revivalproject | Warm Fuzzies

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Warm Fuzzies

WHO: Omega and you?
WHERE: Temba and Sh'Ka
WHAT: Making sure the locals are warm
WHEN: Through the month
WARNINGS: N/A

This time around Omega was much better prepared for what to expect once the season shifted. She had more than enough free time and had started spending some of it in going through the available department stores for materials, clothes she could use. The nice Hunter had given her a knife so she could cut things up properly, and she'd managed to do so without slicing off any fingers and only giving Echo a mild heart attack.

Her sewing skills were rudimentary at best, but she remembered what she'd been taught during the rain fair that had seemed so long ago now. All she really needed to do was make sure one piece of material attached and stayed attached to another.

Depending on when one came across her, she could be found leaving little makeshift scarves and bundles of blankets by spots she'd seen Funfronds and Barrys frequent, in Temba or Sh'Ka proper. There's also the library where she might get sidetracked in her warmth dispersing and end up buried in mothcats. Or she could be found either carrying a very large bundle of cloth in her arms or in the process of winding what turned out to be a very lengthy, patched together scarf out around a snow-dusted outcropping of rocks that had settled near the spiraling depression of the Temba memorial site. Weird girl.

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It wasn't such a bad experience from inside the bag, well warmed between Salem's fur and the fabric. He could get used to travelling this way. "Omega from el camino," he summarized, clearly enthusiastic about his Spanish accent. "The last girl on the side of the highway. That's kind of poetic. Never heard of it." His travel ability had been stunted for a few years, though. There were lots of places and planets that he had been cruelly denied visiting in favour of pooping in a box. "People from Earth don't get out much. They've only been to their own moon half a dozen times in thirty years. Can you imagine? It's not like anything on Earth is even that interesting."

Omega cast a faint smile towards the bag bearing her passenger, not that she had any idea about what he might be talking about. "It's not really a place that gets a lot of outside visitors. For the most part it's been home to the Republic's army. Kamino's where they were created after all."

She brought the flap of the bag up and over just to make sure it'd keep out most of the cold. "I've only left there recently. I've otherwise been on Kamino my whole life, but I didn't really have much of a choice until now. Since then I've seen a lot of other places. I don't ever want to go back."

"You know how to create an army?" Salem said. That was the part he heard, anyway. "Vive la republique!" Maybe this was his chance, his own army. That was almost as good as milk and cookies.

"Not me. But the Kaminoans are experts in cloning. They made my brothers and I," Omega said quietly as she rubbed her hands together to warm them. She glanced down at her talking bag in faint amusement. "What would you do with an army?"

These Caminos must have been very good at their craft because Salem observed, "You're really smart for a clone. Usually they can't say more than three things." He could see how that would make for a more effective army.

"Most governments won't take a demand very seriously without the support of an army. They get to have all of the fun," he explained. "With an army, we could probably make this place a whole lot warmer."

The girl tilted her head at that. "You have experience with clones? That sounds like a strange limitation."

She stepped up to the doors of the diner, grabbing a hold of the door to haul it open. "I don't know what government you'd be appealing to here even with an army," she noted as she stepped inside, letting the door close behind them. "Ah, that's so much better."

"Only when I really needed a break," Salem insisted. "My clone was very polite. I usually let him say 'You're welcome' and 'If you insist'. The third thing depended on if it was lunch with my mother or laundry day."

He was quick to be out of the bag once back in the familiar warmth of the diner, dropping down and trotting away under the furniture to sniff curiously for anything that might have changed since the last time he managed to get inside. The book and weird computer were still where he had left them under the table in the corner. It was a good thing nobody liked to do the sweeping around here. "The guys in charge, you know, the goons that brought us here. Tip the scales of power in our favour and we could be feasting on tuna every night."

"So... a stand-in for you, basically," Omega concluded. "The troops made by the Kaminoans are different. The regs may all look the same, but they have different personalities and preferences, just like anyone else. Most of them didn't much like my brothers and I."

She walked over to set her bag on a chair before looking around to see where Salem had gone off to. She followed the sound of his voice, peering under the table.

"I don't know, I've never actually seen them in person. Threatening them doesn't seem like a good idea when they're the ones that brought us here in the first place."

There was a book about half the size of Omega there, and a communicator on top of it that Salem was doing a satisfied spin in front of before his ears were twisting toward Omega and he brightly answered, "You don't smell that bad to me." What else she could do to turn a whole clone army against her must have been pretty spectacular. He jumped up onto the nearest chair to make it to the table, where he was closer to eye level to continue, "If you're having trouble getting people to like you, that book might have something to help."

