Chapter Text
Solas barely slept that first night, concerned whether the cat had everything it needed and whether it managed to settle comfortably in the strange place. Concerned about his place surviving the intrusion of an unpredictable if small creature. And then there were the noises. Every time he heard something, or thought he heard something, he would startle and run to the room occupied by his guest to check. The third time he did so, he was greeted by such a glare—clearly, he was the one keeping the cat up—that he exited the room in shame. At least he did notice some more of the food seemed to have disappeared from the plate.
Around 1 a.m., he decided to concede the lost battle and made himself another (herbal) tea and fired up his computer. He started off with some very careful, incognito and proxied-up surveillance of some of his former friends and enemies (mostly the two groups overlapped, which said sorry things about his past choices). The search yielded no new relevant information. Justice did not seem to be swift to come, not any swifter than a month ago, in any event.
He might have looked up his ex next, but six months into the Blight, Felassan had broken through Solas’s encryption (for the second time) and Solas, conversation-starved and lonelier than usual, ended up writing him back instead of trying to hide his trail again. Thus, instead of having to cyberstalk Felassan, he could just use his other phone to text him, even if the hour was not particularly appropriate.
As a compromise, he scheduled his text for 9 a.m., and wrote, A young woman persuaded me to shelter a cat.
That should give Felassan a good laugh, before he inevitably asked for specifics and explanations.
Sleep was no closer at 2 a.m. than it had been an hour before. Solas bravely did not open the door to the cat’s room—to the room in which the cat was currently staying—telling himself that the creature deserved some peace and quiet. Instead, he ended up thinking about the young woman. Ellana.
She was not merely beautiful, but striking. A force of nature. He thought that she was a little older than he’d at first assumed. When he first saw her, in the dim light of a street lamp, amid the falling snow, he’d taken her for a twenty-year-old, but that seemed to be wrong. She might have been twenty-five, an adult with a life that apparently involved three cats, a group of friends making sure she was alright when running into strangers, and occasionally, rescuing strays.
He felt a mild pang of jealousy at that, though he wasn’t sure if it was her life he envied or the cat’s, the object of her care and protectiveness.
If he was going to go down that kind of trail of thought, he really needed to sleep instead. They were supposed to go to a local vet to get the cat checked for a chip at 10 a.m., and that was in seven and a half hours now.
They would get the cat’s owner identified, and he would have his life—no cat, no chaos-bringing elven women, no rescuing—back.
***
Of course, the cat didn’t have a chip.
Ellana had spent a good half an hour before bed checking local websites and neighborhood groups for notices, scouring for any post about a missing cat, but no one seemed to be looking for a six-to-nine months old semi-long-haired dark colorpoint. There was a chance that she’d only just run off, and they would start looking for her the next day, but the first line of inquiry was unsuccessful. She went to sleep hoping for a chip.
But of course, that would have made things easier, and easier was not to be had.
“We have a bit of a mishap here,” Solas said to the doctor, who beamed.
“Oh, that’s such a cute name!”
That solved one problem, but they were still stuck with more questions than answers.
The cat was a girl. Unspayed, naturally: it would have been too much to hope for a neutered stray. Unknown vaccination status meant starting her off on all basic shots, but only once she had fought off the cold and been dewormed. Fortunately, at least there were no visible fleas or ticks, so chances were she had not spent too long outside and could well be good on the internal parasite front.
“You could test her feces, but frankly, it’s cheaper and more reliable to proceed as if she has worms,” said the vet. “Test after a while, if you want.”
“She’ll probably be at her permanent home by then,” Ellana said with more optimism than she felt.
The vet assessed Mishap to be about seven months old and warned that she could go into heat at the drop of a hat. Solas went white at this news. Ellana added that to her mental list of things he seemed to have managed to look up since yesterday.
“She needs to get over the flu, and then we can neuter her, the faster, the better,” the vet said.
Ellana offered to pay for the visit. Solas would have none of it. Ellana insisted a little, out of good manners, but honestly, it was a relief, since a fourth cat (repeat this until it sticks, Ellana) was not in her budget.
