Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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“Pleasure,” Kier replied, turning his head to Eris with a smile. His eyes hooded. “Now, are you going to demonstrate your butchery or will I have to spend the night fantasising about the sorts of creatures you can make scream?” A thin little grin spread across his face, slow and subtle as an oil spill. In the gloomy shadows of the lantern, his pupils were the same size; you’d never know there was something wrong with them.
He leaned around Eris to drag the bird cage closer to her, his cheek behind her shoulder blades. “If you’re shy about an audience, I can always blindfold myself. I’m fine with just listening.” His voice was a low murmur, soft and silky; he stayed leaned over her for longer than was necessary, his muzzle a breath from her ear. “I promise not to make a peep.”
And then it was broken by a grin. Cheerful and chirpy again, and eager to see her skills, Kier slithered to the ground, wrapped around her lower back in a C shape so he could see the mice from the comfort of his chin on his paws, and used his back leg to drag the bundle of chinaware shards across the ground to Eris. His eyes, a little wider than usual, flicked encouragingly from Mousey to the mice and back again, his teeth just showing in a half-forgotten, excited little smile. Oh, he loved front row seats.
my search history is a liiitttle worrying thinking face
She was never the physical type when others were involved, the one to twist and turn away in strangely flexible ways at the very prospect, but despite that, she felt almost comfortable with Kier so close. "Well, then, I suppose I can't refuse." Her voice was just as hushed, blinking at the encaged mice like she was picking one. Her purr was raspy as she opened the cage door only a little, careful as she suddenly reached in practically scooped one out, just as quick to lock the cage and push it aside.
She admired it for a moment, it's fear, "I won't be trying my hardest to keep you alive," it wiggled under her grip from where she held it against the ground. Moving to turn it over, she ran a claw down it's spine until it landed on a direct point around halfway down, "I call this the movement zone. If it breaks, it'll be paralyzed. Very well if you don't want it running away."
"I will not be doing anything new tonight — we could save that for another day," she chuckled, "but I want you to hold it down like this," she demonstrated, paws keeping it's limbs in place, stomach exposed to her, "so I can test these," she looked towards the shards, watching for a moment as the light danced on them, slightly glossy. Eris looked down towards Kier. She was like the supervillain, the type that belonged in a huge chair, and he was the cat that curled on her lap, that wrapped around her legs and purred, seemingly just as evil as she was.
me: is vegan me on classic: i, for one, love animal cruelty
Kier continued grinning up at Eris as she scooped the mouse out, crooked and soft and vaguely smitten. Only when she began to speak to him, with her claw poised over the squealing creature’s spine, did he snap out of it and drag his gaze down to the mouse to half-listen to her instructions. It quite literally took every single thing in him not to make a sleazy joke about how he wouldn’t mind holding her down like that, or vice versa — it would be so easy; it was right there; the gods themselves were begging, come on, Kiernan, make the joke, make it. But he didn’t. By Janus, he didn’t. And it was the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do. Nerves visibly frayed from the self-control it took, he reached out his paws to take over from her and asked, his voice cracking like the pubescent teenager he was, “like this?” He cleared his throat, and when he repeated the question he didn’t sound quite so desperate and undone, his voice a fraction deeper, “like this?”
“Do we get to eat o- I mean eat it after or do you always leave them out for the buggies?” His voice was back to being crackly; he was talking from high in his throat, his chin tucked in, and had forgotten to breathe. He finally sucked in a lungful of air and only just managed to keep his paws steady on the mouse as the barely-averted coughing fit had his muzzle pressed against his shoulder; all his effort and attention went to not letting the mouse squirm away and the functionings of his own body were relegated to the bottom of the list. “Seems a waste,” he finished, with a smile up at Eris that was slightly sheepish, his eyes wide enough to glisten and look almost soft in the half-light. But aside from that, he made no more interruptions — he was eager to see her work, to see blood on her paws and the look of concentration in her eyes, to see what could be improved. He looked back at the mouse with a little smile on his face and rolled his shoulders slightly to get more comfortable in the position, diligent and well-behaved, a model assistant.
