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You lay in your dark bedroom on your bed, trying to fall back asleep. You’d been awoken by an abnormally loud clap of thunder from your slumber, rain pounding on your roof and pattering against your windows. It seemed that the thunderstorm forecasted for the afternoon had come a lot later than anticipated. This would’ve been perfectly fine; if you didn’t have really bad insomnia that you refused to treat that prevented you from falling back asleep for hours. So, there you were, tossing and turning as you struggled to slip back into dreamland. Finally, frustrated, you groaned, untangled yourself from the sheets, and sat up. Might as well just find something else to do for the rest of the night- maybe you’d grow exhausted enough that sleep would find you. Glancing over at your bedside alarm clock, the time read, “1:02”, signifying that you had a good 5 or so hours to kill before daybreak.
Disoriented, you staggered from your mattress down the stairs to the kitchen, where you started to pull the milk from the fridge before the resounding echo of your both parts absurdly loud and annoying doorbell rang through your house. Who in the name of Nova would possibly need your attention at 1 in the morning? Slogging to the front door, you opened it to find yourself face-to-face with a shivering, sopping Magolor, alongside a gallon of rain being thrown into your face. The mage’s bright slit eyes gleamed despite how dark it was outside, and those two beams of light were glaring directly at you, no doubt waiting for you to move aside to let him in.
“What’re you doing? It’s one in the morning, you idiot.” You commented, giving him an amused look.
His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I’ll tell you, if you were to so kindly let me-”
He was very politely interrupted by you, who snickered, “And you’re all wet! You fool; you’re going to catch a cold!”
Magolor’s expression underneath his drenched hood didn’t change, though he started to flex his paws, signaling that he was probably going to pummel you once he was dry. You supposed could interrogate him later- for now, you quickly ushered him in and (with a small struggle due to how strong the wind was) shut the door.
Both of you were now soaked to the bone, so you let Magolor settle down on your couch as you turned on your living room lights and hustled to snag a towel apiece and a change of clothes for yourself. Bundling one around your head, you hastily tossed on dry pajamas- you didn’t want to ironically get sick. Hopping back downstairs, you tossed a towel on him and settled on the other side of your sofa, ignoring his angry squeaks. Ruffling your head, you peeked over to see him squeezing out rainwater from his cloak (which was unceremoniously pooling on your carpeted floor) and gently dabbing his face with the borrowed towel. His fur was fluffed up to the point where he looked a little like those miniature pom poms that children used in crafts.
“Hey. How’s your night stroll been?” You joked, trying to start a conversation.
“Oh, shut up,” He growled, grumpy, but you knew that that was just him being upset that he was wet- with him being some kind of feline, he wasn’t too keen on water. You grinned at him and he swatted a paw at you.
It wasn’t unnatural for Magolor to show up unexpected at your house, though usually at a more… normal time. Sometimes it was simply to stop by and hang out, other times it was to advertise his merchandise, for he knew you were a sucker for his paw-made goods. Every other weekday, he’d pop by and repeatedly ring your doorbell at 8 in the morning to rudely remind you that you had work that day at his Shoppe- that was how you got money. Come to think of it, you spent a lot of time around Magolor, ever since you became close and he offered you a job proposition. You didn’t object to time with the kitty mage, though.
Once he seemed sufficiently dried, you asked, “So… Now that you’re in the safety and comfort of someone else’s house, what’s the reason you decided to pop by this early in the morning?”
Magolor flicked an ear nonchalantly. “Ehh, just thought I’d stop by and visit my favorite employee. Nothing’s wrong with that, right?”
You deadpanned towards him, assuming he was trying to butter you up for some stupid favor. “Well, your favorite employee was trying to get some sleep before you arrived. Anyway, if you want something from me, you can just ask, y’know? The worst thing I can say is no. Would’ve preferred you asked me last evening or tomorrow morning, but now that you’re here, you might as well spit it out. ”
He sniffed, and with the way he was looking at you, he was probably smirking underneath his gigantic collar. “Last time I checked, asking you for something usually earns me your insults.”
“Well, that’s because you asked if I happened to have a chainsa- We’re getting sidetracked, Maggie.”
He cackles at your exasperation, saying between breaths, “It was… Just for a little experiment…”
Once he composes himself, you ask again, “Is something wrong? The Lor’s working just fine, right? We did a check-up on her a few days ago.”
Magolor didn’t answer immediately. Now that he had to tell you what he wanted, he seemed unsure.