Books weren't exactly a common thing back home and the library here was quite lacking, so the girl had to be forgiven for not being quite sure what she was looking at right then. "Smell? What does that have to do with anything?" The cat certainly said some curious things!

She got back up to look at him now that he was on the table, brow lifting. "I don't think I have any trouble... I've made a lot of friends here," she said, even as she looked back down towards where the book was. She didn't feel she had to mention that quite a few of said friends weren't in the city anymore as she stooped back down to try dragging the enormous tome out.

"This is a book then? Are they always so huge?"

"Anyone with that many animal friends does not have as many human friends," Salem said, looking skeptical that anyone else would use 'a lot' to describe Omega's social circle. "Don't worry, I've known plenty of weirdos in my life, and most of them didn't even have a family curse to blame." Unfortunately, the book wasn't so good at lifting family curses, so Omega and her brothers might still have a tough time back home, but Salem was still proud to introduce, "This one's a family heirloom. Most of the modern ones are a lot smaller, more convenient." Her phrasing was just weird enough that after a beat, he realized, "Parents, birthdays and books? Did they keep you in the attic? Is your curse contagious?"

The book seemed hefty enough that Omega decided to sit on the floor with it rather than haul it up on the table. She tilted her head at the cover before flipping it open.

"I guess you're in good company then. My brothers and I aren't really considered normal out of the clones, after all." She doesn't sound upset about it, stating what she's accepted as fact. It's what's bound her strange little family closer together and there's nothing wrong with that.

"I don't have a curse. I was created by the Kaminoans and lived in their city all my life until recently. Information is all computerized. I've never seen anything like this," she said, marveling at the feel of the pages as she carefully turned them. It was fascinating to her.

"So this came with you? It must be difficult to move. What's an heirloom?"

Finally being the tall one suited Salem just fine, and he settled himself with his paws crossed over the edge of the table where he could peer down at Omega, and the occasional picture that would wave at them from the book. The pages she flipped through were worn and delicate, and not without their stains and tears, some distinctly from tiny claws.

"You only use computers? Is that where that little one came from?" he marvelled right back, trying to see where the thing had landed when Omega had hauled out the book. It was a very impressive little machine, much faster and smaller than any computer he had used. He still couldn't carry it, but it was a step in the right direction. "It seems like the book followed me, yes. I was only taking a nap on it, it wasn't my fault! I would send it back if I could. That doesn't mean we can't use it in the meantime." Someone around here was bound to have a finger that still worked, or could be unbound by something in the book, and then they'd all be tucked in their own beds in no time. "An heirloom is the junk that you give to your kids or great grandkids when you're tired of tripping over it in your own house. Everyone pretends to really appreciate it, and they take up a lot of room in the closet."

It was different seeing pictures that moved on something so flimsy as a paper page, but being unfamiliar with how books worked in general, it didn't occur to Omega that this was probably not a normal circumstance as she waved back at the pictures.

"Pretty much. Little one? You mean the tablets? The Agrii gives us those when we arrive, I think." She skimmed the contents of the page she'd stopped on before looking at Salem as he explained heirlooms.

"Well I can see how this would take up a lot of space..." She looked back at the page again, flipping it, mostly to see what other pictures would interact with her. "The cover said something about magic? What kind of magic?"

If the little computers were made by their hosts, their chances of getting out of here were looking bleak to Salem. They must have been very smart. He searched for the communicator again anxiously, not sure if he was as enchanted by it anymore. He was more than happy to ignore the problem in favour of explaining, "Witchcraft! The rules, the incantations, the potions; you want it, the book's got it. Give it a try. What's on your mind?" A clone might have had a little bit of magic of her own in her finger to make it work.

'Witchcraft' was a new one to her. "Me?" Omega blinked. "Oh, I've only heard of magic from people here. I was told there's all sorts. I'm not really sure what I'd want to try..."

She flipped a few more pages, not that she was sure what she was looking for. "What about you? Is there anything you want?"

"Doesn't matter what I want, cats can't do magic. It's part of the..." Salem started, then reconsidered admitting his criminal charges to the little girl and had to quickly come up with, "feline code." Despite the many things he did want. He knew the book front to back, though, and it wasn't going to be doing him any good. Omega skimmed through pages elaborately printed and titled things like 'Conjuring', 'Appetizers' and 'On Love:', without much obvious structure despite the hefty index, and Salem watched them pass by curiously, wondering if any of it could catch Omega's attention.

