[Open] Catgroove.

[regalduchess]

The cat; small, lithe, and scared; runs through the aviary chased out by chirping birds, their beady eyes vindictive.

Once upon a time, there was a cheerfully tinkling bell on her collar. Now, it lies on the aviary floor as a trophy to the birds. The entire castle she runs through has a strange feeling to it, like everything is dead. Or asleep, or in mourning.

She finally comes to the throne room. Even cobweb-encrusted as they are, the silk seats are soft and comforting. The musty warmth reminds her of Bonfamille and her pink boas, her soft skin, the perfume she always wears-- always used to wear.

With a soft sigh, Duchess curls into a circle with her tail hanging off the edge of the throne, and tries to sleep.

Comments

[dustless]

Frisk straightens up. "...Not yet. I'm sorry. There is--are people. Couple human kids--Chara's one of them, though. They look like me, but with a different sweater. They're dangerous. Everyone else is nice, though, especially the monsters." They'll wait to see what her reaction is to that. What's a monster to a cat, anyway?

"Birds? Did the ones in the bird tower scream at you?" The macaws in there don't care for Frisk much, for some reason. Or the peacocks still.

[regalduchess]

She paws at her collar, the open o-ring. "They pecked off my bell. Awful things." It had been a parrot, a big, heavy one that bit on and didn't let go until she ran. "But it's only to expected. They are birds, after all. Sometimes they just can't help it."

Monsters? Now that was interesting. But if they were nice, then it shouldn't be too much of an issue! "I would love to meet your monsters, Frisk."

[dustless]

Duchess is quite a bit pleasant about it than Frisk would've thought. It isn't like they know a lot of cats, though, just cat monsters. And they were just kind of weird. "I'll go look for it next time I'm there. I'm friends with...some of them."

And that nets her quite the grin. "Kay! I don't know where they are, 'cause the castle's pretty big and some things move, but we'll find somebody eventually. Unless you wanna stay here?" She's pretty small, after all. She might end up tired if they give her a grand tour.

[regalduchess]

"I wouldn't mind staying here." She curls her tail around their leg, then, letting it brush past as she hops back onto the throne. "Would you mind helping me clear off some of this dreck in the interim, my darling?"

Even though she is normally loath to get dust on her coat, she paws away some of the cobwebs from one of the armrests. It's certainly wise of Frisk to offer her the decision, since she is, put plainly, a housecat, even though her children give her quite the workout.

[dustless]

They suppose the throne's comfortable enough. Frisk hasn't tried sitting in any of them yet--mostly because they were a bit filthier than even they care to deal with. And that's saying something, since they've fallen out of their hammock in the gardens and woke up in the dirt without much of an issue.

"Sure. 'F 'dreck' means 'dirt', anyway." They start brushing the worst of it away on the seat itself around her. And they'll probably pluck some of the more annoying cobwebs that stick to Duchess' legs for her, too.

[regalduchess]

Duchess certainly appreciates Frisk's attention to detail. And that Frisk saves her some grooming later, she appreciates as well. She ends up with a relatively clean throne to perch upon, the silk not gleaming quite as brightly as it could, but not encrusted with dust and dirt anymore either.

"Yes, it does." There is enough room on the throne for Frisk, if they choose to sit.

Duchess cleans her dust-covered paw with dainty flicks of her tongue. "Do your monsters have names? What do they look like?"

[dustless]

Room, but it doesn't quite occur to them to bother. They only sit when they're tired or when things are upsetting and they want to look nonthreatening; Duchess seems perfectly fine as she is, so they keep on their feet. Plus she might want to go somewhere, at some point.

"Yeah. There's S-4 and Sans-Serif, who're skeletons--human ones, anyway--and Sans, who looks like Sans-Serif but...isn't...entirely." Frisk isn't sure how to explain alternate timelines to a cat. "And there's Batman." Whose name is pretty much self-explanatory, they think.

"Mettaton's a robot--" they don't quite register that a cat might not know what a robot is, either, but they stop talking for a moment as their thoughts shift. "--and Sans-Serif doesn't know what a kitty is. I want to show you to him sometime. 'F that's okay."

[regalduchess]

"Oh." She smiles, despite her only experience with skeletons being the tiny bones of rats and birds. A human-sized skeleton must surely be enormous. "They all sound quite interesting! What is a robot?"

Pause. "And yes, of course you may show me to him. He sounds intriguing as well; an educational endeavor for all of us!"

[dustless]

Sans-Serifs's a tad shorter than they are, though definitely larger than the usual cat. "Oh. A robot's a machine. Made of metal that can move around and do stuff on its own. Mettaton's a he, though. Looks sort of like a shiny human usually, or a box on a wheel."

Excellent. Frisk brings their hands together in a gentle clap. "Thank you, Duchess. He needs a lot of niceness, and you're very nice, and to learn a lot. He's still just a kid."