"Mmm," she hummed, adjusting his paw ever so slightly, for no particular reason other than she wanted to remind him she knew best here, even though he was ever so willing regardless, "just like that." She gave a smile, softer and subtle, wildly different than the one she tended to force. Staring at the shards a little apprehensively now — no, she wasn't nervous, but a doctor always had to be careful with her tools, especially the news ones, and she was figuring out how she would use them — before first moving to pick them up with her mouth, but the edges were jagged and sharp. She wouldn't be able to make a clean cut while holding it between her paws, so she instead sat up again, looked down at the mouse and let her gaze wonder to Kier for a moment, feeling a slight heat in her ears.
"I prefer to get my paws dirty. We can save that for another time, you must see the basics, of course." Eris would never admit she didn't know what she was doing half the time, not here, not on her deathbed, because if there was one thing she didn't want to admit was her own failures. The deep-rooted feeling of knowing she couldn't do anything of what she dreamed of but trying anyway, simply to spite those who said she couldn't, even if she failed time and time again, even if the work was grating and gruesome and she wasn't actually the the biggest fan of how blood smelled much at all. And suddenly she was nervous now, to perform in front of Kier, like her usual slipups would mean the end of the world and he would realize how terrible she actually was and end up leaving. She cleared her throat.
Do we get to eat o- I mean eat it after or do you always leave them out for the buggies? Sharply, she turned to look at him, her claw inches away from the soft stomach of the mouse, her shakiness ever-present but a little more noticeable. "Eat it? Sure, sure. Usually I leave them out, but you may as well finish some off." She had forgotten that was a thing she could do, always too wrapped up to even consider the thought of eatinganything, let alone the prey she was experimenting on. Facing it again, she felt it's heartbeat with the back of paw quickly, noting it's quick pace with pleasure, tapped the start of it's stomach with her claw before applying pressure, digging into the skin and dragging it down until it formed a neat, open wound. She had not hit any organs, the mouse was alive but presumably in pain, and she cooed at it slightly, almost mockingly. Her paws her almost delicate as she made a few more incisions, so it would be easier to open up, and when she was done, she looked down towards Kier, as if trying to gage his approval (not that she would care, of course, he was simply her assistant, there to say yes and get hand her tools and not much else, certainly nobody anywhere on her level, certainly nobody worthy enough to give criticism of any sort).
Kier was difficult to trick — he knew as soon as she hesitated, as soon as the first of the stress lines appeared on her forehead and her mouth tightened slightly, that she had met an impasse with how to use the shards. That she, put frankly, didn’t know what she was doing. But with that knowledge, there came no judgement, no mockery; just the general, easy amusement with which he treated everything, and with the patient, devoted knowledge that Eris was brilliant — and all brilliant scientists always had a steep learning curve before they reached their full, shining potential. All brilliant scientists never stopped learning. Plus, Kier hadn’t expected her to know how to use the shards on the first-try - she’d just gotten them. So, he just watched her with calm, hooded-eyed trust — didn’t rush her, didn’t comment, didn’t do anything but hold the mouse down for her. When she changed her plans, clearly embarrassed and flustered, Kier just smiled back at her silently and gave a single, small nod, letting her pretend he didn’t know she was making it up as she went. He, for one, was also just enjoying her leaning over him, the warmth of her body and the peculiar smell of her. And when she adjusted his paw, he was more than happy to let her be the expert, letting it go limp so she could move it where she wanted.
Then she began the dissection. He liked blood, but he didn’t get a particular thrill out of it like most sadists did — instead, what he got a thrill out of was the way she cooed so cruelly down at the mouse. The way her claw was so thin and precise. The way the flesh opened up behind her touch like she was whispering to the molecules themselves, like the little screaming body was nothing but butter. As she went on, he didn’t watch the mouse at all, didn’t watch her paws; he just watched her — her eyes studying the patient with such stern concentration, and yet such wonder; the way her scarred lip twitched slightly as she worked; how quickly she fell into muscle memory. When she looked down at him, a grin just spread across his face in response. “You’re very good,” he told her, voice a rumbling sort of purr.
Without another word, he slid his paws slowly from the mouse’s limbs — the poor thing was too weak from fear and blood loss to run very far anyway — and tenderly replaced them with Eris’, drawing her paws down to take the place of his own. Still silent, eyes hardly leaving hers, he shifted around to the other side of the mouse where she’d discarded the shards — and picked the sharpest up in his mouth. The edges cut the insides of his mouth and the inner corners of his lips; blood welled and then bubbled out like he’d been mortally wounded; and, without a word of complaint, unable to speak even if he wanted to, he obediently lowered his head towards the mouse’s torn-open stomach and reverently touched the point of the shard to it. His eyes drifted up to meet Eris’, bloody-mouthed and quiet; the direction was clear: she could shift his head, and the shard with it, where she wanted it, could tell him where to cut and when to stop, could use him.
