I
how can words ever suffice
"And if love be madness, may I never find sanity again."
John Mark Green
With a frustrated groan, another crumpled parchment was thrown to the floor.
Dulcinea.
Once upon a time, there was a lovesick cat named Puss in Boots.
Dear Dulcinea…
I, Puss, in Boots, have finally succumbed to—
Dulcinea.
My heart beats for…
Dulcinea.
I…have…feelings, for—
No! Subtlety, please? That was no way to begin a letter. Puss immediately scrapped that latest input away, deeming it an unspeakable horror to any woman's eyes when he threw it to the floor, an addition yet again to his wonderful collection of unspeakable horrors. Dipping the tip of his quill in a bottle of ink and grabbing a brand new piece of parchment, he began again—
Sweetheart.
My lady...
O, hairball of my heart!
He could do this.
It is my utmost pleasure to inform you about this intrusive emotion that has gripped my heart and that you, Dulcinea, are entirely at fault—
No! That was not romantic. Have you forsaken me for good, Felina? He was supposed to be good at this!
Dulcinea.
My dearest friend...
Mi amor—
No, no, no! 'Mi amor'? Really? That was the absolute last straw. What was he thinking? Clearly, she did not feel the same way as he did about her—Dulcinea will be utterly repulsed. He crumpled what seemed like the thousandth paper and threw it far across the room. This so frustrated him to the bone. The gods of writing despised him, clearly having forbidden all the muses to come grace him with the right words whilst that despicable guy Guy practically hoarded all their attention!
Tell me not, Felina...had that fishy fox charmed the very muses themselves with his smarminess and bribed them to never come help him at all, even as Puss prayed for them to help him compose even just one presentable letter to the one friend he loved the dearest? While that Guy Fox dog thing seemed to write every poetic sentence with such enviable ease, spoken them with a deep accent of handsome confidence, woven all the details into one perfect glittering gown he dressed a giggling Dulcinea with, everything that seemed to come from Puss in Boots' own pen, on the other paw, seemed to sound so wrong—because no, Puss in Boots was a cat of action. Words can never be enough!
He let his paws run exasperatedly over his face before he landed face flat on his desk, setting all his wasted papers into flight and his bottle of ink rattling gently at the force.
Yet how true it is, his subconscious told him, reminding him of the painful fact that Guy Fox had so easily beguiled lovely Dulcinea from so far away with nothing but a book, that the pen is mightier than a sword.
He pushed himself up from his pathetic brooding. He was supposed to be the expert on this—the unrivalled professional! Yet look at him. He had degenerated into this mewling mess, unable to even come up with the right words to say. He had done romance before, had he not? So why was this one particular case so different?
Puss smiled to himself as the answer came to him as easily as does a heartbeat.
Perhaps, he thought wistfully to the listening air, that is because she is different.
She was…different.
All the years in his life, it was him who attracted the women with his blazing charm—for, truly, he thought with a chuckle, there was no heart that he cannot win. But Dulcinea…she is unlike any lady he had ever met. For once, he was rendered clueless in dealing with a lady, and this feeling of uncertainty and dwindling confidence was very new, very strange, very...uncomfortable. For no, she was not just any kind of ordinary cat lady he met in a cantina, danced with in a royal ball, rescued from imminent danger, became a hired partner in crime—instead, she was an adventure herself, impossible for any sane swashbuckling swordsman to so dare ignore. She was the light, the warmth, the star twinkling at him from oh so far away from his reach, and he was attracted to her like a moth was to a flame; and he knew not what to do with this peculiar feeling that had him so positively, obsessively possessed.
She made him...not as self-centred as he had been in the past. She made him feel this peculiar fire around the insides of his chest area...she made him feel envious and possessive. He wanted to tell her all of these and more—yet whenever he groped in his mind for the words, everything simply seemed to escape him. He cannot possibly express this love that was too great for words. Nothing satisfied what he wanted to say. The empty page was a challenge that glared at him so arrogantly, mocking him for his lack of writerly talent.
But just then, a voice seemed to come awake from the deepest recesses of his mind, a wisdom unlocked and echoing at him, a muse having finally come down from the heavens to whisper into his ear:
What do you want to tell her, Puss in Boots?
Do you even know?
The question seemed to strike something from deep within him. The muscles on his shoulders released the tension he was not even aware he had been holding, and suddenly, Puss was overthrown by the insightful self-revelation.
What do I want to tell her?
...that you have feelings for her, his muse whispered in his ear.
He sighed. Alack, what poverty these writing muses bring forth.
