Everybody Wants to Be A Cat

This had been a bad idea.

Now, in his heart Toulouse had known he'd volunteered to escort Duchess to her meeting because one, he was her son. The second reason had been because he'd wanted to try and be brave for her and protect her if he could. The reasoning was silly to anyone else. A barely month old kitten protecting his mother? From Cursed Thorns, no less? Toulouse didn't know exactly what he had been thinking, but he had gotten his wish and tagged along with Duchess to the Black Keep. While she attended to the documentation with the strange looking two-legged animal, Toulouse stood outside with his ears against his head and his fur puffed out as much as he could make it go. He was trying his hardest to look scarier than he actually felt. If he looked that way, he'd convinced himself, then no one would come near him.

Every noise that wasn't the sounds of conversation within the room he stood in front of made him tense up. He had to fight the urge to start meowing and spitting at every sound, as that probably would be a one way ticket to never coming with Duchess again. He was a Thorn, too. He shouldn't need to act so tough or look so defensive while he stood outside a room, but he felt like he had to.

The sound of Duchess' voice was the only thing that finally got him out of his defensive stance. She was fine, Toulouse saw. Not a scratch on her, not that he'd needed to worry too much. From what he'd gathered, the sheep Duchess had been speaking to wouldn't actively hurt

"No, mama. It wasn't too long," Toulouse told her. Relief, whether he wanted it to or not, had slipped out as he spoke. For all his blustering and insisting he wanted to be prepared to face a tough alley cat someday, he still was just a kitten. Still... the experience of coming along with her had been something he'd remember for a while. It would help prepare him for the next time.

"Coming, mama," he said. He let her nudge him forward and, before too long, he fell into walking beside her as best he could. Of course, his ears were twitching the whole time they walked. Every sound could be a potential threat, so even though Toulouse no longer was as fluffed out as he had looked before? He still was ready to leap at the sound of any potential threat. Green eyes were also darting this way and that as he moved forward. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so paranoid, a part of him told himself. They were deep within the Thorns' domain, sure, but it wasn't as though any of them would grab them the second they saw the aristocats, right? That thought did make him relax just a tiny bit... for a few brief moments.

The moment Dragon made his catch, thumping against the ground to do so, Toulouse involuntarily jumped up. The fur along his back and tail puffed up once again, and as soon as his paws touched the ground again the kit meowed and tried his best to hiss. The sounds were still about as non-threatening as they had ever been, though. When he stopped, he actually looked at Dragon. The larger cat had three mice at his paws, and just as Duchess had been reminded Toulouse found his mind going to their dear friend Roquefort. His mind managed to drift away from the thought, though, when he began to put the pieces of Dragon's appearance together. Scraggly fur, scarred body, grumbling voice...

Against his better judgment, Toulouse's curiosity got the better of him. There was a sort of sparkle of wonder in his eyes that let the tension within him start to slightly ebb away. All his life, short as it was, Toulouse had dreamed of meeting a cat like this. He hadn't expected it in this way, though. His fur started to settle a bit, too, but only a bit.

"Are... are you an alley cat, sir?" Toulouse still did want to leave. Of course he did. He and his mother had been in the Black Keep for long enough, and as Duchess had said they didn't want to keep Marie waiting too long. Still, even with the way his stomach had twisted and his fears of what could happen to him and his mother there, he couldn't resist the chance to speak with Dragon just a little.

Duchess could feel her petite body tense as the beastly cat moved. Inside her chest her heart was hammering like the beat of a thousand war drums. Ever instinct within the mother told her to leave, but still she stayed. Though not physically adept or trained in the ways of war, the Angora was a warrior in her own right. She remained outwardly calm and kept up the gracious smile toward the tom. Even as the young Toulouse crept up beside the aristocrat with his interest piqued.

Her son had always shown excitement over the aspect of alley cats, thus his question wasn't unexpected. Duchess, however, didn't suspect this cat to be from any alley. These suspicions were confirmed when again the tom's gruff voice hit the air. It seemed he had a few questions of his own as well.

There was a bit of hesitation on the mother's end, but eventually her feather-light steps took purchase once more. She approached as bidden, though not so close that she was within the bulky feline's immediate reach. Sapphire gaze glanced over toward Toulouse - whether he stayed by the doorway or followed - to assure he was still doing alright. Only after this was evaluated did Duchess turn her attention back to the Thorn. Her groomed form settled delicately onto the bear rug with an equally fluffed tail coming to rest across her forepaws.

With a polite dip of the head she spoke, "My name is Duchess and this," A small gesture was made to the blue ribbon adorned kitten before continuing, "is my little gentleman, Toulouse. We've a home in Paris."

The Angora did well not to flinch away as the tom proffered her son a bite of mouse. As much as she wanted to perish the idea altogether, it wasn't within her nature to deny any of her children their own decisions. She could only hope that Toulouse wouldn't choose today to start experimenting.

In an attempt to both distract herself and perhaps the burly tom, Duchess spoke once more, "And what do they call you, monsieur? If you can pardon my asking."

Duchess. He could have guessed she'd have a fancy pants name to go with her fancy pants collar and fancy pants kid. She was so delicate he knew if he threw himself at her he could probably break her neck with a single blow. Obviously he didn't want to do that. It was nice to have some other cats around him even though she was looking at him the same way Mrs. Fitzgibbon looked at him the first time he brought back a dead crow as a present for her. He couldn't believe it. She didn't know how to hunt for herself and she'd rejected his gift? So rude. And these cats also had rejected his gift. Disappointing.

A grunt was all he offered as a "nice to meet you." He pulled back his catches, his two toned eyes flashing in the direction of them both. "M'Dragon," he said before shoving one of the mice into his mouth. Crunching the bones, he turned to face the kitten and chuckled.

"Guess so," he said, "We eat all the mice'n'rats'n'birds'n'such that plague the farm. So we get big." He flicked his paws towards Toulouse, flicking his eyes to Duchess so he could offer a small wink before speaking.

"Maybe you'll get just as big, huh?" He said, "Bigger'n'me maybe." Behind the words was a grumbling purr.

Him? Getting to be as big as a barn cat like Dragon? Toulouse looked himself over and tried to imagine it. If barn cats lived off of rats and mice, things like that, then he wasn't sure if that was the life that he wanted to live. It sounded like Duchess was amused by the idea, at the very least, and she had suggested that he could be that if he wanted to be. Soon, his little chest was puffed up a bit with pride.

"Even if I don't get to be as big as you," he purred, "I bet I could be a good barn cat. If... I wanted to. I like being what I am now, though." Forest green eyes shifted to Duchess for just a moment. He knew he still had a lot of growing to do. There also was the war going on, and the fact that he and his family were basically monetary support for the Cursed Thorns. In the future, though, he'd figure out if he still wanted to be a young feline Picasso or Baroque, or if he wanted to be something else. There wasn't a great rush, so he was trying to just be optimistic.

He realized a moment later that, unlike himself and Duchess, Dragon didn't seem to have any sort of thing around his neck. Maybe barn cats didn't need collars and things like aristocats and other pets. Curiosity beckoned him a pace closer to Dragon. No collar, no ribbon... nothing!

"I don't really wear a collar either, mama. Just this nice ribbon Madame gave me," Toulouse said. He pawed at the blue ribbon around his neck as though showing it off. "I can't really imagine Dragon with something like that. Maybe..." He wished he had a canvas, or just something to draw on in general. He could visualize something. Just not a ribbon.

"I've seen some animals back home, from our window, wearing a cloth around their neck," he mewed. "Maybe you could wear something like that? If you wanted to, I mean, mister Dragon."