You’re very good. Her eyes didn't falter from her work, paw continuing it's path, lip twitching with a small smile that was almost silly looking on her face, because she didn't come across as the type to be able to soften her features like that; her scar almost contrasted it, a sharp interruption, looking like it didn't belong but fit her perfectly at the same time. Her natural one held much less teeth, only the occasional glimpse of them, and while it was a rather simple expression, wasn't wide and forced, it held a certain genuine energy to it, like she was trying to keep a straight face but couldn't because she was enjoying herself too much. "I know," she responded, sounding so sure yet almost thankful for the compliment at the same time. It was the one time she doubted her own words around someone else, where she didn't feel as confident as she said, and maybe that showed itself in her tone, the way it wavered, how it almost sounded too sure despite her usual delusional grandiose, but Eris was convinced it didn't, that she was as good at hiding behind words of superiority as she thought.
As she looked over, her eyes following Kier's movements, whiskers twitching with curiosity and a hint of amusement, she didn't jerk away when he moved her paws to take his place, something she now didn't question because she was comfortable enough with the tom that he could do such a thing. But for a moment, she wanted to act offended, go on about how she was the boss and he was the lackey, that he had asked to watch her experiment, not the other way around, but she stayed silent, watched more until he picked up the pieces, ignored the blood just as he did, moving her head as he positioned the chinaware over the mouse. Eris kept eye contact for a few more seconds, pupils dilating as she finally understood what he was doing, excited at simple, ridiculous ideas such as these. Oh, how hadn't she thought of this before! She wanted to grab his face, squish his cheeks and plant a little kiss to the both of them, because now she didn't have to do half the work she usually did, and he was such the perfect little tool, now she didn't even have to ask him. It would be his mouth tasting of blood, his nose shifting around close to the creature's insides, not hers. And while a sane person would have worried about the blood that dripped down to his chin now (well, a sane person wouldn't be doing something like this at all), she felt nothing but joy. Her freshly stained paw hovered gently over his head, gave the smallest tap, a slight push upwards, directing the shard through the ribs and towards the neck.
"Careful," she murmured, because the only thing she worried about was any roughness on his part, as the position was awkward. In a few minutes time, their dissection project would be lifeless, though she wasn't bothered — it was a demonstration, it wasn't supposed to be perfect, she didn't expect it to be, even if she worried she was failing her practice in front of him — and as it's flame faded, they would dig around in it's guts, pull things out they wanted to see and eat the leftovers, wash their paws after and then, well, who knew what they would do. The two of them were a strange pair, predictable yet erratic, she had gone from nearly strangling him to showing him the little place she cherished most, the space once just hers, now theirs, and she was feeding off his approval, his strange charm, his devotion; it gave her some sort of kick, a boost to her ego to view him as less than her yet at the same time so much more than anyone she had ever met, someone actually worth her time and energy, because she loved his fidelity, his adoring gaze that made her feel a little more like something important.
When they were done, Eris’ paw drifting away from his head and the poor little mouse sliced open and long since dead, Kier tentatively raised his head, feeling heavy, and opened his mouth wide to let the shard slowly slip out on its own. It clattered to the soft ground coated in his blood and followed by further drops of it. He swiped his tongue carefully around his muzzle, cleaning his teeth. It hurt to smile, stretching the cut corners of his lips and making him wince, a sharp trill of pain shooting through his nerves, but he offered her a small one, drained by the come down of a high. “Ow,” he whispered laughingly, bringing his paw up to rub lightly at the edge of his mouth, but his voice was amused and his eyes relaxed and content. As pleased and happy and accomplished as he had ever been, even for so small and simple and… insignificant a thing. That little experiment hadn’t mattered — that poor mouse’s death hadn’t mattered — but it had left him feeling more accomplished than the night on the moor had. Because it had been such a twistingly intimate moment with Eris; because it held the promise of more experiments where the fruits they yielded might actually matter; because it had been so present. There had been no space for his mind to wander — it had just been the mouse’s hot blood growing cool and the brush of Eris’ fur against the back of his neck. Oh, he’d loved the way she’d looked at him when she’d put two and two together, the way her pupils had dilated. He might become an addict to making them do that. To all of this.
