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Who: Morrigan (

heraldsdawn), Morrigan + ?
What: Making use of her shapeshifting abilities, Morrigan checks out points and people of interest in Olympia. On Thesa, she runs into Lavellan in the flesh.
When: within the first few weeks after landfall
Where: various places around Olympia
Warning(s): none at the moment

i. Olympia (ota)
There has been little time to adjust between surprises, but there are things that remain the same. Whether spending time with the animals of the wilds or in an opulent ballroom full of masked nobles, observation is always important. Uprooted and placed here, there is much to learn. Their rescue from the Storm may have placed a great many people on even ground here, but she is not so foolish as to believe it makes them all allies, much less friends.

How better to learn about those around her than in a shape that is, in her experience, often overlooked? Over the course of several days (and sometimes nights) she spends time observing in the form of a black short-haired cat, watching combat in the dojos and peeking at the selection of mounts in the stables and avoiding the more enthusiastic worshipers in the temples. Anyone who moves with clear purpose from one point to another earns her attention, as do those who linger in seemingly odd places or demonstrate a visible familiarity with magic or local plant life. She stays out of reach when approached, even people have piqued her curiosity enough to have her temporarily shadow them.

ii. Thesa (for Lavellan)
Knowing it is possible to return to the station meant she had to do it. To experience the process for herself, if nothing else, but also to find out what, if anything, is different after their abrupt ejection. The last time she left the stasis unit she had no intention of returning. And here she is, making certain that Flemeth is as she was left. If her mother had awakened in all the excitement she would want to know, less out of concern -- it has been some time since Flemeth earned that -- than a desire to brace herself for the inevitable encounter. Her time with the Inquisition had an odd habit of making old faces resurface.

Having satisfied her curiosity, she once again turns her back on Flemeth's pod and starts for the door, but she hesitates when she spots another familiar face, the elf she fought dragons with in the simulation. Eyebrows arched in surprise, she offers a half-smile and a nod of acknowledgment. "We meet again, knight enchanter. Perhaps I should ask your name this time since we are not at danger of being set ablaze."

[ Will match brackets if that's your pref! If you'd like a more personal starter (or just, you know, to meet up with her without encountering the cat form first) shoot me a PM; since she's in exploration mode it's easy to place Morrigan almost anywhere right now, especially within the market district, around the Institute, or just outside Olympia. ]

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If people lingering in seemingly odd places are of interest to Morrigan, then certainly Mercy will catch her attention. Since setting out, in clothing she didn't mind getting dirty, early this morning, up to now, the warming brink of noon, she's been traversing the city. Walking around isn't odd, to be sure, but that's not all she done. After visiting a panoply of seemingly random shops, every so often she has stepped off to the sides of streets, into more secluded areas, into shady alleys, overgrown courtyards, once straddled a statue when she was sure there were none of the few guards around, taken out her bag, unfurled a piece of low-grade cloth, and made marking upon it with what appears to be a pen. While she does this she occasionally looks up every now and then, her eyes scanning the area, assessing her safety.

Well, when she gets to the more crowded market distract, she has to be more clever about finding space to set up. After searching out several alleys, she ultimately settles on a solution that usually works out well: going higher. She disappears into a storefront displaying a wide assortment of herbs contained within numerous glass jars and phials. Several minutes later, having made a deal with the storekeeper, she appears on the roof of the building several storeys up. From this perch and great vantage point over so many of the stalls in the open square below, she sets down her things and begins to gets ready to start her task.

She thought she's seen a black cat several times today already, so, if she spots Morrigan, she will try to beckon her forward with something tasty. She may have stopped in a store just to get something.

It was not Morrigan's intention to follow Mercy around, or at least it was not at first. Her familiar face earned an idle kind of attention until it became obvious that this is no mere shopping expedition. In fact, by the time Mercy takes it upon herself to straddle one of the statues, Morrigan is fairly riveted. It is by far the most entertaining observation of her day up until that point, and possibly a good thing feline features cannot convey her puzzlement quite as well as her human features would.

