(OOC) -->

It's been a very strange time for the formerly-black kitty. His own parents didn't recognize him, it seems, thanks to his change of appearance, a subtle change in his scent (He still smells like … whatever was all mixed together in that crazy bat's lair) and, most of all, his lack of ability to speak.

Now, the white Meow wanders aimlessly through the Bazaar. After all, occasionally some merchant will offer a "free sample", or might simply just take pity on him, since his shekels have run out.

Looking rather downcast, with hands in pockets and head hung low, Jynx, now known as 'Meow', paces randomly through the streets, feeling sorry for himself and occasionally mewing angry hisses under his breath.

Nearby, some Jupanis wrestle with a somewhat familiar-looking machine, trying to get it onto a wagon. It's … the Wheel of Misfortune!

Meow hears the bantering of the canines, and looks up. Double disgust hits him both at the sight of the Jupanis and at the machine (but especially at the latter). He looks at them quizzically, wondering what they are doing with the felicidal machine.

Not only double disgust hits him, as the wolves bump the machine while trying to heft it up. Something breaks, and a blackish spray emits from a broken tube. The Jupanis start shouting at each other, rushing to stop the spray … but not before the Khatta gets a good squirt of it right in the eyes!

"Rowr!" protests the white cat, as he is blinded. Now unable to see (along with his other disabilities), he stumbles about.

The black ick is very unpleasant in the white Khatta's eyes.

Meow paws like crazy at the stinging goo, "Me-rowr! Hiss!" Mainly he just rubs it in more, and still he stumbles about, not paying the least attention to his other senses.

Well, at least the Khatta has managed to clear away the ick enough that he can see again. At first, he can see that the black spray has speckled his paws, and he has some smears on his fingers from wiping the goo out of his eyes. Behind him, the wolves bang on the machine, but it appears they've gotten the spray to stop.

The white Khatta sigh-hisses under his breath, and attempts to wipe the sticky substance off his fur. He wants his old color back yes, but not in this fashion!

The black smears on the Khatta's fingers wipe away a bit … but it seems that the thicker spots that hit him stubbornly stay in place. What wretched luck! Perhaps being white like Eve doesn't convey good luck upon 'Meow' after all.

The machine-bearing wagon rolls away, drawn by a snoozy-looking Dromodon, the wolves clinging onto the slats on the sides of the wagon, still grumbling and shouting at each other. It seems the white Khatta has wandered over to the very edge of the Bazaar. Now that the traffic has cleared a bit, there's not really a booth to be seen here. Not except for some really poor excuses, that is, that have hardly any business at all.

Meow rrrs, Eve is the last thing he wants to be reminded of, for all he knows the little brat recognized him (like a fuff'nar remembers its favorite chew toy), but just acted like she didn't to bug him. Meow gives up scrubbing as the goo stubbornly stays in place, and he then gets up, trying to put some space between him and the machine.

The white Khatta looks around, unfamiliar with his current surroundings. ( Oh joy, what now? )

Putting space in between him and the machine is fairly easy. The shadows begin to grow long, as the sun begins to set. The buildings here look awfully desolate. Where has the white Khatta wandered off to?

Meow looks around for any landmarks that might give a clue to his whereabouts…

A couple of Skreeks walk up. Maybe they can help. One of them is tall for a Skreek … with a rather dopey expression. Plus, his fur is dyed in a curious shade of pink. His companion is much shorter, and a bit deformed, possessing large ears, and a smashed muzzle that gives him an almost bulldog look, offset by an exceptionally large forehead, and a glowering expression.

"Duh … hi there!" says the big pink Skreek. The shorter Skreek just regards Meow, fidgeting with his hands.

Meow sighs, Skreeks are almost as bad as Jupanis, but what other chance does he have? "Mew?" He asks. He then points to the ground, then motions to the surroundings, then shrugs. ( A purrfect 'where am I' gesture, even these rodents should know what this means… ) "Meow?"

The shorter Skreek hmms, staring at Meow's … neck? "Stinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

The taller, stupid Skreek says, "Duh … yeah, Pain, but where are we gonna find a tattoo parlor open at this time of the evening?"

