KATZE STIEFEL
Collab with @Elle Joyner
Even thieves have their usefulness, Katze.
The words sounded so demeaning, as though Katze should have been singing Alfeus' high praises for being so kind and generous, but Kazte wasn't an idiot. He knew better. He knew that Alfeus was just like everyone else and he was a sucker-- he wanted a pretty girl and Katze had just gotten in the way of that.
If he walked out the door, no one would be missing him or his 'usefulness.'
Shaking the thoughts off, he grabbed a bucket from the floor and, wordlessly, did exactly as he had promised himself internally and stepped outside. The door fell shut behind him and, pleasantly surprised at the calmness around him, followed his ears towards the river.
The sounds in the forest were plenty... From the birdsong, to the rustling of wind through the trees... Bugs and frogs and all manner of wild creature, stirring the wood ...
The stream ran, cool and clear, brakken along the shore clattering togethet, the waters rolling and splashing over rocks.
As Katze neared the shoreline, the silence that met him was definitive... Like an envelope had folded around him, into utter oblivion.
And then footsteps.
"You're a long way from home, Katze." The older woman spoke, stepping out of the treeline, "Lost in the swamp?"
There wasn't really anything in the world Katze trusted properly. People who knew his name, people who didn't-- they were all the same. They were all people and they were all terrible, himself included. Strangers he grew weary of, but people who knew his name he was immediately suspicious.
"Really?" he snapped back, not even believing the voice was outside his own head, "A long way from home? You think? I don't belong in a swamp; I don't belong anywhere."
He dunked the edge of the bucket below the water's surface, growling inwardly until the most unusual noise caused him to glance up yet again. He had assumed the voice he had heard had been the result of a tired man listening too deeply to the leaves gossiping in the wind, but the sound of footsteps was unmistakable.
He stood, his pale full of water, "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, and took a slow step forward, watching Katze with a curious, lingering gaze, a haunting grey in deep set orbs, "Who I am is inconsequential. I could be anyone... Who do you wish I was, I wonder."
The smile thinning, she paused, "Most call me the Witch of the Woods. I'm told I'm quite the legend among your people. Of course, you'll tell me they aren't your people, won't you. Poor little Katze... Lost in the forest. All alone. His daddy didn't want him. Will anyone?"
A cold laugh echoed, "I need something from you. You'll do it, because I can offer you whatever you want in return... and we both know your insatiable appetite for getting the things you want. That, and because I could kill you very easily. And I don't think you're ready to die."
"My request is simple enough. You're off on a heroic journey. I need you to bring me with you. I've some unfinished business with a dear friend and I mean to finish it. So tell me, Pretty Kitty. What is it you want in return? Gold? A companion? Your family? Do be quick about it.... We haven't got all day."
Oh, if Katze could actually hiss, he would. His tail would have fluffed up, his hackles would have raised, his back would have arched and he would have hissed. Alas, he wasn't a cat, so all he could do was stand on the opposite bank of the terrible woman-like creature and tighten his grip on the bucket rope until his knuckles grew white and his palm ached with the force of his nails digging into the flesh.
"Witch of the Woods. Yea, I've heard of ya. Never good things, either."
He swallowed hard then, listening to her rewards. What did he want? Did he even know? His entire life had revolved around stealing gold, jewels, and other precious things... but never because he had cared for them. In his mind, he had always wondered if he could steal from others, would they feel like he did? He exhaled shakily, taking a hesitant step back.
"You said you're the Witch of the Woods, yea? Well, prove it. Then we'll talk."
Another silvery laugh escaped the older woman and shaking her head, she wiggled her fingers at him, "That's a dangerous thing to ask, my dear. How shall I prove it? Hm? Turning you into a snake? Perhaps a toad...? I'm known for my toads. Oh... I once turned an entire family into swans. What say you? A swan named Katze? Now that would be something."
Shaking her head, she smiled, lowering her hand, "You ought to be very careful, the way you ask things of a witch." Her hand lifted again, raised to her face and with quietly muttered words, her features began to shift, to roil, almost as though they were boiling... then subtle at first, with more emphasis towards the close, her face changed, her hair, her shape... Younger and younger it grew, until she appeared but a few years below Katze himself, and quite fair, indeed...