The only problem with being so interested in how this particular adventure will conclude is that her ongoing presence is bound to earn a little attention. Just as she starts to think she should find a discreet place to shift back into her own shape, she spots Mercy entering a shop that would attract her in any shape. She slinks in as the next customer enters and for several minutes gets distracted by the selection of herbs, stopping short of leaping onto the shelves for a better look, but she feels fairly certain Mercy went up the stairs in the far corner of the store and eventually follows up to the rooftop, by now relentlessly curious.

Since it seems as though there is a project to be done and there are fewer places to hide on the roof, she keeps less distance between them. In her own form she would simply ask a few questions, but she is unwilling to give herself up just yet and instead watches intently, tail lazily flicking. When Mercy sets out a treat meant for her -- of course the doctor noticed her at some point -- she lets out a small rasp that could almost pass for amusement. She ventures forward to help herself only when she feels convinced that Mercy will continue her work while she does so.

At that rasp Mercy wrinkles her nose, and that's when she becomes convinced that there's something special about this cat. It possesses curiosity and a dignified arrogance like all good cats should, as well as a haughtiness characteristic to them, but something about this cat's strikes her as knowing. The thought occurs to her that this place is getting to her head. Something like a magic-induced fever, or maybe she's become so keen on her surroundings she's looking for the interesting in the mundane. She can't help but laugh at herself at that, at the idea that this is who the pragmatist she once was has become. Others who knew her, who are still sleeping, would find it pretty entertaining too.

She does her best to concentrate on the project in front of her. Her interest and dedication to the detail aren't faked, and she really is in the process of drawing a careful line, when, without looking up and feigning disinterest, she leans over and puts down another treat. This one is closer. Obviously a lure.

'Hmm. I wonder what else I may have in my bag.'

Morrigan has the odd feeling that she should be less amused. This game is far from how she expected to spend her time today, but Angela Ziegler is clever and very possibly a cat lover. If so, it is to her credit, of course, because after having traveled with a perpetually hungry war hound Morrigan decided that she much prefers cats to dogs and must question the wisdom of those who feel otherwise.

And by now she is far too curious not to unravel the mystery of what Mercy has been working toward.

At first she stays in place, feigning her own disinterest as she sits exactly where the first treat was left. It is, unfortunately, not near enough to have a good view of Mercy's work. It seems to be a sketch of some sort now rather than more writing, judging by the stroke of Mercy's hand.

When she does approach, she winds her way over in a roundabout sort of way as though curiosity is not what moves her forward and something else could grab her interest. She sniffs at the second treat before she eats it as well, still taking her time, and only then does she move close enough to start examining all that Mercy brought up to the rooftop with her.

She would admit to being a cat lover. And a dog lover too, even if that does make her a traitor. Her love for life doesn't just extend to people, it includes all of the creatures cute or not, though those with which she can be friendly do get to be a bit more loved than the others.

Morrigan might notice that Mercy is putting together a map of the city. The districts have obviously been sketched out on the unfurled square of white cloth. Throughout the day, she's been detailing in various landmarks: statues, squares, streets, shops, quirky houses. Their actual significance is probably lost, however, since she has picked them out specifically with their own memorability to her in mind.

Mercy's hand twitches with the urge to pet a soft head, but she powers through it and focusses on the task at hand. She muses ideally, as if there isn't someone she wants getting closer, "Ah, what I wouldn't give to be able to just go where I wanted. I don't want to look too silly."

She laughs, and then briefly touches her bag. Besides the instruments she's taken out, Morrigan might see a compass, a glimpse of a leather notebook, and a bag of mints. This last one is a treat for her. Lavender in colour, they smell strongly of sweet flowers.

Edited 2017-08-14 00:31 (UTC)

The closer look she gets now reveals Mercy's work, and while a map is not quite a surprise -- in their previous meeting Mercy did strike her as self-motivated -- it is not what she expected after her time spent trailing along. It is a good sketch, in her opinion, and as she takes a moment to look at it she does recognize a few places of interest. When Mercy speaks again, tugging Morrigan out of her examination, she looks up with evident curiosity, head tipped.