[regalduchess]

"A machine? Like a phonograph?" Madame Bonfamille had a phonograph in her room, playing soft strains of Carmen or old composers. "--a shiny human."

Now that she doesn't quite believe, but... she'll give Frisk the benefit of the doubt in the meantime. "Thank you, little one. Niceness is a quality too many people in this world lack."

[dustless]

"...maybe?" Frisk has no idea what a phonograph is, at least not by name. (They found one in a room once when they were exploring, but there weren't even any records for them to try to figure out.)

They reach out to gently pat her between the ears, just once. "Yeah. Everyone has some in them somewhere, though."

[regalduchess]

Duchess will show him later, then, and even though seeing the phonograph unharried by her three little kittens will ache she has another child to take care of now. She arches into the pat, and lays down onto the soft silk.

"Of course, Frisk. Sometimes, it just needs a little urging."

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif had actually noticed Duchess racing by when she'd first fled from the birds and into the castle. Of course he'd gone chasing after the strange white creature, in equal parts curiosity and concern. Curiosity because he'd never seen anything more tat fast that wasn't a him. Concern because he'd never seen the thing at all, but it had come from the direction of the aviary and the other him had always warned Sans-Serif not to go near there.

Once he'd stumbled across the little trail of dusty footprints, it had been easy enough to follow, though he'd had to follow somewhat slowly as his initial burst of enthusiasm had left him quite tired out. Not to mention that he still tended to trip and fall when moving much above a jog.

But eventually, the rattling of bones and the panting of a tired skeleton will probably become audible from just outside the throne room, until at last a small skeleton comes stumbling a little into view. He has to pause to lean on the doorframe, panting, and the first thing he notices in the room beyond is Frisk.

"frisk...i s-saw a thing...it looked like a scared thing..."

[dustless]

"Serif!" They thoughtlessly leave off the 'Sans'--'Serif' alone is shorter, and they'll ask if he minds later. For now, they just beam--though there's a definite edge of concern.

"Was it her?" Frisk points at Duchess over their shoulder, taking a few steps in his direction just in case. Catching people might be one of their things now. "This is Duchess! She's a kitty!" Enthusiasm's still quite strong in their quiet voice.

[regalduchess]

The kitty sits up tall and proud, looking down upon Serif-- though not in a condescending way. "Hello, Serif. Frisk told me about you. I am a cat, although I am not completely representative of my entire species. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

This must be one of the skeletons. She smiles, as well as possible, and tilts her head and ears.

[antitemporal]

It's easy enough to see Duchess, once she's pointed out. And Sans-Serif doesn't even so much as twitch with surprise, to hear her talk. Why shouldn't cats talk? He hasn't even entirely understood that most of the birds physically can't, rather than just being rude.

Sans-Serif looks to Duchess, and actually gasps aloud a little in realization. It's shortly followed by a broad grin, of the sort Sans usually wears when overhearing a particularly good pun. Frisk is telling people about him! Telling people about him so that they smile when they see him! They really are friends now!

That's a particularly happy sort of realization, enough to distract him for the moment from any strangeness over the nickname. He draws nearer to the thrones, still wobbling a little from exhaustion.

"it's nice to meet you, too, duchess." He's getting better at greeting people, though he still doesn't think to offer his, for lack of a better word, full name.

Once he's close enough to comfortably talk, Sans-Serif sits himself down on the steps leading up to the throne to rest.

"so you're a cat...and a kitty?" He looks somewhat puzzled for a moment, by this. Sans-Serif has seen pictures of cats before, had picture books read to him about cats before. He just hadn't made the connection that "kitty" was another word for one. Certainly not when the pictures he's seen of cats have never looked so...bright and soft and pretty.

After a moment, he brightens somewhat hopefully as an explanation presents itself. "is that like how i'm a monster and a skeleton?" In the way of some children, his train of thought passes right by another station and he adds: "i like your hair."

[dustless]

Frisk is pleased as punch. Never had to introduce old(er) friends to new friends before, and they're glad this seems to be going well enough from the start. They take a semi-step back, as to not block the monster and the cat from being able to look at each other fully.

...That's a good question, really. Or at least it's something they never thought about before. They don't think it's really the same, but... "Kitty might be the name for a younger cat--no, that's kitten. I think cat and kitty mean the same thing. Don't know why they're different." They glance to Duchess, since she'll likely have a better idea.

[regalduchess]

"Yes. dears. Cat and kitty do mean the same thing. It's a bit like calling a child a kid." She pauses and smiles, covering her mouth with a paw. "Thank you, Serif. It takes a lot of care to get my fur this clean."

She looks more closely at Serif; he doesn't look exactly as she imagined, but he did look close enough, and not scary at all. "What are you two doing wandering the castle all alone? You're only children, after all."

