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[ vasilka has two choices: she disappears and scatters fur all over victor's clothes, or she leaps into his arms. ]
[ as the cat who seemed to have a bit of a crush on victor, it's obvious which option she chooses. ]
[ that crush doesn't live in the past. ]
[ she remains still, almost suspiciously so. sitting on her throne of clothes, vasilka looks up at victor expectantly, as though she's waiting for his hands to produce a golden throne for her to perch upon. she eyes him and doesn't so much as twitch. where another cat may shrug him off and continue to pilfer his things, leaving fur everywhere, she waits. ]
[ if he so much as picks her up, his touch better be gentle. vasilka is very much like her owner — she demands and takes only the best from those who are blue-eyed and her prey. ]
and some yet live, treading the thorny road - Post a comment
which leads, through toil and hate, to fame’s serene abode