His head turned back to the mouse and, after a brief moment longer, his eyes followed. Lifting one paw, he delicately eased open the mouse’s chest cavity with one claw, snapping its ribs like they were nothing, and drew out its still heart. Glancing up at Eris once more, he slowly lowered his head, sank his teeth so easily into the tender flesh, and took the first bite. “It’s the best part,” he purred with his mouth half-full, pushing the rest of it over to her and watching with fixated, faux-lazy eyes. A grin slowly spread across his face.
Then, snapping back to indifferent business, he shot up into a sitting position, picked the mouse’s limp, butterfly’d body up by the tail, and dangled it over the mice in the cage for a few moments — enough for them to be on their back paws, screaming shrilly for the meal, and for a nasty grin to spread across Kier’s face as he teased them and worked them into a ravenous frenzy for the body of their brethren — before finally reaching the point of desperation he wanted from them and dropping the little corpse through the top bars. The mice immediately fell upon it, feasting on the best food they’d had in weeks. “Ohh,” Kier cooed lovingly, craning over them with such casual cruelty. The scabs that had formed at the corners of his mouth split open again, beading fresh blood. “Is that nice? Horrible little monsters. You’ll soon all be dead and I shan’t mourn you.”
“Now,” he continued, his tone changing completely to authoritative and business-like as he wheeled around to face Eris. And just as quickly as it had come, his voice changed back to a tired, contented purr, his eyes hooded and his body loose and pliant. “Where do you sleep? So I can not sleep there.” A slightly crooked, mystifying grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, showing just the merest hint of teeth. Like this, too, was a game with a very predictable ending.
He was genuinely tired, though. As tired as Kier ever got.
When she was done, the cut skin of the mouse giving way to bone and organs and everything else inside, she lifted her head, sat back like she was tired — she was, just not of this — and looked at Kier, her smile wider now, the ends of her teeth just visible. She watched him rub at the blood, waited until it bubbled again before shifting and placing her own paw to the injury, leaning over like she was leering.
"You did . . . wonderfully," she purred, pulling away to let him pick at the scraps, met his eyes every time he looked up to hers. She wasn't planning on having any, but when he pushed some of the remains over, she didn't have the heart to say no. Slow bites, because her mother had always told her she ate too fast, mulling over all the things she wanted them to do. All the things they could, all the things they wanted and the things they did out of pure impulse and the fact they knew it would be overlooked. And while she thought, her gaze didn't leave him, a blank stare of sorts, not really looking, not perceiving, but taking it in all the same. When he moved, she startled at the intrusion, like he had shook her out of her mind himself. She laughed as the decimated body fell into the cage, watched with wide-eyed glee as they were so desperate to feed on anything, even one of their own.
"No sense of humanity," she tutted, stretching because sitting so hunched up did eventually get to her, and her body already ached enough as it was. She was tired, she was tired from the moment they got to her lab, but the demonstration made her forget about it, and now that it was over she could feel how it dragged at her eyes. Sometimes, she could ignore it, blink away the exhaustion until it went away. But she was content, comfortable, and at the question she nodded her head towards the hollow, filled with old leaves and paper to make a nest of some sort. It wasn't as disturbed as it should be considering how many nights she spent out here.
She stretched out her back leg as she stood up, "feel free to make yourself comfortable anywhere else." But there was almost a tease in her voice, a challenge, because they both knew what would happen, because he did so well at worming his way into everything she did. Not that she wouldn't love seeing him sleep on the cold ground outside, feeling the chill, and not that he wouldn't enjoy her joy. It seemed their twistedness mixed in unbelievable ways, taking the two terrible, evil little parts of them and mixing it into something pure, adoring even. Maybe it was their youth, their dependency issues that drew them so quickly together.
When Eris touched her paw to the cut corner of his mouth, Kier just grinned back at her — but it was a reverent, disbelieving sort of grin, one where his breath was held and his eyes looked dreamy, like seeing a naked girl for the first time. When she removed her paw, he wanted to chase after it — barely stopped himself from leaning forward embarrassingly to get the last scrap of contact. And when she stretched, he watched her unashamedly; it would have been leering if it wasn’t so genuinely, wholly worshipful.
