Participants:
| Scene Title | Ooo Kittens! |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Delia's been feeding the strays too much, they're trying to overrun the store. |
| Date | August 24, 2010 |
Nestled in the heart of the main street marketplace, the Ichihara Bookstore is an old and crooked structure pressed between two newer high-rise tenement buildings. The old glass windows and creaking wooden door on the shop's front give it a rustic and old-world feel. Catering to both antique books and newer prints, the narrow aisles and tall shelves are packed full of literature. A single shelf for periodicals lies near the front counter, while signage both out front by the register and in the back of the store indicates that tarot card reading is done on-site at request for ten dollars per reading.
Behind the old and weathered wooden counter that contains the register and a small stack of reserved books, a narrow wooden staircase leads upwards to a black wooden door with peeling paint, revealing red paint in narrow strips beneath, a rope crossing in front of that door hangs with a small sign that reads, "Private".
It is certainly not as late as the last time that Huruma stopped in for Delia(and she was here), and there are at least a couple hours until she may need to start worrying about curfew at all. Perhaps the timeliness is for her sake, or perhaps Huruma has been wanting to get a better lay of things at Ichihara. There is something about the place that feels haunted to her. It could be a great many things, nothing at all- she is not certain.
When the door opens up, it is actually within business hours, and within reason- not like the last time she was here and snuck her way right in. Somehow, Huruma in a deep blue jumpsuit is not out of place; the halter top hooks around her neck, and the cut on both sides is precariously low. There are bits of silver on her, including a chain-link belt and the heels of black pumps. Regardless of its impracticality, the tall woman wears it all as if it were a shirt and jeans.
"I am not breaking and entering this time." An announcement, just in case.
"I see that," a smooth voice soothes with a crook of a smile from behind the counter. Lydia looks like a gypsy today — her clothes mildly mismatched with hints of colour, particularly in that ankle length crinkled skirt that jingles when she walks thanks to small bells on the tie. Her white halter ties comfortably around her neck but her arms are covered by a multicoloured shawl, leaving only her shoulders and neck exposed to feature her ink.
Atop the counter rests a chipped teapot containing Jade Snow Green Tea. Carefully she pours a cupful into an large-rimmed teacup that is also chipped (but has a bright yellow flower hand painted on the front) and doesn't match the teapot. Her eyes rise from the cup to the door, "Tea?"
From the back, Delia's voice can be heard as she tries to shut the door to the alley. "No.. no scoot! Shoo!! Damn… CAT!! CATS LOOSE IN THE STORE!!" As she yells, four of the tuna eating strays scatter into various nooks and crannies to hide.
They're followed quickly by a broom wielding Delia, who takes the easiest route to finding all of them. She's dressed in a mix of her courier uniform lycra and her usual style of hobo chic (not really). Her lycra one piece is layered over with a pair of jeans that are holier than the Trinity, paired with with some army surplus combat boots, and her usual lightweight gray hoodie. "Here kitty kitty kitty…" Her menacing murmur does nothing to lure the cats out. "Here kitty kitty kitty…" The broom is held like a weapon as the redhead crawls along the edge of the counter only to almost hit Huruma.
She stumbles backward and falls on her bottom rather than making contact. Giving the large woman a sheepish smile from below, she chirps "Hey Huruma! How are you? Tea?"
Tea? Broom? Cats are not cockroaches!
Huruma is not too shocked when Delia's contained misadventure is suddenly bearing down, and in fact- she grabs through the bristles of the broom with one hand, jerking at it- and though Delia doesn't fall back because of that, it looks like it did. Her lips downturn after observing the redhead on the floor. For some reason or another, Huruma also seems to have misplaced one of her contacts; it is not really noticeable until she is standing still and facing the two of them, that she has one white iris and one brown.
"Be gentle with cats." Is her only advice. "I think that I will." On the topic of Tea.
The entrance of the strays actually causes the painted lady to tense as she shakes her head. "We'll need to catch them," she observes before nodding at Huruma and pouring another cup of tea into yet another mismatched cup — this one with a blue bird painted on its front and placed within a matching saucer. The triangular handle is turned towards Huruma before Lydia brings her own teacup towards her lips. But she doesn't drink it, not yet. Instead, her eyes close gently as she inhales deeply, enjoying the very essence of the liquid. When she exhales, it's accompanied by a contented, "Mmmm," before her tea is raised to her lips.
