Limited A Girl and her Critter

[Ira]

Mary drummed on a little tune out on the skin of her arm as she meandered her way down the streets of Pittsburgh. A tune had snuck its way inside of her head and just wouldn't slip back out. Hopefully, a little time with Critter and some magic would help resolve this pesky little conundrum.

Dressed in a thrifted green trench coat, long-sleeve shirt, a goodwill pair of jeans, and old converse, Mary blended perfectly with every other cold weather drifter still brave enough to walk the streets of the city during the day. Crime, fear, and vigilantism was at an all time high these days. There were entire neighborhoods and sections of the city now that the police straight up wouldn't go. It was a dark and frightening time.

The perfect time for someone like Mary to thrive.

Her people had no qualms going into the shittier parts of the city. Hell, some of them even lived in those parts. Most of the gangs tended to leave her militia men alone as well. After all, Mary wasn't interested in stopping the drug trade or gang violence, just metas. So what conflict of interest did they have? None! Convenient! She had her men guard banks, high value stores, and gangs hideouts alike from the Meta-Menace. Of course, the protection-racketeers weren't fond of her, but that was a problem she intended to take care of today.

And speaking of burning people alive-

"Criiiiiitter! Lil' buddy! Where you's gon off to?"

Mary called out, sweet as can be.

 

[Azra]

The small feline had taken to a restroom unused in the building that served both as a base and home. A small paw pushing at a faucet to turn the water on. The small black figure rolling in the sink before pouncing at the soap dispenser. A mix of rolling and use of his tail used to try and lather the soap more into his fur. He was a cat he could just clean himself sure, tell that to an ordinary person though. Ask yourself perhaps even if you knew you could use your tongue to clean your foot would you? Or maybe don't answer that.

By now the others were a bit more accustomed to the behavior and mannerisms of the little guy. He made no secret he was a man now turned cat. He also enjoyed conversations so he was a familiar face for sure. He was only one person's familiar though. And soon a call came. Turn off the water. Then a pounce on a lever and claw hooking into the paper towel. With this the feline drags down a paper towel to roll in. "You call it hope. It is but agony of desire."
The cat mutters to himself opening his maw. A small ball of fire breaches his maw to engulf the paper towel. A small pacing circle around the improvised bonfire used to help dry off a little more. He wasn't going to be wet returning to his friend. Patron might also be an apt description but he was less fond of such a label. While he enjoyed the fantasy some of being the mythical familiar he also still saw himself as a person. His fall into his seemingly permanent change also making him dread to much subservience. At any rate though he didn't wish to keep a friend waiting. A small trot to a broken window and he can spot the source of the voice.

Leaping from the window paws land silently on a trash bag small hop into an alley. Rthe shadows encompassing his entire form while eyes closed. A figure of black standing in the void. For a moment the only thing visible being glints of yellow as his eyes opened. "The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk in our souls." A voice speaks from the depths of black formed between the walls of buildings. Or so he told himself for all Noir's fun in dramatics reality was the shadows cast from the dumpster was dozens times more then needed. He was only a house cat he didn't need the shadows of towers to hide. His quote also probably didnt sound as cool as he imagined, he always had a softer voice he could quote a poet but it had all the edgy gravel of well a poet. He liked to imagine himself the panther, the dragon but the figure to approach Marry was barely beyond the scope of a kitten.

"...I cant think of a cool quote. Dramatic follow up ruined. Sup?" The small thing remarked fur brushing up against Marry's leg. Demeanor friendly despite both knowing deep down he wished nothing more than to set metas aflame. A art loving dork in life, a beast wishing for fiery vengeance in well second life.