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In Tribute (12) : In the days leading up to the Star Festival, small stone shrines began to appear randomly throughout Destiny City–on rooftops, in alleyways, hidden down long forest paths. They’re small, altar-like platforms with a little bowl in the center and a single glowing stone inside. There’s something peaceful, refreshing, about the shrine, even if no one seems to know who is setting them. However, if the stone is removed, the glow vanishes–along with your sense of peace. This was not your offering to take. Immediately, you feel something breathing on the back of your neck but there’s nothing to be seen. Returning the stone returns the area to an uneasy stillness, but if you attempt to leave without returning the stone, a mounting pressure and anxiety will grow within you. You never make it far from the shrine before some unseen force overtakes you. It feels like a great force collides into your back, and unconsciousness is quick to follow. When you awaken, the shrine is gone. All that remains is pain and fear. If you are tempted to leave an offering of your own, however small, you will find yourself feeling as though you have received the protection of something greater than you can understand. This strange blanket of security will last for the remainder of the day. A shrine never stays in the same place for long but no one ever sees who is setting them up or taking them down.
Haymitch sat in front of one of the weird little stone shrines that had popped up around the city. He was in his cat form, not wanting to waste his glamour time just to sit in front of a little stone monument. He was... unsettled. He had been unsettled since fighting that giant snake. It wasn't just because the world had almost ended. It wasn't just because he'd been relatively ineffectual the entire time. It wasn't even because Faustite was all but destroyed after that lightning strike.
No, he was unsettled because Albite was unsettled. His senshi was burying himself in people and everything but his bonded cat or his team. Half the team was barely functioning, the others trying to pick up the slack. Albite was in a different bed every night it felt like, Zuzu was so quiet it was almost like she was a doll. Hestia was keeping things together as best she could, but Haymitch could see the cracks beneath. He hadn't seen Fafnir or any of the agents in several days now.
There wasn't anything he could do for Faustite while he was under the care of the infirmary. There wasn't anything his little brain could think of to help, to rebuild their leader from the ground up. All he could do was sit and wait, like everyone else. He hated it. He hated all of it.
Haymitch felt useless and worthless. He was still the size of a kitten and his glamour that of a child since his awareness had expanded many years ago. He sort of knew he could change that, he could... decide if he wanted to 'grow up'. That if he did a little bit more, he might be able to have thumbs like Tama had. And real thumbs, not the fake ones his glamour afforded him. He could sort of feel it in his paw pads, a soft tingle of potential that just needed to be stoked a little further along.
But he wanted his senshi to be present when he did. He wanted Albite to be clear headed and not the waves of fear and depression and chaotic emotions that rippled down the bond every once in a while. He wanted to show Faustite his growth, to show that he was worth being part of the team and useful and--- Haymitch let out a soft huff, tail swishing back and forth.
"Please put things back together... my bonded is sinking, my boss is out of the picture, the team is falling apart. Please... I want my home back..." he said softly, offering a dead mouse to the little stone shrine as tribute. Something rippled over him, a gentle stroke of his fur that spoke of protection and comfort. Whatever it was, it was nicer than the despair he was wallowing in right now. It wasn't exactly an answer to his plea - no, he knew that would take far more than just a little shrine tucked away in an alcove behind a building.
No, it would take so many things, but he felt a little better now. A little more hopeful, a little buoyed. It wouldn't be fixed today, or even tomorrow. But someday, things would be okay again. He could feel it in his paws.
[ wc: 546 ]