Just as he was picking up his feathered leather hat to put it on his head did he suddenly hear a pair of voices bursting into joyous laughter. Puss looked out his window to see what all the fuss was about, only to see Dulcinea holding Guy Fox's paw as the both of them laughed up a storm. Puss fisted his own paws so tightly that it hurt, a sharp pang of jealousy breaking through his heart and making him bleed all over...but he could not feel resentful for long. A veil of silent resignation fell over his features and he let his paws fall limply at his side, a sigh escaping his lips as he did so.
Dulcinea was laughing, Guy Fox was laughing, the two of them so engulfed in their little bubble of fantasy and adventure.
How can he be so selfish when she looked so…happy?
Puss saw Guy whisper something in her ear that made her giggle like a teenage schoolgirl. The two of them sat on the bricked concrete of San Lorenzo's little fountain, the rush of water from behind them giving a nice accent to their little...dare he say it...romantic interactions. Dulcinea held a book in her lap, reading Guy Fox's own words of adventure to him, the disagreeable red fox listening to her with such unattractive googly eyes for her. The two seemed to enjoy each other's company so much, so comfortable with each other even though they had met just less than a couple of hours ago...and they did not even seem to tire with all this tedious storytelling! Puss even heard Dulcinea compliment him and feed that Guy Fox's already swollen ego:
"That part where you confronted her jealous suitors is so suspenseful, Guy! It was just my absolute favourite! You write the scenes so well, Guy! Oh, and this is out of place, but I love love love the metaphor about the sun-kissed palaces of the kingdom of Turvistan!" She was saying all of this in that high-pitched manner of hers, a clear indication that her enthusiasm about everything Guy Fox was shooting through the roof. "Oh, oh!" she then added, a lightbulb over her head, practically jumping up and down her seat and clapping her paws like an excited little child, "And is it really true that the king's daughter, the princess of Turvistan, didn't marry any of her suitors because, well, you know…" Her voice fell to a conspiratorial whisper. "She fell deeply in love with you?"
Puss froze when he managed to catch her last words.
Guy laughed.
"Well, who can blame her?" replied Guy Fox in his honey-thick voice, accented with such kingliness that it commanded the very air to electrify, effectively pleasing Dulcinea with the music of his deep, handsome English baritone. "She has fallen for me, just as I have fallen for her! And how could I have not? She had an astounding wit, a skill with the sword, a way with the pen, and a unique, stardust beauty…"
When Guy neared his face to Dulcinea's and oh so nearly touched her chin with his gentle paw, Puss felt the familiar urge to punch that dog's face spike sharply from his stomach.
"…in her bright, blue eyes," Guy breathed, dreamily, "shining like a pair of sapphire jewels."
Dulcinea giggled as she shied away from his touch. Guy only smirked at her reaction, thoroughly pleased himself, but then sadness crossed his features as he continued his story.
"Alas," said Guy with excessive remorse, pounding a paw onto his chest as if to hold his broken heart, "Lady Arsenia's royal duties bind her to her kingdom. Want as she might, she can never truly take my paw when I offered her the adventure of a lifetime. Her impoverished kingdom cannot allow their princess to marry someone who can offer her no title, no empire, no crown to her head. For what other treasure can a lowly adventurer offer to a princess…but adventure itself?"
Puss scoffed. What a loaded drivel.
The two settled in a solemn silence with nothing but the murmuring rush of the fountain water to fill the empty air, and just as Puss was about to close the windows of his room did he see Dulcinea suddenly inch closer to that smarmy Guy Fox.
"If I were her," she said, her voice gentle, a smile on her face, her blue eyes lit with sincerity, "I would have taken the chance to be with you, Guy."
Puss stepped back, outrageous.
What?!
At that, Guy immediately seemed to perk up from his melancholy, and he took Dulcinea's soft white paws in his own with gentle firmness, pulling them to his chest, an expectant look burning in his turquoise eyes.
"Really, Dulcinea? You would come...with me?"
"Mm-hmm!" was her immediate answer, and, with enthusiastic hurry, she flipped the pages of her Guy Fox book to point at a memorized line from the page, showing it to him when she finally spotted it. "Just like it says here in your book, see?" She cleared her throat as if preparing herself to recite a rhyme. Then—
Puss did not wait to hear what she had to say. He slammed the doors of his windows, effectively shutting them out from his earshot. He had had enough of that guy and his verbose fanfaronade. Once alone and finally in the company of silence, Puss sighed. He looked at his desk, at all the papers scattered about, at the pen waiting to be wielded.
He walked to his desk, sat on his chair, picked up the quill once again. He slipped another sheet of parchment paper in front of him from a stocked pile, and with great hesitance, rested the tip of his quill atop the sheet, a feather's breath away.
