Psychic powers are not to be played with. Very few people who refuse to learn that live very long, and those that do tend to make it very, very clear that if the ignorant don't end up taking themselves out, someone infinitely more responsible will. It's an unwritten law, one that just about every psychic can tell you ends up worming into their brain one way or another. They listen, and would very much advise anyone else to do the same.
Sometimes though, things don't go as planned. People fly under the radar, get lost in translation, sometimes they even go even more off the rails at the thought of someone else doing what they can. It can, as has, gotten ugly. Ugly enough that in some places, the grass will never grow again.
Why? Who knows, really. Psychics are always a bit off, and a novice can do a lot of damage on accident just by flexing the wrong lobe. There were a lot of budding psychics out there who didn't make it past childhood. It's a lot easier to run with scissors when you can pick them up with your mind. Some say it's the cumulative strain of making it past already difficult stages of life when you can hear what everyone thinks of you, some say psychics attract neurosis like a lighting rod. It's a little hard to figure out. Humans are complex animals.
Of course, that's not to say that inhumans can't be psychic. Aliens, angels, ghosts, what have you. It's pretty common. The only things people are fairly certain the only creatures that lose out on the psionic lottery are animals. That, everyone can agree, would be a disaster. What sort of cosmic mistake would let that happen, anyway?
That would be answered by, of all things, a cat carrier. It was in a drift of snow, and the occupant was very cold. It didn't know where it was, exactly, but it was ice as far as it could see and it knew it very much did not want to be where it was. It thought thoughts quite normal for a cat in such a situation, like how much it wished it was given a thicker sweater, or how it's ear was itching from a snowflake that managed to drift into it. It very much did not think that it wanted to hurl itself through time and space, but such things generally do not come about by conscious effort. So, when a flash of purple light caused the cold to give way to music, colored lights, and the smell of alcohol, the creature wasn't sure what to do at first.
Perhaps it was the abuse, or the exhaustion, or maybe the smoked fish it was fed being a little too old, but the sudden shift caused a bit of a...fizzle.
The poor woman washing her hands in the bathroom wasn't exactly sure how the hairless cat got in, or why is had a seizure on the floor, but she was very certain the water wasn't supposed to flow into the faucet and that cats eyes are not supposed to be purple and very much not supposed to glow. Still, given that she was a kind soul and that the cat, despite being a little wrinkly, was kind of cute... tossed her jacket over it and walked out quickly. She paid her tab and never touched gin again until the day she died.
After a few minutes of twitching, a pink set of ears poked out from the jacket, wobbled to its feet, and stumbled out of the bathroom between the legs of another girl, who was too intoxicated to share the previous woman's concern.
Sulci dashed out in an unsteady line, bashing her head into a table leg. The jacket that had been trailing from her like a cape settling over the heap, the only sign of the feline being a set of luminous purple eyes darting around like mad.