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Send “⏬” to see my muse in a low point of their life || No longer accepting
Stan sat against the apartment wall, the room filling with the gloom he’d been felt since evacuating from Ponchella. His bones ached with loneliness and longing for the friends he’d left behind. But what else could he do? He couldn’t let the Plague get to them too. He wouldn’t. He liked them too much to let that kind of nightmare happen to them.
There was a soft purring mrow as a semi-short haired cat sauntered up and climbed into his lap. She purred and nuzzled him, seeking attention while also seeking to comfort. The ploy worked and soon the cat was wrapped in the man’s arms and being scritched with gentle fingers.
“Heya Don,” Stan mumbled stroking his cat’s noggin. “How’s my girl?”
The cat purred loudly, adoring the attention as he scratched her back and forehead. As he did so, Steak’s voice drifted through his head, sending pangs of grief radiating through his bones.
‘You got a problem with Whiskers?’ Steak had asked before introducing him to the cat. Other voices began to pile in, each one seeking to remind him of a friend he’d left behind. Sansy, Dove, Smoke, Gorey, Tori, Humerus, Gigi… that grumpy bespectacled skeleton scientist whose mug he still had in storage… So many precious people in his life and most of them not even residents of his own world.
“Aw, Whiskers,” Stanley mumbled as his fleshy facade fell. “I wonder if they know how much I miss them?”