Until, finally, he poured his heart out into the paper, banishing his own insecurity for the moment whilst he thought about nothing else, not even himself, but her—unable to keep this overwhelming emotion of sadness and jealousy and love to himself for any longer.
Because Dulcinea, he wrote, you are the hairball of my heart.
~`.'~
Earlier…
Puss was pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth—and the San Lorenzans had begun to take notice of their usually loud and self-important town hero's silent, restless seething.
"What's a matter, laddie?" a concerned Pajuna finally blurted, asking from behind the counter after she'd served Señor Igualdemontijo his order for dandelion-flavoured leche.
Puss waved her off. "It is nothing."
"Oh, no no no. Something's definitely the matter," commented the Duchess, who was observing him from a table with her own meal of goat cheese.
"It is nothing," insisted Puss, who did not stop from his thoughtful pacing.
"Ha!" snorted a derisive Señora Zapata, for once actually looking up from her romance novel to go pick on the cat she liked picking on the most. "Like anybody's going to believe anything from you, Puss in the Boots. Admit it! You are jealous of Guy Fox!"
The mention of that animal's name struck him like a jolt of electricity and Puss was suddenly ramrod straight.
"What?! Jealous? How many times should I tell you this, Señora? I am not—"
"Suuuure you aren't, laddie," patronized an exasperated Pajuna, who rolled her eyes as she went to the cupboard to return some newly-wiped cups to their respective shelves.
Puss looked at Pajuna with narrowed eyes. "The tone of your voice is mocking me, Pajuna Michelle."
A glass shattered.
"What the—how did you—" There was a sudden panic in Pajuna's eyes. "That's not my real name!"
"Just as I am not jealous!" riposted a triumphant Puss in Boots.
"Oh really, Puss in the Boots?" challenged Señora Zapata, because oh, she was so not done with him yet. "You are saying that you are not jealous that Dulcinea's finally decided to go on an adventure with that handsome and charming Guy Fox?"
"Exactamente, Señora—I am not!" Puss nearly screamed, angry that everybody seemed to agree that that guy Guy was handsome and charming when obviously, he is the one who is more handsome and charming! "I am merely...concerned about Dulcinea's well-being in the dirty, despicable, animalistic paws of that arrogant, unctuous show-off. Let a good friend worry about the welfare of his friend in peace, will you? Good day!"
The Duchess was like, "Cough oh-she's-just-a-friend-really?! cough."
Puss was just about to stomp out of that godforsaken cantina when someone so rudely blocked his way.
"Oh, heya, Puss! Want me to buy you some leche?"
Puss growled under his breath and practically shoved the nuisance out of the way.
"Go bother someone else, Eames!"
"Awwww!" he pouted dejectedly. "Sigh. I just want to have friends..."
"Hey, Puss!" This time, it was Cleevil's voice interrupting his little silent anger parade. Code of honour compelled him to look to the side to see the goblin girl and all the other orphans gathered 'round a table, looking at him expectantly. Cleevil held out her deck to him invitingly. "Wanna play a game of cards? I'll even let you get a head start on this one! Eh? Eh?"
"Yeah!" assured Kid Pickles, "It's gonna be loadsa fun!"
"And did you know that you will feel better if you take your mind off things for a while by playing a comforting game with friends?" asked Vina, trying to cheer him up a bit by being her usual, endearingly inquisitive self.
"Please say yes, Señor Puss!" said Esme, her eyes wide and trying to be very compelling—Puss almost chuckled at the sight of the young child trying to imitate him.
"Please please pretty pleeeaase, Puss?" Toby added, desperately.
The sharp angles of his eyebrows softened at the sight of the children, all looking at him expectantly. He then finally let that chuckle out from under his breath.
"Ah, well. You all honour me with your kind offer, dear children," he told them graciously, tipping his hat to them and smiling sadly. "But I am afraid I must decline."
There was a collective sigh of "Awww!" as the children were left to play on their own.
Puss' nerves had just about calmed down a notch thanks to his little interaction with the children, but then suddenly his blood pressure burst up like a tidal wave and he had no choice but to choke on it when Artephius and Puss Dos had both snuck up from behind him, complete with hats and confetti and blowing horns.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Puss violently coughed on the now-strawberry-scented air, suffocating on the thick pink smoke that Artephius had just magically conjured out of nowhere.
"Artephius!" choked Puss, fanning the thick, pink smoke away with his hat.
He then finally slammed a boot to the ground.
"Today is not my birthday!"
The smile on the kind old mage dropped. "Oh, right. I just figured I had to do something to cheer you up. Because hey, if something's wrong, you could always come talk to me, buddy!"
"Yes, and Señora Zapata can fly, can she not," deadpanned Puss, who was aggressively dusting off the remaining strawberry dust from his fur.
