Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

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finch_icon.gif nova2_icon.gif

Scene Title Sunshine on a Cloudy Day
Synopsis Fate brings two usually-cheerful sorts together.
Date November 30, 2020

Spring Creek Settler's Park


Late November is often a dreary affair in New York, and today is no exception. The gray skies spit rain now and then, but not the sort that makes much of a difference, other than to make everything damp and chilly. There’s not enough of it to wash away the dirt or grime, and instead, it seems to collect it, bringing it up so it can make everything dirtier and grimier.

The Settlers’ Park is a quiet place on days like this. Most people seem to be indoors, rather than sitting out on the steps to their trailers chatting. There’s no children in the little playground, no one outside hanging laundry. The rain, when it picks up, drums on the tops of the trailers, but never for very long before it weakens to that mild, damp drizzle.

There isn’t much to see or do outside, but that hasn’t stopped someone from crouching near the bushes on the far end of the park, peering into the dark foliage. A young woman in a bright yellow rain parka clicks her tongue at something, before saying, “Please don’t make me crawl in there.”

Wearing an almost perfectly matching yellow puffer jacket and with a careful smile threatening to burst into full bloom, Finch appears as if by magic - or, possibly, by having learned to walk lightly around here - and bends down right by the young woman's side, peering curiously in the same direction.

"Cat? Dog?" She has suggestions ready to go for either, by the sound of it. Her third quess comes hot on the first pair's heels, only interrupted by a shallow but sincere gasp in anticipation. "Small child?"

Finch’s voice out of nowhere so close to her makes Nova jump, and she falls back from where she was balanced on her boot heels, landing with a plop on the wet grass. Luckily it is Finch and not a serial killer or something, because, well, now she’d be dead if Finch so wanted.

The sudden motion makes whatever it is in the foliage creep further back — it’s hard to see, but Finch can hear the rustle of bushes as something small retreats inside.

“Hi! Sorry, you scared me,” is probably an unnecessary announcement from yellow parka to yellow puffer, and Nova rights herself back onto her heels. “A kitten,” she says, making a pouting face. “It’s muddy so it’s hard to see, but… there, do you see the eyes?”

And sure enough, two blue eyes can be seen staring back at the two women. “I almost had it but it’s clearly got a black belt in mew-kitt-su.” Nova shows her hand where the small cat has clearly scratched her, an angry red welt rising across the back of her hand.

There's a moment where Finch freezes, her eyes widening at Nova's plop backwards. But as soon as it's clear the other woman's okay, she brightens right back up, even if her eyebrows slant higher in apology.

Her hands slide up along the red straps that lead around her shoulders, hoisting up the backpack they lead to. "Oh my gosh," she whispers at the mention of a kitten, and immediately turns her eyes to look for it, slowly lowering herself onto a knee on the muddy ground. "Mew-kitt-su, oh my gosh."

Without looking away from what she can see of the cat, she slips one of her arms out of a strap, pulling her backpack to her side before asking eagerly, "Does it belong to someone you know? I didn't see any, like, momcats around."

Nova shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the little feline lest it leave her sight. “I was just seeing if a friend of mine was around, but she wasn’t in her trailer, and then I heard the tiniest little mew and it was in here. I don’t see any others around, though. Or hear any. Where’s a cat empath when you need one?”

She brings her injured hand to her mouth to soothe it without thinking as she contemplates the cat’s hiding place. “The problem as I see it is that it can go roughly in any of a thousand different ways, and you or I can only go like… three. So we need to get it to come to us.”

Apparently she’s decided Finch is already ride or die in this mission.

And so have Finch's eyebrows, crumpling downward to emphasise just how serious this situation is. She lowers herself onto both knees, knuckles of one hand already down in the mud to keep herself steady as she unzips the main compartment of her bag where it hangs with the other. "Okay, so what about…"

Her rummaging takes effort, the backpack heavy with unnecessary items for this particular event. When she finds what she's looking for, there's a click of a hard plastic lid popping free before a slightly floppy half of a ham sandwich is zooped out in front of her. "Do you want food?" She asks hopefully, giving her lunch an enticing wiggle.

“Ooh, resourceful,” says Nova, sounding impressed. “I don’t have anything but skateboard and coffee.” She gestures to the abandoned items a few feet away, the large paper coffee cup resting on top of the skateboard in the grass.

She clicks at the kitten that blinks a few times, but doesn’t seem to want to move. Nova lowers herself a little, enough that she can blow across the sandwich, hopefully sending a few of the hammy scent molecules in the direction of the little carnivore.

A tiny mee! emits from the cat, and the reward is a rustle of leaves as it takes a step closer, head popping out of a cluster of bushes that seems to be within the cluster of bushes, so it’s still out of arm’s reach.

Now in sight, the kitten is a muddy mess, but seems to be mostly a gray tabby with bright yellow-green eyes peering at them.

Finch's cheer returns to her instantly, though she bites her lip to keep from expressing her delight too suddenly. A breath later, she's grounded herself enough to say, in the least threatening voice she can manage, "Hey cutie, do you wanna come scratch me too? I have bandaids!"

