Ghostcat shenanigans

[technicallyhellbound]

It had been a few weeks since they'd started this arrangement, and so far the Cat had, in fact, been a surprising amount of help. Enough so that Charles had stopped being mostly on-guard while in his presence and had even taken the 'puppy' nickname in stride, though he still hadn't really looked too deeply at why it didn't bother him as much as it probably should.

That particular day was neither a Monday nor a Friday, and was in fact a Wednesday, so while it wasn't one of their scheduled briefings, it was a visit that had been arranged in advance, a few hours while Crystal and Charles were at a concert, the kind of thing that while Edwin enjoyed being invited to, really wasn't the kind of thing he actually enjoyed going to, and the others both knew it, which was why they continued to invite him, even if he always declined.

It was late afternoon, not yet early evening when he stepped out of the mirror into the cannery, tugging at the collar of his slipover in much the same way he did the lapels of his usual jacket. He'd been branching out from his usual look, just a little, in bits and pieces, and now had something of a range of shades of those softer jumpers, this one was a deep bottle-green and was nearly a cowl-neck, but definitely less severe than his usual look.

It had been raining in London, or rather it had been misting heavily, and he wasn't quite sure if it was still raining here or if it had just finished, there wasn't the same kind of moisture in the air, which meant that if it was raining it hadn't been doing so for long, and all he knew was that the Cat had something planned for them to do, he was only now considering that he probably should have asked a few more questions beforehand.

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[catting]

Curiosity is good. It's familiar to the Cat, but familiar to see it on Edwin's face, too, and it's still nice to be under his scrutiny despite the rather tense circumstances. He's always found Edwin's interest addictive, even if it was an interest bourne only from a lack of further exploration and understanding, like the interest in his body had been back in Port Townsend, like the interest Edwin had shown — albeit briefly — in his truth magic.

Not only that, but the Cat can see the ever so slight softening of Edwin's features in the way his eyes are wider than normal, the way the set of his brows is tighter in the middle. He's not foolish enough to read too much into it, but his heightened senses will take it and bottle it up and keep it safe— and use it now, to keep him steady as the energy around them tries to find an in to carve out more than he's willing to give.

His breathing is laboured now, coming from him in heavy pants that shake his shoulders as the cup gets halfway full. It's always a struggle, the final stretch, and normally this is where Esther would make some stupid fucking comment about this whole thing taking too long and being too dramatic and make him feel embarrassed and small and therefore angry and eager to lash out to shut her up.

It doesn't happen, because she's not here, but frustration sets in as he realises he can't stop fucking thinking about her. She's gone, she's probably never coming back, but he's keeping her alive every time he pictures her face in his mind and God, if that isn't a big allegory for some masochistic tendencies, then he doesn't know what is. Something tells him it all would have been so much easier if he'd had claws to keep her quiet, if the size of him alone and the warning of a lashing tail would have kept her from demeaning him.

It's irritating, he's irritating, and he breaks eye contact with Edwin to screw his eyes shut against the feeling, grunting in frustration and in pain as he digs his claws into the meat of his upper arm out of a loss for what else to do.

[technicallyhellbound]

That frustration was almost palpable, and it was familiar in a sort of sideways kind of way. It was something he'd seen on Charles more frequently as of late, now that they'd actually been making an effort to talk things through. More than that, though, it was something he'd done himself as well, and for similar reasons, even if they weren't exactly the same they were close enough that he and Charles had the same response now.

One that -while he wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do- he used on the Cat at the moment, "Stay with me." It was said as he tightened his hold of the tether, enough to draw the Cat's attention as he didn't have a free hand to clasp his shoulder or upper arm or elbow with the way he would have done for Charles, the way Charles did for him.

He wasn't going to voice his assumption that the Cat was thinking about Esther, mostly because he wasn't sure if that was it, and even if it was he wasn't sure if it was his place, but keeping the cat grounded in the here and now he could, and would, do.

[catting]

The darkness behind his eyes is complete and beckoning, and for a moment it seems so much easier to forget where he is and what he's doing and enjoy that pitch black void instead; only he'd prepared Edwin well, and Edwin wasn't about to let the plan fail just because the Cat still couldn't keep his shit together when something tried to tempt him to let it all go.

He opens his eyes at the sound of Edwin's voice. The gold in them is, momentarily, shot through with a few flickers of violet, but it dies down as he lets the gentle command keep him in place. It sounds like something Edwin might have said to Charles, to one of his friends, something firm but oddly comforting. It does the trick for the Cat, at least, and he manages to quiet some of the turmoil in him as he looks back into Edwin's sparkling green eyes.

The cup is almost there, two thirds of the way full. The Cat can't draw his eyes away to check, but he can tell from the way his body yearns for the end to come, and the way the room around them yearns to have it continue on and on until it's drank all the power there is on offer here. A little burst of purple behind the Cat shocks into view, like the lashing of a great tail made of violet fire, here and then gone.

The Cat manages a smile, though.