"Gasp! Zapata can fly?!"
"Hello, cat whose grumpy face is also not my face!" greeted Puss Dos. He then peered into Puss' face curiously, as if the grumpy frown he wore was a curious thing indeed. "Do you feel the wronged by the doings of someone?"
Puss' irritation spiked once again. "I feel wronged by the doings of no one!" Pushing him away, "Now leave. Me. Be!"
Miraculously, Artephius had the sense to just shrug it off and he returned to training his collared fish how to fetch a ball. But unfortunately, Puss Dos would never know a clue if it hit him in the face. He gasped, outrageous.
"Then who is this No One, cat whose grumpy face is also not my face, that I may avenge you!"
Ugh. "Truly, I am alright, Puss Dos. Now go and talk to inanimate objects. I am sure they miss your amiable company."
"Okay!" Puss Dos obediently turned around. Smiled, waved, and greeted. "Hello, mon chair!"
Puss had just stepped through the cantina's doors with an exasperated sigh, finally relieved that no one was going to bother him now that he was outside to experience San Lorenzo's hot, mid-afternoon sun. Finally, some peace and quiet.
Or so he thought.
The powerful beat of the Sphinx's wings brought down heavy currents of dust and air as the winged cat landed in front of him with her usual lazy and casual demeanour. She was holding some sort of scroll in her paw.
"Like, hey bro," came her bored greeting, "I flew all the way over here to tell you that I found some weird...scripture thingy in the middle of the desert, and I thought it was suspicious and some junk, and I was like, maybe I should show it to Puss in Boots, or whatever…whoa." She paused when her eyes finally took focus on the grumpy ginger cat in front of her, arms crossed and fur messily ruffled by the wind, a layer of dust caking the Corinthian leather of his hat. "Something the matter, dude?"
"El gasp. Is something the matter?" echoed Puss in an exaggerated manner, his breaking point oh so close to the edge, his self-control dangling dangerously by a thin thread. "Oh, nothing is the matter, Sphinx! Nothing! Everything is just perfect. Now go and leave me in pea—"
"Good afternoon, Puss in Boots!" cut off Guy Fox, who was suddenly in front of him just as Puss had been about to go stomp his way off. Then the fox eyed him curiously, and is that...genuine concern gleaming in his eye? "My, you look out of sorts. Is everything mighty fine with you, old chap?"
And then Guy Fox landed a paw on his shoulder.
Puss gritted his teeth, forcing a distorted semblance of a smile on his strained face. How dare this despicable foxy guy Guy act like the two of them were good old friends talking about the weather, after all he had done to steal Dulcinea away from San Lorenzo, from him?
"Also…" The fox's beady black nose twitched as he sniffed the air. "Is that strawberry I smell?"
Puss' furious face fell flat onto a deadpan smile at that.
"Sí, sí, Señor Zorro, old chap." With the deadly sarcasm dripping off from his voice, even Guy Fox had the sense to remove his paw from his shoulder, as if he sensing that Puss probably didn't like him acting so familiarly after all. "Everything is mighty fine. Now..." Puss closed his eyes as if to compose himself.
"Get out."
Then finally exploded.
"Of my way!"
And off he went, forcefully shouldering past the appalled fox as the booted swordsman angrily stomped his way off.
The Sphinx could only roll her eyes at the scene, thinking that maybe Puss just had a bad hair day. "Ugh. Typical. Let me guess..." She looked Guy Fox up and down with a lazy scrutiny before drawing a sensible conclusion. "Don't tell me that he's, like, jealous of you, isn't he?"
A completely oblivious Guy Fox only cocked his head at the side at her suggestion. "Jealous?"
"Ugh." The Sphinx could only roll her eyes, thinking that this one, on the other hand, was an idiot. "Anyway, just call me if you need me, or whatever. Your ugly voices are giving me wrinkles."
And the winged cat took off, leaving an utterly confused Guy Fox in her gusty wake.
Just as Puss was stomping, though, Dulcinea came to greet him. "Oh, hello!" she said, face glowing as usual, but the warmth in her eyes dropped when Puss only gave her the cold shoulder, walking past her as if he had not heard her speak at all.
Dulcinea then worriedly called out after him.
"Um...Puss?"
It was an unexpected outburst.
But it happened—
Puss turned, stomped his foot, seethed with his eyes—
Yelled at her.
"Are you happy now, Dulcinea?!"
Dulcinea took a shocked step back, paw on her hammering heart, speechless and rendered frozen by the blaze in his green eyes.