He glanced down at the towel wrapped around his body, thinking, before responding, “She’s doing well. Don’t worry about it.”
That was that, it seemed. You deemed that this conversation would go nowhere until Magolor decided he was ready to tell you what was up, so you changed the subject. “You wanna watch TV?” You inquired, picking up the remote from between the cushions where it was always somehow buried.
He shrugged. “Mmm… Sure.” You clicked the TV on. Scrolling through the channels, you found nothing of particular interest and settled on some stupid late-night comedy show to blankly stare at for a few hours- or until Magolor was ready.
Said kitty mage seemed to be staring at the TV as if it was offering a chance at world domination, suddenly oddly tense despite his lighthearted words prior. You were a little worried for him, as normally he was a pretty lively part of any hangout, cracking jokes, sneaking in advertisements of his merchandise, and generally trying his absolute hardest to be the center of attention- him being silent was incredibly uncharacteristic.
As you thought, a sudden flash of lightning caused you and Magolor to jolt, putting a hand over your heart and cursing loudly. After realizing what you started to, you began to quietly laugh to yourself, but then you noticed that Magolor didn’t share your amusement- he had pulled his soaked towel around his gently shaking frame, as if he didn’t want to show his quite-noticeable fear, ears flattened. You began to lean towards him to check on him when a monstrous rumbling echoed through your house, shaking its framework. Eyes stretched wide, he pulled the towel over his head and continued to tremble. A slow, muted growl could be heard from underneath his cloth cocoon.
If you were being honest, you’d never really thought that Magolor was afraid of anything, considering the fact that he always sort of acted like nothing really scared him. So, seeing him turned into a terrified little kitten was a little … concerning.
Once the thunder stopped echoing around the house, he slowly pulled the towel off of his head and glanced around, looking disoriented. When he finally met your gaze, he seemed to remember where he was and snapped out of his trance. Smoothly, he untangled towel he was swaddled in and tossed it on the floor, blinking a few times indignantly and generally acting as if he had not been cowering a few seconds before. Turning back to you, he half snarked, half sputtered, “What? Cat got your tongue?”
You gave him a look and were about to ask him what happened when the TV suddenly cut off, the screen’s light fading away as the power died. You cursed underneath your breath and turned to check in on how Magolor reacted to see him- or at least, his gleaming eyes- trembling once more, but not to as much of an extent as when he’d been startled by the thunder. Quickly, the mage waved a paw and a small, orb-shaped flame appeared hovering over his paw, illuminating the now dark living room. He let the miniature light rest in the center of the room, hovering a couple feet off of the ground. You really hoped that thing couldn’t set your house on fire, because that would really suck.
“Okay. The power went out.” You assessed, and Magolor snorted. “No dip, stupid.” You glanced back over at the now dead TV, rubbing your hands. It seemed a bit warmer than usual, which meant that the storm had probably killed the AC as well. It’d take a hot minute for the backup to kick in, if it ever did, considering you couldn’t remember the last time you’d checked on it. Oh well.
“Anyway, since we can’t watch TV anymore, how about we go chill in my room? We can watch videos on my laptop, it should be charged.” You offered. Magolor gave a nod, but just before you headed up the stairs, you turned to the kitchen. “You can wait for me upstairs. I’m gonna go grab some snacks.” He furrowed his brow but obliged, floating up to the second floor alongside his while you scurried to the pantry to scavenge for chips and soda. You hadn’t missed his expression when he’d left, making you think a little…
You were huffing by the time you clambered up the stairs and got to your bedroom, snacks in tow. Man, maybe you really were out of shape. Magolor was on your bed loafing on your blankets, and he turned to you at the sound of the door opening.
You set the snacks and drinks down on your bedside table and grabbed your laptop. You settled on your bed with your back pressed against your bed board, and Magolor moved to sit beside you. Taking a quick glance at your alarm clock (which ran on batteries) as you booted up your laptop, you noticed that around an hour had passed since your guest had arrived. “It’s meme time.” You say, completely straight faced, and he laughed, an odd sound more akin to purring than human laughter.
You opened up YouTube, and the two of you get caught up in the funnies.
As you both laugh at poorly made memes you found and consume unhealthy foods for what seemed like eternity but was only half an hour or so, a flash of lightning causes Magolor to squeak and lean against you, grasping your arm. As you turn to reassure him, a following resonating clap of thunder sounds, and he burrows his face into your pajamas, hiding the soothing glow of his eyes. He’s growling again, you note, and you instinctively began to gently rub his head with your free arm. “Hey, Maggie…” You soothed, “It’s alright. I’m here.”