He heard the tease in her voice with a happy, giddy thrill; either she was aware of his developing obsession with her — and it was hard not to be — and was tormenting him with it, or she was beginning to feel something for him, too. He would have been ecstatic with either. But he played it cool. Because Kier was a very cool guy. A very cool guy who was very good at— at lying and villainy and not at all a hormonal teenager with a crush on a pretty girl who liked dissecting things.
If any of his bubbling joy showed in his bright eyes, just as teasing and knowing, it didn’t show in his voice; it was as smug and disinterested and slightly-too-high-to-be-masculine as ever. “Are you sore?” he asked, eyes drifting to the way she stretched before returning to her face. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed himself to his paws and wandered over, ruined tail-tip flicking with practiced laziness and gaze hooded with a strange expertise written over them. He met her eyes with a small, unreadable little smile, enjoying this unspoken tension between them, and, with a paw hovering gently over her shoulders, he gave her the offer of lying down for him. “See, that’s the downside of living by yourself, out here in the woods. There’s no one to help your muscles relax when you’ve worked so hard.” He thought for a moment, and then added, “Well, even if there was they’d be a pretty sorry imitation. I’m very good at massages.” He grinned down at her, both lascivious and oddly, endearingly earnest, brows twitching up slightly.
She was used to disdain. She was used to annoyance, to amusement, to bewilderment; she wasn't used to this adoration, had no judge to determine if it was normal, because to Eris, Kier was just doing what everyone else should be doing. She had never met anyone who looked at her like, wasn't quite as sure of how to react as she thought, was more flattered than anything because she felt curiously about him too. She didn't know what his feelings really meant, but she played into them anyway. In their short time together, they had secured their own ropes around each others necks.
"Sore?" She looked towards him, head tilting softly. "As much as I usually am, yes." There was always some part of her that ached in some way — sometimes it was her shoulder, or her foot, or her back, and usually she could ignore it, so used to the feeling that it simply passed over her head, and only after moving from whatever project she was crouched over would it really hit her. I’m very good at massages. She couldn't help but laugh, because it was such a silly subject to jump too.
"You play the lackey part very well, I have to say," she was teasing, but not cruel. She enjoyed it, it was an intoxicating sense to have someone be so devoted to her, like she was the one thing that held importance. It was something she had tricked herself into believing since she lived with her parents, because she had already internalized every terrible thing they said and did and she had to somehow convince herself she didn't deserve any of it, but now it was real, Kier's feelings were (probably) real, and it felt so much better than delusion.
"I suppose you will have to show me all of the little tricks you can do, then, eventually." She was purring, laying down with her legs splayed to the side, head flopping down to rest just between her paws. She yawned, because she was tired and she wasn't sure she had slept the night before.
You play the lackey part very well, I have to say. “I like to think so,” he purred, eyes hooded as he made his way around to her other side. “But right now I’m not playing.”
Tentatively, eyes darting up to her face again and again, he touched a paw to her shoulders, asking for permission. A little rush of nerves glittered through him. When still she purred, he applied a little more pressure, until finally something, a little knot of tension, popped. Checking again that it was okay, because he really did just want to make her happy, Kier swung his hind leg over neatly, so he was standing over her, and gently stood the weight of both forepaws upon her back. Working his way carefully down from the soft muscles of her neck, lavishing tender care upon each part of her body, her spine began to steadily crack and pop beneath his paws.
Repositioning his hind paws to the same side of her body, he gently gripped one of her her hind legs and pulled it slightly backward - so that, finally, her hip twisted and popped in its socket and a little flurry of cracks ran up her lower back. The sound filled Kier, faintly nervous up to that point, with such relief that he smiled, shoulders relaxing with newfound confidence.
He leaned down towards Eris’ ear, warm breath washing over the soft inner fur and muzzle lightly brushing the side. “How’s that,” he purred around a wide, twitching grin, eyes hooded and voice low and lazy, “Mousey?”
Slipping off her, he lay down on his stomach at Eris’ side between her and the back of the hollow tree, sprawled out like a rabbit but not touching her. His smile slightly self-satisfied, he watched her through contentedly slitted eyes, his irises barely visible and his chin a little raised.