For a moment, nobody said anything. The desert winds seemed to pick up and a bundle of tumbleweed came rolling by; the white clouds on the blue sky shifted, lightly eclipsing the hot, mid-afternoon sun. As the silence went on, Guy Fox tactfully hid his lips inside his mouth, locking the words in his mouth, not wanting to provoke anyone. Dulcinea, however…
She was confused, unable to completely process what had just suddenly happened.
She took a step to him.
Puss?
She wanted to ask. She wanted to say his name, because right now she was afraid that their last day together would have to end this way—so bitterly and gruffly. She wanted to reach out, to touch his shoulder, to, for once, have him speak the actual truth—
Are you...alright?
It was when seconds passed when Puss finally realized what he had just done.
"I…" He covered his eyes with a paw. He turned away, ashamed of himself. "I am sorry, I...I just need some time. To think this over. Alone."
And then, doing all he could to avoid her eyes, he ran away, the soles of his leather boots thumping against the cobblestones.
She had the urge to go after him. "Puss!"
"Dulcinea." The firm grip on her arm stopped her from her tracks, and she looked behind to see Guy holding her back. "I think…I think you should let him steam off."
Well, she noticed. "Why?" she asked, confusion staining her features. "What's the matter with him, why would he…? What were you two talking about anyway? Is he…"
Her voice shrank to a whisper when the thought crossed her mind.
"…mad at me?"
Guy Fox gasped like that was the most preposterous suggestion he had ever heard his entire life. "Nothing of the sort, my dear, why would you think that? I can never imagine anybody in this world being angry at a maiden as lovely as you are!" Dulcinea was able to manage a smile at that little quip, and Guy was pleased to make her do so. But his features softened solemnly as he spoke his next words.
"I suspect, Dulcinea," he said, turning his head to look at the direction where Puss had gone, "that he's just…upset."
She blinked. "Upset?"
"Of the fact that you're going away on an adventure with none other than myself, of course."
Dulcinea's eyes widened at that. "He...is?"
"Who knows, who cares, right?" Guy shrugged. "No time to dwell on that now, my lady. The important thing is, you and I are going on an adventure!" He then smiled a dazzling smile at her. Like a true English gentleman, he offered her an arm. "Shall we go have some milk, then, before we continue our little tour around town?"
Dulcinea managed a nod, accepting his arm as she distractedly looked behind her, only to see a roll of tumbleweed tumbling by instead of a certain someone.
But...I thought you wanted me to leave with Guy.
~`.'~
It was a couple of hours after midday, and Dulcinea and Guy Fox both had plenty of time to go drift off into a grand adventure of their own, exploring the depths and danger and magic of the fantastical literary world that was Guy Fox himself. It was every book lover's dream come true—and Dulcinea was savouring every moment with her favourite author, probably one who surpassed her respect for Miguela herself (who still hadn't bothered answering any of her six hundred letters.) And so, the passionate reader and the eloquent author had begun their adventure aboard an imagined flying ship as they sat on San Lorenzo's little fountain, painting swords and dragons and eldritch witches into the air, conjuring mermaids and pirates and ogres and thunder gods with the mere power of a word. Dulcinea was lost in her own little bubble of a world, laughter freely erupting from her lips whenever her silver-tongued companion had something witty to say ("Well, Dulcinea. This particular fox is smart enough never to give up on the golden grapes—and the sweet promise they hold!")
She hadn't been wrong when she said that seeing him in person would be the highlight of her life. She can't remember ever having this much fun in her entire life—not even that time when Miguela so kindly let her in her shack to have a lovely conversation about rhymes and poetry and forced friendships. Everything about Guy Fox was magic.
The enthusiastic white feline was just flipping through the pages of one of her books from the bestselling non-fiction Crazy Like a Fox series, excited to show a calmly waiting Guy Fox a favourite line—it was something about adventure, and a princess, and taking her to see the world from far and wide.
"Just like it says here in your book, see?" she was saying, still flipping through the pages. The line had to be around here somewhere…aha! There it was! She triumphantly set the open book on Guy Fox's waiting lap, pointed a finger on a specific line, and, wanting to impress him, began to recite the lines from her opened heart with closed eyes—
But then the slamming of window doors suddenly interrupted her, making her startled heart skip a couple of beats.
The smile on Guy's face morphed into a frown at the noise that had their wonderful conversation so rudely disturbed.
"What was that all about?"
Dulcinea turned to follow Guy's gaze, then found herself staring at a pair of locked windows on the second floor of Pajuna's cantina. For a second, her mind could only draw a blank. But then suddenly, it finally crossed her—
Was that…Puss' room?
A second look confirmed yes. It was.
"Well then, now that the interruption is gone...where were we again, Dulcinea? You were about to recite to me the line about the princess of Turvistan, I believe?"
