|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 11:26 am
‘You could have at least offered us a ride,’ Paris typed out on his phone keyboard, then mashed at the send button a bit harder than necessary.
He was walking down the sidewalk with Peter, the both of them bundled up against the chill air of early January, having just left the Science Museum. Their cheeks and noses were pink, their breath hung in the air in white puffs of vapor, and Paris had lost his gloves somewhere between exhibits, so his fingers felt stiff and frozen. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat wasn’t helping, nor was his boyfriend’s cavalier attitude toward his younger brother.
He received an ‘Uhhhhhh’ back. Paris rolled his eyes and sent Chris an angry face before sliding his phone shut and shoving it and his hands back into his pockets. He supposed he should at least be happy that his text hadn’t gone ignored, but the idea of having to wrestle with public transportation because Chris failed to do his duty as an older sibling made it a bit more difficult to keep a cheerful demeanor in place.
“You know, he should have been the one doing this,” Paris said out load, glancing over to Peter. “I don’t know what it is with you two. The next time he makes excuses to get out of babysitting, I’m gonna pretend like your mom was so upset she burst into tears. Maybe the guilt will eat away at him.”
Mean? Perhaps. But some things needed to be done. It wasn’t that Paris minded watching after Peter while Momma Gallo was busy with her charity functions; he just thought a little more consideration from Chris would be nice.
And that almost made him laugh. It seemed odd for him to be teaching Chris a thing or two about consideration.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 2:06 pm
"I told you he hates me!" Peter insisted when his brother was brought up in the conversation they'd been having. The brother he didn't like all that much, of course. Michael was great, but Chris...? Not so much.
He shivered as he made his way to stand at their designated bus stop, waiting for one to come by... hopefully soon. "Who do you think came up with the idea of freeze dried ice cream?" he chattered away, despite the cold. "Did someone just think, 'Hmm, what would freeze dried ice cream taste like?' or 'Let's see what crazy things we can fit into a bag to last for years!' I mean, it would be nice to think that whoever thought it up was considerate of astronaut's needs, but somehow I think it was just someone dicking around." The package in his hands was unopened to reveal what looked like some kind of hardened pink rice wafer, but in reality it was strawberry flavored freeze dried ice cream that Paris had bought for him in one of those ridiculously over priced vending machines.
Peter appreciated the gesture since he really would love to be an astronaut when he grew up... but...
"I think real ice cream would be a lot better than this..." he said, making a face as he nibbled on a corner of the wafer, the ice cream crunching between his teeth.
It was nice to get out of the house, though... And it was nice that he wasn't stuck with one of his typical babysitters, too. Or stuck at the event itself! Mom was always off doing charity events or whatever, so hanging out with someone he could more or less tolerate was good. Nah, he really didn't mind Paris. Strange as he was, he did hold up to Peter blackmailing him, and then had saved his life, so it was the least he could do — uh... to not be so much of a brat to him.
Something was knocked over in the alley way just to the right of them, and Peter glanced over his shoulder to see what was over there. Maybe a drunk trying to get home? Or a homeless person, trying to salvage a blanket for the cold night ahead?
Or maybe a stray cat...? Peter was sure he saw something bright flash, like eyes reflecting the light of a car or street sign, and then they were gone.
He didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to see what it was... And without saying another word to Paris, he turned to make his way towards the alley.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 3:33 pm
Tomlin eyed the pair at the bus stop, and wondered whether buses were a good idea for cats. They stopped frequently, the doors just hung open half the time. They had to be pretty warm, too, which the alley, sad to say, was not. He'd been all up and down the street twice, and hadn't found a single car with a warm engine. He'd found quite a large cardboard box, though, and it had kept the wind off while he watched the people go past, until the little boy and his sister came by. There was something about the two that drew the ginger guardian to come a little closer, clattering up onto a dustbin to get a better view.
He was considering coming closer still when the kid left the safety of the bus stop and started heading his way. A genuine stray cat might have fled at the approach, but he remained on his perch, sniffing the air.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 6:05 pm
“We are not getting real ice-cream when it’s this cold outside,” Paris said. He took a few steps away to check the bus schedule that had been taped up in the rather inadequate shelter that stood at the bus stop. Having rarely ever spent much time in the museum district, Paris didn’t have the specific bus route as firmly set in his memory as some of the others.