Meow blinks blankly at the duo… ( Pondering? )

Meow slowly back away, the neck is not a part of the self you want a Skreek to look at…

"SEIZE HIM!" commands Pain.

The bigger Skreek says, "Duh … yeah … I sees him, too!" He puts one hand over his eyes, shielding them against a nonexistent noonday sun.

"MYA!" shrieks Meow, quickly turning to bolt from the strange buck toothed partners.

The pitter-patter of pursuing paws can be heard behind Meow as he takes flight down a conveniently-available (and quite dark) alleyway. Out the other side, and down the streets, Meow flees, but the neighborhood doesn't seem to be getting any better. The streets are for the most part deserted … though, around a corner, there are a few digitigrade felines up ahead, getting into a wagon.

Meow's experience in life tells him that he fares better with the cat-types (perhaps he's biased that way, but that's just him), and he runs as fast as he can to try and seek refuge with them.

The white Khatta dashes up to the wagon, making a leap worthy of an acrobat … and landing nicely in an open spot on a bench running the length of the wagon, just on the inside (with two benches facing each other), and filling up the last empty space, as all the … spotted … felines get on board. So deft is the white Khatta's maneuver that it seems nobody pays him more than a passing glance. Besides, it's pretty dark here now.

A weathered and scarred Dromodon pulls the cart along, several Savanites (and one Khatta) riding in the wagon.

Spotted Khattas? Savanites?! Well, this can't be good. Not one to make a ruckus (when it could cost him his hide, that is), Meow stays quiet, just glancing nervously about at the cheetahs.

The other cheetahs, Meow can quickly notice, seem quite nervous as well. They vary greatly in age. In fact, there is a couple just across from Meow, the female clutching a kitten who clings to her patched work clothes. The little kitten stares off into space for the most part, but eventually the eyes focus on Meow. The infant looks at Meow in wide-eyed wonder … and then makes a winning smile.

Meow freezes as he is looked at, he had hoped to go unnoticed. Slowly he returns a sheepish smile, and puts his fingers to his lips in a 'Shhh' gesture.

The infant bashfully hides its head, turning back to its mother. She purrs, looking down at the infant, then smiles at Meow. She doesn't even blink at the sight of the white Khatta sitting there.

Meow arches a brow; this is downright strange, he would have figured that the spotties wouldn't be happy to see a free cat-type… then again, that is… uh oh…

The wagon is making its way through the fringes of Darkside … and starts passing a few more familiar landmarks. It would seem the wagon is headed toward the Docks, though not using one of the more travelled (and better repaired) routes.

Meow stands up and peers outside the cart. Slowly, his teenage kitty brain puts two and two together, and if his face could get any whiter, it would as realization dawns.

A hand from the Savanite next to Meow reaches out, touching his arm, and a face looks up, with an expression that seems to hopefully suggest that Meow sit down. The view outside the cart would indicate that the wagon is headed for the Docks, indeed … and has now reached it.

At the docks, many ships can be seen … including the LARGEST ship Jynx has ever seen!

A gigantic zeppelin-shaped craft is moored at one of the far docks, with several mirror-lamps projecting focused beams of light across its surface. Guards can be seen flying about the ship or milling about the docks below it. Thankfully, the wagon is NOT headed that way.

Meow looks around with jaw dropped, partly at the situation, and partly at the ship. He looks back at the Savanite wide-eyed, his shock keeping him from almost any comprehension at the moment.

As the wagon rolls along, past the heavily-guarded area, the mirror-lights sweep past the 'envelope' of the ship, revealing it to be quite unlike the envelope of any airship Meow has seen. It is a solid construction, not a leathery balloon. In fact, its underside has a row of alcoves that look as if they have been CARVED into the solid surface, each housing a statue of a robed and hooded figure clutching a sword. Six of them can be seen, in groups of three … and presumably there are six more to match them on the opposite side, gazing downward with hidden faces.

Terror lost for a moment, Meow gets on his tiptoes to get a better gaze at the ship. Its like nothing he's ever seen! How do they expect it to fly being all solid like that?