She starts working the meat free from the rest of the sandwich, separating it so she can hold what the cat's really after out in front of her. "I'm Finch, by the way." When she shoots a quick look to the side, her smile widens. "Aaaand I'm also kinda jealous of your skateboard."

The woman in the yellow rain parka holds her breath as Finch holds out the sandwich meat, now that she’s hopefully wafted the scent in that direction. “Finch! What a great name. Are you named after the bird or Scout Finch or maybe both?” she wonders in barely a whisper, her eyes intent on the kitten before them.

It takes another tentative step forward, not particularly swayed by the promise of bandaids.

“I’m Nova. So named because my parents are nerds, but I like it anyway,” she murmurs.

The cat takes another step forward, its body emerging from the clump of bushes it was hiding in, though another bush separates it from Nova and Finch.

“Oh, my God, it’s so tiny and adorable!” Even in whisper form, Nova’s voice pitches up a little.

Finch's voice hikes up involuntarily to join it when she chimes in to say softly, "Look at the tiny kitten steps. Oh oh oh…!"

Ticking the bread part of her sandwich back where it came from (where it might prove a disappointing lunch later), she tears some of the ham in three before gently underhand-tossing a small piece in the kitten's direction while answering belatedly, "Finch's actually my last name - I do like the bird also but it's not as cool as Nova, are you kidding me? If you were a cat empath you'd be a Supernova."

Though she doesn't tear her eyes away from the kitten, she beams with pride for her own joke.

When the tiniest piece of ham lands near the kitten with not even a plop onto the ground, the little kitten hunkers down for a moment as if expecting a sudden volley of war crimes to come its way. When nothing more comes, it takes another tentative step forward, and then another.

Nova grins at the joke, then shakes her head. “I was a potential supernova, but now I’m just a regular garden-variety nova, I’m afraid,” she says in that same barely-there voice. Joking makes it easier, at least, so there’s no flash of anger or grief across her face (this time).

“I doubt I was going to be a cat empath. I’m kinda allergic. This thing is probably going to kill me,” she adds, with a glance down at the welt on her hand. The kitten takes another step and then bends to sniff the ham. It’s a long, drawn-out process, before it finally latches onto a ragged edge of lunch meat with tiny teeth and lifts it, then manages to pull it into its mouth and chews it, tiny eating noises ensuing.

“It’s so cute, I’m gonna die,” Nova says, putting hands to her heart.

Finch, momentarily distracted, eyes Nova while she talks. Confusion washes over her in waves, her eyes narrowing, before unfinished wonderings are disregarded when she hears the munching nearby.

"First your hand, now your feelings?" She laughs softly, her shoulders coming up as she watches the kitten eat. In babytalk that only just manages to hold onto an edge of sarcasm, she tells it, "Aren't you a little killing machine?" Another bit of meat is tossed— a little closer this time, almost within arm's reach. It comes with a question, asked sweetly as they come- "Do you want to be my killing machine?"

“He or she is seriously a monster, but the cutest monster,” agrees Nova with a solemn nod. But then Finch asks that question of the kitten, and solemnity falls away. She brings her hands together to clap silently but excitedly as if she’s just heard the best news.

“I’m so glad I came over here today. I feel I’ve fulfilled some sort of greater purpose,” she says, eyes still on the cat as it finishes its tiny scrap of meat. It looks up, golden eyes fixed on Finch now and its lips part to issue a high-pitched, inquisitive mee?

One paw lifts as if it might come closer, if properly encouraged.

By ham.

“I think that was kitten for feed me, Seymour,” Nova says, a little louder now that the kitten doesn’t seem like it’s going to rush off at the slightest sound. Not when there’s lunch meat involved.

Straining to hold another piece out as faaaar away from her and as close to the kitten as possible, Finch's knees dug a little deeper into the mud still. It doesn't matter, not with that tiny little noise and slowly gained trust. At the mention of greater purpose, her expression only grows warmer.

"Oh— oh oh I know that one, with the plant and the dentist and New York when it was…" She stops, a flicker of something dampening her own excitement just a smidge.

But it doesn't last, and a sharp exhale later, she's fully focused on the kitten again. "I was on my way to see someone about maybe, like, renting a real apartment. It'll have space for me and… Audrey?" She sounds doubtful, angling her head to one side as she smiles at the kitten before saying with more confidence, "Or… Fate."

The little cloud that passes over Finch’s demeanor is noted by Nova, who waits it out with a small, sympathetic smile. Her nose wrinkles at Audrey, and she shakes her head at that. “Too cute for an Audrey. Not that Audreys have to be ugly, but they sound more… sophisticated or something.”

Fate, though. She nods slowly. “Fate is cute. Or you can go alliterative with Kismet or something maybe. Kismet the Wonder Kitten. Or maybe Karma — because you’re a good person and clearly deserved a good thing to happen to you today.”

She narrows her eyes at the kitten, which takes another step forward, tiny pink nose sniffing the air as it gets closer to the ham and Finch’s fingers. One paw lifts to bat lightly at Finch’s wrist in a polite request to drop the ham, but before Finch can comply, the kitten grasps the ham in its teeth and tugs.

