[ for a while, kamui just tilts his head, staring. there is something about him kamui is drawn to and cannot articulate why. certainly some of it is instinct. a cat remembers the one who helped, and that soleum was also a cat at that time (kamui is sure of it no matter any denials), is actually just happenstance. though someone across worlds would suggest: there is no such thing as coincidence, only the inevitable. the stark cold of the snow feels clean in deep contrast to the post-apocalyptic "manhattan" which kamui understands is "new york" and has not much reference beyond a sense of where that should have been.
back in his own world it might have been moot, supposing the world itself might be ending.
but it makes him think.
what comes after?
something ends and then?
a boy gets out of a car, another keeps it unlocked, a can of peaches procured from the trunk.
the world seems rather unreal in these simple moments.
when kamui peers at the trunk, he stifles a weird inclination to just climb into it and curl up to conserve his own warmth. he's muffling another cough as he gets back into the passenger seat, head turned away into his own sleeve. breathing through his nose, he blinks rapidly until it ebbs. then he stares down at the can of peaches in his hands before, deciding not to push his luck further, opening it.
sweet. syrupy. a touch of color blooms in kamui's cheeks and the curl of his tail around his own waist is a pleased one. having no way to know how his current physical state is upsetting to soleum, kamui has made no efforts to hide it, though even if he could he's not sure how he would. perhaps he could ask choi, if he ever catches onto soleum's discomfort. perhaps he could make a hat at least for the ears. not thinking any of this just yet though, kamui's mind is fixated the way an animal's mind often does when eating: food good. and soleum was right, it does help a little with his throat. or seems to, for now. ]
no subject
back in his own world it might have been moot, supposing the world itself might be ending.
but it makes him think.
what comes after?
something ends and then?
a boy gets out of a car, another keeps it unlocked, a can of peaches procured from the trunk.
the world seems rather unreal in these simple moments.
when kamui peers at the trunk, he stifles a weird inclination to just climb into it and curl up to conserve his own warmth. he's muffling another cough as he gets back into the passenger seat, head turned away into his own sleeve. breathing through his nose, he blinks rapidly until it ebbs. then he stares down at the can of peaches in his hands before, deciding not to push his luck further, opening it.
sweet. syrupy. a touch of color blooms in kamui's cheeks and the curl of his tail around his own waist is a pleased one. having no way to know how his current physical state is upsetting to soleum, kamui has made no efforts to hide it, though even if he could he's not sure how he would. perhaps he could ask choi, if he ever catches onto soleum's discomfort. perhaps he could make a hat at least for the ears. not thinking any of this just yet though, kamui's mind is fixated the way an animal's mind often does when eating: food good. and soleum was right, it does help a little with his throat. or seems to, for now. ]