A small stray cat is following Wraithvine around, often trying to climb up hir robes to sit on hir shoulder. And when ze sits down to relax or meditate, the sweet kitty tries to climb in hir lap, constantly purring. -- Anon Guest
Elves do not keep pets the way Humans do. Though there are whispers and dark stories of Elves keeping humans as pets, in a long bygone age, the evidence has yet to be found. Animals live a fraction of a Human lifespan, and Elves can live for thousands of years.
Wraithvine the Eternal has lived for all of known history, and may yet live it out. Ze does not easily adopt animals. Ze hates that ze has to bury the creatures ze falls in love with. Which is why the Great Wizard has been studiously ignoring the very small cat that has been following hir since early that morning.
"...meep?" the creature, still too small for capital letters, had clambered up hir robe again. For all its tiny size, it had a fantastically audible voice. "...meeeeeeep!"
"No," said Wraithvine, plucking it off by the scruff of its neck and handing it to the bemused vendor. "Give this a good home, will you?"
"...meeeuw!" the tiny cat hopped off the receiving hand and started bouncing towards Wraithvine.
"Seems she's made up her mind, sor. That's your cat."
"Not if I can help it," having secured what ze wanted and paid a fair price, Wraithvine blinked out of the physical plane in an effort to avoid felines. Once ze blinked back, in an unoccupied space some distance away, the little cat began racing straight for hir.
It could be called the battle of the century. After all, Wizards and cats contain equal volumes of stubborn, bloody-minded determination. It is a very rare individual who can out-stubborn either. It's nigh impossible to out-stubborn both.
In an infinite universe, all things are possible. In an infinite lifetime, those things are also as possible.
Epic poetry could have been written about the effort and spells expended that day. Or at least a bawdy ballad about a Wizard attempting to escape a cat[1].
Alas, it was a busy city and nobody was present to chronicle the entire escapade. Suffice to say that no matter what Wraithvine did, ze would turn around twice and find the kitten either at hir heels or on hir coat.
It was even worse when ze meditated.
Elves levitate when deep in their trances. It's part of their Fae makeup, and unavoidable in their assorted peoples. Their distance above the closest part of the terrain can vary, but it is the one unifying factor in Elven kind.
Wraitvine's meditation elevation has been a steady one and a half feet for seventeen millennia. More, one might expect, than a tiny little cat could jump. With that in mind, Wraithvine set aside hir long coat and any loose garment that could serve as a ladder for a feline.
Ze came back to reality and gravity alike with a tiny fluffball curled up on hir ankles. Purring like one of the Gnomish combustion engines.
Wraithvine sighed, and risked petting the ridiculously small form.
The cat woke with a, "...mrrp?" recognised her Person, and immediately demanded food. "...meeeeeeep!"
"You will not last long, not compared to me," said Wraithvine, still stroking fur as soft as a cloud. "But while you live, you shall have the best of all things for your wellbeing."
That would start, ze decided, with a good and solid delousing.
[1] Because synonyms for felines, bards, and sexual innuendo are just natural companions.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / 2002Lubava1981]
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