Mikey (playkitten) wrote in lost_world, @ 2013-01-07 23:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | !status: complete, davis cameron |
When the cat's away (Narrative)
It wasn't unusual for Mikey to wake up and the whole place be empty. Everybody always had things to do. Shiro and John were almost always gone from the penthouse, doing things that nobody ever spoke about, and the rest of them had their own lives to attend to. Even the nights that he decided to stay at the mansion, Mikey tended to sleep so late that classes had started. Being alone did not bother him, anyway. He did like the companionship he found with those in the penthouse, and he loved the attention he got at the mansion. In the end, though, he was a cat. Independent. Free willed.
He stretched and yawned, sliding out of the bed he'd occupied last night, stopping to take a quick sniff. Vanessa. She always smelled so nice. Even if she did share a room with that other one, Davan. Davan was strange, and that was coming from a boy who thought he was a cat.
Mikey left the penthouse behind, leaving by the front door this time instead of the roof. Going from the roof meant that he needed to become a cat all the way, and he just didn't feel like trying to mess with clothing. He wanted to get some snacks. You couldn't buy snacks - or even steal them - when you were naked. That he'd learned the hard way.
Long ago, Mikey had stopped caring about people staring at him when he looked like a boy. It used to make him nervous. He'd let go of that, with help from Shiro. To see that being a boy wasn't terrible, that people who stared didn't always mean it in a bad way. Most of them out there knew what mutants were, which was apparently what Mikey was. He didn't want to believe it, still. He was a cat, he knew it. A cat who could turn into a boy for whatever stupid reason. The fact that he still had a tail when he was a boy proved that to him. So did the eyes and his fingernails.
He strutted out of the front door of the building like he owned the place, pausing to glance to the right and then the left, trying to decide which store he wanted to go to. He hadn't put on any shoes. People were always trying to force shoes on him. They were lucky they'd gotten him to start wearing pants. Shirts, too. There was no way he was going further than that. Shoes were wrong on so many levels.
Turning to the left, Mikey lazily began his walk to the shop.