An eyebrow is arched at her employee wielding the broom, "Tea?" Like it solves everything. But then, whose to say it doesn't?
Delia's eyes widen to giant proportions at Huruma's mismatched eyes. "Holy… McCartney and Wonder vision!!" She exclaims, completely astounded. She skitters back a few more feet and scuttles up the side of the counter to a stand. "Huruma! You've lost one of your contacts!!" Delia's assuming it's the other white one, because no one has ghost eyes except for blind people.
"Uh… No tea for me, cats… Gentle, right… Got it…" The tall redhead's voice turns sugar sweet as she turns and strafes along the sides of the shelves in the store. "Kitty kitty kitty~ I have some nummy nummy tuna-woona~" True to her word, she heads for the back closet, where she keeps the for for the starving homeless…. cats.
Huruma is mechanical in taking the cup with her fingers, watching Delia move about with the intention of a substitute teacher on a new child. Before she knows it, Delia is moving away to catch kittens, and she is left to peer into the surface of her drink to see which eye it was that the girl was talking about. Oh. Sitting her tea hand to the counter, Huruma lifts her other hand up to her face to locate the second brown contact with the tip of a finger. It comes out easily enough. Goodness knows where the other went, but this one is visible in her hand, the deceptive brown totally removed from her gaze. She trades it places with the teacup, setting the little disc onto the counter and pulling the cup to her lips.
"Get the can opener out again." They like that.
Delia doesn't need a can opener, she's got two tins of the special stuff that she brought from her switch from one job to the other. The tabs are popped and the lids peeled off and like multicolored darts, the cats scurry from their individual hiding places. They mill around the redhead's feet, yowling and mewling for the food in her hands. One of them is even brave enough to start climbing one of her ratty pantlegs.
Where Delia would normally kick the cat off of her, for Huruma's sake she weathers through the pain and walks toward the back. Three cats trailing behind her and one clinging for dear life. "Come on Huruma~" she young woman sings, except she's not talking to the giant woman with the teacup. As if on cue, a pure black cat with light blue eyes skitters from under the counter and races toward the back door.
There is a second where she is ready to move after Delia, until the little creature darts out after her first. Human Huruma frowns after it, glancing to Lydia with a look of 'really?' before wandering a few steps in Delia's wake, to watch what she does with the cats. She named a cat after her. The hell?
"…Why?" She is at a loss. There's only one thing to really ask at that juncture.
Sipping the tea again, Lydia is at peace, particularly as the strays are out of the store. Only one cat allowed: Gabriel. After swallowing the warm fluid she peers between Huruma and Delia and back again. She's a little curious as the the cat's name as well, but she doesn't question it, instead choosing to focus on the delicious peacefulness brought on by the warmth of the comforting beverage. She leans against the wall behind her as her eyes shut again while clutching the saucer and teacup.
Huruma's not the only one with a namesake outside. Upon exiting the building, Huruma will find Delia surrounded by a half dozen alley cats, all pushing and shoving each other to get to the food. On top of a lidded garbage can, there's a brown and black one with a mangled ear and a very grouchy disposition. This one hisses as the nubian beauty comes into view.
"Quiet Benjamin, be nice to real Huruma," Delia snips back at the old stray before gifting him with another tin of food that she'd had stuff in her pocket. The other cats don't even dare try to fight him for it, they keep a clear distance.
At Huruma's question, Delia looks between her and the black cat and shrugs. "I dunno… she looks like you."
Huruma is stuck there at the door, peering at the various felines before examining the one hissing at her.
"That is nothing new." She remarks, dryly so, glancing back to her namesake a second time, and back to Delia. "That sh'does, that sh'does." One part of her hand goes to rub at her lower eyelids, a fresh sheen coming onto her eyes. "Those silly things dry m'eyes out so much. Quite absurd." Absurd almost mixes into a muffle as she finally lifts her tea to taste it. More bitter than not- maybe tart is a better word. "But none is better than walking around looking like that." One of the cats out here does have bi-color eyes, and she motions to it.
Lydia's head tilts as she also congregates towards the door, favouring that cup of tea as both hands wrap around the cup — it's not ladylike, but it's cozy and has a sedating feeling as her fingers curl the teacup. Again she sips the tea, glancing from the cats back to the redhead. "Perhaps the next you feed them… do it as far from the door as possible." At this she nods firmly before her lips pull into a small half-smile.
