Thoth frowns at Tristan, not entirely sure how he was supposed to have interpreted the previous comments and question. This isn’t the first time he’s been accused of taking a statement too literally, but fails to understand why people don’t clarify when they’re using a non-standard definition. He’s still trying to work out non-literal alternative definitions of all the vocabulary Tristan had used, when Celidon jumps onto the bed. The dog is so huge, and the little aquatic quadruped so small, that as his weight presses down onto the foot of the bed it creates a see-saw effect and she pings comically into the air. She lands near the edge of the bed, but before Thoth can make a grab at her Cel nudges her gently back into the centre. She jumps excitedly when he touches her and pats his nose before running in circles around the bed. When the cu-sith makes no move to chase her, she pads cheerfully over to him and climbs with some difficulty onto his shoulders, and then his head. There she sits, surveying the world around her and making a nose which can best be described as akin to a cat’s purr.
The little smile which had worked its way onto Thoth’s face as he’d been watching her drops away at Tristan’s next words. From his thunderstruck expression, it’s clear that the possibility of this thing being his familiar has never even entered his mind. It doesn’t compute. How could he have a familiar? He’s not a familiar person. And, and –
“She can’t be,” he says immediately, stupidly, “Tris – she’s a girl.”
As if that settles it.
It doesn’t, though. Tristan’s words ring with worrying sense. She is amphibious, and while he’s sure he isn’t, most of his powers do relate to water – especially the stronger ones. She did appear conveniently and she has been following him around ever since, in a way no animal ever has before, although he’d just assumed that she’d adopted him as a parent. Thoth doesn’t have any psychic powers he’s aware of and has never engaged with another person mentally, so he has no idea how to reach out with his mind. Tentatively, he thinks about the little creature and images a bead of light connecting their minds. Almost immediately, he feels a wave of amusement from her and an image – which he certainly didn’t imagine – of her batting the beads of light around on the floor. He recoils. They’re connected. Mentally.
His mouth feels dry. Thoth has never thought about having a familiar before – it’s really something he’s never wanted or even ever pictured himself with. Surely, though, his familiar wouldn’t be a little girl… thing? Familiars are meant to be part of the fairy’s personality. Does that make Thoth part girl?
“But you don’t understand, I don’t hear her thoughts,” he explains quickly. “It’s just feelings. She never speaks, not out loud or in my head or – or anything. Familiars talk. And I’d know, right? I’d know if I had a – ” He breaks off, staring at the little animal with visibly less joy than he had only moments before. “I don’t want a familiar,” he adds in a smaller voice. “I don’t want anyone in my head except me.”
The creature peers up at him, clearly sensing the distress but not quite sure how to respond to it. She lies precariously down on the top of Celidon’s head and covers her own with one paw, peeking out from underneath with one pale green eye. It’s almost obnoxiously cute. Thoth isn’t cute.
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters in answer to Tristan’s question, not really aware of what he’s agreeing to. “She eats… well, anything. She keeps stealing my sweets.”
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