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Post by Hunter on Jun 28, 2013 17:36:51 GMT
"Speech."
Nimble paws glided nonchalantly across the once marvellous mahogany floor. When the humans had lived, it’d most likely have shone brightly as a last touch to the already magnificent looking museum with its several rooms containing everything from statues, skeletons and other ancient findings. One room was more splendid than the other, even with the humans gone to take care of them and all the things they contained. It was treasures from a lost world, a world which they, however, still roamed in. But the humans were gone, which meant their culture – new and ancient alike – was gone. Pity, the tom mused as he walked beneath the skeletal remains of a Tyrannosaurus and chose, despite the fact that this creature also walked on two legs, that it couldn’t possibly have lived alongside with the humans. After all, their funny but useful homes weren’t big enough for such a thing.
The five year old tom, Echo, licked on the T.Rex’s ankle but found no interest in continuing the deed. It didn’t taste of much else but dust which he didn’t care to call his favourite source of nutrition. He stretched his body to claw at the ivory, dusty bone but soon chose that a proper tree was of better use than this massive bone. His body felt long as he stretched despite his small size, muscles and bones built for missions where it was crucial to be lithe and invisible. A spy’s job had always come natural to him, even as a kitten, which was why the Siamese mix without second thought had chosen to join the rank of the spies in the Iris Pride.
A sound caught his attention and with a deep purr he unsheathed his razor sharp claws. And 1, 2, 3, he was up on the spine of the T.Rex. The bones gave away an angry sound as if they wanted to collapse under him, but his small size was his saviour and the bones held with his weight on them. Echo knew that the creature approaching might not be an enemy, might not even have sensed his presence, but he chose to be careful anyways. If caught Echo’s bones were easily broken, and he didn’t like being in another creatures mercy – especially not if this creature was a canine. Canines of Tempest had almost blinded him while torturing him, but now, more than a year after, his sight was as keen as ever. However, as said, being caught wasn’t a thing he desired. But despite his suspicion, Echo couldn’t smell anything just yet, only hear the newcomer, and as if humming a serenade, Echo purred in a flowing rhythm as he waited for something, someone, to approach. He didn’t mind being seen at this point since he felt quite save up here - which was why he purred aloud while tapping his tail along the dinosaurs spine as he waited, almost as a drummer holding a steady rhythm.
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Post by Picasso on Jul 16, 2013 12:12:34 GMT
ooc; hope you don't mind me replying here ^^
Nutmeg's pawsteps made no sound as she padded through the museum. A white kitten followed closely behind her - Canvas. Nearly fully grown, Nutmeg looked forward to the day she could be rid of her children. However, for now, she had to be the mother nature had made her to be. She had to nurture and love her sons and daughters, even though she she felt nothing for them. Glancing around, Nutmeg had come to realise she had never visited the museum in the entire time she'd been born and bred in Hexasol. The skeletons towered above her menacingly. Nutmeg didn't understand the concept of these bizarre creatures. She didn't even know the name of them. Instead, she just presumed they had died out just as humans had done. They appeared to once rule the land, until they had grown too cocky and had mysteriously died. Perhaps that is what happened, when a race gained too much power. Fate quickly dealt with them, quickly and quietly.
There was no use thinking of humans now. They were dead and gone. Nutmeg briefly thought of the war raging outside. She had heard of the Lexis fall many months before, and it had hurt to realise her home pack had gone. She had loved the Tribe when she'd been a kitten. They had been a family. She had felt safe. But they had been too peaceful, too kind, and that had been their downfall. Sighing, she looked back at her stubborn little daughter. If she didn't know better, she would have thought Canvas a tom cat. The way she walked and talked, the way she carried herself and longingly watched other male kittens play. Nutmeg knew she had given birth to a bunch of nutters.
Nutmeg had been bored of the city. She had recently returned from the countryside and had quickly seen how utterly dull the city was. The same, grey roads stretched out before her. The museum had enticed her to have a look. Besides, it got them out of the cold weather. The tortoiseshell feline suddenly realised Canvas had stopped from behind her. The white feline was nearly the size of her, and another month she could finally leave her kittens to fend for themselves. She had trained them the best she could, hoping they could leave a little earlier than most litters. Canvas still had a lot to learn on the hunting side of things, but that would come when she had to finally hunt for herself. If she couldn't hunt, she'd starve.