But right now I’m not playing. She purred, "I think that makes it all more enjoyable." She didn't say anything for a long while after that, simply fell into a sleepy, blissful state. She felt rather like royalty, the type who was fanned off with leaves and fed grapes and given their most valuable gifts. Perhaps it was her newfound drowsiness now that there was nothing to keep her busy, nothing to keep her from distracted.
When Kier spoke, she responded in a small hum, not lifting her head to look at him until he settled down beside her.
"I would have thought someone trained you personally," she stretched out again, just to settle it in because it had felt so nice, "I see you have more use than I thought." Her voice was humourous. She was aware he already knew he had worth to her, that she was just as fallen with him as he was with her, even though she didn't quite seem to realize why. The squeals of the mice could still be heard in the background, their recent meal giving them the brief drive to escape, and the only acknowledgement she gave them was a slight sadistic smile. "You've riled them up," she faux-pouted, but didn't hold the face for long. "You've given them hope," she cooed more, like she was delighted at their desperation.
Kier just grinned back at her, thin and small and wondrous, eyes never drifting to the mice even as they squealed and rattled desperately at the bars. Somewhere along the way, he started purring. “We’ll crush it back out of them,” he assured her quietly.
Still pressed against the back of the hollow tree, on the cold soil rather than the relative warmth of Eris’ paper-and-leaves nest beside him, like a dog sleeping at the foot of a bed, Kier lay his head down to rest his pointy little chin on his paws, lazily watching the mice scrabble and letting the sound of them wash over him with a contented smile. It was the most comforting white noise he’d ever known, better than the insufferable snoring of the other trainees that made his pelt bristle in his nest or the maddening hooting of one specific owl that haunted him every night on his family’s travels until he finally hunted it down one night and bit its head off, and he didn’t know at which point his eyes finally closed and he dozed off.
At some point in the night, touch-starved, touch-repulsed Kier had wriggled over to Eris — not consciously, he would claim with a smile that was a little too suspicious, but whether that was true or a lie was difficult to say. Now, in the early, grey dawn, when the air was cold and frost lay on the ground outside, he was melted against her back, muzzle half-buried in the back of her neck and forepaw hooked loosely around her waist. His slow breaths misted in the air as he slept, despite the warmth of her against him, despite the warmth of the very air he inhaled, earthy and metallic with her scent. Still sound asleep, more at peace than he’d ever been in his life — he was always up at the merest hint of dawn, to escape his brother before he awoke or just to get on with the business of the day — Kier gripped her waist a little more tightly and pulled her back towards him, nestling her in closer. His muzzle burrowed in a little deeper against her neck, eyes closed against her warmth.
She laughed, a quicker, quieter giggle, still just as brutal as her cracking laughs, "I know," she smiled at Kier, then directed it towards them, her whiskers twitching as she watched them scramble. She knew it was difficult to hold actual power over the cats around her, but these pitying creatures were the next best thing. She loved seeing them in such a state.
She watched as he drifted, and despite her own exhaustion she was still up after him, watching the way the lights reflected off his fur, thinking of all the ways she could use him, all the ways he could help her, before she finally fell asleep, rolled over into an awkward position on her back, but by the time Kier had moved next to her, she was on her side again. She almost had a snore, but it was more a rasp as she breathed. She hadn't realized how much she craved the warmth and the comfort of sleeping beside someone, where the only heat was each other. For the few moments when she woke up, eyes fluttering open to adjust to the morning light, she didn't realize anything was off.
Then she went to move, to get up and start an average day's work, before she noticed the arm around her, and even though there was no pressure, she still felt stuck in place. Very suddenly, she shot up, probably giving him a good kick as she tried to stand steadily.
"What are you —" she blinked, stopped mid sentence to assess the situation, before she sat down, so unusually collected for a cat like her. She smiled teasingly. "Oh!" She squeaked, and she knew it was a surprise not unwelcome, "isn't that cute, then." Laying back down to meet his eyes properly, she reached out and tapped a claw to his nose, the smile still on her face, "you could have just asked," she purred, pulling her paw back. The air was still chilly with the morning, the cold night having a tough grip this time of year, and she almost missed the warmth.
