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Lindon has been gone all morning and most of the afternoon, but it's well before dinner when the driver finally brings him home. He comes into the house with a few parcels, mostly tea he got in Greenwich Village, and a closed cardboard box with air holes and handles. The contents of the box rustle around, and there is a plaintive, muffled mew.
*
Monty's in the library, which is generally where he is in the house, most often, if he's not eating, sleeping or meditating at the creepy altar of creepiness down in the basement. The one area of the house thus far forbidden to the siblings. But at the feeling of Lindon entering the reach of the wards, he comes out, curiously - wearing a button down in white cotton, and plain gray pants.
*
Lindon sets the bag of teas on the counter in the kitchen, and when the box mews again, he murmurs, "I know, sweetheart. It's all right." The driver is carrying in a few things himself. A cat bed, food dishes and a water dish, a littler pan. Lindon also has a bag of toys and tinned food. When his hands are otherwise free, he comes into the living room with the box and sets it down. A little lilacish-white paw pokes out, feeling around at the air, then a little lilac snout presses to the hole. Mew.
*
There is a moment of utter horror in Lamont's expression. That is Strange's revenge. Malk kittens. Dear cthonic deities, no. …..but then he realizes that what Lin's brought home are mundane kittens, and he stands down. "Oh," he says, mildly. "I suppose I do need familiars. One for you, one for me?"
*
Lindon glances up and grins. "I'd thought of getting one, but they really do do better in pairs." He opens the box, and immediately one of the kittens is scrabbling to get out. Lindon picks her up and sets her down. That's it. She's off to explore, trotting across the living room floor with her tail straight up. The other sits in the box gazing up at the Archive, who scoops her up gently and cradles her in his arms. "You're a sweet little dear," he murmurs. The kitten snuggles up to him and starts up a small crackling purr. "I suppose it's one for you and one for me. Josie's allergic, but she'll never admit it. These are the least allergenic breed I know of that I had access to."
*
Lamont rubs his chin. "I wonder if I couldn't make something that would nullify it. Some sort of charm. I could swear I remember haering about that the last time I was in ENgland. Some kind of cantrip that you recited over the relevant pet….."
*
"Let's see if she's allergic," Lindon says with a wry smile. "These produce less of the protein in their saliva that triggers cat allergies. She might still have a milder reaction." The explorer perks up at Lamont's voice and hunkers down, tail swishing. A challenger has appeared! The kittens resemble lilac-point Siamese only fluffy. They'll be long-haired cats. For now, they're little puffs of feline fierceness about three months old. The kitten he holds sniffs noses with him, then curls up. She's had an exhausting day, while her sister is all reckless energy from having been confined.
*
He crouches down, heedless of his dignity. Not quite smiling, but there's that suggestion of it there. So few people get to unlock that mask. He extends a hand to her. "Have you named them?" he wonders, apparently idly.
*
"I was going to bring them home and see what shakes out," Lindon says. "When I was a kid I had a tabby named Tiger. I'm afraid I'm not the most creative when it comes to names." The stalker creeps forward when the hand is extended. Then she springs into action, stopping six inches short at least, and she prances sideways, back arched and fur fluffed. Then she scrambles away, ears pinned and eyes mad. She comes around the coffee table to peer at Lamont from that angle. Then, as if nothing at all were amiss, she saunters up to him and sniffs his fingertips.
*
Delicately, he sneaks his fingertips beneath her chin and scratches. He knows cats. "My mother loved cats," he says, softly. "And even though she'd always lived amidst wealth, she was no snob. She had a marmalade cat she loved, called Sunset."
*
The kitten's eyes close, and she starts up a little purr. Then she takes a nip at his finger, still purring. Just a little love bite. "See, Sunset's a nice name. But Tiger was a Tiger. If you'd met him, you'd know." He eases the kitten he holds to his lap, and she naps there. "This one was playful in the store," he says. "I think she tired herself out."
*
Then, whimsically, in a low voice, he sings, "We are Siamese if you please. We are Siamese, if you don't please…" The nip doesn't seem to dismay him, and instead, it turns to scratching her ears. "I suppose if you're going to be a warlock's cat, you should be Pyewacket," Lamont informs her.
*
Pyewacket. That seems to suit her. She leans into the scritching, purring. She comes closer to him so he can give her more petting. "I think you've discovered yours," Lindon says with a crooked smile. "Or she's chosen you. I think this little girl likes me." The little girl in question is sound asleep, sprawled on her side over his legs.
*
He's still petting her, making no attempt to pick her up….he settles down crosslegged on the floor, with no sign of stiffness. "Indeed," he says, pleased. Then he glances up. "She's definitely relaxed. What're you gonna call her?"
*
Lindon looks at the kitten for a time. Finally, he says, "I think I'll name her Athena." Goddess of wisdom. Figures. He strokes her fur, and she purrs, one ear twitching. "Pyewacket and Athena. I like that. Not too cutesie and themed, but they both mean something." Athena remains sacked out. She played hard, now it's time to rest hard. Pyewacket on the other hand bats at Lamont's fingers and looks up at him expectantly. Playing now, please.
*
"There's a sorcerer's pub in London called 'The Incompetent Familiar'," he notes, as he finds a piece of string in his pocket to dangle for her. Jump for it, princess. "Someday we'll visit it. I have a feeling you're going to end up a sorcerer yourself. You can't stand knee-deep in the stream of magic and not get wet." For all his outward matter of factness, he sounds pleased about it.
*
String! Holy snapping crap! Pye jumps for it, paws waving in the air. The scrambling wakes up Athena, who glances over. Then she gets up, yawns, stretches, and wiggles her butt in preparation of jumping off Lindon's lap. Lindon sets her down gently, and she comes trotting over. Soon, she's attacking the string, too. String! "Strange was asking if I'd picked up any mystical stuff, and I can't say as I have."
*
He smiles, unfeigned, unrestrained. Like watching concrete fissure. "It's early days yet," he says, easily, even as he taunts both kittens with the stray bit of string. "It's like….water flowing past. It'll wear its way in."
*
"Maybe," Lindon says, but he doesn't sound convinced. "If I'm just me for my life, though, is that… is that okay?" He grins as he watches the kittens falling all over each other to get at the string, captivated by it. "I think we have a pair of ferocious lionesses," he says.
*
Now Lamont turns that gray stare on him. "That's more than fine, my dear," he says, and his voice is unwontedly gentle. "I'm just…..I've got a feeling about this. I like you just as you are, but….this world, it changes you. You've got a front seat to the great and secret show, now…."
*
Lindon ducks his head when he's called dear. "I'm already a magical thing," he says. "By virtue of my existence. I'm just saying that, right now, I'm satisfied. I've got so much to offer you." The words come shyly. One kitten falls upon the other amidst the string swiping, and it's on. They begin to maul each other.
*
"I know you do," he says, before looking down at tiny adorable brawl. "And I, too, am satisfied. I'm so lucky to have you."