@slyzico:
It seemed the sky could not decide whether to rain or snow. Snowflakes fluttered from gray clouds, gripping and clinging to each other when they came close enough, much like the people who had come together to mourn in this inclement weather. The air was cold but too humid for the precipitation, making those clinging flakes heavy and wet and escalating their fall from grace.
There was a rift that a coffin separated. On one side stood colleagues, dutifully attending the hero’s burial. The other side was family; family that likely blamed the others in attendance for their loss, or at least, one of them in particular. Regardless of whose fault the tragedy had been, all of those in attendance were there for the same purpose; all, except one. Many darkly clothed mourners stood beneath black umbrellas that shielded them from the weather, but a lone spectator sat back from the others, perching on the outstretched palms of a weeping marble angel.
The cat’s coat was dark; sleek and exotically spotted; far too flashy a coat for a beast that wished it could go unnoticed. It stared back defiantly at everyone who looked its way or pointed out its presence to others as if it felt it had every right to be there. The wet snow fell and stuck to the cat’s fur and by the time the ceremony was over, a small peak had accumulated on its head and on a ridge down its back. It was odd that the cat did seem to be attending the service, especially in such appalling weather. It’s long been said that cats are guardians of the underworld, so maybe the beast had appeared to usher Isaac’s soul safely to the other side.
Maybe its presence was an omen, a good omen.
The attendees threw flowers onto the grave and gradually drifted away until there were just two souls left. A beauty who had lost her elder brother and the beast that couldn’t tear pale celadon eyes away from her. It silently dropped into the snow shaking the snow from its coat before precariously hobbling through the wet mess until it was close enough to wrap itself around her calves, weaving several times in and out between slender legs.
The enormous cat allowed itself to be picked up when slender arms reached down for it. And it patiently allowed itself to be held despite the fact that her hold was slightly precarious due to its size. But thundering purrs vibrated from the beast’s chest and into Amélie’s, droning, soothing purrs that were not because the cat was particularly happy, but because it wanted to give something to its possessor and, as a cat, it was quite limited in ways to comfort.
Amélie’s family called for her to join them after trying to give her the extra time she needed and the cat wriggled its way out of her arms in case she was inclined to try and take it away with her. It didn’t linger or tempt her to chase after it. The cat ran off so that she could return to her family without worrying what would become of the creature if she left it in the snow, disappearing as abruptly as it had appeared.
Many people offered their condolences to Amélie when she returned to school, but Zico was not among them. They were still on quite bad terms, bad enough that speaking wasn’t an option, and in all honesty, he’d spent the whole day and the next in the infirmary, sniffling and coughing from the cold he’d caught, which was purely a fluke and he’d never admit otherwise.