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She closed and locked the heavy wooden door carefully, then disposed of her overcoat on the intricate, baroquest hatstand that lay by the door, a reminder of her childhood home. But here, it wasn’t anything like the decrepit, museum-like old manor she was raised in.
As her former home, the floor was also wood, but it was a lighter, warmer tone, that reminded her of autumn leaves—she secretly thought that it resonated well with the other house occupant ridiculously striking hair. The rest of the furniture in the entrance room—which was their living room—was a fair mix of its inhabitants' tastes. Comfy couches, shelves full of intimidating large tomes, a big screen, an Xbox, a few plants, some pieces of medieval-style armory, some paleontology relics (inside protection glasses, she wasn’t barbaric). A strange blend that to her softened eyes felt like a whole, perfect in itself.
She disposed of her boots, and walked softly in her black, skeleton patterned socks, in the direction of the scent of—roasting mushrooms? Very belatedly realizing that she had skipped lunch, she suddenly felt starved and quickened her pace to the kitchen.
Harrowhark froze. There was an intruder in their house. Shamelessly standing by the kitchen door was a feeble black thing, meowing at her as if demanding something. It was so small, its fur untidy, but its demeanor, the way its little eyes shone… She knew deep inside that she was facing a true menace. Even if a miniature one.
She squinted her eyes at the creature and called for its likely accomplice. “Griddle?”
Her girlfriend appeared, grinning like an idiot, wearing a freshly stained apron. “Welcome home, babe,” greeted Gideon joyfully, checking her out appreciatively as she usually did after a day apart. Harrow felt slightly flustered with the attention, as she usually did, but steeled her countenance nonetheless.
“What else do you have to say to me, Griddle?”
“Well… I was saving it for later, but fuck, I was here missing your cold glares, my dismal queen, you know they really do it for me,” her buffoon of a girlfriend replied, twisting her grin to an asymmetrical smirk full of teeth. The creature imperatively meowed at them, all high pitch and urgency.
"Griddle!" scolded Harrow, exasperated. Cheeks illogically warm due to Gideon’s evasive antics, she continued with her well-used sharp tones, “You know well enough what I’m referring to. What is this cat doing here? Where did it come from?”
Gideon’s smirk wavered, a hint of insecurity crossing her features. “You don’t like him?”
Harrow gave herself a moment to contemplate the girl in front of her. Puppy eyes and sheepish hesitance stared back at her.
With a sign and a melting heart, Harrow also gave herself a moment to contemplate the little menace in front of her. She could see it was scrawny under its fur. It had a bit of rheum in the corners of its little eyes. She noted that they were, in fact, fairly big, when contextualized in the tiny, dark body frame. They were a vivid yellow.
“I couldn’t say that he doesn't have the right aesthetic,” Harrow finally said. “Also, his need for someone to care for him is evident. Is that what you want to do?” Harrowhark gazed at her soft-hearted girlfriend with a coy smile, thinking her precious and beautiful.
Gideon broke into another grin, even bigger than the one given in the greeting moments before.