No clues are forthcoming. Perhaps it's a misguided Temple experiment that will drop off the island like a rock once it's unmoored. Perhaps it's a really good thing Meow is not headed that way. However … the ship that the wagon approaches doesn't look terribly appetizing by any standards, either.

Meow tears his attention from the massive ship for the moment, and surveys his destination…

The craft, fashioned of blackwood (as can be told by all the peeling paint) and resting underneath a patched-looking envelope, is a fairly rickety-looking eyesore. Several Savanites carry supplies onto the ship, even this late at night.

For, it would seem, some time has passed during the wagon ride. They must not have taken the direct route.

Meow shudders, perhaps this wasn't the most intelligent of escape routs. Looking around cautiously, the Khatta prepares to make a jump for it…

The wagon stops … and some of the Savanites start getting off – preferring to hop over the sides, rather than wait to get off in a more dignified fashion.

A cheetah in a black dress, with a tangle of black curly hair and a woven leather headband walks by. She looks terribly familiar. She also seems to be somewhat in charge here, silently directing the Savanite workers.

The white spotted Khatta jumps off as well, but he wasn't expecting to be at the destination so soon. Looking about wildly, Meow eyes any paths that he can get away by, but then he notices that familiar face, and stops. Where has he seen her before?

My … that leather headband … she looks a bit like that Savanite in that place at the bottom of the sky island…

A whole LOT like that Savanite, really. Just dressed differently … and … hmm … a bit older. Or it could be the light.

Meow stands stock still, trying to decide. If this is the same Savanite, she probably won't be happy to see him, but then again, will she recognize him? Perhaps she could help… then again, running seems to be a good option at the moment as well. (Why not? It's worked before!)

The familiar-looking Savanite looks straight at Meow now, and walks toward him. In a swift movement, while he's deciding what to do, she takes his arm … and seems to be directing him? By the way she's pointing, perhaps she's directing him to help the feline with the baby down off the wagon. Or maybe she's just pointing out what a lovely baby that is. Hmm. Maybe the latter isn't too likely, considering how hard at work all the spottycats are here.

Meow scowls at the slave, after all, he's a free-cat Dagh-nabbit! "Mrowr!" He puts on his best defiant face, which isn't all that convincing.

The headband-wearing Savanite just gives Meow this … LOOK. It's not the sort of look that one gets from a Savanite slave. Perhaps more like from Lylia on one of those really rare … REALLY rare … occasions … like when some black Khatta named Jynx goes too far in a scuffle and hurts his little sister, and now he's REALLY in for it, and not a "just wait until your father finds out," either!

Meow's defiant face drops, and turns into a rather terrorized face, "Mew?" he says pitifully.

The Savanite points again to the infant-bearing female. Perhaps the command is being repeated.

Meow blinks, and sets his ears back in anger. He heads over near the female and crosses his arms, glaring at the headband wearer. How is he supposed to tell who he is in all this?

The headband wearer makes a low growl, shakes her head … and then just heads over to the wagon and helps down the mother and child herself … though she's not necessarily the best suited for the task.

Meow blinks, and his ears go back up. She wanted him to help her? Why didn't she just say- oh yeah… Well, anyroad she's a slave and he's free. Not that he has anything against slaves personally, but its improper for a citizen to do a slaves work. He simply looks at the headband wearer, and shrugs.

The little kitten's face pops back into Meow's mind, and he sighs. Once upon a time, Eve was like that too, and she was actually bearable. Ears set back, since this shouldn't be something he should have to do, the Khatta walks over to help the mother down, mewling in quiet anger at the headband-cat.

The headband-wearing one's expression softens a bit as Meow at last assists – despite his angry mewling. That task taken care of, the wagon is rolled away by another worker … and before the white Khatta has a chance to protest … someone has stuck a small box in his hands and pushed him in the direction of the gangplank!

Well, a small crate is more like it. At least it's not heavy.

Meow stumbles forward at the push, giving a quick hiss at the culprit. He turns his attention back to the ship, and sets his ears back in nervousness as he approaches it. He's been in a few sticky situations, but this one takes the cake.

There is a line of workers carrying boxes behind the white Khatta. At least the gangplank looks … reasonably … sturdy. Well, the OTHERS are carrying even heavier boxes across it, so it can't be as bad as it looks. Can it?

