Here kitty kitty
The stiffness leaves his body in increments. A flick of his index finger here. An almost-blink there. An irritated twitch around his mouth with the urge to sneeze (when had he needed smelling salts and which one of these fuckers shoved them up his nose?).
Coordination returns even slower, so that when he’s free from the petrifying qualities of the snake lady’s bite the first step he takes sends him face first into the water. Sewer water. As if his day couldn’t get any worse.
But he is a solider. He’s used to having disgusting somethings caked into his uniform and clumped in his hair. He’s been trampled by larger daemons and lived to tell the tale. Grimy water with questionable shit in it was no big deal.
… He shouldn’t have used that word choice.
“Where’s Noctis?” That is the big deal, because he sees his clothes but no Prince in them.
“Oh you have got to be joking.” Of course his day could get worse. He was Nyx fucking Ulric. It was practically fated that any shit day would get ten times worse, maybe with the Astrals watching from overhead and sharing a few cosmic laughs at his expense.
Scratch that maybe. Make it most certainly, because there, crawling out from the sopping pile of clothing, was a cat. A very wet, shivery cat slinking its unsteady way to plonk at his feet and stare up at him with wide eyes.
Eyes like sapphires.