She wasn't listening. The bubble of a fake fantasy world she'd built for herself evaporated into the heat as her mind kept on repeating one single word, over and over and over—
Puss.
Guy Fox was now looking at her curiously. "Uh...Dulcinea?"
Snap, thought Dulcinea to herself, completely oblivious to Guy's prodding, this is all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! How dare she mindlessly have fun when she should be confronting what should be confronted? She was well aware that she'd been stalling. That she was distracting herself on purpose. That she was only doing this because she wanted some sort of escape, wishing she could run away from making a decision even if she was going to have to inevitably cross swords with it again, one way or the other.
Because even if she chose to go to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of an adventure with the Guy Fox, even if Puss himself wanted her to leave San Lorenzo for good, and even if…even if the two of them were no more than platonic friends…
He was still her friend.
He was still her friend, and there was no reason for her to childishly avoid what needed to be confronted.
So what was she doing, spending her possibly last day in San Lorenzo with this fox she barely knew, instead of spending it with her dearest friend?
It was not until his paw had firmly yet gently grasped her shoulder that she was finally brought back to reality.
"Oh!" she said, startled.
"Dulcinea..." began the red fox, his blue eyes gleaming with concern, "Is something the matter?"
"Oh, oh no! Nothing." Dulcinea laughed sheepishly as she shied away from his touch and finally stood back up on her high-heeled boots. She pointed behind her. "Will you…excuse me for a moment, though? I'll be right back, I promise. I think I…have to go check on Puss."
Guy arched a brow. "So that was the noise all about?"
"I don't know. Probably? He could be up to anything, you know."
Guy considered the situation for a moment before eventually sighing in surrender. "I'd hate it for you to leave me out here all alone, but...oh well. If you must."
She smiled at him graciously. "Thank you, Guy."
The Englishman tipped his hat at her before shuffling away with a skilful set of acrobatics—probably to impress her further, making her giggle a bit as she watched him perform his antics. She waited until Guy went on his way to find the peace and quiet an author needs in order to write, and once he'd disappeared from her sight when he went to the orphans' garden, Dulcinea ran from the cantina and across the plaza until she reached the shoe-shaped orphanage itself. With a conspiratorial glance from left and right, she stepped inside and closed the doors, a purposeful gleam in her bright blue eyes.
She had a swell idea that might cheer Puss up a bit.
Just thinking about it made her happy.
~`.'~
After about half an hour of rummaging through her numerous chest of drawers and bookshelves, she'd finally found what she'd been looking for. She'd triumphantly erupted into a joyful squeal when she found it, even twirling around in place like a graceful dancer on a music box when she did, hugging it to her chest as tightly as she could.
Puss would be delighted to know that she still kept it around!
And so, gathering her skirts about her, she wasted no time. She finally emerged from the orphanage, the book in question held by her paws and clutched near to her heart. With the clopping of her high-heeled boots against the sunstruck cobblestones, she happily crossed the square until she finally reached her destination, where she then threw the wooden doors of the cantina out wide. No one but a few heads had bothered to give her their attention, and even they had to go return to their business—it didn't matter. Paying them no mind, Dulcinea turned to the stairs and took the steps running, one unoccupied paw lifting her skirt so she wouldn't trip on the silken fabric. Finally, she reached the top, and she excitedly ran over to the door, knocking with a cheerful rhythm of—
Knockety-knock-knock!
She waited.
And tried again.
Knockety-knock-knock!
Still, there was no answer.
The confidence she'd had in her plan dwindled a bit. Dulcinea took a step closer to the door, nearing her ear to the wooden surface as if expecting that that way, she'd be able to hear an answer.
"Puss? Puss, it's Dulcinea."
Why isn't he answering?
"Puss? Puss!" She leaned harder against the door, knocking firmer on its wooden surface. "Are you alright? Are you actually even in there? Because I...whoa!" Suddenly, she felt the weight of the world shifting, and she dropped the book to the floor in her panic, and before she hit the quickly-approaching ground, she managed to catch herself first—and then realized that she'd actually pushed the door open, and she'd tumbled right into his room.
His...empty room?
The first thing she observed was that it was too dimly lit for her taste. She ran across the floor to reach the windows and threw them out wide to let the sunlight stream in; she was blinded for a moment, but then when her vision cleared, the room had magically been transformed from sad and gloomy to bright and cheery. There, she said to herself, smiling, that's better!
And so, Dulcinea walked to pick up her fallen book. But then, the writing on one peculiar parchment paper from far across the corner of the room managed to catch her attention first.
She saw only two words on it. Dear Dulcinea.