"Then why have a magic book?" she asked, genuinely confused. The random assortment of topics didn't really help either.

"Appetizers... isn't that more to do with food?" It was a little funny. "I don't suppose it has anything on making cake, does it?" She was half joking, but if there was a possibility then she'd hardly complain about it either.

"It belongs to a friend," Salem explained, "I told you, I'm a housecat. Cats also can't own property. We're mostly relegated to staring and napping, so I don't actually miss it that much." Ideally, he could only be expected to stare and nap and have his own bank account.

"You might be more interested in a cookbook if its just a normal cake you're after," he considered, and couldn't deny this was a good impulse that should be pursued. "Maybe try asking Vincent Price. He should be in the section on 'mood'. Once you get him started on souffles, he won't stop."

"That sounds a little like the mothcats. Though they do like to play. Have you ever gone on patrols?" Omega asked idly.

She made a small face at that. "I've never really cooked," she admitted. "Unless you count adding hot water to the peanut butter paste and mixing in chicken-flavored paste to make soup."

Vincent Price? Where did anyone even find specific sections in this thing? Undaunted, Omega began to flip pages. "Who's Vincent Price?"

Salem's ears twisted, anxious that this might lead to another attempt to introduce him to the mothcats when they were clearly just going to eat him no matter how many hobbies they had in common, only to flick forward again in confusion as he echoed, "Patrols?"

Hot water, peanut butter and chicken paste mixed together had him considering very intently, focus clearly drifting and needing to be yanked back when he realized Omega had asked him a question. "Sounds delicious, you might be a natural. Have you considered adding anchovies to it?" Most of the pictures in the book seemed willing to talk, so it might have been a little difficult to pick out the thin, mustachioed man without Salem announcing, "That one!" as Omega flipped by and the picture gave a wiggle of his fingers in greeting. "Very famous witch, even the mortals love him, didn't even realize he was doing magic right in front of them. Hey, Vinny, you got a cake recipe?" The picture opened his mouth, but no sound came out, making him frown and glance around at his frame like maybe he could find the source of the problem. He tried again, this time with another wave, and a shrug. "...Vinny?"

"I guess that's a 'no'," Omega noted. "I go on them sometimes with my brother, and sometimes with my squad. Just around the city, you know, to keep an eye out for any trouble."

She gave him an inquisitive look, obviously not familiar with anchovies either. Her attention was quickly drawn back to the book and the moving pictures, and she offered a wave back at the man Salem called Vinny. "Is something wrong?" she asked Salem as she saw the little picture man's confusion, and she tilted the book a little as she wondered that there was a volume control somewhere.

With Vincent Price still doing a mime routine with a lot of disinterested shrugging that explained pretty clearly what he must have been saying before his portrait went still as a picture, Salem was pretty sure he did not actually want to know the answer to, "What kind of trouble?" He asked trepidatiously, feeling like the situation itself was bad enough, and the snow, without there being something out there to patrol about. And the book wasn't even working properly! At least it still looked legible. Salem finally dropped down off of the table, onto the open book to try pawing at it himself, slapping at the portrait like that might shake the obstruction loose without much hope that it was doing much of anything. "I don't know why we can't hear him. I've never seen that before."

"Well you never know what's out there. And it's something to do," she explained. Never mind that the only real trouble she'd had was herding her squad.

Omega looked a little alarmed once the picture went still. "Is he all right?" She let out a little gasp as Salem dropped down on the book. "Is it broken..?" She wasn't sure how a book could break though. "Maybe we should try someone else," she suggested.

"Maybe..." Salem agreed, and started to dig at the pages to turn them over, bunching them under his paws until he found another portrait of a woman who looked slightly startled to be revealed this way, and even moreso when Salem practically shouted, "Hey, can you hear me?!" This, obviously, hadn't been the problem in the first place, and the witch in the book looked offended now by the shouting and had plenty to say about Salem's manners, only for her words to slow as she gave a quizzical glance around as she realized she wasn't making any noise. The cat had not endeared himself to her, though, so she was not at all enthusiastic about solving the problem for him, so she harumphed and went as still as the last portrait.

"Your phones here are like this, too," Salem had to acknowledge then, though he had never had connection problems with a magic book like this. "None of the numbers I know will connect, I can't even order a pizza. I thought maybe they were too small to work properly. No long distance plan."

Warm Fuzzies

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