Re: [Jester's Court: Cat & Jack]
Cat's acceptance wasn't something Cat could explain. It was part fear, and it was part exhaustion, and it was part empowerment. Oh, sure, he sometimes thought about his own body, wondered where it was, but he had no real desire to crawl back into it. That body represented a lot of shit to Cat, and none of it was particularly inviting to return to. It was Jersey, and it was a brothel, and it was Russia. It was a body that hadn't been her own since she was five, and even before that it was questionable. This was a kind of clean slate, one that came without the gender disparity that the world forced upon women. Oh, sure, it meant that his main coping device? Gone. But, and surprisingly, that didn't feel as bad as he'd expected it would. So, right, no, he hadn't gone hunting for his body. He hadn't even found out who he was in this one, and he wasn't in any hurry. Because, also, fear, and there were scientists out there that would eventually come calling. Scientists were nice like that, and Cat was mainly interested in, you know, killing them all.
But, right, this was an amusement park, and it wasn't teeming with scientists. It was teeming with bell bottoms and the scent of patchouli, and the dust around their feet rose and swirled in a dance with their shoes. Cat had a desperate desire to stomp on that dirt and dust, and it was a youthful impulse. Where did it come from? Who knew, and she could probably go back to the military and have them stick electrodes all over her head and ascertain how much was him and how much was her, but, nah, not tonight. "It's a perpetual spiral. Of course." He was being a whiny bitch, which he was aware of, but it wasn't as if he was sober or straight, and the words came out green and bitter on the summer night air. Cotton candy mingle, and he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about Bruce anymore. "Bruce listened." He said that wistfully. Oh, he'd had plenty of problems with Bruce, and he wouldn't want Bruce back, but Bruce had always thought Cat was better than Cat was, and Cat missed that sometimes. He almost added more, but, no... additional words would only dilute Bruce's importance to the kids he'd abandoned, and Cat, who was always forgiving of Bruce, had trouble forgiving this.
The funhouse was loud and creaking, and Cat thought it was the kind of place dumb white kids went into during screamer flicks. Did that deter him? Nope. Undeterred, and he moved forward with the line. "The clown was insane. Is insane. He's the kind of insane that that doesn't even come with a sad sob story." Home, and no one who wasn't reared there could really understand, could they? Jersey separated them all from the rest of the world, and Cat felt that keenly tonight. "We all stay the same, and we all end up miserable. We all chase a life that doesn't exist anymore, and everyone looks back and no one looks forward." He said it with a roll of green, because didn't everyone know that? "When you grow up in a world filled with people who make Jack the Ripper and HH Holmes and the Zodiac Killer? All look like kind grandpas? It's hard to join the real world."
As for what he needed? Cat smirked a smug smirk, and he stepped forward to wait for the funhouse doors to open. It was the kind you walked through, crawled through, ran through, and, sure, this was what he needed. He didn't answer, because, hello, obvious. So, when the creaking doors swung open, in Cat went.
The first room was a library. It was dark and it was tall, and the screams of other visitors could be heard beyond them. Books paneled the small room, and a fire crackled, and there was no visible door. There was, however, a booming voice that said they had to find their way out. So, alright, bring it, and this was a puzzle, and Cat liked those more than in the past. "There's probably a false wall. Fondle the books, Jack."