The Khatta gulps, and lightly puts a foot down on the plank, then slooowly goes across. He's hauled crates for Dominic before, but he never had to balance across a piece of wood at the same time.

The wood creaks ominously. Just a little further…

Slooowly he crosses, tiptoing inch by inch. If he were in a race now, he'd come in dead last.

*creak*

… and then … SAFETY! Meow makes it across! Whew! Bet you thought it was going to …

*CRACK*

Okay, so maybe that was a bit premature…

"REOW!" The white-spotted Khatta quickly drops his crate, and scrambles to get a hold on to the side of the ship!

The crate falls forward, hitting against the edge of the deck, while the gangplank suddenly drops from underneath the Khatta. Down he goes! He can see a couple of crates falling … and has the sudden sensation of arms grabbing around him … and claws digging into his fur. BLUNT claws, at least…

The wind is knocked out of him as his belly meets the edge of the deck, grabbed onto by several deckhands. From what he can see, it looks like nobody else fell. At least the Khatta's luck isn't THAT bad.

"Me-OOF!" the Khatta gasps as he tries to regain his breath, not to mention the pain that now manifests in his stretched arms. He slowly stands back up, heaving deep breaths and looks about wide-eyed.

The cheetahs pull Meow on board … and another gangplank is thrust across the gap again. Without a pause, work resumes. Nobody, obviously, is going to go after the dropped crate. And nobody seems to be concerned with blaming Meow for the accident right now.

Meow, now back on his feet, dusts himself off. What kind of ship is this anyways? When he gets his voice back, somebody's gonna pay… if he gets it back. The spotted Khatta simply stands there, at loss at what to do next.

Those who pulled Meow aboard depart, leaving him alone on the deck. He occasionally has to get out of the way of cargo being moved aboard, and Savanites who board without carrying much of anything. (Most of them are fairly light-handed.) A tall cheetah in dark brown robes stands nearby, just now attracting Meow's notice … boring holes in him with his stare and un-slave-like, regal bearing.

This one looks a bit familiar, too. Kind of like … one of those weird dancing cheetahs back in that ruined city in the jungle.

Meow, setting his ears back in nervousness once again, cringes back at the sight of the tall cheetah. Those dancer types were supposed to be powerful, but what is one doing in Rephidim? The Khatta slinks back away from him, and looks around with a lost expression.

The tall brown-robed cheetah glides across the deck toward Meow, his strides hidden by the folds of his robes. He holds out a hand to Meow. None others seem to be paying the Khatta any mind at all.

Meow blinks at the hand, he wants to shake? Well, seeing as the white Khatta's the new feline around here, he's not in a position to turn someone down. He grabs the cheetah's paw and shakes vigorously, a huge, dumb looking smile on his face.

The cheetah doesn't smile in return. Rather, he takes Meow's paw and glides along … leading him to the steps leading down belowdecks! What is down there, the cheetah does not indicate. However, Meow's keen nose and empty stomach detect an aroma coming up from belowdecks. An aroma of … FOOD!

The Khatta is dragged along, maybe it wasn't a shake? He doesn't have to be dragged long however, and quickly get to his feet, following the Savanite at that wondrous smell.

Just down the steps, the light is a bit better, thanks to mounted candles at irregular intervals. On a normal airship, where there would be a door leading to the cargo hold, it seems that just beyond, there is indeed some cargo, but a great number of bunks that have been set up in the hold itself, with various haphazard partitions set up. But, more importantly, there is the galley … and Meow's nose leads him there, where he finds a few tables with a few Savanites eating soup. There's an empty spot here and there.

Meow's eyes light up, and he quickly runs to one of the seats. Being broke and homeless can work up quite an appetite for a cat. He sits down, and waits for his share.

A matronly Savanite makes her way by, attended by a couple of adolescents who carry a steaming pot of soup between them. She sets down a wooden bowl before Meow, and ladles out a generous serving for him, before moving on. The soup steams, indicating that Meow should wait at least a little bit for it to cool. An assortment of chopped vegetables and meat chunks floats in the saucy soup, enticing the poor Khatta not to wait so long at it.