Turning her head, Nutmeg saw Canvas gazing up at the large skeleton, a small smile playing on her lips. Before Nutmeg could ask Canvas what she was doing, the kitten shouted up, "Hey, you! What're you doing?" Blinking, Nutmeg followed Canvas' line of vision, only to see a feline precariously balancing on the spine of the skeleton. Shocked, Nutmeg took an involuntarily step back. She was not used to strangers, and still felt wary of them. In contrast, Canvas was soon scrambling to join the tom cat, paws nearly slipping on the creaking bones. "Canvas, get the hell down from there!" She shouted, voice echoing loudly. Who knew what dangers the tom cat could bring?
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Post by Hunter on Jul 16, 2013 15:10:54 GMT
"Speech."
A pair of cats emerged to his vision and Echo tilted his head to the side as he studied them. One was an adult, female tortoiseshell, the other a little smaller and white of frame. Mother and son? He thought so due to the evident age difference between the two, the white one looking much younger than the female. But it wasn’t that they looked much like one another, how peculiar. Something else was peculiar too… it was the male kitten. The Siamese mix sniffed in the air again. Not a boy, a girl. Peculiar… nothing more, nothing less.
The girl then noticed him, as if sensing he was looking at her. Her mother hadn’t however, and she didn’t even realize to begin with that her daughter had stopped following her. It wasn’t before the white one shouted to him that she noticed what was happening. Echo stretched out, a bold smile appearing on his lips. ”Can be I chose giving thee a thing to ask about,” he recited with a purr, his bold smile intact, and rose to his four on the enormous spine. He licked his lips and looked closer at the pair under him, realizing that the younger of them was now crawling upwards toward him. Brave little thing. Or stupid, he thought but kept his smile all along. ”And for the record, my tool of curiosity is a thing many a dog likes chewing upon – give or take a few times in size.” He sat back on his haunches and licked a paw in a calm manner despite the fact that the skeleton bearing his weight was creaking furiously now when the white female was on her way up too.
A shriek then echoed throughout the museum as the white female’s mother realized what her daughter was doing. She, compared to her daughter, was well aware of the fact that not all strangers were good guys – and perhaps she was also getting just slightly anxious about the creaking thing keeping her daughter off the ground. Well, as long as it kept standing that was. Otherwise, both he and the white one would fall to the ground as gracefully as a pig being thrown off a helicopter. ”Careful now you snowy flake, or your coat might get dappled as your mother’s with a crimson colour of your own,” he said to the white feline, looking shortly at the mother on the ground. He wondered what she would even do if he chose to be a mean stranger and lash a clawed paw at her daughter, or if the skeleton broke to pieces. There wasn’t much she could do in either case. Mayhaps she’d start looking more after her kitten after this?
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Post by Picasso on Jul 17, 2013 11:09:36 GMT
Canvas grinned widely as she ascended the spine of the skeleton. She paid no heed to her mother's shrieks as she precariously placed one paw in front of another. Her heart throbbed excitedly as she approached the tabby and white tom cat in front of her. He was watching her carefully, with a look Canvas had never seen on another feline before. Meeting his gaze, she bobbed her head at him. The bones groaned under her weight, but she was light enough not to break them. She snuck a look down below, where Nutmeg was glaring up at her. Canvas was old enough to understand her mother's desire to leave her kittens and continue to live her life alone. Canvas and her siblings had never been truly loved by Nutmeg, and it bore a mark on Canvas' personality. What even was love? A mother's love for her children should be innate and true, yet for Nutmeg there had been something missing. And it left her kittens confused and wary.
The tom cat spoke in riddles and poetics. There was something not quite right about him - or was it just her perception of what was meant to be "right"? "Curiosity is something dogs lack," She replied, feeling breathless from the dizzying height, "There is no fun without curiosity." Below her, Canvas heard her mother snort in disbelief, but Canvas ignored her. For too long, Nutmeg had held her children back, and now Canvas wanted to behave like a proper kitten. She eventually reached the tom cat, an accomplished smile plastered over her features. Flicking her tail in glee, she lowered herself to her haunches and examined the male before her.