Where is it Mercy would go if nothing held her back, she wonders, but her eyes follow Mercy's hand to the bag. She can just barely glimpse inside; this really was quite a planned project for the day, it seems, and when she noses closer she catches a whiff of something sweet within, something that surely has nothing to do with maps at all.

It will be awkward if she reveals herself, she knows, but it will not get any less awkward. She holds off on the reveal-or-leave decision just a bit longer, if only because Mercy has proven to be willing to talk to animals without trying to maul her with affection, and instead she sits by the map as though expecting a show, one deliberate paw placed on its edge.

Upon seeing the head-tip and the almost-pointing with that cute little paw, Mercy becomes absolutely convinced that the cat can understand her. Magic, she's guessing, or maybe that's just the way cats are in this world. Who knows? She could if she researched it, but she has to shelve the idea for now, given that she's working on a more practical project she wants to finish.

For as underwhelming as her handwriting is, Mercy's ability to render a likeness can be uncanny: obviously something she's worked at, combined with the precision drilled into her surgeon's hands, and a smudge or two of talent. Not that that is evident here given that she's not drawn anything too exciting, but it is easy to get a sense of her capabilities from the crispness and smoothness of her lines.

Reaching into her bag again, she nonchalantly reaches over and places a treat within the cat's reach. Then she pushes some errant hair behind her ear and looks back to her work. 'You wouldn't happen to know any good rooftops, would you? Or lookout points? Places where you can get a good vantage point of the city.'

The residential district is certainly no opulent ballroom, but it isn't quite a wild place either. There's just enough civilization for some semblance of humanity, but it's far too cramped for what people would call "decent folk." Yusei feels right at home in such conditions, though, and so he's able to stride with enough purpose to potentially get Morrigan's attention, even when he's just getting a lay for the land.

Finding a junkyard on the outskirts of town is enough to divert Yusei's attention, though, and Morrigan might find it odd that the kid's made it a point to start rooting through the garbage. It's even odder when he starts muttering to himself over what he's found.

"What sort of place is this? Appliances that run on electricity, televisions with seemingly no power source, and vehicles that run on primitive mechanisms...how strange..."

He says this while holding what looks like a giant steampunk-esque gear in his hand, turning it around to get a better look at it. It doesn't seem too damaged, but he wonders if he can make anything practical with it at this stage when he's still figuring things out. It's something to put in the pile of interest, though, so off to the side it goes. He tosses it somewhat carelessly next to another pile of things he plans on sorting through, and maybe a little too close to Morrigan's hiding place-watch out!

At first glance the young man seems as though he may be native to the area, no lack of confidence in his gait as he weaves through the residential district. Morrigan is at least as interested in learning from the locals as she is in learning about her fellow refugees, so she follows him until they reach the junkyard. She cannot say she expected to be led here, but her adventures during the Blight involved looting enough corpses that she feels less surprised to see him promptly start searching.

Moving close enough to hear him better as he mutters, she picks her way between two devices she has been told are called televisions and peeks around one to see what he examines. Based on what she catches him saying, she is inclined to agree with him about this being a strange place. Just as she starts to think he seems much more familiar with this discarded technology than she is, he tosses his latest potential treasure aside. It clanks against the already cracked television she sits beside, making her flatten against the ground to avoid getting hit, and she lets out a short yowl of protest at being so narrowly missed.

Yusei blinks in surprise at hearing the cry of a cat-did he end up hitting a stray? He abandons his next attempt at rooting something potentially useful out to instead look in the direction he tossed the gear. It's not hard to figure out where it landed, and he ends up slowly padding in that direction. He almost considers calling out to whatever he hit-but no, that'd be a bad idea. An injured stray or a threatened one would either flee or attack if he startled it with his voice, it'd be better to let him approach it slowly.

Now he says nothing, but she definitely has his attention. Staying exactly where she is, she makes herself look decidedly unfriendly, back tense and hair on end, in case he has decided he feels overly apologetic.

