Loki wandered the streets; he had been four days now. His tail was wet and his hair was matted to his head, dark against the few pale streaks of his skin under the mud. Trust it to be raining. No one looked at a stray cat-person. It wasn't done a cat without a home was a disgrace. And unlike the few others without homes he didn't know what to do, couldn't survive on his own. But at least the rain had stopped the day before, mud, however, seemed to be permanent. Permanent and oh-so-wet. Loki curled up on a park bench, desperately trying to get away from the wetness.

Four days…it had been four days. Loki whimpered, curling even tighter in on himself, his hands curling around his cold ears, his tail wrapping around his body. Cold…so cold…He had spent one night in a cardboard box, only to be shoved out of it half way through by its 'owner'. The others had been spent curled up in doorways or under other shelters. He had barely eaten either. Just tiny morsels he had found and eaten before he could try and recognize what they really were. He wanted…he wanted to go home! But there was no home…not anymore. Whimpering again he tugged the little clothing he had even tighter around his shoulders. Cold…

He woke up, shivering, his teeth chattering together, the sharper ones slicing his lip slightly. It was dark. Well, the cat part certainly came in handy then. He tore his nails through his mud caked hair, trying to work the tangles out and desperately failing.

"Pretty boy can't deal with being dirty, can he?"

Loki shuddered, they had taunted him once before. They were the cat-gnomes…darker and smaller than the cat-people, but sturdier, heavier, and far more capable of dealing on their own. Some were perfectly nice, wonderful even, but they tended to live with the dwarves. It was the outcasts that lived here, more capable of survival alone in the human cities than the cat-people.

"Leave me alone!"

"We're bored," the first one, who appeared to be in charge snickered.

"He's not going to be that fun," one pointed out.

"So?"

"So let's just leave him alone…"

"Ummm, no."

Loki blinked and began backing away. But they merely advanced.

I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead…He winced, and shuddered in on himself as the first blow fell. Then the next, and the next, and the next…

Finally they left, and, whimpering slightly, Loki crawled into a corner and fell asleep.


Loki woke cold and aching to the bustle of…a market? He tried to open his eyes against the sunlight, but one of the ached, was swollen shut. Through the other he barely made out the movement and bright colors as humans, elves, dwarves, and all other manner of creatures moved through the marketplace. He wasn't sure whether to be scared or thankful that no one seemed to be noticing him. So he just lay there, unsure of what to do, till:

"Hello there, you do look a mess, don't you?" The woman's thick accent was warm, and Loki cracked his undamaged eye to look up at her. All he could see was tan skin, brown hair, and a blue dress.

"Lor' you can't even get up, can you, sweetheart?" She sighed. "I know just the place for you." She lifted him up, her arms far stronger than he had expected. He wanted to struggle, he tried to struggle, but…there was no way. He let himself relax, trying to remind himself that it was genetic in humans to take care of cat-people. The woman was warm and comforting. Her dress was soft against her blue cheek as she bustled through the market. He didn't even look up to see the house they stopped at when the woman shifted him slightly in her arms to knock on the door.

"Coming!"

Loki heard the door open, and still didn't bother to look up, he was hurting more and more as the minutes passed. I think I must be dying…

"Oh gods, Maria, just bring the poor dear in!"

"I found him like this on the streets, Leia. I thought that this was the best place to bring him, is Monsieur Cadwell home?"

"Yes, the master is home. Just bring him into the guest room and I'll be right there."

He was inside the house, walked up stairs, laid down on a soft bed, and he immediately curled in on himself in pain as something hit the bruises and cuts and gods only know what else on his back. A warm hand settled on the nape of his neck as the woman petted him gently.

"Just relax, sweetheart, it should all be alright," she murmured gently as footsteps entered the room.

"See, Monsieur, it's just as I said."

"Yes, Leia. Obviously." The voice was male, and commanding. The woman touching him moved away and the man came closer, he could tell, the footsteps were heavier. "Come now, little one, look up." Loki couldn't, he wouldn't let himself. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut the pain would go away, if he could ignore the soothing voice asking him to look up. It would work, even now that the pain was physical, really it would, even when it hadn't…

"Look up," the voice had stopped being gentle and cajoling. It was still warm, but there was an order in it that Loki just couldn't disobey. He forced his brain to let his eyes open, let his head move up, to look at the man addressing him. He was tall and broad, but in no way heavy, simply taught and muscular. Deep golden blond hair was cut short but thick around his face. Steady dark blue eyes caught Loki's light blue ones in a concerned stare. He nodded. "There you go. What's your name then? Leia, deal with his wounds."

