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“The spell is somewhat similar to the more mundane Levitate, which I think you are familiar with. However, it is less about pushing yourself via force, and instead about altering the effect gravity has upon your body in a localised- ah-”
Essek broke off as, from nowhere, a small gingery blur leapt onto his lap. From there, it promptly began to burrow insistently, purring all the while, into Essek’s heavy mantle, attempting to find a way into the thick maze of material.
Caleb, recognising his cat, flushed as Essek peered down interestedly as Frumpkin began pawing in evident displeasure at his heavy robe, seeking the warmth within no doubt.
“I am so sorry,” he murmured, making soft chirruping sounds to Frumpkin to summon him away from Essek.
Frumpkin ignored him.
Caleb stared, the colour deepening in his cheeks. Of all the times for his cat to decide to stop listening to him, of course it would be at a moment like this.
“ Frumpkin ,” he said, still too shocked to put any real reproach into the words.
Essek looked rather amused. “It’s alright, Widogast,” he said, reaching down a long, thin finger and stroking Frumpkin’s fluffy cheek, “I don’t mind.”
“This is very out of character for him,” Caleb said, staring, “This is not like him at all.”
Essek raised a narrow eyebrow, his amusement apparently deepening the more flustered Caleb became, “It’s unusual that he would be attracted to me? I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to imagine how that might happen given how closely bonded he is to you.”
Caleb was now fairly certain he resembled the precise shade his mother’s beetroot and tomato soup used to turn.
“I only meant,” he said, trying to regain his composure, “That it is very unusual for him not to listen to me when I give him a command.”
He winced slightly as he realised Frumpkin had found a way within the impenetrable mantle and was now proceeding to knead enthusiastically at Essek’s lap as though he were a lump of harvest bread dough.
“And he is going to ruin your robes,” he muttered, more to himself than Essek. Then, more loudly, he added, “Frumpkin!” There was a soft chirping sound from within the mass of purple and black velvet, and Frumpkin’s head appeared, blinking innocently at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Caleb said, trying to be stern, “You know you’ve done wrong. And you are going to ruin Herr Theylss’ clothes. Come out here now.”
Frumpkin yawned pointedly, then stretched indulgently, flexing every muscle in his body, right down to his toes, clearly taking as much time as possible to listen to his master.
Caeb could feel the amusement radiating from Essek. He made a point not to look at him.
“I will put you in your pocket plane,” he warned him, raising his fingers threateningly, ready to snap him away.
Frumpkin gave him an insolent little meow and a look of withering disgust no creature in the world was capable of mustering but a cat.
Essek actually laughed. It was a bright, sharp, almost musical sound, and Caleb was so surprised by it, he forgot to be stern with Frumpkin.
He looked younger when he laughed. The joy smoothed away the lines of worry that seemed to permanently crease his angular features of late. There was a brightness in his eyes, too, one that Caleb had never had the pleasure of seeing before, as though Frumpkin had kindled the stars within his gaze.
“Leave him be,” Essek said, still smiling, tickling Frumpkin under the chin, causing him to start purring loudly again. “He isn’t doing any harm.”
“You like cats?” Caleb ventured. It was an extremely foolish question given the circumstances, but he had found many people didn’t understand them. He had a profound mistrust of people who did not like cats. If Essek did, if he appreciated them ...Well, that was a tick in the correct box as far as Caleb was concerned.
“My mother kept them when I was a boy,” Essek confessed, eyes still on Frumpkin.
His expression softened as he went on. His smile became even warmer, far more natural and gentle than the cunning, cutting smirks Caleb was more used to seeing.
Caleb started, surprised, drawn in to this thread of connection between them, however seemingly mundane or general.
“We had a cat also, when I was growing up,” he said, nodding towards Frumpkin, who had by now made himself a veritable nest in Essek’s lap, “She looked very like Frumpkin here. That was her name, too. When I had later gained a familiar... “ he trailed off, vaguely.
“Naturally you drew upon her as inspiration,” Essek said, still smiling.
“We never had anything quite so fixed,” he said, “Ours were strays, typically. They used to find us, and she could never stop herself taking them in and caring for them. They were drawn to her.” He looked up at Caleb again as he said, “It seems I have her gift also.”
Caleb nodded, reaching forward to pet Frumpkin himself, “I have always said cats have good taste,” he murmured, without thinking.
Essek’s answering smile could only be described as cat-like.
Flushing again, Caleb cleared his throat loudly and pulled his chair closer to the table with a very pointed scraping sound.
“So,” he said, firmly, refusing to meet Essek’s eyes, “We were discussing spells to alter the effects of gravity aound the caster? How exactly does that work? I assume there are some similarities to the Immovable Object spell, but altered somewhat? More fluid? Like this?”
He sketched a few runes and, to his relief, Essek was drawn back into the discussion of his signature spells, leaving Caleb’s comment untouched. For the moment. He was quite sure his little slip had not been forgotten, and that Essek would return to it when he felt it suited him to do so.
Caleb frowned slightly at Frumpkin as they continued their work, wondering if somehow this hadn’t been the cat’s plan all along.
Frumpkin blinked placidly at him, purred contentedly, and snuggled into Essek’s mantle.