As she spoke, her voice, too, took on a more youthful tone, "...Will that do?"
Katze had seen his fair share of crazy. He had seen batshit crazy, he had seen deranged crazy, he had even seen weird with crazy on top... but watching the elderly woman shape-shift into a beautiful, youthful young lady caused his hard to slam in his chest... and not because he fancied the young girl. He didn't, mind you.
"Uhh... ahaha--" a stiff laughter escaped him, glancing away. "Yea, yea that'll do."
He had really wanted to snort at the old hag and walk off unperturbed, but walking away suddenly didn't seem like much of an option. "If you're a witch, why do you need to come with? Can't you just flap your ponytail n' go anywhere you want?"
"Oh. It's not that easy, I'm afraid." Smiling coyly, she stepped forward and carefully, tiptoed across the rocks, passing over the stream until she shared a side with the thief, "I was banished to these woods. That friend I spoke of... well. Let's just say we didn't part of very good terms. Something about... ruining her family, betraying her... blah blah blah. You know how women can get. Anyway, she cursed me to walk these woods until the day I die. Or... witches love their caveats."
Holding up a finger, she smiled, "Or, until someone sees fit to free me of my binds. So far, I've not found anyone willing. Pitiful cowards... Blind with the idea of being some noble hero. Slaying the evil Witch of the Woods. I killed most of them out of boredom. A few you'll find floating about... Then again, I don't really know what the life expectancy of a fly is. But you... Oh..." Stepping closer, she reached out, and her fingertips trailed up his arm, her lip curved, "You've a different soul, Katze. You and I... we're practically kindred. You'll free me, and you'll take me with you, because you don't care what happens to anyone else... so long as you get what you need." Her eyes met his, the smile shifting to something perceptibly darker, "Tell me I'm wrong."
"Uhhhh... yea, there is probably a good reason no one has taken that deal," he replied simply, still holding his water pail but bringing it up closer to himself as she approached and subconsciously beginning to back away a bit. He wished he could have backed away fast enough to avoid her touch, but he hadn't, and her fingers made the blood in his veins run cold. In his ears, a ringing sounded and his temples pounded with discomfort of his own aching heart.
"That's-- that's not true," his voice fell into a whisper, forcing his eyes away from her terrible, but tragically beautiful, face. "That's not true. It's just... no one... no one has ever wanted me to care about them. I'm just an object-- a thief that sometimes has their usefulness. That's fine. They can go about their lives and go about mine."
"I could care about you..." She mused, her voice softening, "I've been alone, too, Katze. For a long time. I know what it's like. You think I want to be this way. I've had to become this person, this thing. Just to survive."
Frowning, she dropped her hand to her side, her eyes hollow, her voice flattening, "We're marked. Witches... All across the lands. Like carriers of some plague. Just because we were born with a gift that someone else isn't. I wanted to help people, but that opportunity was taken from me. And so this is what I became."
Looking up at him, a brow arched, "..You're more than a thief. But they'll never see that. They can't see your potential past their own prejudice. I meant it, what I said about us being alike. I can help you... If you let me. I want to. But I can't do anything, chained to these woods."
"Pppffttt," he actually snorted at the witch, shaking his head at her, "I'll take you, under one condition of my own-- if we're a lot alike, I guess that means I'll come up with conditions too, yea? You come with, but you hurt no one without my permission. I don't trust you yet."
He eyed her suspiciously, licking the corner of his lips. "No one."
He didn't exactly trust her word, either. He didn't trust that she was stuck to the woods, didn't trust that even if she agreed to his terms that she'd follow him, but what else could he do? He didn't really want to be a fly... or dead... or worse.
"But I wasn't even planning on going with the two lovebirds back there. They don't want me, anyhow."
Grinning, she nodded, "Oh, you'll go with them. You must. Everything is part of a plan, and you'll get further with a Mulgrave soldier than you ever will on your own. And you wouldn't want to abandon your sister, would you? Come now, I'm not stupid. But rest assured, my dear, no harm will come to them by my hand."
Stepping closer again, she trailed her fingertip along his collar, "So do we have a deal?"
"My sister?" he shook his head at her, "I ain't got no sister. What kinda witch are ya, anyways? I think you need to polish your crystal ball 'cause it must be a little smudgy."