"It's alright. I've got it." He says, exhaling slowly once he's finished speaking. Edwin's eyes are so bright like this. Is it the darkness of the room making them glow like that, or is it the energy in the air amplifying their beauty? "...Your eyes are mesmerising like this. You look, like... warmer, somehow. Tangible."

It's not clear if he's talking because he's got a better hold on himself, or if he's talking to keep himself in the present moment, or both, but as he inhales and exhales another shaky breath, he manages to glance down and check the cup, finding that it's mere drops away from the rim now. Soon this will all be over.

[technicallyhellbound]

"Ah, that." That was the answer he'd needed as to whether or not the Cat knew what ley lines did to ghosts, and if giving that explanation would keep the Cat focused on the present, he was more than amenable to giving it, "That would be because I am. Likely will be for a while yet, enough so that the living will be able to see me even once we've left here. We've been here, five minutes now? Not yet ten. So maybe for a half hour, give or take. Ley lines, and I would imagine some other types of natural magics, are one of the few things that can make a ghost solid for a time, and one of the fewer still that doesn't hurt in the process."

Granted, Edwin knew his pain tolerance, and his understanding of what should cause pain was skewed, but he'd heard from others that this way was almost pleasant in comparison.

It was hard to say if he'd been planning on saying anything else on the matter, as the last droplet tracking down the Cat's elbow had filled the cup to the rim, just shy of being kept in place by surface tension alone, "There we are." His brows both lifted, regarding the cat, "There's not an incantation or anything? I've only got to feed the line?"

[catting]

The Cat raises his eyebrows at the confirmation. He'd heard it made ghosts stronger, and in that vagueness he'd assumed that stronger meant magically or at least in terms of potential ability, not... not more present. Edwin telling him in no uncertain terms that he is more touchable than ever right now, that he might even be warm is like telling a child to eat their greens while dessert sits melting in the middle of the table.

He actually whines, a tortured kind of feline noise more befitting a jungle cat than any domestic animal he usually takes shape as, and closes his eyes briefly as the pull toward the center of the room tries to have him consider what a warm meal that isn't fish might taste like. Stupid, really, Edwin doesn't even have flesh. But he does have a body, and a body that might very well be warm and—

He opens his eyes when Edwin speaks again, giving himself a little shake, dusting off the little licks of flame clinging to the tips of his hair.

"Fuck, shit, that's not fair— Ah, what? Oh, yeah. Yeah, just dump it on the fissure. This is good old-fashioned earth magic, you don't need fancy words and mantras when the elements do all the work for you." He nods at the glowing crack in the ground, but resolutely doesn't look at it. "It'll pulse once it's been fed, but then it should ease off a little while it spreads the energy out along the line. It'll give us enough time to uh, catch our breaths. And get out."

[technicallyhellbound]

Edwin nodded once, "That's good to know." It was the work of a moment to uncoil the knot of the cord from around the Cat's wrist, movements tidy and precise as ever, and doing it one-handed all without spilling any of the liquid in the cup.

There was only a brief moment, calculating distance and potential for splash if he missed before tilting the cup carefully, movements cautious and measured until he had the thing fully upended. Even he could tell when some of the pressure of that magic eased off, just as the Cat had said it would, like feeling a thunderhead roll by in the distance instead of rolling directly overhead.

It was an odd sensation, but not particularly uncomfortable, even in the more fully tangible state he was currently in. Returning to the Cat's side, he asked, "I'm afraid most of my first aid experience is out of date, but I sincerely doubt that bandaging techniques have changed that much." It was an offer to help, if needed, as he wasn't entirely sure what the Cat's healing situation was.

[catting]

The moment the magic is unfastened from his wrist, he feels like he wants to sink his claws into something and scratch, sharpen them and feel the satisfying way they sheathe and unsheathe as he flexes. But he closes his eyes to that feeling, bottling it as he digs his nails into his palms instead, and waits for the telltale pulse of energy to brush warm air across his senses. It smells like the sea and metal when it does, and the Cat exhales slowly through it, feeling the oversensitivity of his magic crest and wane like the rolling tide, ebbing out to the back of his mind where he keeps it under much better, easier control.

When he opens his eyes, Edwin is back at his side again, still looking warm and vibrant in the relative dark of the cave, but less like something the Cat would have a hard time resisting sinking his claws into. Now, at least, he'd be clear-headed enough to ask, if he was feeling particularly emotionally masochistic.

At Edwin's offer to help, the Cat's expression falls into a strange look of surprise, almost like he assumes Edwin is joking before he remembers who he's talking to, and a smile starts to form instead.

"Why, Edwin. Who knew you had such a bedside manner? You know I can't resist the opportunity to let you play nurse." He says, using some of his magic, a little weary though it is, to summon a short roll of bandage which he hands out to the ghost. "Oh, one sec-" Before he stretches out his arm, he uses that slightly longer than typical tongue of his to catch the streak where blood had dripped off his elbow, and laps up over the wound while he's at it. Cats don't have healing powers as a rule, but a Cat King's magic can be applied in a myriad of ways, particularly when licking one's own wounds; the gash doesn't seal, but it does start to knit, and the bleeding stops immediately.