“Looks like we just missed the last one. Next one comes in about fifteen minutes,” he observed after taking out his phone again to check the time. “Why don’t you sit down? We’ve been walking around since-”
He looked up to see that Peter had moved off. With a slight roll of his eyes, Paris went after him to grab him by the shoulder right before he could wander into the alley. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Paris checked down the alley to make sure there wasn’t anything lurking among the garbage. He saw the cat sitting there almost immediately, but didn’t think anything of it—there were strays everywhere in this city—until he thought he recognized it somehow. He took one step closer to get a better look. The coat definitely looked familiar, but it was the marking on the cat’s forehead that tipped him off.
“Oh,” he said, loosening his hold on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s alright. It’s one of the cats I told you abou-”
It was funny, he found himself thinking sometimes—in those quiet moments when he actually took the time to ponder what had become of his life—how conveniently things worked in this city. One minute he could be standing there innocently, watching after his boyfriend’s kid brother, and the second something relevant to the other part of his life came onto the scene, he felt it—the sensation that alerted him to something ugly and dark in the area.
Paris froze, and then slowly turned his head to look behind them, glancing up and down the street as his hand tightened on Peter’s shoulder again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2012 6:38 pm
A cat...?
Peter peered curiously at it, but was held back by Paris digging his hand into his shoulder. "Ouch! Paris, you're holding on too tight!" he whined, pulling himself out of his babysitter's grasp, before crouching down to get a better look at the cat. It wasn't running away so that meant it was friendly, right? He'd never had a cat before... only a dog... and it wasn't even his dog, but his older brother's dog.
"Hey Paris, look... It's got the same thing I had on my forehead," he said, wondering if that meant that this cat was really a human that just hadn't been turned back! Oh jeezzz, Peter certainly hoped he wouldn't be turning into a cat again! He'd already missed Thanksgiving and his birthday because of that mess! It was lucky that he had turned back before Christmas!
But Paris wasn't listening to him. He wasn't even looking his way! "Uh, Paris. Hello! Over here!" Jeez, what was his problem? He just wanted to know if this cat was a talking cat or not-- Oh, right! He could just as it, himself.
"Excuse me, but are you really a human, or have you always been a cat?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Feb 05, 2012 6:12 am
Any thought of begging for a scrap of the strange pink-y thing the boy had been eating evaporated as the pair entered the alley. Tomlin felt it like a change in the atmosphere, a little shiver of awareness, and he sat up straighter as they spoke. It didn't sound like they were referring to stray cats. He wasn’t used to being recognised for what he was, and on one level he felt he should be worried, with so many enemies about, but the words were not threatening. If anything, something in the girl’s tone was unplaceably familiar, but the name rang no bells.
But as the boy crouched down, he found he was more interested in this child. The cat gazed back at Peter with jewel-eyed intensity, staring into eyes only a few shades lighter than his own. There was no mark on his forehead now, but still something here riveted his attention, far beyond the skulking dark energy that brushed his senses, enough to ignore even the nearby civilian. He spared Paris a quick glance, but she appeared distracted. Probably not used to alleys, he thought, quickly dismissing her to watch the boy again with tilted head. He was really young, and that bothered the guardian, because what he was sensing was hard to ignore.
"Always a cat," he replied, smothering his curiosity behind a lazy yawn, too focused on the child now to worry whether Paris heard him. He drew a step closer, stretching out his neck to sniff at him. The copper pendant dangling from his neck dragged and chinked against the trash can. "Why? Have you heard something different? What’s she told you about cats like me?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 7:33 pm
“Shhh!” Paris shushed Peter, as if his silence would make it easier for him to get a feel for what he was sensing, hoping perhaps that he was wrong or being paranoid, even though he was pretty sure he wasn’t. It was a bit hard to mistake that feeling after an entire year at this.
He glanced back over at Peter and the cat, wondering what he should do. He didn’t want to just leave Peter, because he didn’t trust the kid not to come after him or get into some other sort of trouble while he was otherwise distracted, but then Peter was with Tomlin so he wouldn’t be completely defenseless, although Paris wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Tomlin actually talking to Peter. He didn’t know how the guardian cats operated aside from the fact that they awakened senshi and gave them boosts of power from time to time. Did they talk to normal civilians on a daily basis?
All Paris knew was that he hadn’t heard of a cat talking until the night one had given him his pen, so watching Peter being spoken to by one now—even if it was just Tomlin—unsettled Paris a little bit.
“Peter, listen,” he began, interrupting the conversation. “I want you to stay here, alright? Don’t go anywhere and don’t do anything unless I tell you to. Uh… or unless Tomlin, the cat, says it would be a good idea to move for safety.”
He didn’t bother telling him what was wrong. Peter was a smart kid. He could probably figure it out on his own.
Warning given, Paris crept back a few paces to the mouth of the alley, leaning against one of the walls to covertly peer out into the street. Further down he could see the youma lurking, shuffling closer. It looked something like a large, overgrown rat with sharp teeth and claws and patches of fur missing here and there—as gross as usual.