[antitemporal]

And Sans-Serif looks more closely at Duchess, even leaning forward a little. "we're not alone! my brother is with me." He looks around as though expecting to see S-4 there. He's not, but that's okay. Sans-Serif can call him if he needs him. "and the other me. and tauriel." And a lot of other people who's names Frisk would probably be a lot better at remembering.

"and i'm not only a child. i can protect frisk. or frisk can tell me when to run away." He nods to Frisk in acknowledgement of this. Really, it seems like they've worked out a pretty good system between them, and he's a fan.

"so you're an adult kitty?" Having never seen either a cat or a kitten, he can't imagine that Duchess is going to stay as small as she is. "i'm six. how old are you?"

[dustless]

"Yeah. And Mettaton, and Grune...lots of people. And I'm good at taking care of myself. And my friends." They smile at Sans-Serif gently. He really doesn't need to protect them. "Even though the castle's big, we can find our way around."

Huh. Even though they've called him a 'baby' before, they've never quite thought about how old he actually is. Someone who looks so much like Sans only being six years old is pretty weird to consider.

[regalduchess]

"I am five years old. Of course, that may seem very young to you two, but cats age a little differently than humans do." And monsters, apparently. "I suppose you could say I am.. around thirty years old in your human years."

She hops off the throne and rubs up against Serif, starting to purr in the hopes he'll pet her. Maybe he'll be a tad more gentle than Frisk-- who tried, but was... a bit too rough for Duchess' tastes, like she was a dog. "And I do not doubt your ability to protect yourselves, no! What I worry about is-- who will you run to when you're scared? Who feeds you? Even human children stay with their mothers when they're young, after all."

[antitemporal]

Sans-Serif's jaw actually drops, and he stares at Duchess with wide eyesockets as she hops down off the throne. "wow...you're a lot older than me." He laughs a little, scratching at his skull, equal parts embarrassed and outright stunned. "i guess i should have mentioned that i meant 'months', not 'years'."

The sensation of her fur is incredibly ticklish, to the point that he has to fight not to break down in giggles. And the noise she's making might seem a little alarming on its own - he even looks to Frisk to make sure it isn't - but she doesn't seem like she's upset or in pain, so it's probably a good sound. He half-raises a hand, but hesitates. Sans-Serif is not unfamiliar with the idea of petting fluffy animals. He's just never had to do it, and he finds himself more than a little terrified of doing it wrong.

"...i don't have a mother." He remembers the book, and can't help but frown a little, troubled and sad at the memory. "not like everyone else does. but i have my brother. and i guess i kind of have a father, even if he isn't here. and that's all i need." The words are true, and saying them out loud does make him feel a bit better. And besides: "people here are really nice when i'm scared." Even people he hadn't even met before, like Ryoji.

"...i still get scared a lot."

[dustless]

Sorry, Sans-Serif, no reassuring answers from Frisk regarding the kitty, at least not right now. They're just staring as wide-eyed as they can go, because they must've heard him wrong.

"Months? You--are just a baby!" They duck their head down to look at him more closely, as if they'd see some baby-ish qualities they hadn't spotted before. "...no wonder you get scared a lot. It's okay. I don't really have a mother, either." Toriel's here somewhere, they think, but they haven't been officially adopted in their timeline, so they think they can be safe in saying that.

They glance towards Duchess. "Sans-Serif's right. Most people are nice. If we need to, we can go to anybody. And there's food in the ballroom that's always there, and in the gardens, so it's fine."

[regalduchess]

"You two don't have mothers?" Good luck getting her off that subject for a while, or at least until she meets Toriel and deems her worthy of watching over the two children. "I would gladly step in. No matter how kind the people here are, there is no proper substitute for a mother."

She pauses to nose Serif in the chest. "Six months? My children are about your age. Of course, they aren't here..." a slight sigh, and she backs off. "But, perhaps they will be one day, and you all can meet properly."

[antitemporal]

And good luck getting Sans-Serif to budge from his stance on this particular subject. He scowls a little at Duchess' insistence. "it's okay not to have a mother if you have a brother," the little skeleton insists, a stubborn sort of expression coming over his face. "my brother takes really good care of me. better than anybody does. even better than they made him for. so...so don't say that to him. you'll make him sad again." S-4 was so sad, at first, when the two of them realized that they didn't have a mother. But then Sans-Serif reminded him that the little bird in the story didn't have a brother, either, so they were still pretty lucky.

He's getting worked up again. Thinking about his brother isn't supposed to get him worked up, it's supposed to have the opposite effect. Sans-Serif folds his arms tightly across his chest, just to be safe, and ducks his head a little to hum to himself.

"...but that's nice of you to offer." He says the words at last like he's memorized them off a card, because sometimes that's the best way to be sure of what you're saying. "so, um, thanks."