Because cats with wings are just too tempting to resist
Tuesday, June 12th, 2007 02:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tsaikoGive me some free time, a piece of paper, and a pen and eventually I'm going to start writing.
There was a cat spirit sitting on his balconey.
To say that Quentin was less than please was an understatement. he didn't care if he had the blood of witches going back thousands of years running in his veins. Quentin hated magic and anything to do with it. He wasn't exactly fond of cats either. The fact that a representative for both was currently sitting on the railing of his balconey could only mean trouble.
Well. It was always best to confront these sort of things. Pretending to ignore them only made them more determined.
Quentin put down the spoon he was using to stir the soup, marched out of the kitchen, moved across the living room, and threw open the sliding glass door. The cat spirit's black, leathery wings flared in surprise. For a second, Quentin was afraid it would fall off the railing. Then he reminded himself that he didn't care.
"You!" Quentin pointed straight at the cat spirit. "I'm not interested in whatever scheme you want to pull me into. Go away."
The cat spirit blinked its orange-gold eyes at him. Then it yawned and began to wash one paw. Obviously his opinion didn't matter.
Thoroughly disgusted, Quentin turned back around and re-entered his apartment. He tried to slam the class door shut behind him, but of course, it went off its track. As he wrestled it close, Quentin swore he could feel the cat's superior amusement.
Stupid spirits.
There was a cat spirit sitting on his balconey.
To say that Quentin was less than please was an understatement. he didn't care if he had the blood of witches going back thousands of years running in his veins. Quentin hated magic and anything to do with it. He wasn't exactly fond of cats either. The fact that a representative for both was currently sitting on the railing of his balconey could only mean trouble.
Well. It was always best to confront these sort of things. Pretending to ignore them only made them more determined.
Quentin put down the spoon he was using to stir the soup, marched out of the kitchen, moved across the living room, and threw open the sliding glass door. The cat spirit's black, leathery wings flared in surprise. For a second, Quentin was afraid it would fall off the railing. Then he reminded himself that he didn't care.
"You!" Quentin pointed straight at the cat spirit. "I'm not interested in whatever scheme you want to pull me into. Go away."
The cat spirit blinked its orange-gold eyes at him. Then it yawned and began to wash one paw. Obviously his opinion didn't matter.
Thoroughly disgusted, Quentin turned back around and re-entered his apartment. He tried to slam the class door shut behind him, but of course, it went off its track. As he wrestled it close, Quentin swore he could feel the cat's superior amusement.
Stupid spirits.
