Welcome to Gaia! ::

Taym stared at the latest arrival, interrupted from his dopey reverie of gazing fondly at the chaos he had created and inducing purrs and paw-kneading in America and Peyton and occasionally reaching up to adjust Kostyascarf.

Very quietly, in a sort of quasi-wail that indicated that his cute threshold had been utterly broken, Taym said: "oh nooooooo." Sanity has officially fled.

He gently pushed Kostyascarf to the side long enough to extricate his actual scarf, gently detangling tiny Russian blue claws where necessary, and he reached down to wrap Lesliekitten up in a snug and warm kitten burrito, lofting him to gaze at him with naked adoration.



"You're so sad," he said, in the universally accepted "stating the obvious" method of talking to cats. "Look at how ********' sad you are."

Kostya scarf readjusted himself, finally-- finally!-- retracting his claws. He looked at America, and just opted to lean down and lap at her forehead, just once, content. And then went to sleep, because being a secret agent kitten was hard work.

<< Much touch to all thing, >> he mewed with a tiny kitten-yawn, << but maybe can stop. Maybe. >>

Sadly, Milo was still having trouble identifying his attacker. The voice was very familiar though, not someone he ran into enough to place but somewhat enough to know he had encountered the other dude turned cat. Didn't deter him from the kitten mischief though, or at least for him to stop batting at the other kitten to ask or anything. At least he had obliged and starting hitting around his neck. For now.

< Just 'cause you're on top now don't mean you're gonna stay there,> he would have grinned if able but his eyes narrowed in an evil sort of way. The brown kitten's body rolled onto his back, situating himself to kick his hind legs upward and launch the other kitten off. Or push. Or trip. Just at least to gain an upper hand.

"Oh god," said Taym, sad and smitten. "You're so angry. Look at you. Who is the tiniest and the angriest?"

Sorry, Leslie. Taym only secured the kitten burrito more thoroughly and cradled the tiny miserable creature to his chest, resting his chin on the tiny miserable forehead and gently nudging his tiny miserable paws back into the bundle with his thumb. The bright idea that he could later blame this on some sort of JOY surplus or other crazy thing in the air had occurred to him and he moved forward without shame. He liked everyone here better as cats. If it didn't wear off in a few hours he'd worry then, but in the interim he had relinquished all negative emotions. There was only cat. So much cat.

He reached down to accept America's offering with dignity. "Thank you," he informed her. "I will treasure this." He tucked it into his pocket, and patted it to demonstrate that it would be kept safely. Then, for good measure, he patted her also.

"Poor Bix," he commentated to no one in particular as the dogpile--catpile--grew. Bix. In his comic book boxers.

Which were still on the ground.

Taym's brow furrowed, and with the vague beginnings of misgivings he gazed back down at Leslie and America.

Noah galloped past with the end of a long line of toilet paper in his teeth, the roll bouncing and unrolling itself erratically behind him. There was still a lot of barking in his head, but he had gotten used to being a kitten enough to be enjoying himself mightily.

Otto kitten got bored with the toilet paper he'd been playing with. So he rolled around, trying to untangle himself from the mess he'd made.

On the plus side? He was somehow freed from his confines. However, now the babushka cat was mothering him much like Sasha had before him. The angry kitten mewled unappreciatively, batting at the russian blue with small furry paws.

astrazilla

< Do not be being in so hurry, > Katstya chided, and continued to fix where Otto's fur had gotten mussed in the grand Toilet Paper Adventure. < No more viggle please, and also thank you. Got a little, a little bit-- >

He interrupted himself with a series of laps against Otto's grumpy-kitten-face, getting a few stray shreds of paper out of his whiskers. < There. >

Katstya leaned back to admire his work.