She sips the tea again as she backs up back into the store, shuffling slowly.
Kitty-cat Huruma is nose deep in the food, growling at all the others to stay away until she has her fill. It's something that actually surprises Delia, her blue eyes wide as she tries to discourage the cat from being as surly as her father's namesake. Pushing the black cat back earns her a deep scratch that puts all of Gabriel's abuse to shame.
"Ow! Damnit…" the redhead yelps, shaking the injured appendage and letting a droplet of blood fly onto the sidewalk. The nasty red scratch immediately starts swelling at the edges, into an angry looking puff. "Fine, but if they gang up on your for not letting them eat too, it's your funeral! Don't say that I didn't try to help." That's when the little squeaks from around the dumpster sound out… and Huruma (the cat) lifts her head from the tin.
Let children play in the mud. Let them pull animal tails. Let them fall over. They learn. They're always fine. Huruma only watches Lydia for a moment before paying attention to Delia again, who is now making a valiant- and ill advised- effort to get the cat to share. The noises- oh- those noises. Huruma (the woman) lets out a mighty groan when the black cat lifts her head to look.
"Please tell me that is no'what it sounds like." She steps out, likely wading right past cats, to take up Delia's kitty war wound in her hand. "Y'need t'wash that out soon. You neve'know what they've been at." Maybe if she brings up something else-
Lydia's lips press together tightly, suppressing some unspoken delight from escaping her. Her fingers drum lightly against the cup as she twitches at the cat's delight, her smile growing just a little before her weight shifts from one foot to the other, choosing instead to follow the topic change. "Huruma is right. You need to clean the wound." With a single hand, she beckons the two women back inside, away from the foray of the cats.
"And you've given them plenty of kindness, if not all of them want to share, that is not against you, Delia." She nods her head back towards the inside of the bookstore again, another beckon of sorts.
Delia steps out from the throng of alley cats and toward the door, just as a tiny little head peeks out from behind the dumpster, followed by another, and another, and another. Huruma (the cat) lets out another angry growl that could definitely rival that of Benjamin's (the cat) and scurries toward them. Six little kittens, so small they could probably each fit into Lydia's teacup, tumble out from behind the dumpster to conglomerate on the black cat. They range in color from black, to brown and black, to brown stripey, and one little calico.
"Oh my god KITTENS!!" Delia squeals, sounding too much like a little preteen about to get into a Justin Beiber concert. "They're so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!!" The elongated word sounds more like a question than an exclamation and she bends down to coax the tiny purrmonsters to her fingers. "Here kitties~"
Cringing. Huruma can only feel that right now. Cringing. She sighs, stepping back to watch Delia waffle between in and out, drowing her immediate sorrows into her teacup. It's not the same, but it shuts her up for a few seconds, then a few more.
"B'careful she doesn't bite you. Tha's what I'd do." If we're going with that theme, anyway.
"Delia, don't pick them up, just…" Lydia disappears from the doorway for a few moments before returning with a large cardboard box and a blanket — the teacup abandoned to the counter. She steps into the alley and passes the box to her employee. "Coax them inside and don't pick up any without the blanket, there's no reason to upset the mother unnecessarily."
She takes a single step back before crouching down to admire the kittens from a small distance.
The redhead hasn't touched them yet, they're not even coming toward her. Warded off by the growls and hisses of their mother, Delia steps back from them and gives Lydia room to more toward them with the box. "Think I should go get another tin of food maybe? Do you think they might want some milk? Look how skinny they are!!"
The kittens are definitely alley cats, halfway to emaciated and squealing for food as they try to attach to their mother. Huruma the cat is crouched down beside them, making certain that no person or feline gets near her tiny brood.
"She will jus'carry them back out." Huruma is full of advice, it seems. "Leave th'box out here, wit'th'blanket, an'hope she takes to it. That is all you can'ope for, unless she has been keeping them in th'basement." She waves a hand to Delia, motioning vaguely to the box itself. "If you provide for her, she can provide for them." She is not going to call the cats by name- it is way too weird.
With another faint smile, Lydia rises to her full form again before smoothing her skirt. A knowing glance is shot towards Delia before she nods. "I'll run a few errands and pick them up some milk on my way back." Her arms hug her body before she nods at both prior to retreating down the alley on a mission for milk.