Stopping short of letting out a hiss, she still fixes him with a look that could be called a scowl as he slowly moves closer. Nearly getting hit was an accident, she knows, but she takes a quick step back. Such a quick step back, in fact, that the precariously perched television she brushes up against tips and starts to tumble.

[The hiss makes him step back once-he knows better than to approach a stray who's that unfriendly. It's not like he can blame it, either, but before he can decide whether to leave it alone or not, he hears the creak of metal, the television starting to teeter on its edge.]

Ah-watch out!

[It's a cat, Yusei. Then again, people do have that habit of talking to cats like they can understand them, huh? Either way, he's leaping forward to grab that television, hostile stray be damned. At this point, he doesn't mind if the cat ends up trying to attack him or something, but he'll be damned if he's gonna let it be hurt!]

[ She hears the warning, but oh, she is very aware of her misstep. The talkative stranger is almost as quick to lunge as she is to leap to the side, and she may never know if he meant to help by grabbing her or grabbing the television but the television is indeed what he gets as it falls forward, the tip of her tail batting him in the face as she hastily evades harm.

Moving toward the relative safety of the pile he was just looking through before getting interrupted, she stops to look back. She cannot consider it her fault if he suffers any injury himself, but she does wait to see. ]

[Yusei grunts as the television falls into his arms. He staggers back on impact, but other than being somewhat winded, he doesn't seem too hurt. Frankly, the biggest harm is him taking a while to find his balance and a place to safely lower the television down.

He lets down said television with a huff before standing up to stretch, looking out across the junkyard for the stray in an attempt to see if it's injured. He doesn't spot her at first, aimlessly wandering back to the pile he was looking through on instinct, and so he ends up nearly crossing paths with her again.

Yusei kneels down to try and inspect the cat further, far less cautious than last time.]

Lavellan had similar intentions in mind except for a certain other individual. The deformed body, skin stretched and waxy over a skeleton, a half mutilated face decorated in red lyrium as if it were a crown. Corypheus lay sleeping and it only unnerved him to see this darkspawn creature saved from the storm. He questioned what Darma was playing at. Was she just being a benevolent kind of goddess? Offering forgiveness to all? Or did she have other motives? Either way it didn't put a lot of faith in him.

But, his thoughts are soon interrupted when he hears a familiar voice. He had been so engrossed he hadn't even noticed she was there and he looks over.

Morrigan. At first he's smiling to see his magical advisor again, thinking he had all but missed his chance to speak with her again. But, that's quickly turned to confusion when she speaks to him. Being referred to as Knight-Enchanter and being asked his name? That was definitely confusing. Was she playing a joke on him? His eyebrow quirks slowly giving her a puzzled look. "It's good to see you as well, Morrigan but I thought we were past names already. We work together after all."

At first she gives a quick glance toward the pod that had so much of his attention, surprised enough to see Corypheus himself there. Sleeping just as Flemeth is, just as she once did. Even at rest his face is hardly what she would call peaceful.

She had not thought to find a defeated enemy here. Killing him once was enough of a trial for a great many people.

But what her companion says grabs her attention again, and her arched eyebrows become more pronounced. She had assumed he knew her through working with the Inquisition, but past the point of exchanging names? That makes her hesitate. His face is not that familiar to her. And while she has recently endured introductions to more nobles than she would ever care to recall, he is no noble.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage." It seems very strange to her that he is just as puzzled by this. "I do not recall ever learning your name."

This was getting more and more concerning. Was Morrigan under some kind of spell? Did Darma addle her mind? Or perhaps it was the Well of Sorrows that did it. He's not sure but all of this is very confusing to the point of looking mildly distressed. He didn't take Morrigan as a woman who made many jokes and this seemed to be reaching in terms of that.

But, her face showed clear confusion as well and her words are enough to convince him that she's not playing with him. He still looks at her with that mixed look of puzzled and concern but he answers "Well, I definitely recall giving it when Empress Celene appointed you to help the Inquisition. I even remember having you as my Arcane advisor. So, unless we're remembering things differently..." Could that even be possible?

