Kitty Elliot AU #1
Masterpost
Next
Warnings: starvation, confinement
Ambrose was cleaning up when he noticed a guest had left a trunk in the room. He sighed.
Mr. Horneswood was long gone; he had left hours ago. He picked up the handle to move the trunk downstairs so he could swing by and pick it up later.
It was heavy, heavier than expected, and a soft whimper came from the box.
He dropped the trunk in surprise, and the trunk yelped.
“Hello?” he called out.
Nothing. Did he imagine it?
Ambrose hesitantly knocked on the trunk.
Someone knocked back. Shit.
“Oh my god- okay- uh- hang tight, alright? I’ll get you out-”
The latch had a padlock that wouldn’t budge, and he ran down the stairs. There was a hammer in the shed outside, and he frantically searched the toolbox.
He sprinted up the stairs, tool in hand.
“Just hang on-”
Ambrose hit the lock as hard as he could, over and over, cries coming from the trunk.
“It’s okay- it’s okay-”
The lock finally broke after a few tries, and he fumbled with the latch. He threw open the lid, panting.
Inside the trunk, curled up and trembling, was a catperson.
He stared up at Ambrose with frightened blue eyes, tears running down his filthy face.
His ears were pinned back, tail tucked between his legs. He was only wearing boxers, and his skin was covered in marks, old and new.
“Hey, buddy,” breathed out Ambrose.
The catboy shrank back into what little space there was, curled up so tight it must be painful. His ribs and bones jutted out from under his skin.
“You can come out,” coaxed Ambrose, “it’s okay.”
The young man practically leapt out of the trunk, startling him. The catboy scrambled for the far corner of the room, his eyes darting around, before dashing under the bed.
Ambrose put the trunk and hammer aside, and knelt down to look under the bed.
Shiny blue eyes reflected back at him. He was crouched down as low as possible, his gray tail agitated and twitching. There was a tight black collar around his neck, so tight he could see some skin rubbed raw.
Ambrose wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t seen a catperson in decades; not since he worked at the temple. They were a holy rarity, designed by the gods, but this one was clearly not treated with respect.
Ambrose sat back on his heels, thinking. He peered back under the bed.
The catboy opened his mouth and closed it, a silent meow Ambrose recognized from feral house cats. The real kind, not the dignified catpeople he knew. And he was so thin.
“Do you want something to eat?” he asked. “Water?”
The young man’s ear twitched. Good enough.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
Ambrose carefully closed the door behind him, and it clicked softly.
He didn’t remember seeing the catboy when Mr. Horneswood checked in. He must have been hidden inside the whole time; two days at least. Poor thing.
Ambrose got some cured salmon from the pantry, and poured a mug of water. He considered cream, as lots of catpeople loved it, but some had issues with milk and he didn’t want to give a starving man a stomach ache.
He carefully carried the plate and mug upstairs, opening the door with his elbow.
“I got you some fish,” he said, pushing the plate and mug under the bed. “I hope you like it.”
There was some shuffling, and the sound of eating. He peeked under the bed, and the catboy was drinking from the mug. His tongue lapped up the water, as opposed to using his hands, and Ambrose’s heart panged with pity.
It seemed he was more ‘cat’ than ‘person’. It made the collar’s presence all the more disturbing.
He was a pet, or perhaps something worse, and that was its own horror.
The fish was gone quickly.
“Want some more?” Ambrose asked, and the catboy’s head shot up. He stared back at Ambrose.
“You can have more,” he repeated. “Do you want more?”
The boy licked his lips, before shaking his head. Full, maybe? It was a pretty big filet.
“Okay. Can I have the plate back?” His tail swished anxiously. “That’s alright. You can keep it, I guess.”
Ambrose turned and sat, his back against the bed. He sighed.
What the fuck should he do? He couldn’t let the catboy go back to Mr. Horneswood. He just couldn’t let that happen. The catboy could have died inside that trunk, and clearly Horneswood didn’t care if he was left behind.
The best he could do was help the young man feel comfortable.
Ambrose stood. He picked up the folded blanket on the end of the bed and crouched down, holding it out partially under the bed.
“Here you go. You’ll be more comfortable if you want to stay under there.”
There was a soft tug on the end, and Ambrose let the boy pull the fabric underneath.
He heard shuffling, a scraping sound, and felt something push against his foot.
Ambrose looked down, and saw the plate halfway out from the bed. He picked it up.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’ll get you some more food, in case you get hungry.”
___________________
Ambrose finished his chores, keeping an ear out, but the room the catboy was sequestered in was silent. Maybe he was just asleep.
Mr. Horneswood had still not come back when evening set in. He went back upstairs, knocking on the door before opening it. He didn’t see the catboy; he must be still under the bed.
“I don’t think Mr. Horneswood is coming back for you,” he said honestly. “You can stay here as long as you like, though.”
