[ after having already committed to being alone in his discomfort and misery, the sound of the door creaking open once more startles him. he assumed D left long ago, and that the cat would never be seen again, and yet the pregnant wretch waddles in and drops a dead mouse in the corner despite laurent having spent his hard-earned (stolen) coin on fresh fish for the creature. D soon follows, though he lingers frustratingly by the door. at least the draft stops, and laurent glances over to find the broken door closed in an efficient fashion.
he isn't expecting those next words despite all the signs that probably should have told him this himself. he looks at the cat, his eyes suddenly as round as the moon. ]
How will that happen? [ he has not thought through the logistics of such a thing and has never seen a creature, human or animal, give birth before. it would be much easier if it would simply lay eggs. he clutches the cloak around his shoulders, his face colorless with either the cold or panic, or perhaps both. ] I'm not ready. I've not — it's cold, and there's only one bed.
[ he looks at the cat, then unwinds his cloak from around his shoulders — rich, heavy, a navy color with a golden sunburst emblazoned across the back, the inside warm and soft and the edges trimmed neatly with fox fur. carefully, he bundles it on the floor close to the cat once more.
now he's certain he'll freeze to death before the cat gives birth anyway. he scoots closer to the fire, shivering. ]
no subject
he isn't expecting those next words despite all the signs that probably should have told him this himself. he looks at the cat, his eyes suddenly as round as the moon. ]
How will that happen? [ he has not thought through the logistics of such a thing and has never seen a creature, human or animal, give birth before. it would be much easier if it would simply lay eggs. he clutches the cloak around his shoulders, his face colorless with either the cold or panic, or perhaps both. ] I'm not ready. I've not — it's cold, and there's only one bed.
[ he looks at the cat, then unwinds his cloak from around his shoulders — rich, heavy, a navy color with a golden sunburst emblazoned across the back, the inside warm and soft and the edges trimmed neatly with fox fur. carefully, he bundles it on the floor close to the cat once more.
now he's certain he'll freeze to death before the cat gives birth anyway. he scoots closer to the fire, shivering. ]
Well? Are you afraid of fire?