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Raife yelped and drew back, staring back at the two yellow eyes as they stared up at her from the floor. She shook her head. A leaf shouldn't have eyes. Especially eyes that big! Her eyes focused and readjusted to the dark, squinting to make out the form of a child, crouched on her floor as if ready to pounce. She tentatively tried to take a step forward, reaching her hand out to the boy, and got a hissing swipe in response.

Of course, this wasn't as effective for a human as it was for a cat. Despite the surprising speed of the swipe, he had no claws, only slender baby hands. For a moment, he looked at them, almost as if he was surprised to see them there. Flexing his fingers a bit, he curled them into a fist and took a swipe at Raife that way.

Eyes widening, the woman barely dodged the swing, using her reflexes to n** the boy's wrist in her hand and hold him still.

"Jesus CHRIST."

He lifted his legs, trying to clamber and cling onto her arm with them so his hands would be free to swipe more.

"I JUST wanted something NORMAL to come out of one of these things for once. Something that wouldn't start fights, unlike everything else in this house."

The child hissed, and seemed to be almost smirking in challenge, as if he knew exactly what a pain in the neck he was. Raife sighed and scooped him up in one arm, ignoring the scratching and kicking that ensued at this new development.

"Come on, you. Let's get you a room, and I'll think up something to call you."

"AUGH!! GERROFF GERROFF GERROFF!!" Ah, the mindless cacophony of noise marking morning at the sprawling house on the edge of the woods. Raife rolled over and attempted to press her head into the pillow to block the noise. Ever since Cray had started to speak and the new little one had come -which had, unfortunately, happened at about the same time- the little British terror and the feral toddler had settled into into a rhythm of tormenting mornings.

As Raife tried to ignore it, the ruckus only grew louder and more insistent, and she knew, if nobody stopped it before long, she'd start to hear the tinkling of breaking glass and assorted objects. She had to haul herself out of bed.

Okay, ready?

1...
2...
3...

... Andddd up. Wobbling over to the doorframe of her bedroom, she peered out towards the noise. It was a bleary blue, orange and black blur, but she got the jist of it. Cole appeared to be clinging onto Cray's back and had his rather deadly mouth latched onto Cray's ear, while the museling staggered about and tried to shake him off. The cat boy was far too determined though to be shook off.

After a moment's observation, Raife shuffled into the livingroom and waded inbetween them, grabbing whatever she could of each of them and hauling them apart, leaving them to dangle. They both scowled and struggled against her.

"HEY, HEY, LEGGO, WOMAN!" Cray, the taller and older of the two, was tucked under her arm. She made a mental note to speak to Trance about the child's language. Naturally, it had to be his fault.

Cole, on the other hand, was silent but not still. Dangling by his shirt collar, he was struggling to get free or get his mouth clamped on something, with those little kitten teeth sunk in. The toddler rarely uttered a word unless there was something he desperately wanted. He usually let his pearly whites do the talking. But Raife knew how to handle the situation.

Easily the easier to handle in the situation, Raife set Cray down on the couch. "Sit. Stay. Zeno will deal with you when he awakens." Cray started to open his mouth and retort, but Raife shook her head. "Not today, boyo. You'll sit quiet while I deal with your partner in crime." Cole was still wriggling like a fish in her grip, and she finally hauled him up over her shoulder. This one was hers to deal with.

Hauling him over to his room, she plopped him down on the bed. "You need to stop picking fights with Cray."

"No." His favorite word.

"I'll take away your CD player." He loved that angsty thrashy british punk. His eyes widened.

"No!" There it was again.

"I will. And the fish tank." Odd as it was, he loved his little betta fish that Raife got for him in interest of giving him some responsibility. He fed it dutifully every day, and Raife cleaned the bowl on weekends.

"No!! Mine!" A new favorite.

"Yes, I will. So behave. Time out for 10 minutes, and then you'll behave for the rest of the morning, or you'll be on probation for the week.

Cole didn't know what probation meant, but he knew that he wouldn't like it. He furrowed his brow, then flopped over on his bed, turning away with a sulk. Raife sighed and left, closing the door behind her. He'd stay there for ten minutes, she knew, and then they'd be at it again.

But, atleast she could catch a quick nap.

He's quiet except when he's getting into trouble. Quiet and almost lazy. He spends most of the day curled up on his bed in a sunbeam, with those clunky headphones tucked over those cute little cat ears of his, listening to that angsty thrash music like it's a lullaby. He sleeps as if he's preparing and storing up the energy for his next acrobatic leap into trouble. He hates to be woken up though. He'll launch himself at the first person to touch him. Cray likes to get into fights with him that way. It's like spreading poison.

Somehow, he's always watching though. He knows what's going on in the house better than just about anyone. He knows if someone's gotten themselves in trouble, or is going to, and doesn't hesitate to call them on it, if he thinks he has something to gain from it all. Sometimes I see him skittering out or slinking around a corner, keeping an eye on one of his brothers as they do something they're not supposed to.

He gets along surprisingly well with Mikhael. Probably because the museling doesn't get into trouble very often, so there isn't that sense of resentment as there is between him and Cray. Mikhael knows to follow him and keep an eye on the toddler when he goes outside, and Cole knows that Mikhael will follow. It's an unspoken agreement that works for all of us.

Just yesterday I caught him swearing again. I've put a swearing ban of the house but with a house full of grown men, it happens. And that boy's got sharp ears. He picks it up, stores it in his little toddler brain and repeats it at the least appropriate opportunity. If I hear 'helldamn' at the dinner table when we have guests over one more time, I don't know what I'm going to do. It doesn't help that the other boys can't help but giggle, and then it gets the whole table in an uproar. Thankfully my guests are usually just amused.

He doesn't act like a toddler. He likes to dress himself. I've made it easy for him, and I usually keep his outfits in normal primary colors and black, so they mostly go together. It's easier for me too, I can do all of his wash at one time.
He's a neat eater too. So long as he has plenty of meat in the meal. He's not so fond of vegetables, but he'll put up with them so long as he has a nice steak or a slab of chicken. He used to throw a fit about peas before but now I think he just hides them and throws them away later. Sneaky. So sneaky.