As you comfort him, he slowly pulls away and you immediately stop, in the event that that’s not what he wants. You set aside your laptop as he blinks a few times, pulling his paws close to his chest. Quietly, he mumbles something incomprehensible. “What was that, mag-n-cheese?” You whisper. He then grumbles a series of words in Halcandran than you know to be a string of cuss words, unsheathing his claws and raking your blanket.
“Woah there, pardner! Don’t ruin my blanket!” You reprimand him jokingly, putting a hand over one of his cautiously. He seemed frustrated with himself, muttering what you assume to be more curses under his breath. It took him a few moments and some breaths before finally, he hissed, “I… I’d like you to pet me. Or not. Whatever. I don’t care-”
He was swept up in your arms and deposited on your lap facing you. You gave him a gentle smile and went back to rubbing the top of his hood, directionally away from him, intentionally avoiding his actual fur. Magolor, miffed, proceeded to bite your arm gently, his small mouth and fangs peeping out from underneath his collar. As you made a noise of shock and checked the spot for puncture marks (none found, thankfully), he grabbed your hand and muttered, “You idiot… You know how I like it.”
As you rolled your eyes and peeled his paw away, you thought about how this weird “hobby”, if you could call it that, had started.
This wouldn’t be the first time you’d pet Magolor. It had been when you’d been working for Magolor for a while, a week or two at least. He’d been teaching you to sew clothes, what he’d assumed would be a hard task for you- and it was. It’d taken you quite some time to understand how to loop the needle and thread, and you’d managed to prick yourself more times than the amount of fingers on both hands.
Despite your struggles and his reprimands, your hard work paid off and you’d mastered it after a few sessions. You’d been fascinated by the foreign materials he used- odd, Halcandran fabrics soft as silk, but tough enough to withstand the elements and wear. It awed you to know that he made effectively everything he sold by paw, with a bit of magic to speed up the process here and there. Magolor hadn’t admitted it, but based on how he examined your handicraft and deemed it “passable”, you’d impressed him.
You remembered one day asking him, “Your clothes are made from the same cloth, correct?” and he’d let you touch his cape to confirm. He’d given you a weird look as you rubbed the soft cloth with your hand, which had changed to a look of surprise when you’d started rubbing the top of his hood. You claimed it was an accident (which was, to be fair, the truth) when you’d slipped his hood off and revealed that underneath it all he was a fluffy, dark brown kitten, but maybe some accidents were meant to happen. Needless to say, Magolor soon learned that he was indeed a fan of the cuddles, and now it was sort of a part of your relationship.
During downtime and lunch breaks, you’d offhandedly rub a thumb against his cheek and he’d start grumbling curses and whatnot at you, flustered that you held so much power in your hands. He had begrudgingly confessed to you one day while you’d been rubbing behind his ears, hood off, that he did enjoy the touches, and that he found some small amount of comfort in being petted. His one flaw, though? He hated directly asking you, hated showing his soft side, for reasons you weren’t quite sure of yet. Maybe it was his pride, or maybe it was due to some sort of trauma he’d experienced in his lifetime. Nonetheless, though, you worked hard to gain his trust and wanted to be a source of comfort for him- he meant a lot to you, a lot more than just your money source.
Pulling yourself from your memories, you gently slipped Magolor’s hood off of his head, revealing that same thick, fluffy chocolate fur. Slowly, you started to lightly scritch the fluff behind his ears and on his head, grinning. His fur was so soft, more so than fleece or velvet. You wondered what kind of fur care routine he went through to get it to this level of silkiness, or whether it was just naturally like this.
Magolor’s eyes immediately began to droop as he said quietly, “Mm, okay… Ugh, you suck at this… Maybe a little more to the right would do… There we go…” You shifted your hand as he commanded and he relaxed, slouching against your chest and beginning to purr. You’d heard him make that heavenly sound plenty of times before, but your heart never stopped squealing like a small child whenever he began making happy cat noises. You rested your head against the bed board and gazed at the wall, subconsciously rubbing his head as you listened to Magolor’s contentment and the rain.
As you looked to the window, a quick burst of lightning lit up the room momentarily, and you immediately turned your attention to the fluffball in your arms, ready to comfort him. However, he seemed oblivious of the flash, merely snuggling in deeper into your fuzzy pajamas. Even when thunder sounded, he seemed at peace on your lap, too blissed out to really care. You took note that it took longer for the thunder to sound than before, meaning that the storm was slowly beginning to move on.
