Chapter 5
Misty
“What’s our strategy here, General?”
Misty frowned, looking at her cat. He was, unfortunately, too busy scouting the new area – learning the terrain, checking for any enemies – to pay her any attention.
The two of them were in her new bathroom – the privy, actually. She had been lectured about that thoroughly when Davard showed her here and then wondered why she called it a bath room when so much more happened in here. And when she pointed out that it could be called a restroom, he asked why she was resting in the bathroom. It turned into a whole thing that she didn’t have the energy to deal with after he showed her all the rooms she’d be using. She had rooms, pleural, now. And not just the rooms of the manor. Her bedroom was a suite of rooms, like a one-bedroom house within her bigger house. That was a whole ass tax bracket she never thought she’d reach. There was so much space in this manor, this mansion , she had no idea what to do with it.
So, she hid in the bathroom. The research she did on moving cats to a new place told her that she was supposed to let them out in one room only at first, let them get used to that, before gradually introducing them to the rest of the house. It apparently reduced their stress since they only had to get used to one new room at a time.
Well, it turned out she was a cat, because she was hiding in the privy herself, trying to get away from all the new, drastic changes in this big ass castle. She brought enough cat litter from Earth to keep The General happy for a month or two, until Davard could figure something else out. The way he looked when she set up the litterbox made her think he was going to find something quickly. The idea of scooping poop by hand seemed to horrify him.
Well, whatever. If that chore became automated, she’d be okay with it. But for now, she was actually kind of relieved to see the simple, plastic box in the corner. It was something familiar amongst all this advanced technology. The toilet that cleaned her ass. The shower that did more than dispense water. The bathtub that would also massage her. So much. And it was great, but these changes would be greater if she wasn’t reeling from the fact that her mate walked out on her.
Just turned and left!
“I just thought there’d be more, you know?” She said, looking at the General as he investigated that clearly suspicious, black cat in the large mirror along one wall. “He really just said, ‘hi, bye’. I’ve had more in-depth conversations with people at drive thrus!”
The suspicious cat in the mirror was getting more threatening. Tail poofing up, back arching. The General growled at himself as his doppelganger became much scary, very threat.
Misty sighed, resting her chin on her hand, elbow on her leg. She was sitting cross legged in the corner, leaning against the wall. This place smelled nice, it looked pretty. Everything was white and pale blue, sparkling with a silver sheen that made it shine without being overly obnoxious. It was a great bathroom – privy – and even bigger than the living room in her last apartment.
And she was focused on a guy .
Ugh, that was annoying.
“I think I’m just disappointed,” she said out loud, trying to justify herself as The General and The Anti-General paced back and forth, checking each other for openings. “Like, I was coming all the way out here, expecting this grand romantic moment. I didn’t think he’d go down on one knee immediately or anything. I’m not that delusional. But I did kind of think he’d show more interest than a cashier to the next guy in line.”
The General charged, but The Anti-General blocked his attack perfectly. They smacked at each other, predicting each other’s movements so flawlessly they just kept blocking their otherwise vicious and ruthless strikes.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Misty mumbled.
Maybe that whole ‘confine your cat to one room’ thing was meant for cats with more than one brain cell bouncing around, trying desperately to escape the harsh working conditions through their ears. The General didn’t seem scared or uncertain about his new place at all.
Maybe that was just Misty.
She sighed, crossing her arms and dropping her head back against the wall with a dull ‘thud’.
“Now what…” She muttered to herself.
There was no doubt that this manor was gorgeous and comfortable. She had more space in her suite of rooms than two of her old apartments combined. She had a whole staff dedicated to serving her. Davard had introduced her to the most important ones, including the chef, who immediately asked a few questions to get an idea of what she liked to eat – anything, she wasn’t picky, she didn’t have any intolerances.
He told her that she was free to do with the manor whatever she liked. It came fully furnished, but she could change any and everything to suit her needs. She could also visit the Glass Manor – Tsok’s manor – just across the way whenever she liked. He’d given her permission to come and go as she pleased – Davard told her that, not Tsok. But it wasn’t really appealing to go over there and beg for his attention like a lonely lap dog.
So, then what?
She had a fuck ton of money now. She knew how much her savings converted into when Ambassador Tzomei transferred them into Coalition currency, and she knew it was a couple of pennies compared to what her allowance was while here. She had an account already with a whole lot of good in it, but no idea of what she wanted to spend it on. No idea of what she wanted to do with it. Davard told her she’d get more in five tendays – fifty days – and that honestly seemed like a threat.
Was she really sitting here complaining about a mansion and more money than she could spend?
No. She let out a long breath. She was complaining because she felt like a frayed rope, hanging in the air, nothing to hold onto, no purpose, no direction. She didn’t have a job, or any idea of what she could do here. She had her cat, and that was great, but she didn’t have any friends, any connections, any idea of what she was doing.
Her mate was supposed to show her all that. Tzomei told her that her mate was something like her official sponsor – which was what the rare human who left Earth without being mated needed to have. It was someone meant to take care of them and get them safely set up so they weren’t like her – frayed and broken and twisting helplessly in the air.
