Post by devilinthedetails on Jul 4, 2022 21:50:39 GMT 10
Series: Son of Carthak
Title: Cat Tales
Rating: PG-13 for some gory details.
Event: Cozy
Words: 722
Summary: Binur and his cat.
Author’s Note: The grandmother in this piece is Fazia, Kaddar’s mother. Lian is my nickname for Lianokami of Conte, Roald and Shinko’s daughter. Her cat Daisuke is Faithful back from the dead to advise Tortall’s future queen. Those interested in reading more about Faithful’s reincarnation as Daisuke are encouraged to check out my earlier fic “Return of the Faithful Wanderer.”
Cat Tales
For Binur’s fifth birthday, his doting grandmother gave him a cat–or more precisely a kitten. A green-eyed, smoky-furred mau with tabby striping on its cheeks and black spots speckling its body, legs, and tail.
Grandmother loved cats. Binur knew that. He had seen them leaping on the furniture of her quarters. Perching on sun-soaked windowsills. Lounging on cozy blankets. There were bronze statues of mother cats playing with and nursing their young decorating her chambers.
Many Carthaki had a fondness for cats. That had been a truth of his people dating back to the dawn of the empire. To the reigns of the first emperors. Mummified cats–loyal companions in life and death–were buried with the ancient emperors. Cats were painted on the golden sarcophaguses of these long gone emperors.
Even today, in the Carthaki palace mosaics could be seen–depicting in tiles cool to the touch of a young boy’s curious fingers–cats in their roles as protectors. Hunting and destroying poisonous snakes.
“Cats are good luck charms,” his grandmother told him. Cradling a fluffy blue one close to her chest. “They always land on their feet, and the gods have blessed them with nine lives.”
Since his grandmother called cats good luck charms, Binur named his kitten Bahini. Meaning fortune in Old Thak.
Binur found it mesmerizing to watch Bahini. Her jumps were sleek and sinuous. She was a creature of grace and fluidity. Like a furry river. Always aware of where she was in the air. Forever finding the floor with her soft pads.
He fed her warm milk from porcelain bowls. Clapping his hands in delight as her pink lapped up his offerings.
He invited her to sleep on his bed. Curling her beneath his chin like a blanket. Listening to the soft purring in her throat as if it were a lullaby. The soothing vibration of it it the only rocking he needed to fall asleep every night.
He teased her with waving, peacock-feather-tipped toys. Honing her hunting instints. He never forgot–it was etched into his memory like a never-healing scar–the first time she brought him a bird she had killed in the gardens. Blood smeared on her whiskers. Pride radiating like sun rays from her being. Eyes–green as palm fronds–aglow. Eager for his praise. His assurance that she was a wonder from top to toe.
“Disgusting,” he chided her. Waggling a finger at her in a gesture mirrored from his mother. “And to think I let you sleep in my bed!”
She dropped her bloody prize at his feet. Flicked her tail in an imperious dismissal of his reprimand. Hopped onto a window ledge. Began to lick herself clean. To sun herself. Utterly unruffled by the grisly murder she had committed.
Binur wrote of Bahini–as she slowly grew from kitten to cat–in long letters addressed to his cousin Lian. Bragging about how beautiful Bahini was. How clever. How agile and poised.
He and Lian often exchanged such gloating missives. Corresponding across an ocean, they had somehow become a strange mix of friends and rivals. Confiding their secrets in each other–their worries and wonderings about what it would be like to one day rule their realms–but also competing with one another in acquisitions and accomplishments.
For many years, Bahini gave Binur the edge in that competition. He had a pet, and Lian did not.
Then, one day, Lian’s revenge arrived in a lengthy note boasting of her new, midnight-black kitten named Daisuke. Daisuke, she told him, was a constellation bright down from the sky to guide her. A gift granted to her by the Mother Goddess.
Binur had never spoken with any deity nor received any present from them. He felt a stab of envy that was quickly squelched when he stroked his fingers through Bahini’s smoky fur.
“I’m glad you aren’t a constellation or a gift from the gods,” he murmured to her. “Only imagine how arrogant you would be then.”
She shot him a haughty glance. One laced with smug self-satisfaction. Proclaiming that every cat was a gift from the gods. Of course she did. Such supreme self-confidence was part of what it meant to be a cat, he was learning. Part of why they could survey the world with calm command as if everyone in it were their humble servants existing solely for their pleasure and diversion.
