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"Because of Seska." That was his simple reply to why he'd been cursed and then he sighed heavily. Just mentioning her name brought it all back again. His voice amazingly softened, the first hint of an emotion that wasn't anything to do with anger or irritation. "She was beautiful, everyone loved Seska. To an extent so did I." and just as soon as the emotion had appeared it disappeared his voice becoming almost dull as if trying to dampen any kind of emotion at all.

"She was one of the rare few who I hadn't needed to win over. No games, no pretence. I wasn't an oddity. When she gave her kindness she asked for nothing in return. No bargains, no conditions. She was different to the rest of us. Unsullied by the harshness of our kind of life. And then she was gone because some humans in a game of sport hunted her down and slaughtered her." He came to an almost shuddery halt. It was the most amount of words he'd ever really said in a long time and he realised that he was trembling slightly. Anger. A mere shadow of the kind that had come over him when he'd found her clouding his sense of judgement.

He was silent for a short while as if lost in a mental pause and when he spoke again it was slow, deliberate...cold. "So I hunted them down and killed them myself. Every last one of them not as an animal but as I am now. They had to know why they were to die." He ran a quick hand through his hair. "I misjudged, I let my guard down, I let myself get carried away by my emotions. I was caught and that's the end of that."

His eyes looked haunted. He knew there was far too much being given away through them and the only thing he could turn to was his anger. Cursed and locked in a cage fed on scraps and poked for amusement, his kind would sooner spit on him and put him out of his misery something he hadn't had the luxury of doing himself. "Do you know enough now or will you insist on probing further, would you like to know how they kept me locked up in a cage, or maybe how many times I yearned to be free? How I couldn't go back when I was? Please feel free to tell me when your morbid curiosity is sated."

Belatedly he realised he'd done it again.

The tug took him by complete surprise and he blinked utterly lost for words it was a reaction he hadn't been expecting and just like that all the anger drained out of him uselessly. The voice was soft, non-judgemental. There was nothing to feed his anger. It left him limp and when arms went round him pulling him into an embrace he didn't resist.

He was actually lost for a few minutes and allowed himself to stay in those arms listening to Jyrem's voice. It was...calming right now, and soothed his raw nerves. Ever since he'd been able to talk there had been a quality to its sound that Micah had always liked. His first words had been a triumph and even though it had changed over time it hadn't lost that quality he could pick out from a crowd.

For him it was supposed to be the other way around. He couldn't see it any other way. He was the one that did the protecting, that was just how it was meant to be. Like an unbreakable oath he was sworn to. But for a few moments it was strangely simple to just listen like he was someone else, somewhere else and he was able to really trust anyone with everything he was.

He went rigid at the touch of lips against his forehead and pulled back quickly eyes dark and unreadable. "I appreciate your kindness" he said "but may I trouble you for a pair of trousers."

Micah touched the clothes thoughtfully. To be honest it was more than he had expected. He'd only asked for a pair of trousers and that had been all he had expected and he put those on. However he hadn't expected to be given a top or even covering for his feet. He stared at them holding them up by the tip as if somehow scrutinising its very existence.

"Thank you. This is more than enough." he said simply with a rather preoccupied tone as he continued his study. He'd often seen Jyrem squeezing into the strange little things. The most he'd had on his feet were sandals and that had been a luxury. He'd never quite known what to make of it though he knew full well what to do with them. It was just that having no feet himself, he hadn't needed to pay much attention. Moreso he had never thought he would 'ever' have feet again. What followed then was a short process of tugging, hopping and then finally sitting again that eventually ended up with him beaming triumphantly.

He finally understood as he wiggled his toes in them. This was why they were worn. What comfort. Rising he slipped on the tunic easily enough and ran a hand over his hair to re-right the mess he ended up with.

"I'll find a way to repay you for these." Micah said

Micah beamed at the compliment even having the grace to colour slightly, he was still lost in a rather childlike joy at having conquered. It was amazing how something that simple could give him the feeling of a different kind of independence. In his panther form he'd had to rely to a great extent on what he was given. Oh by and by he had gone off to do his own thing. He couldn't be confined for very long and he'd never been used to living off others. His disappearance at times had been born of a need to explore what little freedom he had. Try and live as he once had and sometimes look longingly in the direction of his home as he took a break from hunting.

He shook his head firmly "As a friend I cannot live off you. It isn't my way. You know that." He was a proud man and he rarely accepted anything he couldn't pay back. As an animal he was limited to the things he could do, with his own hands now he had it all back again. For how long he still wasn't sure. Every minute he wondered when it would be that he would suddenly find himself locked in his animal form again. He had an almost driven need to do something, familiarize himself with things again.