A shiver trailed up his skin when she touched his collarbone. He swallowed, the apple in his throat bobbing with the effort. His chin reared back, leaning away from her and half expecting his throat to be slit in the next moment.
"I didn't mean just them. I meant everyone. You agree, we gotta deal."
"Hm..." smiling, she shook her head, "I think you know you do. I don't see the future, Katze. Only what's right in front of me. But if you wish to go on pretending, that's no concern of mine."
Stepping back, she held out her hand to him, "My hand shall not touch... one hair on the head of anyone. You've my word. Deal?"
"Why do I feel like I'm being screwed in this deal?" he asked with a sigh, "I'm sure you'll find someway to twist my words 'round and slaughter someone without touchin' a hair on their head, right? Or you'll kill 'em with magic and never actually touch 'em with your hand? Right?"
He shook his head in disapproval of her, not even bothering to revisit the sister comment. He didn't have the capacity to consider that int hat moment.
He reached out and shook her hand. "Don't screw me, Witch. It's bad luck to cross a cat."
"Don't be so paranoid, Precious. I've no need to harm anyone, so long as things go accordingly."
As he took hold of her hand, however, her expression darkened and gripping him, she pulled herself close enough that the only space between their two faces was their noses. The palm of her other hand pressed to his chest, over his heart, and from her palm, a heat radiated, nearly searing, "Deal done, and by doing, you are bound to me, Katze. You see, I can't leave the woods. But you can, and now we are tied... linked. Our fates... our lives." Pulling away, she smirked, coldly, "Witches love caveats."
Releasing, him, she hooked a finger, beckoning, "Come along, then... We'll need to discuss our plan."
"Ah great."
He knew exactly what was coming in his own way. He knew the other foot was going to drop; he knew it was going to be bad for him. Funny enough, it was. He had never been able to resist getting himself in bad situations and this seemed to be no different.
"If our lives are linked does that mean I can pinch myself and you'll feel it 'cause that'd be real useful. You seem like class A nuts."
"Don't be fresh, Darling... You won't like the consequences." Looking back at him, she smirked, "You'll tell them you found me, wandering in the woods. I'm sure I don't have to tell you it's crucial that they should believe you, so I do hope you're a decent actor. The soldier is a bleeding heart. He'd never let a poor, innocent creature suffer, but it only works if you sell it..."
Looking back at him, a brow quirked, "If you so much as hint as to who I am, you will live to regret it."
"Go ahead? Try it, witch. Ain't nothing you can do to me. Our lives and fates are linked, right? You ain't the only one with leverage, then." He pointed out casually, shaking his arm free of hers and walking forward, carrying his pail.
"Gimme one reason I should go back to em? I'm sure the guard is busy tellin her how great and kind he is and she's swoonin' over it."
"Sweetie... Don't be jealous. It's a bit odd, considering." With a laugh, she shook her head, "And you'll go back to them because you know if you don't, they'll never leave these woods alive.I won't harm them. I don't have to. But I don't have to let them leave, either. There are enough nightmares in this swamp that I won't have to do a damn thing."
"Yea, yea, my sister or whatever. I ain't jealous of that. You're pretty dumb if you think it's the romance I care about."
Without further argument, he trudged forward looking painfully unhappy, like a cat that had just been dumped in a bucket of ice cold water.
Shaking her head, the witch chuckled, a mirthless sound, cold, almost bitter, "Color me curious. What is it you care about, then? I'd have guessed you weren't even capable of caring, to be perfectly honest."
"What a vote of confidence," he muttered, the shake coming into sight through the spindles of trees. "Just cause I don't do it, doesn't mean I can't." It didn't mean he didn't want to, either.
"What's your name, anyhow, witch? Can't just call you witch. Could call you crazy, though."
"My real name is of little consequence. You'll tell them I'm called Denna. Remember, Katze..." Pausing, she turned fully to him, her smile light and airy, her eyes dark, blazing with coldness, "Their fate rests in your hands. Sell it well."
Waving a hand across her form again, incomprehensible words muttered, her appearance remained as it had been, but for the addition of smudges of mud and grime, a thin, narrow bruise across her cheek and a long, deep scratch on her arm, her dress torn and frayed at the hem, "Whenever you're ready."