She was suddenly gripped by morbid curiosity. Leaving her book lying on the floor, Dulcinea cautiously sauntered over to the parchment, making sure to look left and right as she did so. She didn't want anyone suddenly sneaking up on her and accusing her of sneaking into Puss' room! When she finally picked the half-crumpled paper from the floor, which had been, most likely, carelessly thrown to the ground, she uncrumpled it, the crunch of paper filling the silent air as she smoothened out the creases.
But then, after doing so, she realized that the paper really only had two words written on it—Dear Dulcinea, written with a cursive, flowing handwriting on its upper left-hand corner.
Nothing more. She even flipped the parchment to check the back, but nope—still blank.
Dulcinea was confused. She approached Puss' desk, and found the situation very much the same—sheets of crumpled paper were scattered everywhere and each sheet was entirely blank, except for a form of greeting that was written at the upper left-hand corner.
Each salutation clearly addressed her.
Her mind had barely processed the fact that Puss was maybe, frustratedly, trying to write something, anything about her, or to her, or for her, when suddenly—
"I have not given you the permission to come in, Dulcinea."
Dulcinea whirled around in her heel, her heart in her throat, startled at the suddenness.
It was Puss, and he did not look pleased.
He stomped to her, snatched the crumpled paper from her paws. "And give me that!"
He shouldered past her and approached his desk, then began to work on gathering his scattered papers into one manageable document, not speaking another word as he went on about his business, working wordlessly as if there was no one else in the room.
His silence about the whole affair was unnerving her.
"Puss, I'm sorry," she finally blurted, her body quite literally, physically incapable to hold this much guilt. "I didn't mean to sneak up in your room. I just accidentally—"
"Of course, of course," he cut off, his voice surprisingly, suspiciously, deceptively...lenient? Kind? He turned from his work to look at her, a well-faked smile plastered on his face before lifting his hat from his head as if he was giving his respects to the Reina de España herself. "Good day to you. You must be so eager to go with that…Guy Fox thing for your grand adventure. I am so happy for you, Dulcinea! How I cannot wait for you to go have the greatest time of your life!"
Sarcasm? Sincerity?
She was frustrated, she realized. Puss was suddenly too difficult to read, and he was doing it on purpose.
So then, Puss suddenly seemed to be in an awful lot of hurry to throw her out of his room and be with the company of his privacy once again. He was now urging her out the door by gently pushing her on the shoulders, distracting her by babbling about the work he had to do here and the other work he had to do there, "So many works that I could not possibly count them all!"
Dulcinea realized that she was actually already standing out of his room when he was just about to shut the door on her face.
"No, Puss, wait!" she blurted, stopping him just in the nick of time. When he looked at her patiently, Dulcinea wasted no time giving him the explanation he deserved. "Okay, um. The reason why I'm here. I…before I go out of town, with Guy Fox and all his adventuring, I…I…"
Out with it, Dulcinea. She steadied herself, looked at him firmer in the eye.
"I wanted to spend some time with you. It's nowhere near bedtime, but the flowers could certainly use a story!"
There, she had him. His features had softened at her suggestion, and Dulcinea prayed so fervently for him to please please please agree? "I would really be honoured if you came with me, Puss! So would you come with me for flower story time? We could even use the book you gave me! I'm sure you'd be delighted to know that—"
She was interrupted when he raised a paw to halt her, chuckling self-loathingly.
"Why not do it with your newfound friend instead? Go." Puss had already turned away, stepped back to close the door. "I am busy at the moment."
Dulcinea stepped forward, desperate.
"But—"
He shut the door.
~`.'~
He leaned against the door and wilted on it exhaustedly. He faced the ceiling, closed his eyes, and sighed.
"You…deserve to be happy, Dulcinea."
He stayed like that for a moment or two before he was once again able to find strength in his bones and decided to stand. Puss pushed himself from the wooden door, walked across his room with a melancholic pace, approaching his desk as merry streams of sunlight poured from his, he observed, newly-opened window. Dulcinea must have thought that the darkness was too gloomy.
He ran a paw down his face at the ridiculous mess of a situation he found himself in. He fell into his chair and rested his elbows on his desk so he could slam his face into his paws. Thank Felina that he had written no more than a salutation in each of these papers—he could not imagine how repelled and revolted Dulcinea would be if she learned of his true feelings of loneliness and misery, of envy and possessiveness.
Felina, what has happened to him and he had sunk to a level lower than that despicable fox? Puss in Boots, wallowing in his feelings of sorrow! This is unheard of!
He did not even realize that he had fallen asleep on his desk in such a bedraggled manner when a series of knocks came to his door, startling him back awake.
"Hey there, laddie?" It was Pajuna, and there was a hint of something in her voice, pitching her words on a higher note. Was it concern he heard? Worry? In his half-asleep daze, he could not be quite sure. He rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched his arms in the air.