He tries to wait, but his hunger makes him obey the call. If Lylia had ever taught her son manners, no one would know from the way be attacks the soup, ladling it insanely to his mouth. Even though his tastebuds are getting scorched at the moment, he purrs away.

It IS good … but Meow's tongue and the roof of his mouth suffer for the haste. Ouch. At least his belly is somewhat appeased. With a frown, one of the Savanites next to Meow slides a cracked ceramic mug full of water – untouched, apparently, though leaking very slowly – over to the famished Khatta.

Meow smiles kittenishly to the Savanite with a nod of approval, wipes his mouth, then glugs down the water like a dehydrated Dromodon. He sounds like one too.

Once Meow puts down the (now-empty) mug, there's something curious about his reflection on the glossy finish of the mug. His face, first of all, is just so light-furred … but … spots on his face? Plus, there are smears down the side of his muzzle suggesting tearmarks … perhaps from where he tried to wipe that goo out of his eyes?

Meow freezes as the situation becomes horribly clear, not only did he have spots like the cheetahs, but his face too? Slowly he puts the glass back down, a look of shock upon his face.

A Savanite cub takes Meow's empty bowl away. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like Meow's going to get seconds, though that was a pretty generous serving, at least.

Some of the other Savanites get up from the table, milling about, wiggling their fingers at each other, and eventually head out the door.

Meow's stomach rumbles a bit, bringing him back to reality. He looks around at the now empty room, and his heart sinks as the true nature of his predicament sets in. Instead of following the others, he just sits there, still as stone.

A few more Savanites come in, a few leave. Eventually, more leave than come in, leaving Meow alone at his table.

Meow's mind is totally blank at first, numb from his new slave status. Slowly he comes to, and ponders just staying in the hold, that way he might go unnoticed.

Time passes. A cub pads up, and looks at Meow, then pads away. The matronly Savanite serving the cheetahs seems to take pity on Meow … and ladles out another bowl of soup for him. It's not nearly so hot now, though it's still a few degrees above room temperature.

The white Khatta just looks at the soup, and doesn't bother to eat it. He just curls up in his chair pitifully, sad eyed and worried looking. He knows what people do to slaves, and the thought of having that done to him is terrifying. In addition to that, there's no way he can even really communicate with anybody, since he can't speak and doesn't know that slave hand-stuff. This thought keeps him from the deck, and worries him to the point of a stomach ache.

The matronly Savanite eventually wanders back to the table, finds the cooled soup untouched … and reaches over to touch Meow on the shoulder lightly. She wiggles her fingers in front of him … but, of course, they mean nothing to Meow.

Meow just blinks up at the cheetah, uncomprehending. A few tears spring to his eyes to go along with the black ones.

The matronly Savanite frowns at the now-spotted Khatta and hugs him gently.

Meow leans into the hug tightly, and cries openly now (although the sounds come out as assorted mews). He shivers in fright, clinging to the cheetah.

Eventually, once Meow has cried himself out, the matronly Savanite gently leads him out of the galley, and out to the larger "hold" area. Past several booths, bunks and partitions set up she leads him, until she eventually takes him to a spot where a cub is busily arranging some patched-up blankets in a "cubicle" walled-in by several tied-down crates. At least one of them is empty and open.

Meow wipes his eyes (which takes off none of the black stuff, unfortunately), and follows along. Once they reach their destination, he looks at the two Savanites curiously. "Mew?"

The cub patpatpats a rolled-up blanket apparently meant to serve as a pillow, then scampers on out of the cubicle. Perhaps this is meant to be Meow's new "room"?

Meow blinks at the matronly Savanite. He points to the cubicle, then to himself, in a 'for me?' gesture.

The Savanite nods to Meow … then shuffles off, leaving him alone there.

Meow stands and stares at the makeshift room, and gives one final sniff left over from the crying outbreak. Its hardly his room back at home, but it'll do in a pinch. The Khatta settles down on the floor and heaves a depressed sigh, how is he gonna get out of this one? What if his fur never changes back, will he be stuck like this forever? The thoughts fade away as the cat drifts off to sleep. Just before he goes fully out, one lone good thought enters his mind: at least he doesn't have to share this room…