"Not likely," he mutters, mostly to himself. Knowing his luck. "Let's just, um..."
But he's saved from having to figure out what the right course of action is, when confronted with a talking cat, because the hounds finally tear around the corner and into view. They are not in any way normal dogs. They make him suck in a sharp, sudden breath and tense like a rabbit.
The Archivist has never been athletic in any sense of the word, and he is keenly aware of that right now, as he takes a stumbling step back away from the things in the street.
"Run!"
He reaches down unthinkingly to scoop up the cat, and falters like an idiot when he remembers she can talk. Whether she leaps into his arms or tears off down the road ahead of him, there aren't many paths available: a short stretch of cobblestone, and then he can test the first door they come to.
no subject
But he's saved from having to figure out what the right course of action is, when confronted with a talking cat, because the hounds finally tear around the corner and into view. They are not in any way normal dogs. They make him suck in a sharp, sudden breath and tense like a rabbit.
The Archivist has never been athletic in any sense of the word, and he is keenly aware of that right now, as he takes a stumbling step back away from the things in the street.
"Run!"
He reaches down unthinkingly to scoop up the cat, and falters like an idiot when he remembers she can talk. Whether she leaps into his arms or tears off down the road ahead of him, there aren't many paths available: a short stretch of cobblestone, and then he can test the first door they come to.