“Mmm, that’s enough there, couldja move your hand again…” He muttered, and you moved on to scratching his chin and cheeks, which seemed to please him. He shifted so he was on his side and sighed, continuing to sound like a miniature lawnmower.
This close to Magolor, he smelled incredibly strongly of wet cat but you didn’t care, it was worth it.
His paws lay about by his sides, so you picked one up and gave it a very gentle squish. It was a shame you weren’t allowed a glance at his paw pads, for he wore gloves, and you really wanted to touch the beans. He promptly responded by digging his claws into your hand, and you cursed loudly at him, halting your petting process. He really couldn’t communicate without his kitty weapons, could he? Though he seemed amused, he sat up and took your hand gently, pulling down his collar and licking the marks as if he were sorry. His tongue was a warm pink, and sandpaper-y like any other cats’. With his muzzle exposed, you could also see his nose- it was a tiny, dark, damp triangle that you were oh so tempted to boop. It was kinda weird how he was just a magical, spherical kitten.
As you continued to stroke his head, you felt the touch of something on your thigh, and turned to see what looked like a large, fluffy feather duster resting atop your left leg.
Oh my nova. Magolor had a tail.
In the dim light of your laptop, you noted that it was the same, chocolate-y color as his fur, save for the tip, which was more akin to the color of coffee with creamer. Come to think of it, you were feeling kind of hungry. As you reached over for the party sized chip bag you’d set aside while cuddling him, you continued to try to process the idea that Magolor would have a tail, especially one as fluffy as the one gently swishing across your knee. Finally, you summed up your thoughts in six words: “Your tail is so damn fluffy.”
He chuckled at your awe as he attempted to steal some chips. “Do you just, like, hide that underneath your cloak all the time?”
He shrugged. “But, how do you…”
“Magical kitty powers.” He interrupted in a fantastical tone, pulling down his collar and shoving a few chips into his mouth while waggling his open paw around as if he were casting a spell. You decided not to question it and instinctively reached to touch his tail, but he swished it away, letting you know that you ought to look, not touch. You responded by blowing a raspberry at him. Magolor snickered at your disappointment, as if he enjoyed it.
You and Magolor continued to spend cuddle time together. He looked so relaxed despite the pounding rain and occasional lightning/thunder combo, which had scared him out of his wits earlier. He’d even started kneading you at some point. Watching him make biscuits, it made you happy that he wasn’t scared with you around, but you wondered how he comforted himself when he was alone on the Lor during a storm. You’d have to ask him about that later.
You wanted him to make sure he was welcome if it ever stormed again. You chew your lip for a moment, scritching Magolor’s cheeks, and finally piece together a semblance of comfort that hopefully wouldn’t offend his pride. “Y’know, if there’s ever a thunderstorm forecasted in the future… You’re welcome to stop by, for whatever reason it may be.” He opened his eyes to mere slivers at your voice, perhaps he had heard you, or perhaps he hadn’t.
Since you were suddenly thirsty, you snagged one of the unfinished bottles of soda from your nightstand and took a swig, all the while giving Magolor scritchies- you really couldn’t help yourself. As you set the bottle down, though, you felt a yawn creep up in your throat and you did your best to suppress it. Mr. Kitten, on the other hand, noticed your exhaustion and in turn curled up into a ball on your lap, tail over his nose and paws.
“Alrighty then, Kitkat, I suppose we can have a little… cat nap.” He smacked a paw over your nose and you giggled at your crappy joke.
You had a bunch of things laying on your bed, including yourself, and you weren’t too interested in sleeping with your stuff, so you took the time to sloppily gather up the snacks, drinks, trash, and your laptop (which you remembered to actually shut off) and set them aside. You let Magolor settle on your bed while you also had yourself a quick bathroom break- yeah, you might’ve drank too much soda.
Dusting chip crumbs from your pajamas, you huddled under the covers, and Magolor pawed up your blankets to create a small space at your side. He let you drape an arm over him reluctantly, though you knew that he was a touch-starved bitch and didn’t just want to admit that he loved your attention. You took a quick, final glance at the clock: 4:28 am. Slowly closing your eyes, you thought for a moment that you heard thunder once more… Though you supposed it could just be Magolor purring again… Who was to know?