If anyone thought Kier wasn't phased by anything, he was about to prove them wrong. The second she kicked him and he had that split second to register the rapidly fading warmth of her against his chest, he erupted into chaos, flinging himself backwards against the back of the hollow tree - knocking over some of the human bits and pieces Eris kept in her lab - and staring back at her with his usually narrow eyes stretched huge and his short fur bristling in wild spikes. "Sorry!" he blurted out, his ordinarily calm, cocky voice completely gone and replaced by a crackly, frantic, mortified one. "I'm so sorry!" Oh, he hated physical touch - he hated physical touch so much. And he'd imposed himself on her! For whatever reason, in that moment when his heart was pounding and his head was both fogged by clinging sleep (he'd never had such a warm, comforting night...) and alarming clarity, his misogyny dissipated completely and left behind a horrified understanding of consent and respect for she-cats. That must just be what a really good spoon does.
Ordinarily, Kier was so delighted by anything uncomfortable - were we, he would have laughed, lounging smugly, and revelling in the awkwardness of it, was I spooning you? But now, he was strangely innocent - strangely... shy. Slowly, his fur settled back flat like a porcupine's quills, his bright red ears joining it as they, too, pinned back slightly against his skull. His whiskers twitched self-consciously; he rubbed a paw softly against where she'd tapped her claw on his nose. "You didn't..." he began, his voice the quietest it had ever been, all traces of power gone and replaced by a youthful shyness. "You didn't hate it, then?"
The mornings did seem to bring along better moods for Eris before it settled into a low near the evening, so she only looked at him with a slick, sly smile, head tilted only slightly, lightheartedly mocking him as he scrambled away. "Did I hate it?" She hummed, flipping over on her back so her legs folded in the air. She laughed, "Difficult question," and she laughed, loud and sharp, "I don't think so. Surprising." She rolled back over, got to her feet to shake out the dust and dirt from her fur. No amount of love or awe for anyone would dissipate her enjoyment of seeing people scramble, the fearful look, the stuttering and the shaking and the alarm. She could have painted a picture of it, hung it on her wall.
"No need to be so sheepish, Kier, don't tell me the tom from last night didn't stick around." She looked at him with a false, teasing sadness. "The lab is yours as it is mine," which was not a sentence she ever would have guessed herself saying, but she couldn't help but put a little trust in him. If the lab had keys, she would have tossed them to him.
"It is quite bare, though, if you could find something to make it nicer sometime later, that would be appreciated." Eris didn't move to do anything — usually the morning was uneventful anyway, she saved most of her business for the later hours. Unless it was the occasional wander, or walk, or going to catching more mice to experiment on later, or examine the plants near the baseline of the Mansion walls, hoping to find something new, she usually tidied up from the night before or prepared for the night to come. So she stood there, watching Kier out of simple curiosity, waiting to see what he did.
Kier’s alarmed, bewildered expression didn’t lessen — it just changed into a wide-eyed, reverent one, one corner of his mouth quirked in a disbelieving little grin, like he wanted to trust it but at the same time he’d been tricked into believing his siblings only to be humiliated enough times that he was slow to hope. It made him look very soft.
No need to be so sheepish, Kier. Realising how he must look, he let out a breathy, self-conscious little laugh and dropped his eyes. But then she was offering him joint ownership of the lab and redness swept across his face, making his ears burn. He looked up at her again in fresh disbelief, an open, joyful grin blooming across his face. It was stupid, just how much Kier would be the type to hook his arms around her waist and flip eggs on the stove in their horrible little murder lab after a night together.
“Of course,” he promised, and his voice and demeanour regained some of his usual lazy charm — if you didn’t pay attention to the lovesick smile that was still on his face. “I’ll find some things to make it nicer — things for the walls, some paint, test tubes so we can see what different poisons do to the colour of blood, ooh, herb pots!” He got to his paws and padded over to her as he spoke more and more excitedly, slinking around her to touch his nose to her cheek in a rare show of Kier’s affection; he felt it might become more common now. He drew back and smiled at her. “But later.” His eyes drifted to the mice and he turned his head to look at them. “For now, I think they’re sleeping a tad too peacefully.” His eyes flicked back to her knowingly, narrowing slightly as his smile grew.
And they were; all through the night and into the early hours, all the occupants of Eris’ lab had slept as soundly as they ever had, the two cats in the makeshift nest and their unwilling little children.