"If I fall, mother will not care," Canvas replied softly, quiet enough for Nutmeg not to hear her, "Who would care if you fell?" She blinked at the stranger, then stared down at the ground beneath them. Cats may always land on their paws, but an impact from this high could break all four legs - if you were unlucky. Still, adrenalin rushed through Canvas' veins as she watched her mother turn away and explore the rest of the museum. Nutmeg wouldn't risk climbing up the spine to rescue her daughter, and instead decided to abandon her. Perhaps she expected Canvas to follow - to panic and realise her mother was leaving. However, Canvas just watched with boredom as her mother left the room.
Turning her attention back to the stranger, she chose to introduce herself, "I'm Canvas."
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Post by Hunter on Jul 18, 2013 19:10:25 GMT
"Speech."
The younger feline looked uncomfortable as she stalked the spine of the giant animal, but something about her also spoke of excitement of being released from her mother’s reins. ”Fun thee say?” he asked curiously but didn’t let her explain herself further. ”Thou hast never heard when curiosity killed the cat? Mayhaps t‘is is why the Tempest beast still lurk the shadows,” he said, darkening his reciting voice. ”Too many felines losing their lives in folly,” he spat in despise. The Tempest creatures were ones they needed to hold at bay at all costs. He’d seen too much of what they were able to do.
Echo perked his ears as the white kitten stated her mother didn’t care if she fell. Should not a mother care about such dire a thing? ”’A mother’s love is unconditional and unlimited,’” he quoted solemnly while looking at Nutmeg made ready to leave. ”Though not in all cases I see.” He chose not to comment the case any further, not wanting to dig too much in the lives of strangers. Instead he chose to focus on the question which the other feline had asked him. What a mood he was in, answering several of questions to a kitten he didn’t know. What was this magic bond rising in the air? The kitten was a loner, a young creature not to fret, which probably was why he didn’t mind her much. Normally he hated questions, but this little one was as innocent as the newly fallen snow she resembled.
”If I fell?” The Siamese mix lifted a paw and started to sway on purpose, then stopped and gave a happy smile with just as genuine eyes. ”Depends how and when I fall of course. For now, I suspect the heart of little snowflake will jump a beat or two if a tom like I fell heavy to ground.” His tail lashed excitedly behind him as he continued. ”If thou hast been a feral dog, barking up these ivory bones, I suspect not a one would care for my fall – unless of course ‘tis hast been in its ugly face,” he added with a jesting whisper, blinking boldly with an eye for only her to see. Beneath the two, the white one’s mother was walking away without looking away, abandoning her offspring to the mercy of a stranger who could kill her kitten on the spot if he wanted.
When the young one introduced herself, Echo pricked up his ears and gave her his attention. There was no reason looking after a mother who’d leave her offspring. ”Canvas? My little, furry friend, pleased to meet you.” He then filled his lungs and gave a loud yowl, dragging the piercing sound for as long as he could, letting the echoes of the sound ping-pong between the solid walls of the museum. Even as he ended to breathe again, the echoes continued so sound for a short while. ”T’is is my name. Echo. Humble and caring as much as scary and boasting, much it can be, much it is, just as I suspect my parents thought of me. But whether or not you think so as well, only you can tell and that with time,” he ended with a crooked smile to Canvas.
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Post by Picasso on Jul 22, 2013 10:20:29 GMT
Canvas had heard the familiar saying; "Curiosity killed the cat", but she paid no heed to such myths. Granted, cats had the curiosity, but they weren't stupid. Canvas had met few dogs in her short life, but the ones she'd met had been pathetic fools. Nutmeg had had no opinion on the war - she had even been Lexis born and bred! Canvas, on the other hand, could understand why there was a war in Hexasol. Cats and dogs couldn't co occur in happiness. They clashed. One was clever, sly and mysterious. The other was savage, slightly dumb and acted on impulses. However, in a war, which would actually win? Canvas wondered whether she'd be alive to see the day the war was over, and a victor was announced. Sighing, she glanced back up at the tom cat. "Curiosity only kills the cats who don't think before they act," She breezed, enjoying the strange words that flowed from his mouth. He was a strange little feline, with too-big words poetically flowing together in nonsense.
