nexus_crossings | when is a question not a question

when is a question not a question

Hermione has her hands full when she enters the Nexus today. She has a large box in her hands, which has Crookshanks laying on top of it.

"Where do you want to go?" She speaks to the cat softly. He blinks at her a couple of times. Hermione smiles softly, and heads towards the Grand Library. Their favorite place to visit. The same place where they first visited when they entered this area of the Nexus, so many months ago.

She sets down the box gently. Crookshanks closes his eyes, content with the location. He seems to be guarding the box. Or whatever is inside the box.

Hermione doesn't seem to have a question today. She pulls a large book out of her small beaded bag. And gives Crookshanks another fond smile, petting him softly.

Crookshanks seems to be waiting for someone to appear. Who could it be?

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"You look busy." Hermione observes, noting the padd in Jim's hand. It seems both of the Jim's have a lot to organize right now.

Crookshanks chirps again. Hermione smiles softly. "He was hoping to see you today."

"Paperwork is eternal," Jim says, pulling a face. But he doesn't really look stressed by it; the break is a welcome one, and he leans down to stroke Crookshanks' head. "Oh yeah?" he asks, looking back up at Hermione, eyebrows raised. "Is something up?"

"Indeed it is."

Hermione looks over at Crookshanks fondly. And smiles sadly. "He wanted to let you know how much he values his friendship with you. That he admires your strength, your courage and your loyalty."

"And he wishes to give you a legacy. To remember him."

What? That sounds... awfully ominous. Sad, even. A concerned frown settles on his face as he looks back down at the elderly cat. "C'mon, I could never forget you," he says, but if his guess is right and this is some kinda goodbye... well, Jim has had too many people he cared about leave without one to reject it. "What kind of legacy?"

Crookshanks stretches and slowly moves into Hermione's lap. He glances at the box. Then Jim.

"He understands that if you do not wish the responsibility, that you do not have to accept this. But he believes you need a guardian of your own."

Hermione moves to open the top of the box. Jim can hear the soft little mews of several kittens now. "Only one will choose you. Only one would be yours."

"A guardian?" They had his attention already, but now he's a little puzzled. A confusion that rapidly gives way to surprise when he realizes what exactly is inside the box, and peers inside to see kittens. Kneazle kittens?

Jim looks down at Crookshanks, the cat who kept him company through some of the darkest weeks of recent times, a quiet watcher who stuck by his side when he needed it most. And now, passing on a legacy... "Crookshanks, these are your kids?"

"They are. His sons and his daughters."

Crookshanks looks extremely proud of his children.

"The bond between a Kneazle and a chosen is very special."

What a... weirdly touching thing to do. Jim never expected to be looking after a companion animal in the long-term, and certainly not a kneazle. But truth be told, even though he hasn't needed the same sort of comfort that the cat offered him during those weeks after the Nightmare, he's kind of missed having the little guy around. That Crookshanks would think to offer one of his own kids... Jim's not quite sure how to feel about that, surprised gratitude and quiet sorrow conflicting within him.

He puts a small smile on his face though, rubbing Crookshanks' head gently before reaching down into the box, letting the kittens decide on their own whether to investigate his hand. "How do you know when one picks you?"

Most of the kittens do a courtesy sniff of his hand, without touching him. A golden-orange one is a little more brave. Rubbing right up against his hand. And purrs loudly.

"That one wishes to be yours." Hermione speaks softly.

Aww, look at those ears. And that fluffy little tail. Jim carefully picks up the kitten, who looks perfectly at ease being handled, little paws batting curiously at his beard as he brings it closer. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, little guy," Jim tells the kitten. Is it a guy? He can't tell.

Damn, it's a good thing he still has some of the things he'd gotten for Crookshanks.

"Did you name them already?" he asks, looking back up at Hermione and the old kneazle on her lap, unsure which one of them he should be asking.

Jim will start to feel a bond forming between himself and the Kneazle. And shortly, he will know that the kitten is a little boy. Just by a sensation in the back of his mind.

"No. That was not our decision." Hermione answers for both of them.

Well that's... weird. It's not really like when Adia used her rune to speak with his, an overwhelming fountain spilling over the edges and demanding his full attention. No, it's subtler than that. A little curious spark, like seeing a familiar face in the corner of your eye, inquisitive and mischievous. It's strange, but not really intrusive.

Jim gives the matter some thought, as the kitten pokes at his chin with a paw, before the little fuzzball gets distracted by some interesting scent on his shirt. "What do you think about Zunar, or Doric?" he asks after a moment, and those curious little eyes swing up to look at him, shirt smells forgotten. "There's this old Earth movie about a cat from space; those are part of his name. You're not from space, but that's where we'll be going."

Crookshanks looks a lot more settled as he watches his son bond with Jim. He purrs softly in Hermione's lap. Content that this worked as he had hoped.

"I think Zunar sounds a little more exotic." Hermione adds her two cents.

Edited 2018-02-11 00:40 (UTC)

The kitten mews up at him, seemingly in agreement, and Jim rubs the soft fur between his ears. "All right, Zunar, then."

His smile dims slightly, though, when he looks past the warm furry creature in his hands towards Crookshanks. Old age catches up with everybody eventually, even kneazles, but it doesn't make it any less sad to know that he's on his way out. "I'll take good care of him for you," he promises, and when the kitten murrs a protest, he amends it to, "Okay, we'll take care of each other."

Hermione smiles sadly. Her fingers treading through Crookshanks fur lightly.

"Thank you. He will rest easier, knowing that you have each other."

Shit, he wishes there was something else he could do. Crookshanks has been a good friend, and it's got to be even worse for Hermione, who's had him as a companion for so long. Peace of mind is a small thing, but if that's all he can give, then he will.

"What's going to happen to the others? Are you keeping one?"

"One will choose me. He will be the one who will choose last, after his brothers and sisters have chosen. He is waiting for me." Hermione smiles.

"My legacy from Crookshanks."

"He thinks of everything, doesn't he." Jim wonders if this is how Vulcans feel, making friends with humans. A sliver of memory, a remembered sorrow, gives him his answer before he even finishes the thought.

The kitten in his arms purrs and snuggles closer to his chest, wrapping little paws around his arm.

"You will find that most times, your kitten will know what you need, even before you need it."

Hermione hands him a book, entitled "How to Care for Your Kneazle".

Jim cradles the kitten in one arm so he can take the book with the other hand, and he can't help but smile a little. "He comes with a manual, huh? Bet that'll come in handy."

"Crookshanks thought of everything. Only the best for his children."

"Thanks. Both of you." He hadn't expected to come away from today's visit with a cat, but Jim is starting to get used to rolling with the punches. And this is one of the more pleasant, if bittersweet, surprises that he's had here.

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