capeandcowllogs | Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night [ OPEN ]

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Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night [ OPEN ]

WHO:

just_daine and Costumed Folks
WHERE: All over!
WHEN: All day and night
WARNINGS: Possible violence?
SUMMARY: DAINE STALKS SUPERHEROES IN BIRD FORM
FORMAT: Starting as prose, but switching to action is acceptable

Daine had always known that hunting was the best way to get food when one was in want of a job, as she was. She dared not spend the stipend given her for a position she had yet to fully understand, much less accept. In a city like this one, though, there wasn't much game to be found. Her best bet was to change and take whatever she could get in the way of seeds, scraps, and maybe even some bugs if she got really desperate.

That was how she found out about the 'capes'. The rats who had introduced her to the city hadn't told her about the costumed superheroes running around night and day. To them, all humans wore funny cloth that would serve them better as bedding or maybe as something shiny to add to their home. These costumes were entirely different, and they deserved an explanation.

Unfortunately for Daine, her clothes didn't change with her when she became a bird and took to the skies. She had left them in the little room given her by the people who brought her here. There was simply no choice. If she wanted an explanation, she would have to do as Numair had once suggested: observe.

[ooc | Start a thread with a time and place and I'll give you a type of fowl to be stalked by! If you aren't wearing a silly costume, feel free to improvise or use animal-related superpowers on her! ]

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Damian was brushing off his hands, not even pausing for breath before pulling out a small device and examining it carefully. The screen told him there were at least four other crimes occurring in his near vicinity; the quickest was a robbery two streets away. He was just preparing to head that way when he caught the cat's motion out of the corner of his eye.

He looked down at it, and his lips twitched upwards in a smile for the briefest second. Then he was off, running out onto the main street and towards the robbery.

She was about to mewl at him in the hopes that he might pause and give her a chance to take a closer look at his clothes, but then he was off again. She gave chase, ignoring all of the interesting smells her sharp nose alerted her to. There were interesting sounds as well, despite the late hour. It seemed to Daine's keen ears that they were getting closer to the sounds. She wondered if this what was heroes normally did: look for fights in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping.

It takes about seven minutes to get to the next location, by which time the robbers, who had tripped the alarm ten minutes earlier, were leaving, arms laden with stolen goods. Damian had to pause and mutter to himself for a moment about the presence of "walking cliches" in the city, but after that it was to work again, diving into one of the robber's ankles and forcing him to fall backwards against his companions. It's another quick job, hardly anything of a challenge, but between taking them out and shoving the stolen appliances back into the shop, Damian's breath is quickening by the time he's through.

When he is, he stands back on the curbside for a moment to catch his breath--not having noticed that the cat had given chase.

When the cat reached the scene he was half-way done with the fight. It was lucky for her that cats have such good stamina, but she was hardly a normal cat and she was short of breath herself.

When he sat down on the curb Daine approached from behind, stalking him like prey to try to get a look at his cloak. When she's close enough, she can't resist the urge to bat at it like a toy. It's an odd material, but... surprisingly fun to play with.

He notices the tug, but restrains himself from jumping up at the motion like he might've otherwise. Instead, Damian carefully turns his head to look, and sees the cat pulling at his cape. His first inclination is to be annoyed, but after a moment he looks back at the cat and lets out a huffy sigh.

"It's not a toy." He tells her solemnly.

She pulls her paw back and quickly sits down, feeling scolded. Her feline instinct had gotten away from her and if she could, she would be blushing.

Instead she gets back to her feet and approaches him properly, sniffing at the odd material of the rest of the costume and meowing questioningly.

He looks down at her quizzically. Not unused to cats, he still isn't sure how to respond to them. But after a moment he shrugs noncommittally and extends one gloved hand towards her.

She sniffs the glove in question and gives it a lick. It smells a bit like leather, but there's something different about it.

Numair wanted her to experiment, so experiment she would. She gets up on her hind legs to place both paws on the gloved hand and carefully extends her claws, testing to see if this is a special sort of glove that offers extra protection in a fight.

She'll find that the glove's material is malleable, but hard to puncture. Damian continues to just stare at her; the kitten he adopted a month or so ago isn't nearly this intelligent, as she tends to spend most of her time sleeping. Since the street has quieted down, now, there's not much disturbing them beyond the regular bustle of a city at this hour, so he's content to pause here for the moment.

She tries a little longer before giving up. It certainly wasn't made of leather, then. She couldn't quite place the smell of the stuff, but it seemed to serve its purpose.

From this new angle, though, the utility belt caught her attention. That was certainly worth poking around. She sniffed hesitantly at one of the pockets before sticking her nose into the binding to see if she could find out what was inside. She couldn't imagine what someone would need so many pockets for.

At that point, he shifts back, gently pushing the cat away. Who knew what it would do to her if she bit into a smoke pellet or something?

"...you probably don't want to touch that." Masked ten-year-old boy sitting on a curbside and talking to a cat? Nothing odd with that picture.

She ignores him, moving forward to sniff at another pocket- and jumps back with a yowl pawing at her nose. Something in there smelled an awful lot like gunpowder- likely the very smoke pellets Damian was worried about, their scent only partially masked by the material of the utility belt. Once she got close enough the smell was overwhelming.

And this is when Damian reaches down, grabs her by the scuff of her neck, and puts her down about a foot away from him. He does not want to explain a poisoned cat to Catwoman.

He doesn't seem to have caught on yet, which is lucky for Daine. She made a good choice, since cats are naturally curious. One wouldn't normally be so persistent unless it smelled food on him but-- sure enough, there was the scent of another cat. That was excuse enough for her to approach a second time and investigate his cape with her claws.

While he honestly doubted she had the strength to rip through the cape, he gave her another quizzical stare as she examined it. He frowned, attempting to look disapproving. "You rip that, and you have to pay for it."

She mewed in response, wondering how he was planning on charging a cat for damages to a cape that was obviously intended for serious wear and tear.

She couldn't get through it, but she could certainly get enough of a grip to jump up onto his shoulder and bat gently at the mask. What was that about?

He shrugged at her added weight, but didn't do anything else to dissuade her. It wasn't as if there was much chance of her actually getting that mask off. So instead he rose to his feet and began walking--if this was continuing, he needed some serious coffee.

The movement made her yowl and dig her claws into the fabric, not that it did much good. What now? If he was planning on taking her to a fight Daine would have some serious problems with that. In fact, the whole walking thing wasn't working for her at all.

After a moment's hesitation she jumped down, letting her instincts help her land on her feet and shaking off the impact.

He turns to look back at her and lets out a noise that is a cross between a huff and a chuckle. Then he looks down his nose at her. "What? I'm supposed to let you climb all over me and you get mad about one little move?" Another eye roll. "...cats."

She lowered her head in shame for a moment before remembering she had something to do. She apologized for bothering him with a polite meow before racing off into the nearest alley to change into a bat. All this shifting was exhausting her, and she needed an easy snack. It may not appeal to her sensibilities, but at least to her bat body it would taste good and nourish her.

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Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night [ OPEN ]

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