Wearily, you blinked sleep from your eyes, rubbing away eye-gunk. A little confused, you groan and turn to check your alarm clock: 8:49. You felt a light sensation near your legs, and you glanced down to see Magolor both aggressively and gently nudging your thighs, blinking quickly a few times when you finally noticed him. It took you a minute to remember why Magolor was in your house, but it came back to you gradually- the storm, his fear, giving him pets. You eased yourself onto an elbow and rubbed his cheek a little with your knuckles, and he grumbled but let you do so. “Took you long enough to wake up, sleepyhead.”
You smirked and pretended to lay back and fall asleep, and he proceeded to curse you out in Halcandran. “You’ve got work today, so you might want to get a move on.”
Huffily getting out of bed, you ushered Magolor away to begrudgingly straighten out your bed sheets- gotta make good habits, right? He glared daggers at you as he straightened out his clothes, most likely assuming you to be trying to waste his time. “Okay, Maggie, if you want me to help you make money then get out of my room, I need to change.”
Magolor had no designated dress code for you. He didn’t care what you put on so long as you didn’t wear anti-Magolor propaganda, so when you walked downstairs in fairly sloppy casual attire, somewhat refreshed from your daily routine, he didn’t even bat an eye. He lazed on your couch, completely ignoring the towels you had both left on the ground last night. The flame he had conjured last night still resided in the center of your living room, though it flickered and dimmed every so often, as if it were about to go out. Testing your TV, it seemed the power had come back on while you were sleeping, the power lines probably having been fixed by some Plasma Wisps early in the morning. You sighed and went to tidy up the soiled towels, bringing them upstairs to your laundry room as Magolor straightened his ruffled fur.
When you came back down, you made a beeline for your kitchen, ready to eat. However, Magolor called for you and gestured to the door. It seemed he had tucked his tail away when you left (what a shame).
“I need to eat, idiot, what’s the deal?” You asked as he guided you back to your living room.
“We can grab a bite from the Waddle Dee Café on the way to my Shoppe. We oughta go.”
“We’ve got time, we don’t need to rush.” You retorted, but he shook his head. “Can you get the message, please? I- We have things to discuss.” Raising an eyebrow, you finally comply, following him to the door.
You make sure to lock the door when you leave- you’re not letting thieves steal your stuff (those stupid rats never quit). The two of you walked together down the street, enjoying the warm, if not humid, morning. Glancing down at Magolor, he was wringing his paws together, mumbling under his breath. You noticed he only did this when he was anxious, which was almost never- that worried you a little bit.
“You good, Maggie?” You asked quietly, not wanting him to feel like you were publicly embarrassing him.
“Yeah. Just thinking.” He responded. You let him think, staying silent all the way to the Café. You had an inkling of an idea what he could be musing about, but sometimes you never really knew with him.
Once you two arrived, you ordered some drinks and pastries to munch on, and oddly enough, Magolor paid. He never did that, so you took that as a good sign. Magolor chose a seat in the corner of the Café, signaling that what he wanted to talk about was to be kept on the down low. He nibbled on his croissant for a moment, a paw holding his collar down, then blurted, “Thank you. For last night. I… appreciated it.”
You paused stuffing a pastry in your mouth to smile back at him. “Yeah. No problem.” You replied, though your words were muffled by the sheer amount of pastry you were trying to scoff down.
“Didn’t your parents teach you to not speak when your mouth is full?” You shrugged, swallowing your food (with slight difficulty).
“I know it’s hard for you to, y’know, say stuff like that. I appreciate that, too.” He shrugged back, sipping his coffee.
As you drank your beverage, you casually asked, “Out of curiosity… What do you do during thunderstorms normally?”
Magolor nearly choked on his coffee, and he quickly set it down, swallowing hard. “Mmm, you know that saying… Curiosity killed the cat? Well in this case, it’ll be you that dies, what with your childish nosiness.”
You snorted and decided to change the subject, as it seemed like he most likely wouldn’t give you the answer. “…Do you think I can get a raise for petting you?”
“Shut up, there’s no way I’m gonna do that!” He laughed, polishing off his drink and wiping his mouth. “Anyway, you done? We should get going now, it’s almost 10. You’re lucky I like you, its way past opening time.” You hurriedly swallowed your drink and nodded.
You thanked the Waddle Dee at the counter, who waved excitedly back, and the two of you headed off to Magolor’s Shoppe, the titular cat dragging you at a breakneck pace with him in order to make it to his store in a timely manner.