Kitty's Keeper/No Clean Blades

Kitty's Keeper

"I taste trepidation, George. You're keeping it under ice so it's nice and crisp."

George wanted to deny it but knew that was a fool's errand, so he said nothing.

"What have you to fear from me? What have they?"

Nothing he could properly express. It was a nameless fear, a persistent, faceless gnawing at his thoughts.

John looked him over. "You're free to speak anytime, O Quiet One."

Usually he loured at the title, but not this time. Not at the title. He took a breath, then opened his mouth. "Please be gentle with them, John. I know you can be, but you don't always act like it."

John put a hand over his heart. "Like a mother with 'er kits, I'll be. Remember, I like them too."

That was true... "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it, George. Now, go enjoy yerself."

George nodded, then exited the chamber. John stood alone in the entryway, making sure the younger siren left fully, without succumbing to his anxieties first. Satisfied, and now sure he was completely alone, he strolled to George's chamber. The void rendered anything within completely invisible, but this was of little import. Though John's sight failed him in the light, it was impeccable in the dark.

Dear Kitty, George's precious acolyte, lay on their side of the siren's bed. Plans were underway to give them their own sleeping quarters, but they were a ways from completion. Not that either George or Kitty minded.

John made the trip to George's bed in the form of a fluffy ginger and white cat, a large breed that could trample a fox underclaw if it so desired. Once close enough to the edge, he gauged his distance and pounced, landing on the surface with little disturbance. Kitty did not react. Wrapped in summer linens, they were lost to the world of sleep. At least, John hoped it was sleep. He walked up to the face and sniffed the nose and mouth.

Still breathing. Very good.

Then he licked their forehead. It was an impulsive act, the instinct of his current form getting the better of him, but once completed left him licking his lips. And ye taste good too. Should the worst come to pass, you'll make a fine meal, Kitty.

Not that they wouldn't do everything in their power to ensure it never would. John did not doubt the success of George's venture, but he did wonder if the sanguine lȳtling would have the heart to eat any member of his congregation once complete, even to save himself. John knew he would have a rough go of it, and he wasn't nearly as attached.

He curled up against the human's stomach. Best not to dwell on such things. It could ruin his sleep.

> * <

John awoke to the human's hand scratching beneath his chin. It was cute how tentative it was, ready to retreat at a moment's notice. He leaned into the generous gesture, purring loudly. "Good morn-ish to you, too."

Kitty scratched more confidently. "Good morn-ish, John. I assume you're watching me today?"

He rolled onto his back, eyes still closed, though he could see the light through his eyelids. "Yes," he continued to purr, "I am Kitty's Keeper this day. Hope that's alright with ye."

Kitty pet the top of his head. "It is."

"Good." Finally, he opened his eyes a sliver. "Now, be a dear and return to my chin."

"Yes, John."

Kitty spent an extra ten minutes petting John before John decided enough was enough and abruptly stood. After thanking the human for their service, he lept off the bed and exited the chamber. As expected, Kitty followed.