Darwin aroused himself from his stupor with a quickly vanishing smile on his face. Like mellow dew vanishing under the rays of a hateful sun.

His mind dropping back into sordid reality, the fog of happiness fading away under the jagged light of his reality. The former antics of his dazed rampage dawning on him as he stood and retched. Hacking up his first hair ball in a violently vile affair, of having his throat close like a vise to squeeze out the wet horror from the bowels of his new body. Shaking his bones at how hard he was heaving.

When it was out, he shivered at the thought of his stomach containing such a thing and put some distance between himself and it. Vowing not to discuss it with anyone if pressed.

The old woman was nowhere around, which Darwin counted as a blessing. He would prepare a dire vengeance in response to the use of that herb to cloud his mind and twisting his will about. As soon as he could lay hands, or paws, on something useful in this accursed dwelling.

Walking back into the kitchen. Wait, where had he been?

Looking behind him, he saw a rocking chair, a small mantelpiece over a fireplace lined with little wood figurines and small portrait cutouts, and a couch with the Fattest orange cat he'd ever seen. The orange blob gave him a withering stare as a spotted calico lounged next to it. Licking its face clean of some unseen blemish.

He sniffed and wandered back into the kitchen where his domain was. He would explore and conqueror at his pleasure soon enough. For now, he'd settle for rummaging through the cupboards again, looking for utensils. Maybe he could find a use for a bowl or a knife.

Darwin flinched as something nuzzled the side of his face, and his vision filled with white. He struck to the side and threw a spotted black and white cat to the side with a tumble across the floor. The unintelligent cat rolled over and sprang back towards him, gently tossing him about. As if they were playing a game.

He sniffed and flared his Pneuma, shocking the creature with his invisible display and sending it scuttling out of the room in a panic.

"Right, First business. Somewhere private where I can actually get something done." He muttered to himself. He spied an open cabinet door and bolted for it.

It was dim and cramped inside, but that suited him fine. The cupboard was mostly empty. A box of sand, an unused cauldron, wax sealed bottles of curious alchemical scent, a gray cat squatting to take a shit in the dark while staring directly at him.

Darwin grimaced. He had found the litter box. Hoorahy,

This spot wouldn't do, but he might come back for the bottles. They were potential resources and reagents for his use. Though it might just be soap and vinegar for cleaning after the innumerable callous cats living here.

He'd try a different spot in a second. The gray creature finished and buried its droppings and just walked past Darwin without reacting. This left him with a sudden urge of his own, hesitant he walked towards the sanded box to take care of it.

After the single most awkward moment of his life was over, he was back out into the kitchen, kicking the sand off his paws. And looking for somewhere private to scheme.

He squeezed into another back corner, the broom closet, he figured. Because that's all that was in here. A massive broom and a few torn aprons hanging on the hooks.

It was small even for a cat, and it took some prying to even get in. Thankfully, most of his bulk was mere fur and made for a deceptive size constraint.

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But it had one thing going for it: it was empty of cats. Save for himself, of course. But there were still no cats. He sighed in relief, being alone at last from all those swarming, pressing bodies, or unintelligent creatures. And away from the she-ogre running the place.

From here, he could store away the elements he needed and put schemes into action, away from prying eyes or ignorant interruption. Starting with what he had already.

His pneuma, the source of his powers, had been diminished. THe change from Man to Cat had robbed him of much of his powers, but not all of them. He still possessed that power, albeit in a weaker form.

Something about the Cat's physiology, mucking up the critical alignments need for the Quickening, resulting in less Pneuma being released in the transformation.

He would need some way to augment this if he wanted to rely on it. But there wasn't anything capable of that within the areas of the house he'd searched. So, he would need another way.

Being so helpless made him so angry. Thoughts of all the cruel curses and hexes he'd learned of the years of his studies entered his small mind as he pondered each one like a fine wine. But had to disregard some of the more agonizing items.

Despite his frustration, a handful of ideas did spring to mind. Namely an old classic, The Evil Eye.

A simple curse, and one of the first spells he learned from studying the works of elder warlocks and their forbidden books. The Gaze of Envy, the Jealous Stare. It was a simple curse that caused excess sweating, leading to dehydration, and a potent sense of foreboding. For Children and babies it could be lethal, resembling a wasting disease. It would make sense for it to have a similar effect when afflicting smaller animals, like dogs or squirrels.

An unnamed wizard discovered it in ancient times, during the earliest known days of magic, and merged it with what little of human glands and hormones. There were variations that scaled in intensity, but Darwin was going to start small for now. He just needed something to help shape the Pneuma with.

He started carving crude runic shapes into the walls, a simple pentagram and star. Making certain lines shorter or longer in accordance to the ancient designs left behind. When he was finished, it was not to his liking, but he was confident it would work as a test.

A problem leapt out at him. He couldn't use such a spell, at least not here.

Because the only person he could use the spell on was himself. Carving it directly into the wall had taken away its previous advantage. Say, one of those abhorrent creatures, lounging about where to come in here, he had no qualms about letting loose the evil charm on them.

It would be his own security measure for now.

Back to square one, but he had found the way. Those previous warlocks had engineered the Evil Eye to unbalance certain bodily functions, an effect which lasted far longer than the Pneuma that formed them. However, such charms were simple and relied on being carried to the target, or at least within eyesight.

Darwin racked his brain for a moment, trying to unravel this puzzle. He could not simply resort to scratching these evil etchings into the walls and, in all future likelihood, would need to cast multiple different versions at once.

Carrying several plaques at once may solve this, but could turn cumbersome in a hurry. If only he had clay or wax, he could reliably press his hot pneuma into it to form the signs necessary. Though it would waste precious energy, it would also let him lose the Eye's power the instant it was formed.

He would need to find something impressionable enough to mark with either his claws or Pneuma, but with intentions to render the etchings permeant later on. If there were any paper about, he could use the method of the old Fiery Flare or the Foul Flame. In which the charms use forces it to consume itself, like the infamous gun powder of lesser nations and their obnoxiously loud 'thunder crackers.'

Perhaps that masons jar of tallow in the cupboards could help.

The rendered fat of cows, Darwin preferred lard, would catch flame much like a candle if lit properly, and would be a devil to put out, hopefully. If not, the heat would melt it away without evidence of wrongdoing.

But Darwin forced himself to disregard the idea. Tallow and lard were too pliable, and any mistake could ruin the effectiveness of the Jealous Eye's power. Besides, how would he carry it?

Wax would be the ideal medium, or a coin of sorts. He wanted to carry a few of them and planned to experiment further once he'd rid himself of the old woman.

A growl from his stomach and a call that was fast becoming his personal clock.

"Dinner my Pets, Dinner My Beauties!"

He shivered in disgust and tortured delight as he left his brooding to join the meal. Thinking about how much more there could be, if there wasn't anyone to share it with.