Party after the attack a few days ago — Siri was still aching in various places from the encounter and ought to have stayed put in her bed back at the Tower. However, natural curiosity would compel her to come looking in these functions, to come looking for Cas or Ric, or other faces that were slowly becoming familiar to her throughout the last few months.
The room felt crowded, heels making a small sound as she navigated the ocean of people. Colourful dresses and ostentatious jewelry, Siri felt like she could reach out and grab their secrets, swallow and then spit them out in pieces. Clicking her tongue several times, a sycophant beat that echoed inside her louder than the music and voices outside.
Siri stopped, snapped her fingers and stopped the click of her tongue; her attention was caught by a curious little kitten who was standing on the side. Her fingers reached out to brush the fabric of another dress, a caress as if she really were touching a cat.
Ari looked up, surprised. Mostly, when people tried to put their hands where they didn’t belong, it wasn’t her skirt they fondled -- and usually, she wasn’t the recipient of such attentions, anyway. The woman who stood just a bit too close, though, was wearing an expression of almost innocent pleasure as she stroked over the green lace panel.
Always forgiving of admiration, Ari smiled at the stranger, asking, “It’s a rather nice dress, isn’t it?”
Siri looked up at Ari, smiling widely before replying, “Little cat, it is a nice dress and it suits you well.” Her fingers released the fabric, watching it pool back around Ari’s feet; shadows, green and black. “I could never wear something this green, it wouldn’t suit.” Green was not her colour: no plants, no envy, Siri prefered the colours of the sea and sky.
Endless waves of blue, grey and white. Red too was a colour she favoured, like the flames that curled around her during nightmares and whispered sweet nothings when she awoke. We’re waiting, we’re waiting, we’re waiting.
Little cat? The memory came after a bit of prodding; the strange person on the network who befriended serpents and didn’t favor the Feywood. This elegant figure was not the face she would have put with the name; a case of odd casting. But then, life was not a play, for all the similarities it exhibited.
So she only continued smiling and said, “Thank you. I like yours; it suits perfectly.” Pretty, much like the woman -- a little innocent, like her expression. “It is good to put a face to… a set of initials.” Had they ever shared names? She didn’t think so. And she wasn’t the sort to hold grudges; that Feywood conversation was far from her mind as she said, “I’m Ari, though I suppose if you want to keep calling me a cat, you’re welcome.”