Job Description: Housecat
"So..." Szil began, staring warily at her new boss, Light, "Let me get this clear. You put out a hit on your side squeeze's pet, so you can just slide me in?"
It seemed a trivial misuse and waste of her power. To be put in place as a glorified spy. "Why? You need me to spy on her, or watch her? Or..."
Light rubbed his mouth, sweeping the amused smile from his face as he listened to her. Szil was sure he was not impressed with her bellyaching, but this was not the sort of work she envisioned when it came to proving her worthiness to the Quarter.
"This isn't just about that. But yes, watch her, report to the little street rats I'll send your way, and so on. I'll go over this one last time..."
He sighed, leaning forward in his chair as he steepled his hands neatly together, fixing her with a deadpan stare, "Your magic makes you useful, no doubt. But you're that much less useful, if you won't use it the way I want it to be. This is a test not only of ability to follow instruction, and prove what you can do. This is a chance to prove your reliability, that your talents are at my disposal. If they are, you're a benefit to me. If they aren't, then you're a threat. Understood?"
Szil hid her trepidation behind a mask of amusement. But the truth was, she was scared shitless of this man. And to think that she would immediately make herself vulnerable, by undergoing the transformation in front of him, and let him deliver her by hand to his mistress... It made her profoundly uncomfortable. But what choice did she have? She'd signed on to the Shadow Quarter. For better or ill, they and by extension he, owned her. There was of course a complex hierarchy to the whole chain of command, but since he had been the one to vouch for her, he could make or break her. She had to play nice, for now.
So, he smirked and leaned back in his chair. He knew all of that as well as she did. She supposed he must get a sense of satisfaction of lording it over people, prostitutes, and the 'illegal' slaves he moved in and out of Rharne. Then, she supposed he'd enjoy what she had to do.
They'd instructed her, given the nature of their meeting, not to get dolled up or wear her best to the meeting. She just wore her usual beggar rags, clothes that made her less worth taking notice of, or looking at. Her hair was trousled up, scattered dust and dirt on it for effect. But she wasn't an ugly woman, and she, in her self, had a figure that many men would consider alluring.
So she began removing the rags that she wore, in front of him. He stopped her as she went about it, "Slow, lovely. Depending on your performance, this might be the last time I see you like this."
She didn't hide the glare shot at him, but he seemed to enjoy her anger as long as it was followed by obedience. So she undressed, slowly for the perverse soldier of the Quarter in front of her.
Once she was without her clothes, she took the totem object in her hand, a pewter ring with a cat-eye jasper in it. She concentrated on it, fixing her blue eyes on the trinket, while Light drank in the sight of her. She smiled at him then, happy that she'd get to upset his pleasure at seeing her thus, by the gruesome transformation that would follow.
She turned her eyes back to the ring, and as it fell into her flesh, she felt her bones snap, compress, and reform. She let out an exultant screech as her body all at once, the muscles, the tendons, the bone structure all went through the horrible experience of transformation. Transformation was always a torturous process, such that many new becomers didn't return to their original shape, but persisted in whatever form they'd adopted until the last moment. Many more initiaties never survivved. In that respect, Szil was lucky.
Her screams and gasps and groans turned into caterwauling and feline screeching as she became the domestic long-hair, black cat. Her blue eyes looked up defiantly then at Angel, waiting for him to return the trust she'd shown him. Sure enough, he came forward. She flinched instinctively, but he picked her up anyway and cradled her in one arm. From there, he took her out of their meeting place, and began walking the way toward his Mistress' house.
"So, it occurs to me." Angel said to Szil as he carried her to the house where he put his Mistress up in. "You'll need a name for her to call you."
Szil hadn't in fact thought of that, and in her opinion Cat was a serviceable enough name for her. She didn't want to get into such attachments as pet names and terms of endearment with this woman. She was here to collect information and bring it back to the street rats that Angel employed. She wasn't here to make friends.
"How about Silly?" Angel suggested, "Close enough to your own name."
Szil vocalized in a very clear human voice, her own, "No no no. Cat is fine."
Angel squeezed the cat's ribs as he carried her, sending a twinge of pain up her spine as she squirmed in his arm. "Yes, that's a good name. Silly. Remember, to be nice to my girl."
The house grew bigger as they approached. It might've been that her perspective was skewed, being smaller than usual but it appeared far too rich for a side-girl for the Shadow Soldier. This woman was something important to him, beyond even the company she provided. She had a feeling this was getting into something far more complex than had been advertised.
And she was having second thoughts.
But it was too late for that, as he knocked and then entered, Silly in arm.
"Angel?" Came a voice from the hallway, "Is that you?" That must be her mark. Angel didn't relinquish his hold over the cat, but kept her firmly in his grip. She stared with her blue eyes around at the surroundings, taking in the layout and potential hiding spots for when she wanted to evade a cuddling session with her new 'owner'.
"Me sweetling." Angel replied, and held up Silly. "I heard about your other animal... I'm sorry."
The woman didn't appear too disturbed b her 'pet's' passing. Silly couldn't help but wonder about the method of murder that Angel employed to get it out of the way. "Ohhh! Isn't she beautiful!" Angel's Mistress cooed over Silly, wrapping her hands around her face and pinching the fur on her cheeks uncomfortably. Silly had to suppress the feline instinct to bite at the strange hands that were suddenly all over her.
Angel handed her over to his mistress. "Maven, I thought you'd like this one, saw her wandering around the Dust Quarter, and she seems tame enough. Her name is Silly."
Maven looked at Angel with a coquettish quirk of a brow, and a smile. "She's so adorable. Thank you."
The embrace of Maven, at least, was far more comfortable and accomodating than that of Angel, who'd not been as concerned for the cat's level of comfort. Still, she wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of cozying up to this Maven.
"Will you be able to stay, Angel?" Silly frowned, fierce thoughts of denial running through her mind. Although she was conflicted. Angel staying probably meant she'd be off the hook for any cuddling. Then again, she'd have to be treated to the chorus of their animal rutting. Everything always, compromises.
"No darlin' I have to check downtown on some of the people. We have a shipment going out soon, and I want to be there to ensure it goes smoothly." Angel's expression was apologetic. Silly scowled at him as he moved to kiss Maven and then pulled back. She fought the instinct to swat at the movement.
"Oh..." Maven's heart sinking was almost palpable as she held Silly in her arms, her posture slouching slightly. Silly wanted to fight free of her, but had to impress her boss with her obedience, or things would not go smoothly for her continued employment and career as a living being. She held no illusions that the rare status of having a pocket mage would be held in reverence if the mage became renegade.
She had to cooperate, and she was intent on doing this job well.
So she remained in Maven's arms, allowing her to carry her around the house after Angel left. The woman was not very chatty, contrary to Angel's statements about his mistress. She might have to warm up to Silly before she'd share any information verbally. But he had told Szil that Maven liked to speak to her animals, like a little diary, spilling her guts.
How he knew this, was hers to guess, but she suspected it had something to do with the street rats he sent running around the streets of Rharne. Well, now he had an eye on the wall, in the housecat Silly.
Continued here