Rolling his eyes and muttering to himself, Paris dug around in his purse in search of his pen, pulling it out to transform himself into Super Sailor Ganymede.
“Remember what I said,” he shot at Peter. “Don’t do anything stupid!” Ganymede told him, and then, “Keep him safe Tomlin!” before he turned back out onto the street to confront the approaching youma.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 09, 2012 9:56 am
Peter didn't bother listening to Paris and his shushing. He was too interested in the talking cat.
Gold eyes widened in near-surprise when the cat responded, his expression turning into a wide grin. "So you can talk!" he confirmed, gleeful with his discovery. "Wow, I mean, I could talk when I was a cat, but if you've always been a cat, does that mean you can always talk? Or others? Can dogs talk? My brother has a dog, but she just slobbers on everything. But I haven't heard much about cats like you! I just know about cats that were senshi or people or --"
Paris's demand for his attention finally donned on him, and he glanced curiously up at the older teen. "Huh?" he blinked in confusion, not sure why Paris was wanting him to stay with the cat. Well, at least Paris knew that the cat could talk... And that he had a name!
"Wait, you know him??" he sputtered, jumping back to his feet from squatting close to the feline. "Wait!! You're going to leave me? You're going to leave me and expect that I not do something stupid?? How do I know what's stupid and what's not!!" he called after Ganymede's retreating back, staring in disbelief as his babysitter just... transformed and took off. What the hell was going on??
"Can you believe that guy??" he asked the cat, although it was more likely to be a rhetorical question than anything. "Come on," he grumbled, leaning down to try and scoop up the cat, before eyeing a trashcan lid that had been knocked onto the ground, picking it up as well. "It's probably a youma, isn't it?" he mumbled to himself, trying to get a glimpse of the creature down the alley, his trashcan lid raised in defense. Besides, Ganymede might need some help.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2012 4:41 am
Wow, the kid could talk! Tomlin listened, amused, and tried to make sense of the torrent of words. If he hadn’t already been a talking cat, he might have had to write it all off as overactive imagination. When he was a cat? Cats that were senshi? Oh - the issues with the Mauvian space device, maybe. That explained a lot. Maybe he was sensing nothing more in the boy than the residue of an accidental transformation. That would be a relief. But... he thought they’d got it all fixed.
He would have liked to hear more about Peter’s take on being a cat, maybe gently prod him about how much he really knew about senshi... but the girl interrupted with ten orders in the space of five seconds. The guardian’s tail twitched in irritation with each command, and had fluffed up completely by the time the ‘girl’ transformed into a far more familiar form.
“Ganymede,” he acknowledged, a little perplexed. Well, that explained why he’d had trouble following the senshi back to his civilian identity. But he gave no further greeting – that last order had been directed at him. As if he needed to be told to keep a kid safe! Oh, he would definitely be keeping him safe – the best and most permanent way he knew how.
Already on edge, he was not prepared to be lifted. “Put me down!” he protested, wriggling furiously against the small arms that closed around him. He slid out of the child’s grip, ears pulled back and tail lashing despite his efforts to keep calm. Back on four paws, he placed himself between the source of the dark energy and the boy before him, knowing he was at best a small delay if Peter really wanted to go out there.
“You can’t fight while you’re holding a cat!” he explained, a little less frantically. “That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Exactly what he told you not to?”
He tried to keep his voice stern, admonishing, but couldn’t help feeling just a little bit of smugness at the signs of disobedience. A lot hung on Peter’s answer. The orange cat still had doubts about throwing such a little kid into the dangers he’d seen first-hand now. Was it any different if the kid knew what he was getting into? If he’d pick up a weapon and head out without any powers at all, recognise youma for what they were, and the drive to help was still stronger than the fear he should more rightly feel? Hesitating wasn’t going to do any of them any favours, but Tomlin needed to be sure.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 1:50 pm
Ganymede was two yards away from the youma when he realized he’d forgot to find some sort of a weapon. Unwilling to use his magic so close to Peter when it had the tendency to backfire, he knew he was going to have to beat this thing the old-fashioned way—if using his fists could be considered old fashioned.
He paused to observe the creature, trying to come up with some sort of a plan for its defeat, but he wasn’t all that good at planning and tended to just do things as they came to him. Anyway, the youma didn’t give him much time. It had been moving slowly before, but as soon as he was there to confront it, its movements became faster and its expression more fierce. It made a few strange noises, hissing or growling or moaning or something of the sort, and its teeth—terrifyingly sharp for something that looked like a rodent—dripped saliva onto the sidewalk.
