What was it like, to be human?
This question sometimes found its way into Valéries mind. Especially when watching the bipedal apes wandering about their concrete jungle. That being Zone Two, or Ebot City as they sometimes called it. Then again, he knew it wasn't really concrete, it just appeared that way.
The blue eyed cat sat on the street, staring up at an old building, apparently dedicated to the gathering of trinkets and relics from throughout their history. Both perceived and actual, intermingled into a tangled mess. The building itself appeared to be made of concrete, with ornate glass as aspects of its being.
Closing his eyes he focused on the truth. On the nagging madness, ever lurking in the back of his own mind. Drawing forth, and compelling its spread. Eyes opening, glowing, greeting something distinctly different.
This building, like the rest, and the ground they walked on, was not concrete. It was a strange metal, lacking shine. Dull, empty in expressions, devoid of merit beyond the sheer abundance its presence permitted it.
The windows once glass, were revealed to be a sort of plastic. Feigning its nature as glass, draped down, made solid, yet see-through. It was hard, and rigid, capable of shattering, and slicing were it to. Yet, he opted to give that little thought, as sounds drew his curiosity.
The cat then turned to face the humans walking by. It was difficult sometimes, for Valérie to look at them for what they were. It inspired in him so much fear for their future. What they'd become.
Many were human, in the traditional sense. Others more closely resembling the Elsen, or supplementary humans. Intermingled within their gene pool long ago, were his brothers fables to be believed. It dulled their capabilities, limited their magical expression. Though, given the atrocities they could commit, perhaps it was best.
The last things, however, garnered a slight frown from the snaggle-toothed cat. The last category of humans, were specters of themselves. Rotting bodies, unaware they had already died. Unable to perceive that they'd given in, as they continued about their days, twisted horrors waiting for 'The moment' to pass.
As if an example, someone was passing by, screaming in agony, blood curdling. Clawing at their skin in a terrifying fashion, screaming for help. In a fashion only the most desperate, and pained could manage. The words given shape in the air, made of solid flesh and smoke. The same smoke that cluttered the air, that made it up.
Valérie closed his eyes to the reality beneath the surface, drawing his way back to what the humans called sanity. To the feelings, and rationale that permitted the subjugation, and expression of the grim truth. Opening them, to find himself able to perceive the illusion and dream once more.
The once screaming person revealed to be a man, who was aging some. He seemed world-weary, with bags under his eyes, and a general tiredness to his step. The specter glancing down, at the cat on the street, where so many others passed.
When they became aware of the horror they'd become, they would often turn violent to those who could perceive them. And yet, this weary one, didn't know yet. A soft smile forming on his face.
"Hey there puss." The specter, that did not know itself to be one yet, spoke. "You okay?"
Valérie let out a little mew, and waited curiously. Pablo preferred to dispatch these beings. To give them a final judgement, and permit them passage to rest. But Valérie couldn't muster it, not in the moment. Not when they hadn't approached with violence. He often felt himself naïve for this.
Regardless of his thoughts, he found himself picked up. The Specter humming while examining the makeshift collar around the cats neck. The 'Zone 0' tag there, on something made of scrap leather.
"I ain't heard'a Zone 0." The specter hummed, laughing a little. "You a business cat puss?" He scratched Valérie under the chin. "Any chance you know where that is?"
Valérie could not show this being. Perhaps he was kindly in the moment, but... it never lasted. He knew better than to endanger the girls. And so, simply purred in response, seeming to please the man some, getting a scratch on his head, before being set down.
"Well, I wager ya know your way back." The specter said, while kneeling down. "Here, just a second."
The man dug into an old backpack. As frayed, and torn as anything owned by the girls. With a little sticker on the side, for some style of royalty in relation to rings. The specter produced a sandwich from a container, and tore it in half. Giving half to Valérie, while patting his head.
The Spector commented. "Now, you enjoy that sammich puss. And get outta the sidewalk, okay? He pat Valerie, while getting up. "Don't want anyone steppin on ya."
The faded human giving a little smile and a wave, before turning to wander off. Valérie looked upon the specter with pity, and a small amount of appreciation. There was nothing the cat could do to help the man at this point. Nothing to reverse the damage, or mitigate the impact.
As much as he loathed it, it was just a matter of time before what was left of the Specter was snuffed out. Already too eroded to recover. Though, that didn't make Valérie feel any better.
If it was within his power, Valérie felt he would at least try and help. Try and fix them in some aspect. But history, and his own brothers sound judgement had revealed the folly in those attempts. Specters could only be saved, before the switch. After that...