Nothing. He bent over to look under the bed, and unsurprisingly the catboy was staring back at him.
He wasn’t an expert in catperson body language, but he did know a little about cats. Ambrose blinked slowly at him, but the catboy said nothing.
He sat down on the floor, cross legged. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said softly. “And I’m really sorry you got left behind.” Ambrose glanced at the once again empty plate.
“Are you still hungry?”
The catboy nodded. “Do you need more water? Or the bathroom?”
The young man said nothing.
“Sorry, that’s two questions. Water?” A nod. “Bathroom?” The catboy pointed to the toilet that came with every room and shook his head.
At least he was brave enough to use that, but he seemed unwilling to leave his nest under the bed.
“Okay. Can I get those dishes?”
A nod.
Ambrose reached underneath the bed, and the catboy shrank back a little as he grabbed the mug and plate. “It’s alright,” he soothed.
He stood up and turned, but the trunk and hammer leaning against the wall caught his eye. Maybe he was afraid of being put back inside. The open lid had claw marks on the inside.
He shuddered.
“I’m going to take these downstairs,” he said, picking up the hammer. He closed the trunk, piling the dishes and hammer on top. “I’ll be back soon.”
___________________
This time he had a full plate of meat, bread, and some fruit. He couldn’t remember if catpeople ate fruit, but it couldn’t hurt.
He put the plate of food just in front of the bed, and hoped he could maybe coax the catboy out.
Ambrose sat a good few feet from the plate and waited.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he quietly repeated.
Slowly, the catboy crawled to the edge of the bed, the blanket around his shoulders.
He looked skeptical, but his focus was on the food and water. He licked his lips.
“I promise,” Ambrose said.
The catboy’s eyes flicked to him, and back to the plate. Ambrose held his breath.
The young man slipped out, bringing his knees to his chest. He looked at Ambrose, his head tilted to the side. His tail swished. Ambrose gently smiled at him.
The catboy lowered himself to his hands and knees and began to eat, his ears alert.
Success.
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Comte Drama CD Translations, Track Seven: "To You Who Are So Lovely" - Ending
I'm not a professional yada yada yada, these are just my rough transcriptions of each track in the CD because I need fodder for my simping.
This one reads a bit like a love letter left for MC, it's another sweet one:
…Indeed, the sand in the hourglass has fallen. It appears my day with you is over. (I'M DISTRAUGHT TOO DW BEAUTIFUL)
In this way, every moment trickles into another ceaselessly…yes, forever.
Even now as I say it, the word “forever” drives a painful wedge in my heart.
I often wonder at the essence, the weight that word carries--so often spoken with admiration and yearning by humankind.
I think this is the first time in my life I ever went "philosopher (affectionate)" 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 I could listen to him all day [contented sigh]
I know very well…just how heartbreaking it is.
I was shaken by that never-ending, pathless darkness…until you gave me the hope of “now.”
A vampire who lives forever, and a woman who lives a finite life, hoping for a better tomorrow.
I’m not sure what will become of my love for you that sprouted at the boundary between “forever” and “now.”
…But I promise you this.
I will never let you go.
When I give you eternal love…
Let’s spend that time together.
Man the way I act up when I hear fictional man say "I will never let you go" [INSERT LOUD BARKING] it's a promise, Abel 🥺💜
It may turn out to be a bumpy road…but, don’t worry. We’ll take every step of the way hand-in-hand.
When I get lost…you’re so kind and strong
It makes me sure that if we do ever get lost, we’ll worry about it together, and find answers together.
Like a waltz, let’s take each other’s hands…and live together.
Okay all my usual court jester energy aside, I really am so fond of this motif throughout his stories. This idea that being in a relationship is about being there for each other, about promising the other will never be alone. I guess they really just embody what marriage is at its best, for me? Like not necessarily that there's only one way to be married, but that it should be about helping each other and caring about each other? Building a life and sharing that happiness, an enduring love that grows the more two people are together.
Holding hands and dancing, I'm so...
And one day, I’m sure I will…
…I’m sure that I’ll turn you into a vampire. At that time, let’s live together forever.
From the moment I met you that day, in Paris of the 21st century…it felt like the frozen hands on the clock of my life began to move.
I was determined that I would never fall in love with a human again.
I was moved by your pure and single-minded thoughts, and I wanted your love.
A year later, ten years later, one hundred years of accumulating this “now” I’ve received from you…
In the far distant future, I want to see you beside me.
I found you in eternity…I love you, and I will dedicate my pureblood life to your fate--
If y'all need me I will be wasting away, ty--
"In the far distant future, I want to see you beside me." I WANT THAT TOO, GORGEOUS
Man the way my brain is just so: the only kind of man I want is one that can go "I wanted your love 🥺👉👈" and "I wanted her blood to run down my mouth." AT THE SAME TIME
It's about the multi-faceted yearning 🤌🏼
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