Ganymede tried not to make a disgusted face, but when faced with something so gross he didn’t think anyone could really blame him.
“Okay, ugly,” he said, though he knew he was mostly talking to himself. He never really expected any of these things to be all that intelligent, even if he’d come across some that had given him a hard time.
The youma reared up and lunged for him, and Ganymede responded with a swift kick to its stomach. He was pleased to see it skid across the sidewalk a few feet, though the fact that it left a few patches of fur behind was quite revolting. It was quick to get back up, baring its teeth at him and scurrying along on clawed feet. Ganymede jumped back when it tried to take a swipe at his legs, already glancing around him for something to use as a weapon.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2012 8:24 am
"Wanna bet??" Peter frowned at the talking cat when he wiggled out of his arms. "You could sit on my shoulder and I'll whack it with my shield." Trashcan lid. Okay, so Peter had never had a cat before and he wasn't really sure how to handle one, but jeez. Mr. Talking-Cat-Named-Tomlin or whatever needed to chill. He was just trying to help!
Peter hesitated for a moment at the cat's question, but it didn't take him long to respond. "It'd not that I don't want to do what I'm told not to, exactly. But I mean... Come on. I'm not going to just stand around and do nothing! I've helped kill one of these things before!" he insisted, brandishing his trashcan lid as he glanced over the cat to where Ganymede had run off to fight the ROUS (for lack of a better description), making a face that looked like a horrified grimace.
"Ugh, where do these things come from??" Peter asked in what sounded like it could have been whine if he wasn't so disgusted. The trashcan lid was lifted a bit higher as the youma lunged at Ganymede, ready to jump in to help when he could. "And it's not like they're real creatures. They turn into dust after... Otherwise why isn't there mass panic about them?? Seriously... I didn't even know they really existed until a few months ago!"
He didn't want to get in the way, but he couldn't just leave him there to fight the thing on his own! He wasn't that much of a spoiled brat who needed everything done for him! Sure, Ganymede had told him not to do anything stupid, but he wasn't doing anything stupid! He was trying to help! Clearly, 'help' was in the eye of the beholder (as was 'stupid'), so he was good, right??
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 5:38 am
“I’m not a parrot, you know,” the cat joked, letting the child’s enthusiasm soothe the irrational rush of nerves that seemed to accompany being picked up these days. He should have seen it coming, it was the sort of thing kids did, dragging pets around like plushies. At least Peter had held him carefully, and let him go. And shoulders did make a nice high perch, he had to admit, and he might take him up on the offer - some other time, when shield-swinging wasn’t as likely to dislodge him (or cause him to accidentally scratch up his poor ride).
The boy's answer was all he could have hoped for. Age aside, in his guardian opinion Peter was more than ready. More seriously, he continued, “They come from the Negaverse. Chaos. The enemy. Ganymede hasn’t told you? People like him defend this city.”
Tomlin turned his head away slightly, till he could see the blur of black, white and red that was the super senshi, and the bulk of creature he was fighting. Ganymede was holding his own, but the cat couldn’t mistake the sympathetic twitches Peter was making as he watched, like a boxer about to enter the ring. The rest of the explanation could wait until later, Tomlin decided. But later they needed to have a long talk.
“Hold on,” he said softly, brushing around Peter’s legs to delay him from running off, a furry mobile tripwire. “You’re not properly equipped yet.”
Waiting until he had the boy’s attention again, Tomlin moved a little space away and sprang up suddenly, higher than a normal cat would jump, flipping feet over tail in midair. Two small objects seemed to materialise there, and they fell to the ground with a faint clatter as the cat landed beside them. One appeared to be a pen, while the other was obviously a phone. The phone he kicked off to the side, but the pen he carefully picked up between his teeth and carried towards Peter.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked indistinctly from the corner of his mouth. He set the thing down gently at Peter’s feet, looking up at the boy with wide, solemn eyes. “One thing – you’ve got to promise me not to go out alone if you can help it. I don’t like Ganymede out there on his own, either. Just because we’re smaller doesn’t mean we can’t help, but we’ve gotta stay smart, okay?”
“Hold it up. Yell ‘Oberon Power, Make Up.’”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2012 4:06 pm
He should have grabbed something when he was in the alleyway, Ganymede thought. Somehow there always seemed to be useful things to strike at youma with in the dark, dank sections of the city—glass bottles or broken pieces of furniture people had carelessly tossed out. He dodged another vicious lunge from the youma and barely managed to get away with little more than a slight tear in one of his boots. This thing sure was quick. He needed to come up with something fast.