Now her face contorts a bit in her sheer surprise. "Your advisor?"

Him specifically? It begins to sound as though someone took his work with the Inquisition very personally.

Still, he has been courteous enough until now -- if oddly friendly -- and she can continue doing the same despite the fact that this begins to seem a bit silly. "I worked more closely with Inquisitor Cadash than I did with anyone else, but it seems we may have crossed paths more than I realized." She is having a hard time believing her memory is truly at fault here. "Shall we start over, perhaps? I am Morrigan." She nods somewhat expectantly. "And you?"

Inquisitor Cadash? Was she touched? Did the Well really addle her brain so much? He's looking more confused by the second. But, the offer for reintroductions is enough that he'll grab onto if not awkwardly. "It's...good to meet you, Morrigan-" (Creators this was weird) "-I'm Senren Lavellan. Inquisitor of the Inquisition." And to make sure she wouldn't call him insane or a liar, he raises his left hand.

It's still there, despite the power not being as it was, but the glow is the same. The green Fade light that dances on his palm in that horizontal cut.

It seems very much like an odd joke, his name no more familiar than his face, but just as she opens her mouth to let out rapidfire questions, he holds up his hand for her to see the undeniable mark of the Fade in his palm.

For a moment she feels uncharacteristically at a loss, stepping forward on impulse and catching his hand. The green shimmer there is palpable the moment her hand gets near, that familiar prickle of the Fade. It somehow seems a bit less here, but if this is indeed what he and her senses would have her believe, then perhaps it is a bit like the Well of Sorrows. Thedas is no more. There is no veil here, no Fade on the other side. Whatever is left of the Fade now they carry with them.

But that explains little.

"I recognize this," she starts, her words trickling out slowly at first, "but I do not recognize you. The last time I saw the Anchor 'twas in a dwarf's hand, as unlikely as that seems. How is this possible?"

He's at a loss for answers as well but he lowers his hand and offers it to her if only to allow her to get a better look at it. The silent offer that he had nothing to hide was there as he would let her examine it to her heart's content.

"It's the opposite for myself. I recognize you, but I'm the only one who received the Mark when I ran in on Corypheus killing the Divine. There was no dwarf." He thinks silently for a moment and the words Cole once said to him come to mind; A picture of a picture but you're a picture too. The thoughts form as he thinks more on it and it settles back in Redcliffe, how he and Dorian were thrown through time to a terrible future if the Inquisitor never existed.

Could it be-? He has to find out. Thankfully, he knows exactly how to figure this out quickly. "If you're willing to trust me I have a thought but I need to show you something in here first."

Edited 2017-08-15 00:46 (UTC)

It makes so little sense to her, sends her mind racing after connections that do not quite link, but after a moment she stops her startled examination and lets him have his hand back. How he got marked certainly rings true, and perhaps that would be a story many here could borrow if not for their inability to wear the proof he has in his palm. That does not lie.

She nods her consent. "I will hear you. Lead the way."

He's already quick to move, expecting Morrigan to follow behind him as he walks through rows of pods. He had seen this person through his wanderings by happenstance and was relieved to know they were fine. But, this is a sure fire way to know if his theory is correct. Finally, he stops abruptly on his heel and turns to the pod. Inside lies a a boy looking fast asleep.

He turns to Morrigan and gestures to it. "Do you know who this is inside?" If she did this would prove nothing of his thoughts, if not...well...it's a step in the right direction.

Before they were ejected from the station she had made a point of finding Flemeth here, passing countless faces in the process. Lavellan does not lead her very far away, and as she slows to a stop beside him she takes a good long look at the boy in the pod facing them. Her most reflexive instinct says no, but she takes a moment to study the boy's face, searching for some reason she might be expected to identify him.

He is young, still smooth-cheeked, and fairly well-dressed and... simply not a face she recalls.

"No." Her eyes linger on the familiar griffon on his chest before she turns toward Lavellan again, giving a slight shake of her head. "You believe I should?"

