It was Christmas Eve, and the usually busy streets of West side were less so. Most businesses, with exception to some fast food joints and retail stores, had closed early for the holiday. Families were enjoying the night before Christmas, some by throwing lively parties and others by simply spending time together. Despite the fact the local stations were touting record warm temperatures for winter, the night air still held a chill. Cait Sith, the Progeny's one and only Cheshire cat, was out and about. The Arcade-O-Rama, where the teen group kept its headquarters, was fairly empty, as members spent time at their own homes with loved ones, or who chose to keep themselves otherwise occupied. The cat knew what Christmas was (even if he wasn't particularly knowledgeable about why it was such a big deal), and he understood that a great deal of importance was placed on spending time with family and friends. There was even something similar to Christmas that was celebrated in Faerie, especially in the demesne ruled over by the Norse gods of old. Celebrating Yuletide was not the same as how most mortals spent Christmas, however. Three days worth of drinking, feasting, and the occasional Wild Hunt was a stark contrast to what had been described to him as a holiday about seeing people you barely see any other time of year and indulging in consumerism.
Cait rounded the final block, and from there would've headed straight on to the tunnels to see about keeping the rodent population in check. But the tiniest, most miserable and meek sounding squeak caught his attention. A shabby box sat next to the steps leading into an apartment building. The sides sat warped and damp, and a section facing toward the street sagged. He sniffed at the edge of the box, before looking inside. An orange tabby kitten sat curled up inside, shivering in one corner as she huddled against the cardboard and tried to warm herself. The poor thing looked like she was barely old enough to have been separated from her mother.
The kitten's grayish blue eyes looked up at the much larger magical cat and let loose another squeaky meow, gazing pleadingly up at him.
The Cheshire shifted from his cat form, taking on a more human like form (though the ears and tail stubbornly remained). He gently scooped the kitten up, looking about for any sign of her owner. As the tabby gratefully buried herself into the breast of his jacket, he saw that there was no one else about. It was then that he saw the writing on the box: Free to a good home. He frowned, glancing at the tiny creature now nestled up against him.
"...I suppose my home is as good as any." He started walking once more, adding gently, "I think that it's against the rules on Christmas for one to be completely alone anyway..."