"Yes, Monsieur."

The man turned his attention back to Loki. "Your name?"

Loki gasped as the woman pressed on his ribs. "Loki."

"Ah. Well, you're quite a mess, little one. Probably less than you feel, but more than you'll admit to." The man was not cold, he had a dry humor to him even, but he most certainly was commanding. Loki was aching, sharp pains from…something in his calf, but he couldn't ignore that voice. The man merely continued. "You'll stay here now. You don't look like one who would survive much longer out on the streets. Eventually I'll want your story later, but for now I'll let you rest." The man left, leaving the woman to finish cleaning Loki's wounds and breaks.

For the next two weeks Loki lay there, only beginning to move around almost at the end of the second. The woman spent most of the time with him, he soon learned that her name was Leia, she was the sister of Maria, the woman who had found him, and she worked as a housekeeper for M. Louis Cadwell who was the man that had spoken to him so…strongly to him the first day he arrived. As soon as he started to move around again he realized that there were several more cat-people in the house, no two from the same family. He quickly came to know that Monsieur Cadwell had rescued every single one of them off the street, apparently the man was quite the philanthropist.

"Feeling better?" Mme. Leia asked. Loki nodded, he could barely feel his nearly healed wounds.

"Thank you so much."

Leia shrugged. "Don' thank me, thank the Monsieur. He likes to know he's looked out for the likes of you."

Loki nodded and left Mme. Leia's kitchen, running almost immediately into Erik.

Erik was another of the cat-people that Monsieur Cadwell had picked up off the street. He was close in age to Loki, perhaps a little more conventional in thought, but he watched Loki explore the new house, having been introduced to him on his first day out of bed. Loki liked Erik, he was fun, but tended to be the rational thinker when it looked like things might get out of hand, which-given the multitude of cat-people in the house-it often almost did. Erik himself had deep brown hair and smart yellow eyes. His honey colored tail flickered out behind him as he moved, conveying his suspicion of everything. Nevertheless he laughed when Loki practically bowled him over. He righted the blue haired cat-boy, holding him steady.

"Hello there," Erik laughed. "Not quite finished healing yet there, might wanna take it easy."

"Thanks." Loki found himself leaning on the other cat-boy, grateful for the simple contact. At the Kelling's house he had been petted, pampered, and here, even off the streets, while nice, was not as close. Erik was warm and comforting, he had not been brought up in as high ranking a family as Loki had, but he was…nice, down to earth, and not to mention warm.

Monsieur Cadwell passed the two in the hallway.

"Boys, I have a guest coming, if you could tell him to come upstairs when he gets here, perhaps? I'll be in my room."

Erik nodded. "Yes sir."


The two cat-boys were curled in front of the fire when there was a knock at the door. The caller was a young man, maybe in his very early twenties with blond hair and dark, open eyes. He nodded, smiling to Erik.

"Hello."

"Hello," Erik gestured to Loki. "Loki this is Michael, Michael, this is Loki. He's new."

The young man nodded to Loki now. "I'm glad."

"The Monsieur said you were to go upstairs," Erik informed Michael. The young man nodded, some slight color painting his cheeks.

"Thank you."

As the boy left Loki turned to Erik.

"Is he Monsieur Cadwell's son?"

Erik bit his lip. "Ummm, no. He's well, you see…I don't really know how to explain what he is." He sighed, "ok, I'll show you. The rest of us have seen after all."

Loki followed Erik up the stairs to the door of M. Cadwell's room and cracked it open silently, motioning for look.

Loki crept up to the door, peeking in. At first he didn't see anyone, be sweeping his gaze around the room he saw two people at M. Cadwell's desk. The first was the Monsieur, seated at the desk. He was turned slightly away from the desk and it's papers and bent over Michael. The young man was kneeling besides him, his mouth open and melding with the Monsieur's. His hands fell to his sides as Monsieur Cadwell held his head in place. Then the older man stood.

"Strip," he commanded.

Slowly, never rising, Michael pulled off his shirt, then his pants movements smooth and perfected. Loki felt the bright blush covering his face as the boy reached for his underclothes, and he quickly turned away from the door. And Erik pulled him back down the stairs to sit in front of the fire. They were quiet.

Loki was busy being confused.


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