He can see it clear on her face, she clearly doesn't recognize them. All right. This definitely cleared somethings up in his mind but added to more questions. He breathes for a moment before grabbing one of his fingers and rubbing it as if it were stimulating his next words. "In a sense. He...this boy. When we met you said this was your son. You truly don't recognize them?" If not he could come up with a more solid theory.

Her gut says that is ridiculous, harsh and immediate, and in the next moment cold washes through her. Sharp golden eyes flick back to Lavellan's face, a shade away from accusatory, and her mouth opens to respond. The only thing that keeps her words on the tip of her tongue, never quite falling off, is the green glow she can still glimpse within his palm.

The mark does not mean he is incapable of lying, but it does make her take him more seriously.

She is not a mother. She has never even truly wanted to be one, though she wanted to do the ritual, wanted to take responsibility for the soul of the old god, wanted to save the dearest friend she has ever known, wanted the pregnancy to keep Flemeth from interfering with her. Even if only for a while. Any knowledge of the ritual outside of Flemeth and herself should have, as far as she knows, died with Kallian.

"No." Her spine is rigid. In spite of herself, her eyes return to the griffon. "I have never had a child."

Her instant denial isn't unexpected. In fact he shouldn't be surprised. But, it definitely confirms a theory he was beginning to work in his head as he spoke with her. Despite her harshness to her stance or the look in her eyes, Lavellan remains stoic. Finally he looks back to the boy in the pod.

"The Morrigan I knew did have a child. She-you told me they were born with the soul of an old god." He makes no effort to hide the truth because honestly what was there to gain here? She'd either not believe him and think he was a pretender or come to the same conclusion that there was something else at work here.

"We met with Flemeth in the Fade and she revealed herself to be Mythal and that you were bound to her for all eternity because you drank from the well." Finally he looks back to her with a small frown of contemplation. "I won't ask you to believe me if you don't want to. I know it's a lot since...well...clearly you don't know me but i know you. But I think there's more to this than we realize."

As she listens she searches his face, eyes hawk-like in their sharp study. Even she wonders what precisely she watches for. A telltale tick? An odd slant of his eyes as he speaks that might make her willing to think he makes this up entirely?

She knows he does not. No one else wears the Fade burned into their palm, and there is only the one person to whom she explained the ritual and the child it would conceive. There is truth there, even if much of this can barely be believed.

"I did drink," she confirms after a moment. "That much we can easily agree upon."

Her eyes return to the boy, just briefly. Is that her son? And Alistair's, she assumes, though somewhere in the back of her mind she is pleased that nothing about him stands out to her as similar to Alistair, barring the griffon sigil worn.

She is curious as to what more Lavellan thinks there may be to this, but a few questions beg to be asked first.

"Why would I tell you of the old god's soul within him?" Even without having had the child she knows she would never do so lightly. "And why did we meet my mother in the Fade?"

He's slowly beginning to feel that he might not have thought through on this one. That it was a little too hasty. But, with everything lost and seeing someone he knew finally awake it was hard not to act as such. He stands there, with his hands folded over one another patiently being silent as Morrigan observed the boy.

When she finally looks and speaks to him his lips thin and eyes glance to the side in thought. How does he even break this to a person who doesn't even remember this child? It's probably best to just speak simply "Because your mother called him to the Fade. For whatever reason she wanted the soul of the Old god inside him. Your mother though was the one who said he had the soul of an Old God. You just explained the rest of it after we got him back."

Edited 2017-09-23 21:39 (UTC)

There was nothing strange at all, no, about a man who was dressed entirely in black who seemed to be moving about the district slowly, eyes on the various performers on the streets as he wandered from one to another. The draw of the music and dancing had not yet faded, and he was still entirely fascinated by the fact people got to perform for their job.

Not to mention, they were pretty good.

It was a little odd to stand among the crowds because he looked so out of place, it also seemed like under all that leather he'd be a little warm. The warmth didn't bother Demyx so much, after all, he could just drink water when he wanted.

At that moment, he was getting thirsty. He opened his palm and water appeared before he popped a little ball of water into his mouth, subtly, so that no one saw what he was doing.

