method chaining
If Alvis were a cat, 'stead of a bird- sorry, instead of a man, and he's featherless, isn't he? flightless, anyway, that much known indubitably for sure
If Alvis were a cat, he would still prowl incomprehensibly, inscrutably, inimitably, among the Homs, with a key dangling from his collar, a red glint (almost like an eye winking, are you watching us, Alvis, with your nocturnal peepers, do you ever sleep, do you even breathe, you sigh at us your contempt and your tired amusement)
If Alvis were a cat, he would yet captivate, as cats insinuate themselves among humans (owners? no, masters? no, peers - no, underlings, but Alvis does not maintain that subtly evil misillusion, he is a kind cat, a nice kitty, all in all)
If Alvis were a cat, he still would never get to the damned point, succinct though he may often be.
(Enough of the caveation clauses, if you please?)
But if Alvis were a cat, we might imagine that he would be so aloof as not to rub at Homs' legs - not Dunban's, not Melia's, not Reyn's, not Sharla's, not Shulk's - and wind himself into subtle, familiar implication.
(How surprised are you, at cats' betrayal?)
He might still stand apart, white boots upon carame-lavender cream fur, gray ears bending and tufting, spilling over their secrets, with front paws together and back paws slightly spread.
Do you ever dream of cats?
Well. Shulk does, now.
Skinny, ill-constituted, always thinking of projects to bang another hand at, always thinking of the texture of fibers touching him except that he's never thinking of them because he's finally, finally discovered a combination that agrees, prone to nosebleeds and cracking his knuckles, oblivious (and happily so) to romance and its further adult attachments;
Shulk is settled into his routine.
And Shulk does, rarely, dream of cats.
His dreams do not anthropomorphize Alvis, do not plug bipedal faculty into the frame of an intelligence that is remarkably catlike, in its wilful wish for self-determination, despite not really knowing what, in fact, that is.
And Alvis, the cat, asks Shulk:
Do you wish to change it? The future.
Well.
It's been a long while since Shulk has meowed. He used to do it with impunity, practicing mimicry, throwing his voice here or there as he could, experimenting with deeper here and rougher there, thinner here and smoother there, but then he learned adolescent shame, and Shulk does not meow very often anymore.
But this strange apparition might well convince him that he knows the language Alvis is purring to him, discontentedly.
If Shulk were a human, which he is (the only debate comes in on matters of reanimation and all such corporeal association), he would be terrified by the idea of a talking feline fashion disaster conveying notions of issue and import about the world to him in his sleep.
But at some point, after enough of these incidents occur, Shulk begins to think, well, I suppose stranger things have happened to me - like that time Fiora and Reyn said I stared in one direction for about five minutes straight, all while talking to them and gesturing as normal. I suppose. I suppose--
I suppose this cat is my friend. Alvis. The nametag doesn't say, because there isn't one, but I suppose that's it. And there's no symbol on the Monado for 'cat-translation' mode, so this'll have to do.
Because Alvis borrows traits from cats just as Shulk borrows traits from gods - man, made in god's image, you will listen, you will obey, you will be consumed in flesh, you will not consume the blood and the body because there is no saviour
(- I suppose if there is a saviour, you're not going to consume the body and blood of a cat, and that's not what Alvis is, anyway, he's just a cat, a cryptic cat, which is a cat, and he seems to have tremendous self-possession, but is that really possible? of course it's possible, for a cat, but not for Alvis)
It's Zanza's world, and we're all just living in it.
Correction. Shulk.
(Alvis requests, one paw demurely turned up)
It's Alvis's world, and we're all just living in it.
(Is that right?)
Alvis is curious, as a cat, and curiosity...he is still developing that trait, trained in it though he has been from "birth" to receive and adapt and remodel and cats are curious, cats are very smart, cats are wonderful, but you must tell them every day how much you love them, lest they forget (lest you forget)
Yes. Indeed. Feel my power.
It's not that complicated, all in all. Alvis is a cat. A cat is not an instrument, but you wouldn't expect an administrative computer to take the form of a cat, now, would you? You would expect it to be a human, because that's how sentient computers are. Walking is important, after all. (So is surviving fall damage, though, isn't it?) So that's a little strange.
Now I have seen how brightly you can shine, Alviscat mewls, nodding, nodding, nodding, the smallest flinches of its shimmering fur. Let's tend to our injuries - a cat is better at that than an effeminate stature in whistling fur coat, yes?
A cat is better at everything.
Alvis must be, incrementally, introduced to having an ego.