“Fate the Wonder Kitten works, too, really. Maybe her full name is Fatherine Hepburn. She looked good in gray,” Nova murmurs.

No argument comes from Finch when she is called a good person, smile pushing further up into her eyes. But there is some hesitation, now that the kitten is close enough to grab- potentially.

"Fatherine Hepburn," she muses slowly aloud, refusing to relinquish the ham, "Please don't bite me too hard." With that said, she lets go of the ham, plunges a knee down into the wet dirt and scoots forward to grab the kitten by the scruff - and to pull it immediately close while supporting it with her other hand and saying, "I'msorryIdon'treallyknowhowtodothisIneverhadanycats!"

The kitten is to surprised to recoil and the firm hand at its scruff does a good job of temporarily paralyzing it into a sullen stupor — at least at first. As it feels the warmth from its captor’s chest, it relaxes slightly, then bleats out the tiniest mew.

“I’m dead. Officially deceased. That is the cutest thing in the entire world,” Nova says, blue eyes on the kitten’s tiny face. “You’re a natural, clearly. That was some professional-level wrangling if I ever did see any,” she tells Finch. “Your poor clothes, though. Hopefully little Fate here makes it worthwhile.”

She reaches out to brush the spot between the kitten’s eyes with one gentle outstretched fingertip.

“You can keep her?” Nova’s eyes turn from kitten face to Finch’s, brows lifted earnestly. “I mean I want you to keep her for sure, but if you don’t, I don’t want to saddle you with a sudden dependent when you weren’t counting on it. I can go buy some kitten chow and cat litter or something, contribute to the cause.”

"I'll be okay, I promise" Finch reassures of the food and litter, before the remainder of her anxiety about holding the kitten right leaves her in a long sigh of relief. Excitement replaces it in an instant, and the new breath she draws puffs out her chest with pride.

Just no one tell Geneva that Idiot might have a roommate and a tiny food thief for a bit.

"If I can't keep her, I'll find someone else who will," Finch declares. "It'll be my new mission!" Certainly, the mud on her clothes does not seem to impede her mood when she rises steadily to her feet, and loosens her grip on the kittens scruff to brush a thumb over its fur. A glance darted at Nova between mini pets is one of extra delight in her smile, when a thought occurs to her. "See? You are a Supernova."

With that decided, she turns to slowly walk back the way she came, treasure held close.

Nova rises from her crouch, heading to the skateboard with its coffee, retrieving the beverage first and then the board.

“Champion of Strays and Bearer of Mudstains,” the not-so-super Nova says with a smile. “Tell me which one you’re in, and I’ll go grab you some supplies so you can get acclimated with Fate.

She follows along, at least until she can get to a paved path rather than the wet grass on this end of te Park. “It’s the least I can do since you’re taking her adoption process off my hands,” she adds. “I don’t think the dorms would appreciate her anymore than my allergies would.”

Her nose twitches like she might sneeze just at the thought of it — but she manages to hold it back.

"Oh my gosh," Finch answers mid-stride, looking up from the kitten just in time to catch the almost-sneeze and subsequently failing to fully stifle a laugh. "Okay, okay, I give! It's the trailer all the way at the end of the…"

She looks through a line of trees, then spots a blue trailer a little ways off from the path leading up and into more clusters of temporary homes. "That blue one! Just walk past there and look for the scrap metal sunflowers. I'll be home again in—"

As if suddenly remembering she was supposed to be some place soon, her eyes go wide and she does some quick mental math while biting her lip and quickening her pace, hands cupped a little tighter against the kitten. "Um. Probably two hours? I'll find you something to trade for the supplies! Maybe a story!"

Nova’s brows lift and she looks at the kitten skeptically. “Hopefully she doesn’t decide to attack you and jump in another bush, but good luck with that. I guess maybe she’ll stay in your backpack? Hopefully she won’t, you know. Stain your backpack.”

Cat urine isn’t a fun thing to get out of fabrics.

“A story would be more than enough of a trade. I’m in need of some stories other than my own these days — mine is very weird but also not that interesting.” She steps forward to shake Fate’s paw. “It was nice to meet you, Finch and Fate.”

She drops the skateboard with a clatter that makes the kitten tighten its needle-claws into Finch’s chest, and pushes off to head off to buy pet supplies. Not a bad errand at all.

Finch's expression stays bright, but it flicks momentarily from brightly cheerful to brightly hesitant eyebrows now that she's fully carrying a whole tiny animal and watching Nova skate off.

What did she get herself into?

Will it be okay in her trailer for a bit?

That was her last slice of ham, is she going to just eat the rest of the sandwich without?

"Deal!" She manages to call out, just before Nova's out of earshot, snapping out of her stupor. Another tiny, alarmed mew draws her attention downward again, to sharp little nails and tiny trembles.

"It's okay, kitty," she says, much softer now, turning once more to walk slowly toward where she'd indicated before, her face relaxing back into a warm smile. "We're all a little lost sometimes."


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