wildmage_daine | (no subject)

It's been a hard week for Kitten.

Which isn't to say it's been all bad. There are plenty of things around the apartment that appeal to her, and she's shown even more fascination with the laptop than Daine had. The rats have almost stopped being afraid of her. And Daine's just about finished modifying a backpack into a cozy, secure means of transportation that'll keep her well-hidden. Once that's done, it'll be much easier to at least take Kitten to meet folk, even if she can't romp around in the open.

But there are still times when Daine has to leave her alone at the apartment. There's her job, and her more unofficial (but still important) rounds, and errands. It seems like every time Daine leaves her behind, Kitten turns an even more sullen shade of gray before crawling beneath the bed to sulk. Daine's explained the gravity of the situation as best she can, but that doesn't make the reality of it any less frustrating.

Part of her half-expects Kitten to act out in some way. When it does eventually happen, there's at least one small mercy: Daine's still in the building. In fact, she's still in bed. She's woken by tiny paws on her cheek and the concerned squeaks of Thistle and Poppy. Daine lifts her head groggily, wondering what the fuss is about, and the rats' explanations sink in just as Daine catches sight of the light spilling into her hallway.

Kitten is gone, and the apartment door's been opened.

Daine sits up sharply, reshaping her ears, and her heart sinks when she hears a familiar whistle and the click of someone's lock giving way. "Curse it!" she hisses, scrambling out of bed as quickly as she can without hurting the rats and dashing for the outer hallway. "Curse it, curse it..." She swings out into the hall, glancing both ways, and just spots the tip of Kitten's tail disappearing into her next-door neighbor's apartment.

She presses her lips together, swallowing the several things she'd like to say, and tiptoes down the hall as quickly as she can. "Kitten!" she whispers as loudly as she dares. "Get back here!"

Threaded | Flat

Eowyn had been quietly enjoying the warmth of her chambers from underneath a blanket. She had a book about a red-haired child with a great strength of imagination and did not plan to leave her small fortress unless required.

When her locked door unlocked itself, though, she sprang to action. She expected none this day, and none had keys to her chambers except the owner of this property. None should be entering here, and she was thus wary of any that did.

She did not reach for her sword, but she did pick up a large statue of a horse and turn carefully to see what was at the door.

A ... drake? She had no treasure for such a creature, though she had never seen or heard of one so small.

"I have nothing that you would seek here," she told the drake firmly.