Alone.
She was all alone here. Hiding in the toilet like the unpopular girl at school, just trying to stay away from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Except, she didn’t even have that. The staff was proper and polite, giving her plenty of space. Davard dropped her off at her room after the tour and left, telling her to summon him if she needed anything. Her mate was just gone.
And now…
It was the first chance she’d had to really rest since she’d been dragged out of her bed in handcuffs, and the weight of everything was finally settling. And it was discomforting. She wished she had someone to talk to. To tell her it would be alright. To sympathize even if they couldn’t empathize.
Anything.
But her mate, apparently, didn’t actually care about her.
So, that brought her back to her original question. Now what?
She frowned, thinking of all the things that led her here. The snap decision, the complete abandonment of her life, her last friend’s betrayal.
Officer Prickhead, sneering at her across the table.
She snarled.
Yeah. She made the best choice.
Dropping her head, she glared at The General. Her black cat had fought The Anti-General to their fated draw and moved on. He was now scratching at the door. Meowing. Demanding to be let out. Because he didn’t give a damn what the experts said was the ‘right’ way to introduce him to a new environment safely. He wanted out. He wanted to explore.
Grinning, Misty slapped her thighs before standing, walking over to him. The General looked at her and meowed again, an obvious demand in the sound.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “You’re right. That’s really the only good plan here.”
He meowed again and she hit the button on the console to open the door back into her suite. The General immediately bounded out, scouting this new territory as she grinned, looking around with hands on her hips.
Okay, so the soulmate thing was a bust.
Well, fuck that guy then!
Striding forward, she began looking around her room with new eyes. It was beautiful. Like the Palace of Versailles, opulent and regal and completely not her style. This kind of place, all done up in gold and white with hints of red, was meant for a princess. The kind who would wear silky embroidered robes and sip delicately at tea with her elegant, furry hands.
“But I gave up my princess dreams a long time ago,” she declared to The General who had jumped up onto one of the pretty sofas – a settee, for sure, with its lovely, small, heavily embroidered pillows and delicate woodwork.
The General stood on the arm, leaning over to begin batting at the statuette of one of the fellbud trees that gave this place its name. As she watched, he did what he did best and knocked it to the ground, staring at it like he was amazed that gravity did, indeed, still work.
Misty grinned. She never had stuff out in her house, just sitting around, because The General would do that. It just seemed to prove that this place wasn’t meant for her. It wasn’t made with her in mind. It was made for the delicate, sweet charina to compliment her char.
“Nah,” she said, tossing her head and the very idea as she walked past The General’s conquered statuette foe.
She didn’t belong here.
No friends. No job. No direction. Not even a single choice of hers had gone into making this place. And her mate clearly didn’t care. Give her shiny stuff, a lot of money, and she can sit in her pretty palace waiting on his call. That was good enough.
In that case, she’d just have to make it her place.
She had a direction. She was going to gut this manor. Make this suite fit her own tastes. Probably sage it a bit – did they have sage here? She’d find the equivalent and burn that. Burn away all the negative vibes she’d dragged in here with her disappointed expectations.
Because she wasn’t some wilting little fellbud flower that would wait, delicate and forgotten, for the char to decide she was worth paying attention to.
She’d spend all that money on redecorating. On making The General a nice little command station HQ for him to claim as his own.
And as she was doing that, she was going to figure out her place here.
She was a hairdresser for crying out loud! On a planet full of people who were covered head to toe in fur! There was definitely some kind of grooming profession here – though she honestly didn’t know if that word would be offensive or not. She’d figure it out. She’d figure out how to do hair here too, because that’s what she liked doing. Besides, she’d need to learn their products and tools if she wanted to keep up her own hair as well. Did they have hair dye here? Fur dye? Wigs? Hot irons? She didn’t know anything, but she was going to learn.
It was like she was going back to beauty school! Only, this time, she was doing it with all the experience and techniques she’d learned on Earth, melding them with whatever she could pick up here and creating a whole new style!
Misty grabbed the drapes over the large window and yanked them apart, letting in a lot of sunlight. It gleamed off the shiny roof of the Glass Manor that she could see perfectly from here. She smirked at it, crossing her arms, as The General jumped up onto the windowsill so he could look out over the fellbud trees that formed a dusky blue ocean of leaves before her. It was beautiful and alien and, now, it was all hers.
“We’ll be alright, General,” she said to her cat as he bobbed his head – no doubt trying to see past The Anti-General in the glass. “We’re going to live our lives the way we always have. Proud and unbothered by everyone else. Right?”
The General began batting at the window, like he was trying to dig through, his cute little pink beans sliding smoothly on the glass, leaving streaks behind.
Misty could only laugh.
Matehood? That was a bust.
Fine. She was going to take full advantage of whatever he wanted to give her. She’d use this as an opportunity to make new skills, new friends, and establish herself on this planet. That way, if he ever decided he wanted her out, she’d have herself to fall back on.
Even if she had to do it alone.