The Super senshi backed up a few steps and chanced a look back toward the alley in the hopes that some spark of inspiration would hit him, but just as he did so his eyes fell on Tomlin making a remarkably graceful flip in the air, one that would have seemed out of place in the situation if Ganymede didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
He’d seen a talking cat flip around like that before, and when it had Ganymede had taken his first tentative steps into Senshidom.
His first instinct was to tell Peter to run away and not touch anything, because when he did his life would change for the worst—in Ganymede’s opinion—and Peter was only eleven-years-old anyway, way too young for this sort of a dangerous life. But he’d encountered the younger senshi before and he knew they could be helpful when it counted, and he supposed they were safer in a way, at least compared to child civilians, who would barely be able to defend themselves at all against a youma or an agent of chaos if they happened to cross paths with one.
They’d been herded into camp like cattle and had their energy drained, after all. And Callisto… hadn’t she just been innocently enjoying a day at the pool when a youma had attacked? No one was really safe anymore, and even if Ganymede didn’t like what he’d become, even if Peter was too young and Chris’s brother and probably not ready for this at all, somehow Ganymede thought he’d be better off with the power to actually do something when bad things happened.
Sometimes blissful ignorance wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
In his distraction, Ganymede had taken his eyes off of the youma for a split second too long, and it took the opening, launching itself at him with some sort of a deranged rodent squeal. Ganymede tried to dodge again but didn’t quite make it in time. He and the youma went crashing into the sidewalk in a tangle of limbs and a wildly thrashing tail.
“Peter, do it!” he shouted, grabbing the youma by the head to keep its mouthful of teeth away, and lashing out his foot to try and kick it off of him. “s**t, listen to Tomlin!”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 05, 2012 9:29 am
Peter stared in surprise at the cat when he flipped in the air, although he couldn't help but glance up in concern towards Ganymede when it was apparent that he might need actual help.
"Wait, what is this??" he gasped, squatting down to pick up the pen to inspect. Somehow... he already knew what this meant. He'd seen Ganymede power up a couple times now. He nodded vigorously at the cat when he pointed out that they could still help, despite their size. Of course he could help out! He'd fought these things before! Sort of... But if he ended up being like Ganymede or even Hypnos or Pasiphae... then that would be okay, right?
He nearly fell backwards when Ganymede yelled out for him too do it, his eyes wide with fear for Ganymede's wellbeing now that he was very much fighting the youma all on his own.
With little hesitation, Peter lifted the pen and yelled out as he was told. "Oberon Power, Make Up!"
It was the strangest feeling in the world — being one person one moment, and then to be a much different person the next. While he knew he was still the same, he felt stronger, and now there was a sudden wave of energy from both Ganymede and the youma that hit him. Tomlin not so much, but that might have to do with him being a cat.
There was little time to look himself over since Ganymede needed his help, but he definitely noticed his badass hiking boots and white gloves as he reached down to pick up the trashcan-lid shield he'd dropped in favor of picking up the pen.
"Thanks, Tomlin!" he chirped as he took off down the alley, jumping and kicking the youma back with both feet (to ensure that the most possible force was given), successfully knocking the youma away from Ganymede. And lucky for him, he had a cushion for his fall to the ground! Sorry, Ganymede...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 10:18 am
Tomlin’s eyes were fixed on Peter, and despite the urgency of Ganymede’s voice behind him, he couldn’t look away. Not until the little hand closed around the pen, the words spoken, the transformation made. In the fading light of the awakening, he spared a glance back to the senior senshi on the ground, wrestling with the rodent youma. Not a moment too soon.
Oberon must have thought the same thing, because he was off before the cat could say anything further. Maybe he should have let himself be carried, Tomlin thought as he scrambled to catch up with the newly tiara'd chibi senshi. The boy moved as fast as he talked. He'd been half-expecting more questions, but he wasn't exactly surprised that Oberon was straight into the action. This one wouldn't need a lot of direction, he thought.
He reached the mouth of the alley a few moments too slow, stopping short of the battlefield for once. He didn't want to get caught under a senshi pile - even if one of them was half-sized he'd still be in for a squashing. He had to admire the young senshi’s total commitment to the dropkick he used on the youma, but he winced for poor Ganymede. The youma was every bit as nasty as its energy signature had promised. He drew cautiously closer, stopping by Ganymede’s head and nuzzling at the spray of pale blond hair to assure himself that the super senshi was all right.
“Nice work. Both okay?” he spoke quickly, hoping to get his information out before the Chibi Senshi of Adventure took off again. “Oberon, you have magic you can use. Do you feel it?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
