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moonsheenI want to be able to use the phrase 'most fuzzily' in everything. Except porn. Because I do not go for that kind of porn.
The Hollow crumpled in a spasm of twisting vines and a final, despairing: “FeEeed meeEe--”
“—Seymour,” Ichigo finished for it, sticking his sword into the dirt of the empty lot. He rested his elbow over the guard. “Ok, Rukia. Now you tell me you didn’t stick my body, like—”
Something warm and moist touched the back of his wrist.
“—under Ochi’s desk or--”
Something licked him.
“—OK WHAT THE HELL.” …and Ichigo turned with something that wasn’t quite a jump—except that it was, about a foot up with an extra few inches due to Shinigami specialness. He whirled with one fist curled, ready for the challenge—but not ready for the large grey creature wagging it’s tail behind him. It was exceedingly fluffy, and it was blinking up at him with small dark eyes that were nearly lost in all the fur.
“Oh,” commented Rukia, from across the ways, “It’s a dog.”
“A dog,” said Ichigo faintly, watching the actual shinigami of the operation lope over, bend down, and fondly take the animal's head between her hands.
“Oh, who is a big reeking oversized beast,” she glowed.
“A dog,” said Ichigo.
“Does anyone have to take care of you? Hmph! I pity them! You drooling oaf. You large, drooling, oaf…”
She started scratching its chin.
“A dog,” said Ichigo, and then shook his head. He could swear he heard the sound of the broken brain bits rattling around in there. “It can…?”
He waved his most definitely incorporeal hand vaguely. The dog followed the movement with the perk of an ear.
“Rrrroooo,” it said, most fuzzily.
Rukia’s hands paused in smoothing out the fur along the side of the animal face. The schoolgirl smile faded from her face, and she looked at Ichigo with that expression of cool, distant amusement that meant she was about to explain something that was the most obvious thing in the world to her. Rukia was always the professional like that.
“Fool,” she said, standing up again. She brushed the fur from her fingertips. “Of course he can see you.”
The dog nosed her leg. Touching the tip of its snout, she continued: “Tch. You humans have stories about it don’t you? All those talking dogs in your televisions. And those talking cats in your picture novels!”
“Manga, Rukia.”
“Animals such as dogs and cats and birds have an especially high spiritual awareness. They are able to sense things most humans cannot,” running her hand up between its eyes, she looked up at Ichigo. Her lips turned up slightly. “A little like you, really. Except Hollows aren’t interested in them. Their hearts are large, but their souls are not human. Even if there is a very specific attachment they’re rarely…”
Ichigo wiped his slimy wrist on the arm of his uniform. “Oh. Huh. Yeah, ok. That’s nice." He scowled. ‘You humans,’ she’d said. She liked to talk like that. “And I bet you have one just like it at home.”
“You wretched furbrain. You ugly, four legged…freak. Ah.” Rukia paused in giving the dog one slender forearm. Its jaws were wrapped around her skin. Not a bite—but a playful mouthing. She looked unafraid.
“In a fashion,” she said, quietly. “I suppose I do.”
The Hollow crumpled in a spasm of twisting vines and a final, despairing: “FeEeed meeEe--”
“—Seymour,” Ichigo finished for it, sticking his sword into the dirt of the empty lot. He rested his elbow over the guard. “Ok, Rukia. Now you tell me you didn’t stick my body, like—”
Something warm and moist touched the back of his wrist.
“—under Ochi’s desk or--”
Something licked him.
“—OK WHAT THE HELL.” …and Ichigo turned with something that wasn’t quite a jump—except that it was, about a foot up with an extra few inches due to Shinigami specialness. He whirled with one fist curled, ready for the challenge—but not ready for the large grey creature wagging it’s tail behind him. It was exceedingly fluffy, and it was blinking up at him with small dark eyes that were nearly lost in all the fur.
“Oh,” commented Rukia, from across the ways, “It’s a dog.”
“A dog,” said Ichigo faintly, watching the actual shinigami of the operation lope over, bend down, and fondly take the animal's head between her hands.
“Oh, who is a big reeking oversized beast,” she glowed.
“A dog,” said Ichigo.
“Does anyone have to take care of you? Hmph! I pity them! You drooling oaf. You large, drooling, oaf…”
She started scratching its chin.
“A dog,” said Ichigo, and then shook his head. He could swear he heard the sound of the broken brain bits rattling around in there. “It can…?”
He waved his most definitely incorporeal hand vaguely. The dog followed the movement with the perk of an ear.
“Rrrroooo,” it said, most fuzzily.
Rukia’s hands paused in smoothing out the fur along the side of the animal face. The schoolgirl smile faded from her face, and she looked at Ichigo with that expression of cool, distant amusement that meant she was about to explain something that was the most obvious thing in the world to her. Rukia was always the professional like that.
“Fool,” she said, standing up again. She brushed the fur from her fingertips. “Of course he can see you.”
The dog nosed her leg. Touching the tip of its snout, she continued: “Tch. You humans have stories about it don’t you? All those talking dogs in your televisions. And those talking cats in your picture novels!”
“Manga, Rukia.”
“Animals such as dogs and cats and birds have an especially high spiritual awareness. They are able to sense things most humans cannot,” running her hand up between its eyes, she looked up at Ichigo. Her lips turned up slightly. “A little like you, really. Except Hollows aren’t interested in them. Their hearts are large, but their souls are not human. Even if there is a very specific attachment they’re rarely…”
Ichigo wiped his slimy wrist on the arm of his uniform. “Oh. Huh. Yeah, ok. That’s nice." He scowled. ‘You humans,’ she’d said. She liked to talk like that. “And I bet you have one just like it at home.”
“You wretched furbrain. You ugly, four legged…freak. Ah.” Rukia paused in giving the dog one slender forearm. Its jaws were wrapped around her skin. Not a bite—but a playful mouthing. She looked unafraid.
“In a fashion,” she said, quietly. “I suppose I do.”
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Date: 2005-11-06 11:54 pm (UTC)