? - or would simply gorge himself until he swelled up like a fuzzy balloon. String included. Still, as amusing as the thought is, it's undeniably nice to be able to help provide for the little thing.

Or at least it is until the little devil rears up on its hind legs and sasses back at him.

Nonetheless, Cera has to laugh. It reminds him so dearly of his children, wherever they may rest now, and it warms his heart in equal turns as it hurts. Fifteen, however, is a number far more concerning than his grief. Fifteen...it's a better age than any younger, but still far too young to be out on his own. And Cera knows that he is, his fatherly senses tingling away. Just like that, he knows he's going to do something impulsive and potentially stupid. But despite his own self-proclaimed stupidity in the face of children, he's aware enough to know he can't just spring it on the little mouse-boy immediately. He'd been a wandering orphan once. Cera knew how wary you had to be in that position.

"Ancient! Well, you're probably no taller in your human form than you are now, being fifteen!" he teases back in mock offense. "We wouldn't be strangers if you told me your name," he points out, smiling as he shifts his hands to better aid the mouse-boy in his efforts to get to the meat. Not that he expects the boy to divulge such personal information freely, so he offers his own first.

"My name is Cera. I have plenty more if you'd like to take some, or I can drop it off some ways from where you're staying? You wouldn't have to show me where," he clarifies, knowing what he's asking for is a lot. But even if the boy spurned his other advances and attempts, at least he could leave him with a mound of food that would hopefully last him a few weeks more. And if he knew a drop-off point...well he'd certainly make it a daily ritual whether the child liked it or not.

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Granger Granger considered the man in front of him for a moment longer as he skirted from one hand to the other. He'd never had such accessible options before, and to be honest, it was a little overwhelming to be faced with such kindness. Even when his parents were still alive the meals were meeker than most. More mouths to feed. At least now he only had himself to worry about. Not that the young Attuned had any interest in expressing such a fact as he stuffed more food between his cheeks. The seed of a berry catches in his throat, he'll swear on it, as he chokes at the comment regarding his height. He'd show the man. Granger has no intention of being reduced to the size of a field mouse, the fact that he primarily lived in this form notwithstanding. With a huff, he took one last mouthful before scampering down the man's, Cera's, pant leg the same way he had scampered up the first time. "'m not small! 'm a normal height for my age, Cera." Granger huffed. Though he started his sentence as a mouse at the foot of Cera's shoe, he slowly shifted to his human form. Despite being crouched as large mouse ears melted into ears still-too-large-for-his-face, it was apparent his frame was smaller than other boys his age. Though Granger was hardly ever around others to compare himself too. Standing up and brushing off the rags he called clothes, the young boy looked all too pleased with himself, 'standing up' for himself as he had. "Don't need any help from an old man like you. Besides, shouldn't you be putting more meat on yourself?" The mousy brunette reached out to pinch one of Cera's arms, notably unimpressed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his other hand, smearing dirt across his face in the process.

Something so known to me, sunlight oh sunlight // All of your love is sunlight

Cera stares back, affecting an expression of pure innocence as the mouse stares him down. Whatever he finds in his face must be satisfactory, because he hops over to his other hand on nimble little paws that tickle against his skin. The choke that follows is so feeble in his small form that Cera nearly doesn't catch it, but panics nonetheless when he does. Luckily the mouse-boy doesn't seem too daunted by that particular problem, though he gives Cera a heart attack when he scampers down his leg, afraid he has scared the boy off before he can offer his full assistance.

Instead the boy begins to shift, voice resonating from inside Cera's head only to echo in his ears in the span of a blink. Cera's verdant gaze devours the small child before him, categorizing everything he can at the moment and committing it to memory. Still, he has to keep up the conversation lest the boy truly decides to scamper off, and so he smirks down at the shorter boy - though unfortunately, it's not by much - and puts a hand to his chin in mocking appearance of thinking. "Hmmm, I'm not sure, what's your definition of normal?" Okay, maybe that's the big brother in him rearing its head, but he can't help but tease the boy when his reactions are so immediate and heated. It's adorable.

Cera yelps when the boy reaches to pinch his arm, face flushing even as he frowns (no it's not a pout) and puts his hands on his hips. "Now I'm sure that you don't know what normal is! I could lift you with one arm, pipsqueak," he retorts, though it's clear his annoyance is fake with how a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, insistent on breaking free. Only then does he relax his arms unthreateningly at his side, reaching for his satchel and offering it in its entirety to Granger. "But really, I meant what I said. I'd rather you take what I have right now and keep it. LongNight is coming, and I want to help if I can. I promise it's not a handout, no strings attached." Just in case the boy had reason to fear that. Cera wants to do so much more, but he doesn't want to make the boy uncomfortable. He hadn't even learned his name yet.

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Granger Granger scoffs at the insinuation Cera thought to make when he was hardly standing taller than himself. Weren't adults supposed to be... Bigger? At least more so than Cera seemed to be. He had never been good at judging the height of things as a mouse- everything was bigger than he was. Regardless, the matter of height wasn't important as he eyed the satchel held out to him without hesitation. Who did he think he was? "You can't be serious." Granger's arms cross across his chest as he deadpans to Cera. He hardly has to look up to look as unimpressed as he does. While not entirely insulted by the charity, he'd already accepted the food, after all, there's no way he can carry that back to his home. It wouldn't even fit in his home. "You don't even know my name and you're giving me your bag. Someones gonna think 'm robbin' ya." It wasn't too farfetched of a concern for the young boy as he shifted his weight. While a mouse could go undetected, a young man looking as rough as he did with a nice bag like that? No way was he making it out of the market without being questioned. But the food in there would keep him fed throughout the season if he stayed in his hole. No more snow freezing his paws and matchstick fires to sleep through the hunger. He doesn't do a great job of hiding the way he's mulling over Cera's offer. Staring at his feet as he leans his weight from one foot to the other, he finally lets out a groan as he rolls his shoulders back. "I won't take your charity." He ran a hand through his hair as he avoided Cera's gaze. "But if you dropped it off at home... I won't say no."