At first the musicians have more of her attention than the black-clad figure weaving through the streets. He does look a bit heavily dressed for the weather, in her opinion, but there have been those who have accused her of underdressing. And this place, perhaps especially the entertainment district, seems to attract all types.

Ducking between people's legs proves a bit hazardous here, so she slinks along the fringes of the crowd and leaps to a nearby window ledge that affords a better view. At this height she spies his quick use of unfamiliar magic. Countless times she has summoned fire, lightning, ice to her own palms, but what he just ate looked suspiciously like a little orb of... water?

It will mean more attention than she initially intended, but as he walks so slowly past she reaches out to prod his arm with one paw, suggesting herself an opportunistic cat who thinks he has something to share.

As far as Demyx knew, no one had seen his little water trick. It was likely uncommon magic, he was the only person among tons of worlds he knew that had it. It didn't even seem to be a thing that the keyblade master could do, which was somewhat impressive.

He was strolling when he felt a little pressure at his elbow and he blinked and took a look at a cat pawing at him.

It was so cute!

"Hello!" Demyx said cheerfully, reaching out with his gloved hand to attempt to pet the creature. "How are you doing today? Do you like the music?"

Every time she takes cat form in more populated places she still feels a bit amazed at how many people talk to her for no apparent reason. Unfortunately petting is not what she wants out of this exchange, and now she has the challenge of dodging from the attempted pet while expressing interest in what she just saw.

She lets out a small rasp of protest, ears back, and becomes a bit slithery, but she aims her nose at the same hand she saw him use.

It may not work at all. Unwilling to reveal herself unless she feels she has to, she may have to find an opportunity to ask in person. Still, she sniffs at his palm expectantly.

Demyx would be surprised other people talk to cats, but for him he's expecting her to answer. When she doesn't, he's a little disappointed, after all in his world animals talking is quite the normal thing. She dodges his hand and he pulls it away, not wanting to be scratched or bitten.

When Morrigan goes for his other hand, he's a little puzzled. "I don't have any food or anything. Or maybe you smell water? Are you thirsty kitty?"

Cats obviously have a better sense of smell than he does. He summons a smaller ball of water and makes it settle on his palm. "Here you go."

Magic indeed. She is pleased to have caught sight of it, subtle as it was, and equally pleased that the attempt to communicate her interest worked.

Her nose inches toward the ball of water, sniffing to keep up catlike appearances. It is a rather unexpectedly odd thing to her to think of this as something she cannot do. Frost, yes, and encasing things in ice, but no water in liquid form. Or... ball form, as the case may be.

As though she offers a reward for his understanding, she lets out an appreciative mrow. Curious to see what will happen -- if anything -- she reaches to gingerly bat at the orb of water.

"It's not going to hurt you, you can drink it." Demyx coaxed gently, because that was what you did with cats. He did however think she would understand, but that was a result of visiting many worlds with many sentient animals.

The ball did not lose its shape, not even when she pawed at it. Her meow made him smile, and the water was wet, which should have been no surprise.

With his free hand, he did scratch her ear with a finger. "I wonder if you're hungry too." He mused aloud.

She had half expected the water to puddle in his palm when touched, her expectations probably evident, but no such thing happens. It is inarguably water, though, and leaves both her paw and nose damp after touching. Satisfied with the examination, she licks the small orb out of his hand, preoccupied enough that having her ear scratched fails to earn an immediate response.

He does wonder aloud, and she looks up again, head tipped expectantly. While she is not inclined to beg for food, if he is capable of conjuring something else interesting she would rather like to see it.

The cat before him was pretty cute, and he was pleased when she lapped up the water ball from his hand. He was good enough for it not to fall apart at her curiosity and scrutiny. Demyx hummed thoughtfully and looked around when she seemed interested.

"I don't have any cat food." Not to mention, he only had one affinity. "But I can find you some. What do cats even eat?"

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(open)

i; market district

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i. residential district (???)

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Thesa

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im sorry for the super long wait i was having difficulty with a response

i. Entertainment District

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