Perhaps it was a need for conviction, that if he could do something he could prove that he really was here. He wanted to do everything he'd always watched Jyrem do with an aloofness that hadn't just come from a typical distance always associated with cats but also from a niggling jelousy at not being able to do it too. To avoid wishing for something he couldn't have and may never have again.

"Give me something to do." he said suddenly. "Let me help you make dinner." His eyes suddenly filled with a gleam that almost bordered on evil but he wasn't to know it.

"Give me a knife, I should like to see if I am still adept with it after so long. Perhaps it is something you never forget."

Micah had an inclination as to what he might be looking for but he hadn't believed it. More so when he pulled in from its resting place and still he had thought he couldn't possibly. His brow furrowed a mixture of disbelief, wariness and surprise all rolled into one confused package. What on earth was he doing to think he could just give this away as a 'gift'.

Yes, he was willing to admit a knife was a necessary tool but this wasn't just any knife. This was a part of a trio, this carried magic even without knowing it you could feel there was definately something otherworldly there and it did not simply lie in its design. As a panther he'd heard it, that faint hum he'd long come to associate with magic surrounded it. He couldn't hear it now but he could still feel it. Once magic was noticed it was hard to un-notice it.

It caught the light and shimmered for a second and he reached for it before he knew he had. His fingers ran over the steel, turning it as he went. Micah couldn't resist, his movement was a blur the only indication that he'd moved was the short rush of air. It 'was' something you could never forget. Even after a long time without touching a knife it was still there. It was like the time had never passed and he had but held a weapon just the day before.

He could hear the man who'd trained him now as if he stood right next to him inspecting his posture, his hold always seemingly unsatisfied. "Do in three what others do in ten, then surprise them by doing it in one" strange how he sounded so close when he'd not set eyes on him long before his capture. He'd died by the very thing he'd had mastery over and all that was left of his skill stood here now.

The blade sat only a few centimeters from Jyrem's cheek but he hadn't flinched, Micah didn't know if he ought to be surprised or ought instead to have known. Jyrem might see him as the Panther still but he was different, in the space of a day, did that not fill him with even the slightest bit of uncertainty? Despite all he had said, to just simply accept it and then hand him something so very important to him...Maybe the problem just lay with him an his inability to accept that things were freely given. Even after spending so long around Jyrem. Some memories were too deeply rooted.

He gave a wry smile before lowering the knife and offering it point towards himself "I think this might be too elaborate for cutting root vegetables."

ooc; not at all, but I'll take the cookie still because ooh i love them :3 but you simply musn't apologise for being tired. Also if you need me to post more regularly just say, I can try a bit more on weekends but I work six to seven days a week so I'm usually out on at least six of seven.
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Micah smiled.
It took him a handfull of seconds and it came when no one saw but he did smile and it was strange that he would feel any sort of relief or even joy from having been dismissed so easily. He didn't think of him as a threat, none whatsoever and it didn't seem to have changed now either. But one small movement of uncertainty, a blink of surprise and he would have known that for all his words he didn't trust him. In a way he wouldn't have blamed him. He didn't trust himself. True acceptance was hard to come by for him.

But still, and his mouth formed an almost frustrated shape, he was still left with this. He stared at it as if it would somehow reject being stuck with him. His frown returned. Well for now, they were both stuck with each other. Slipping it into the side of his waistband he followed Jyrem silently. Stubborn, he was stubborn and yet even as he berated him for being so he couldn't ignore the small quivering feeling of happiness. No matter how he tried to quell it.

Though when he eventually spoke it was level with no hint of his feelings "I still want to help. Tell me what you need done and I'll do it."

ooc; i like ones with hazelnut and white chocolate chips in them because they are simply divine. And an anime fest sounds like lots of fun, I hope you get to go, they don't do anything as entertaining down my quarter.
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A pan. A pan. Micah went searching he knew where most things were after all he'd always watched. He made a put out sound at the endearment though but made no more of a fuss about it and let it slide. He'd never had anyone call him anything born of a familiarity that came with having spent so much time with someone. So in a way he didn't mind, he just wished That Jyrem could have choosen something less...harmless.

Micah was to find though that despite the fact that he had always watched Jyrem move around in this place and knew what to do it was a different feeling to actually be 'doing' it. He couldn't say he didn't like it either there was something about working with Jyrem to do something as simple as prepare food in this form. It was proberbly best described as a comfortable normality of a differing kind. Even the action of filling the pan with water, when he'd finally settled on one, who knew that would make him indecisive.

Once it was set on to boil he turned to watch Jyrem for a few moments quietly thoughtful before asking "what would you like me to do next?" He wondered silently what the wonderful dinner was going to be.