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Summary
Daemons are fickle creatures. They’re just as likely to give you great gifts for small acts of kindness as they are to possess you for looking at them wrong. It’s common knowledge that if one is to ever encounter a daemon, they should avoid eye-contact and leave in a calm and unhurried manner to avoid offense.
Virgil was never given such instructions, as his family was on rather good terms with the local daemons in the slum town they resided in. As such, when he encountered a wild cat-daemon and offered it food and water from his bag for seemingly no reason, it chose to bestow the gifts of its chosen form to him. He will have cat-like night vision, always land on his feet, and most importantly - he will have 9 lives.
(Sort of maybe rewriting this, but more in a bullet-point format and only a little bit every couple of days. I'll let yall know if I ever turn it into actual fic format or something close.)