Welcome to Gaia! ::

He became aware of several things at the same time.

The first, that he was very low to the ground. He wanted to be higher up. Jumping onto a counter solved that.

The second, that he was alone. His first instinct was to let out a loud, plaintive caterwaul, but that did nothing to resolve his predicament. No one came running. No one responded at all.

The third, that he had a rush of thoughts, then, thoughts that he wasn't used to. Thoughts beyond where his next meal was and more-so concerned with the nature of the universe, morality, and all those sorts of things. Less interested in the bird outside the window and more interested in how to get outside the window, himself, so he could feel the breeze. More interested in the philosophical quality of being able to feel the breeze at all.

The fourth, that he could read. That he knew what reading was. He didn't know what the numbers on the board by the sink meant, but there was a name--Zachariah--there, so he assumed they were connected. But he had no idea who Zachariah was, so he had no idea what the numbers meant.

Back to trying to get outside.

The fifth thing he became aware of was that he had no thumbs and no ability to turn the doorknobs no matter how well he could reach them. That was a problem in and of itself. Ten minutes and several frustrated grumbles later, Sacha--he knew his name was Sacha--had a stroke of luck. Testing around the window over the sink revealed he could nose the locks open, could nose the window itself open, no thumbs required. Even better, the barest amount of weight popped the mesh screen out of place. He could reach the platform labeled 'FIRE ESCAPE' from the window.

He was out. He was free.

He would come back of course, but, as he pattered down the FIRE ESCAPE, sometimes having to leap to the next platform, Sacha reflected that, first, he was going to determine what everything was all about.

'Ohhh, what a pretty kitty!'

Oh, that was him they were talking about, wasn't it? Surprise made him sit down at the base of the fire escape, his tail wrapping around his feet. He didn't respond to the offered hand, more surprised by her outfit and the way he knew, innately, what she was.

"I'm out for a stroll."

And that, firstly, he could talk to her and that, secondly, she was safe to talk to. He got back to his feet, belatedly wrapping himself around her legs to press his side against. His greeting complete, Sacha looked up at her. "Mind if I tag along with you?" There was a creakiness in the timbre of his voice that he was glad to hear disappear the more he spoke.

They had just met, however, so he sat himself back down at a respectable distance. Just in case.

"Can't say I have, Sailor Halley," to her first question, turning the sound of her name over in his mind before repeating it aloud. "My name is Sacha, by the by." A haunted house? He wasn't even sure he knew what that was, but he was willing to reserve judgement until he had actually seen one. Now, to ride or walk... "How quickly are you going to be moving?" Chances were he could keep up at least for a bit, if not outpace her, but did he actually want to make a mad dash through the city, when he wasn't entirely sure where they were going?

"Though, I'm unfamiliar with the city landscape. Best I not risk getting separated." He came to sit at her feet, looking up at her expectantly.

He settled into the hold easily enough, tail swishing idly this way and that as she spoke to him. Sacha was concerned he'd be too big for her shoulder, and so declined that offer with a polite murmur. She did have a point, in that a talking cat was probably not what most people were used to. Sacha decided he was not keen on attracting too much attention.

But he could answer her question.

"Ah, about ten minutes. Fifteen?" He looked back over her shoulder toward the ladder he'd climbed down. "As far as I can tell, at any rate." Everything before ten, fifteen minutes ago was a confusing mishmash of vague sensory memories. Sailor Halley had not been the first one to hold him. Someone else regularly did so, even brushing his fur. He recalled that he enjoyed that. He would also occasionally have his paws held, a flash of metal, a snipping noise. He recalled that he enjoyed that less. It nearly never hurt--and when it did, there was always an apology--but he enjoyed that less.

Interesting.

"How long have you been a senshi?" Again, he knew instinctively what she was, the question coming without hesitation.

"Superstition? Fascinating." And he meant it, his response said in earnest. "You're the first senshi I've met. Are there many of you?" He hoped so. It would be a sad thing indeed for senshi to be scarce. So Sacha hoped there were dozens, even hundreds of senshi. Her stroking his back was rewarded with the start of a deep, rumbling purr. "I am glad to hear there are other cats around to help."