Valerie took the sandwich half, and wandered off with it. He had to get home. The girls would be back soon. And he loathed leaving them alone in a place as dangerous as Zone 2 could be. Further, he wanted something else to think about, at least for now.
"Attention residents of Zone 2, a severe storm will be approaching the city in the next few days. We urge you to take all necessary-"
Before the message could finish, a battery was popped out of the radio. It was something handheld, like a walkie talkie in design motif. The battery was examined, and then shoved into an old jacket pocket. The radio itself being tossed back into the trash. Sinking beneath black trash bags.
"Uhm...Frisk?" The girl observing this began. "That sounded...important."
Frisk shrugged, while stepping back. "Aliza, aliza, aliza...relax. It's probably a radio show, or something." She added. "Sides...I don't see a storm."
Aliza looked over the sky with her orange eyes. She had to admit, she didn't see storm clouds either, especially given how clear, and bright the skies were today. It had been a couple weeks since it rained, at least in any significant fashion.
"Well, if you're sure." Aliza muttered, digging something out of a torn bag. "Hey, Frisk-" she held something up. "look, it's your shirt!"
Frisk raised a brow, and looked it over with her heterochromatic, red and green eyes. Funny enough, Aliza wasn't wrong, it was nearly one to one with the one she was wearing. Although, the one she was wearing had three purple stripes, over the normally blue shirt. While the one from the bag only had two purple stripes.
"Hmm?" She glanced, looking it over, and snickered. "Well, good to know someone here had a good fashion sense."
"Do...you want it?" The other girl asked.
"Er, what's wrong with mine?" Frisk asked, checking over her shirt.
Admittedly, there was a lot wrong with it, and she knew that very well. Her shirt was covered in various stains, from a variety of sources. Mud, dirt, ketchup, mustard, relish once, and of course dried blood. With a couple cuts, shredded strands, or otherwise torn small parts of it from the various misadventures she had gotten up to.
"Frisk-" The other girl began.
"Aliza." Frisk cut her off, with a little smile of amusement.
Aliza rolled her eyes. "It's gross." She said, stepping over, giving her counterpart the shirt. "And...you could get sick."
"From a dirty shirt?" Frisk asked, taking the other one. "I mean, this one's from a trashbag, so I dunno how much cleaner it'd be."
Despite saying this, the bag was in one of the pink trashbags. Those tended to be clean things, in their experience. At least at this location.
As, at present, the pair were beside an apartment building, associated with a larger apartment complex. It was a decent ways from their home at the old construction site, a good ways into the grand labyrinth of a city. And had been digging around in the pink bags, that had been placed beside the massive trash can. The latter smelling putrid, in the warm summer air.
Frisk had, everynow and then, glanced to the wall nearby. Across it was a mural of some kind, dedicated to what she imagined was a deceased girl. It depicted golden flowers blooming around a rendition of the child, with the name 'Clara' below it. She seemed to have light blue eyes, that made Frisk unnerved.
"It's clean." Aliza assured, adding. "I even shook it."
Frisk sighed, and looked over the shirt. "Well...I appreciate you lookin out for me." She winked. "It's cute."
Aliza meanwhile, asked. "It is?"
"Sure. I mean. Cute's subjective. Right." Frisk replied, sounding sage. "So I-"
"What's...wait, what did that one mean?" Aliza asked, as her counterpart turned.
The two had already acquired more than what they intended to come for. That being, mostly things to play with when they got bored. Or things to potentially sell to strangers for money, so they could eat. So Frisk didn't really feel like lingering anymore, motioning her friend to follow.
They passed a sign for the apartment complex, providing its name, that being 'Fourteen Residents apartments.' Aliza found the name silly, as there were more than fourteen people living there. She glanced back briefly, hearing someone calling out from one of the kids at the fenced in playground. Someone named Lucas. Seemed he had to go inside.
Frisk for her part, paid this little attention, and stuffed the shirt, folded down, into her pocket.
She was considering the question asked of her, while walking across the cluttered parking lot. There were many strange cars, and trucks here, of various makes and models. Almost twice as many, as there were actual apartments. Though, there were business buildings nearby too, so she just imagined they were going to those.
"It's uh...it's like-" Frisk considered. "it's when something is subject to something else."
Aliza pondered this. "So...cute's...owned by...something?"
Frisk gave a nod. "Exactly."
"Wait...so, who owns cute?" Aliza inquired, as they continued their walk.