"—been in there for hours," she was saying. "You alright, lad?"
"Yes, yes, I am alright," he said, dismissively. Why did everybody seem so concerned for his well-being today? There was nothing wrong with him.
"Sure nothing's wrong with ya?" said Pajuna, carefully, slowly. "I mean, normally you'd be down there pesterin' me for more leche despite having nothin' to pay me with, but if you want to talk about something, just remember. You have good ol' Pajuna to listen to all yer troubles, Puss."
"I have no troubles," he insisted. "I am just tired, that is all!"
Obviously. She rolled her eyes, thinking to herself, Oh, why do I even try. Pajuna's sigh was resigned. "If you say so, laddie. Oh, and by the way, I hope you haven't forgotten about the surprise going-away party?"
Puss sighed. How could he? That was the only thing running around his mind lately, the very reason why he had been troubled all day by the seemingly insurmountable monster of a challenge presented by a blank piece of parchment. Also, he could hear the faint laughter of the children from downstairs in the square, the busy hustling of the townspeople as they set up banners here and there, and Artephius practising a piece on his bagpipe for tomorrow's farewell surprise party for Dulcinea. All the background noise must have lulled him to sleep in the first place.
The truth just cannot seem to sink well into him. Dulcinea was leaving San Lorenzo, leaving him, Puss in Boots, and permanently, all in favour of that...that...
He sighed, his anger spent, conceding. He had not the energy left to fight it. He had already poured it all in the heavy parchment he felt weighing down on his head, having writ the words away without the burden of a doubtful thought, just blindly following the guidance of the wind wherever the beat of his heart bid it blow. And voila, in the end, he had been able to write something in tribute to Dulcinea—not a masterpiece, as he was not, he concedes, as fulsome in his way of words as Guy Fox was…but at least, it was something. However, though he had originally written it as a parting gift for Dulcinea's surprise party, something seemed to be holding him back. Want as he might to show the work of his heart to her, read his poem to her, make his feelings known to her, he cannot.
He cannot possibly.
He retrieved the parchment of paper he had hidden from within his hat, and stared at his heartfelt, albeit a little clumsy, work of art.
If you were a pair of boots, mi amor, said the first line of the poem he had written himself.
How can he ever have the courage to show this clumsy little poem to her?
"Puss?" came Pajuna's inquiry, and for a moment Puss was startled to realize that his friend was still outside, her question about Dulcinea's surprise party still hanging in the air. "You still there?"
"Yes," he answered, "Thank you for your concern, Pajuna. And no," he added with a little chuckle, "I have not forgotten about the little surprise party."
"Oh. Okay then." Pajuna suddenly seemed to have run out of words to say. "You got 'cher gift all ready for her tomorrow?"
He looked at the poem that occupied the entire page of the parchment. Never before had a lady sent him to a battle with nothing but a quill as his weapon, and the thought made him chuckle a bit.
Dulcinea really was a rare diamond.
"Yes."
"Alright then." Pajuna sighed. "Good luck with it, lad."
He heard the sound of her footsteps fade away into the distance as she climbed down the stairs. Pajuna's farewell words were like a pat on his shoulder—supportive, encouraging...sympathizing. Puss managed a smile to himself when he thought of it. Good old Pajuna; a true friend, that comradely cow.
Puss got up from his chair to look out the window. He was immediately greeted by the crisp, cool air of nightfall, and saw the sky painted with the roseate glow of sunset, shades of oranges and violets creating a gradient that was nothing short of magical—gracing humble little San Lorenzo with its majestic beauty. The usual laughter and hubbub went on down below as the townspeople rolled barrels to the side, swept brooms over the cobblestones, trundled carts and wagons, lifted banners with the words 'Farewell, Dulcinea!' into the air; the children, on the other hand, were busying themselves with making papier-mâché for the party hats to use tomorrow. This would have been a perfect day, he thought, as a touch of bitterness came back to harden his heart, if Dulcinea did not have to be gone the next day.
He took another look down at the parchment he held in his paws. Resignedly, he rolled it up and tucked it back into his hat where it belonged. He needed some alone time, somewhere quiet, somewhere he could think…or dwell. Preferably out in the desert where no one was bound to go sneak up on him.
However, as Puss stood onto the railing of his window, ready to jump out into the night, he spotted something lying on his floor, immediately stealing his attention.
"...would you come with me for flower story time? We could even use the book you gave me!"
Disbelief raw on his face, Puss jumped from the window and onto the floor to pick the fallen book from the ground. He used his paw to dust off the dirt.
He took a breath when he read the title, surprised that she had kept his little gift from what seemed so long ago, even after all this time.
It was the book of Fancy Poetry.