“I’ve already started looking for a foster home to take her in,” she told Solas when they were out of the exam room and in the waiting area. “I hope I’ll have someone by the evening. Would it be possible for you to keep Mishap until then? That way we’ll avoid the shelter, which is always doing their best, but you know. So many cats all together.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I’m very sorry about the inconvenience.”
Solas stared at her.
“Are we calling her Mishap?” he asked, clearly focusing on the relevant part of her speech.
“It is a cute name,” Ellana said, carefully not reacting to the ‘we’ of it all. “And will look good in posts advertising her for adoption. Very catchy.”
Solas looked into the carrier then, from where Mishap’s huge eyes stared up at the both of them. Her sneezing was worse in the morning, but it might have been the nerves, at least partly. He gave a deep sigh.
“It’s not that much of an inconvenience,” he said.
Ellana looked at him carefully. “It’s not?”
He shrugged the one arm not currently holding the carrier. “I could keep her over the weekend. Now that we know she has no fleas.”
Ellana smiled. “Were you very worried about the fleas?” she asked.
He responded with a smile that was a little conspiratorial, and more than a little endearing. “It has been a slight concern, yes.”
Ellana had been more worried that the cat would turn out to be seriously pregnant, but she bit her tongue before admitting to that.
“I’ll need to come over and take some nice pictures for posts on social media,” she said. “And I’ll drop off more supplies. What time would be good for you?”
They made arrangements for the late afternoon.
Still alive, Ellana messaged the group chat. Cassandra had already spilled the (judgmental) beans on Ellana’s yesterday’s adventure, and now everyone wanted in on the fun of teasing her about it.
Is the cat yours yet? Leliana wanted to know.
Nope. Still at his place.
Do you have pictures? was Leliana’s follow-up question.
Either his or the cat’s would be good, suggested Dorian.
The picture of Mishap that she did have was not particularly illustrative—the light had not been great, and Mishap had after all made a beeline for under the chair—but she sent it to the group.
That’s a cuddly looking fellow, wrote Dorian.
girl, seven months, no chip, intact (ugh), currently known as Mishap
What are you going to do about it? does Dagna have any leads? asked Sera.
Dagna’s out of town and I don’t want to bother her on her vacation. I’ll do the usual. ads, fliers, waiting. He offered to keep her through the weekend, so finding another foster home ASAP is one thing off the immediate to-do list
btw, do any of you want to foster a cat for a little while? <3
hilarius, wrote Sera, for whom Dagna’s own menagerie had not been the dealbreaker, but definitely added to the minus column, back when the two of them had dated.
alas, yk, my allergies :(, wrote Dorian, who never exhibited any symptoms when visiting cat-dander-infested spaces, and yet always claimed them when convenient.
Ellana posted an eye roll gif.
In an emergency, I may be able to do a few days, but please, only if all else fails, wrote Cassandra, who was that kind of a friend, but also not a cat person.
I can drive you wherever. No promises otherwise, wrote Leliana. Also, what is it with this guy?
There is nothing with the guy. He’s just being nice.
riiight, wrote Dorian. please take a picture of the guy. for me. can be with the cat.
He may be using the cat to score point with you, agreed Leliana. Stay vigilant.
couldn’t u run into a hot chick? complained Sera, but the use of a single question mark signalled that it was only done half-heartedly.
Ellana spent the day alternating between writing posts for her clients, and scouring all the local lost and found pet websites and groups for any new mention of a cat resembling Mishap. The former turned out to be more productive than the latter, which was to say, nobody in the area was seemingly looking for a young girl cat, or a colorpoint of any age or sex. She did get in touch with a rescue group / non-profit that promised to help her spread the word as soon as she had better pictures, and offered information on the best value for money spays in the city. Ellana’s cats, oblivious to the still imminent threat of a fourth sibling, spent the day watching the birds outside the window and sleeping.
And then it was time to go back to Solas. To Mishap. Not to Solas. Definitely just Mishap.