Felicia, Sharon: Treetops
Aug. 10th, 2024 07:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_catseye posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsFelicia attempts to check on Sharon. Unfortunately, not all cats land on their feet.
Feathers fell like snow. Not delicate flakes, but fat, wet clumps that developed when the temperature hovered on the edge of freezing. That was because Sharon was spitting them out.
The great cat repositioned her paw against the branch and tore out another tuft of feathers. Ever since coming to Xavier's she had only needed to hunt for sport; why extend energy on an uncertain outcome when she could simply open the refrigerator? The compromise, though, was that it meant being near people. Sharon didn't want to be near people.
The tree was safe. Up here she could concentrate on plucking the Canadian goose she'd caught. The creature was more feather than meat, but there was something meditative about the process of tearing off its feathers while its long neck dangled over the branch like a black sock.
Felicia didn't hide her footsteps, but neither did she move with her usual hard on heel crack tread. Her sneakers were damp from the evening lawn watering, and she had to scrape them against the bark of the tree for a pass, two, before taking a step back and nimbly propelling herself up into the branches of the tree across from Sharon. If she timed it right, she could run across where their branches crossed, hitting the main trunk with her momentum.
Instead, she leaned into a fork on her own tree, one leg dangling. "Seems a little early in the year for goose. More of a fall winter dish to me."
"Flail" was the only appropriate word for what happened to Sharon's body, and Felicia was privileged to witness what happened when individual aspects of a cat's body disagreed on the direction they wanted to go. Her spine said up-and-arched, but her legs had already consulted with gravity to slide off the edge of the branch. Her tail took exception to both and pinwheeled in a desperate attempt to maintain her original position: that is, neither up in the canopy nor intimate friends with the ground.
Her emotions were on a journey so sudden Sharon didn't even have a chance to pack a bag. The usual thrill of receiving Felicia's attention was replaced by panic. The last few weeks had been spent avoiding most people, but Felicia most of all -- even to the extent of hiding beneath Match's bed when the other woman occasionally attempted to call upon Sharon in her suite. Why this was Sharon could not say, only that the thought of facing her now filled her with shame.
Now here she was, lips red and perfect, and any hair out of place from her climb somehow still artistically tousled.
“Oh shit!” Felicia yelped, instinctively leaning forward to help before forcing herself to still and let Sharon right herself. She pressed her chest against a popped up knee, the hand that had been reaching out, wrapping around her thigh, her plan all along and casual, so casual, with a soft smile. It was hopefully even casual, too. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you babe."
Sharon got her feet back under her, guilt swelling. Felicia was upset -- upset that she had upset Sharon, even though Sharon didn't deserve that consideration, because Felicia was perfect and kind. It was agonizing to know such a person was worried about her, someone so clumsy and useless in the form Felicia wore every day. A part of her longed to talk, but if she did she would have to admit how badly she had failed to defend herself and Liam.
What if Felicia decided she wasn't worth it after all?
She couldn't stay any longer; the thought of looking into that soft smile and finding pity there terrified her. Ears flat, tail low, the great cat leapt from the branch, rebounded off the trunk of the adjacent tree, and fled into the woods.
Feathers fell like snow. Not delicate flakes, but fat, wet clumps that developed when the temperature hovered on the edge of freezing. That was because Sharon was spitting them out.
The great cat repositioned her paw against the branch and tore out another tuft of feathers. Ever since coming to Xavier's she had only needed to hunt for sport; why extend energy on an uncertain outcome when she could simply open the refrigerator? The compromise, though, was that it meant being near people. Sharon didn't want to be near people.
The tree was safe. Up here she could concentrate on plucking the Canadian goose she'd caught. The creature was more feather than meat, but there was something meditative about the process of tearing off its feathers while its long neck dangled over the branch like a black sock.
Felicia didn't hide her footsteps, but neither did she move with her usual hard on heel crack tread. Her sneakers were damp from the evening lawn watering, and she had to scrape them against the bark of the tree for a pass, two, before taking a step back and nimbly propelling herself up into the branches of the tree across from Sharon. If she timed it right, she could run across where their branches crossed, hitting the main trunk with her momentum.
Instead, she leaned into a fork on her own tree, one leg dangling. "Seems a little early in the year for goose. More of a fall winter dish to me."
"Flail" was the only appropriate word for what happened to Sharon's body, and Felicia was privileged to witness what happened when individual aspects of a cat's body disagreed on the direction they wanted to go. Her spine said up-and-arched, but her legs had already consulted with gravity to slide off the edge of the branch. Her tail took exception to both and pinwheeled in a desperate attempt to maintain her original position: that is, neither up in the canopy nor intimate friends with the ground.
Her emotions were on a journey so sudden Sharon didn't even have a chance to pack a bag. The usual thrill of receiving Felicia's attention was replaced by panic. The last few weeks had been spent avoiding most people, but Felicia most of all -- even to the extent of hiding beneath Match's bed when the other woman occasionally attempted to call upon Sharon in her suite. Why this was Sharon could not say, only that the thought of facing her now filled her with shame.
Now here she was, lips red and perfect, and any hair out of place from her climb somehow still artistically tousled.
“Oh shit!” Felicia yelped, instinctively leaning forward to help before forcing herself to still and let Sharon right herself. She pressed her chest against a popped up knee, the hand that had been reaching out, wrapping around her thigh, her plan all along and casual, so casual, with a soft smile. It was hopefully even casual, too. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you babe."
Sharon got her feet back under her, guilt swelling. Felicia was upset -- upset that she had upset Sharon, even though Sharon didn't deserve that consideration, because Felicia was perfect and kind. It was agonizing to know such a person was worried about her, someone so clumsy and useless in the form Felicia wore every day. A part of her longed to talk, but if she did she would have to admit how badly she had failed to defend herself and Liam.
What if Felicia decided she wasn't worth it after all?
She couldn't stay any longer; the thought of looking into that soft smile and finding pity there terrified her. Ears flat, tail low, the great cat leapt from the branch, rebounded off the trunk of the adjacent tree, and fled into the woods.