Title: Cat Tales
Rating: PG-13 for some gory details.
Event: Cozy
Words: 722
Summary: Binur and his cat.
Author’s Note: The grandmother in this piece is Fazia, Kaddar’s mother. Lian is my nickname for Lianokami of Conte, Roald and Shinko’s daughter. Her cat Daisuke is Faithful back from the dead to advise Tortall’s future queen. Those interested in reading more about Faithful’s reincarnation as Daisuke are encouraged to check out my earlier fic “Return of the Faithful Wanderer.”
Cat Tales
For Binur’s fifth birthday, his doting grandmother gave him a cat–or more precisely a kitten. A green-eyed, smoky-furred mau with tabby striping on its cheeks and black spots speckling its body, legs, and tail.
Grandmother loved cats. Binur knew that. He had seen them leaping on the furniture of her quarters. Perching on sun-soaked windowsills. Lounging on cozy blankets. There were bronze statues of mother cats playing with and nursing their young decorating her chambers.
Many Carthaki had a fondness for cats. That had been a truth of his people dating back to the dawn of the empire. To the reigns of the first emperors. Mummified cats–loyal companions in life and death–were buried with the ancient emperors. Cats were painted on the golden sarcophaguses of these long gone emperors.
Even today, in the Carthaki palace mosaics could be seen–depicting in tiles cool to the touch of a young boy’s curious fingers–cats in their roles as protectors. Hunting and destroying poisonous snakes.
“Cats are good luck charms,” his grandmother told him. Cradling a fluffy blue one close to her chest. “They always land on their feet, and the gods have blessed them with nine lives.”
Since his grandmother called cats good luck charms, Binur named his kitten Bahini. Meaning fortune in Old Thak.
Binur found it mesmerizing to watch Bahini. Her jumps were sleek and sinuous. She was a creature of grace and fluidity. Like a furry river. Always aware of where she was in the air. Forever finding the floor with her soft pads.
He fed her warm milk from porcelain bowls. Clapping his hands in delight as her pink lapped up his offerings.
He invited her to sleep on his bed. Curling her beneath his chin like a blanket. Listening to the soft purring in her throat as if it were a lullaby. The soothing vibration of it it the only rocking he needed to fall asleep every night.
He teased her with waving, peacock-feather-tipped toys. Honing her hunting instints. He never forgot–it was etched into his memory like a never-healing scar–the first time she brought him a bird she had killed in the gardens. Blood smeared on her whiskers. Pride radiating like sun rays from her being. Eyes–green as palm fronds–aglow. Eager for his praise. His assurance that she was a wonder from top to toe.
“Disgusting,” he chided her. Waggling a finger at her in a gesture mirrored from his mother. “And to think I let you sleep in my bed!”
She dropped her bloody prize at his feet. Flicked her tail in an imperious dismissal of his reprimand. Hopped onto a window ledge. Began to lick herself clean. To sun herself. Utterly unruffled by the grisly murder she had committed.
Binur wrote of Bahini–as she slowly grew from kitten to cat–in long letters addressed to his cousin Lian. Bragging about how beautiful Bahini was. How clever. How agile and poised.
He and Lian often exchanged such gloating missives. Corresponding across an ocean, they had somehow become a strange mix of friends and rivals. Confiding their secrets in each other–their worries and wonderings about what it would be like to one day rule their realms–but also competing with one another in acquisitions and accomplishments.
For many years, Bahini gave Binur the edge in that competition. He had a pet, and Lian did not.
Then, one day, Lian’s revenge arrived in a lengthy note boasting of her new, midnight-black kitten named Daisuke. Daisuke, she told him, was a constellation bright down from the sky to guide her. A gift granted to her by the Mother Goddess.
Binur had never spoken with any deity nor received any present from them. He felt a stab of envy that was quickly squelched when he stroked his fingers through Bahini’s smoky fur.
“I’m glad you aren’t a constellation or a gift from the gods,” he murmured to her. “Only imagine how arrogant you would be then.”
She shot him a haughty glance. One laced with smug self-satisfaction. Proclaiming that every cat was a gift from the gods. Of course she did. Such supreme self-confidence was part of what it meant to be a cat, he was learning. Part of why they could survey the world with calm command as if everyone in it were their humble servants existing solely for their pleasure and diversion.