When he spoke of her mother, Canvas barked out a laugh, uncontrollably. She wished her mother loved unconditionally. Canvas wondered what that would have been like, if Nutmeg had nurtured her like she should have done, "No," Canvas agreed, "My mother does not love me, nor my siblings. We were a dirty little mistake that she could not undo." It no longer hurt to think of herself like that. She had come to terms with the fact that she had not been wanted. Nutmeg had had a bit of fun, and it resulted in her pregnancy. Had she the option, Canvas knew her mother would have got rid of the litter in a heartbeat. Canvas could only thank the stars that Nutmeg did not leave them to die when they had been born. Blind and deaf, Canvas and her siblings would have died within minutes if Nutmeg had upped and left. "Once I am old enough, I will leave her company," Canvas stated, "I can't bear to look into her eyes and see regret and sadness reflecting back. She is not my mother." It may sound harsh for an outsider to hear this, but they had not grown up with a mother like Nutmeg. The moments Canvas needed her most, and she had not been there.
Canvas' eyes went wide as the Siamese began to sway uneasily on the spine. She lurched forward ready to try and help - but in reality she could've done nothing if he had tumbled to the ground. Canvas exhaled in relief when she realised he was only teasing the idea. He had purposely lost balance. She sent him a glare for good measure. Giggling at his reply, Canvas realised she still hadn't found the answer she'd been looking for, "What about loved ones?" She asked curiosity, head cocked to the side, "Mother, father, brothers, sisters? A mate, a best friend, a litter of kittens? Do you have none of these?" Perhaps Canvas was imploring too far, but the feline has purposely answered her question in a strange manner. Or maybe it wasn't on purpose at all. Clearly, the tom cat before her didn't think like the rest of the cats in Hexasol. He spoke in riddles and language from another era.
The yowl jolted Canvas out of her thoughts, and she nearly lost her balance and slipped off the bones. Eyes wide, she couldn't fathom why the cat was suddenly shrieking. Head buzzing, the noise suddenly stopped, save for the echoes that retaliated. Ah. His name. "Echo." She tried the name out on her tongue, and nodded in acknowledgement. Not as strange a name as she'd been expecting for such a peculiar cat. Sending him a smile, she looked back at the exit of the room, to see if her mother had returned. She hadn't. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Echo," Canvas replied, remembering her formalities. She longed to know what Echo thought of her. A little snowflake, that is what he'd called her. She had never been called such a warm endearment, and it made her heart swell with something Canvas couldn't name. She liked it. She liked nicknames, and hoped Echo wouldn't stop calling her that.
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Post by Hunter on Jul 24, 2013 20:21:03 GMT
"Speech."
He hummed a melody as Canvas said she was pleased to meet her. ”If not one should hold a tune in times of joy, when hast one a reason to do so?” he recited almost joyfully while also dodging Canvas’ question about ones close to him. To say it exact and briefly, Echo only had… none. Those friendly souls he’d encountered since he’d gotten out of Tempest prison were long gone and he had no idea where they were to find anymore. Not in Hexasol he knew, and though the Iris Pride wasn’t a particularly welcome place for him, it was the closest place he had of a home, and a place from which he wouldn’t depart unless strictly necessary. And for the time being, he saw no reason to leave. Though the Iris Pride wasn’t as strong as he remembered it, he wouldn’t turn his back on it. It was where he’d been born and rasied, and he still hoped deep within that his sister would come back. If she was even still alive. It seemed like no one knew of her whereabouts.
And now, with the little snowflake in front of him, Echo saw one more reason to stay. Who could leave such a soft and pretty little kitten behind? Except from her loving mother of course. He remembered Canvas’ words about leaving her mother as soon as she could and couldn’t help but linger at the fact. ”World’s a dangerous place to tread, yet still so many find a path they enjoy. Yee found yours? Or is the snowflake falling from dark a sky, trying to find a place in life? A place to go?” Mayhaps the little one would choose to leave this place entirely, flee from Hexasol and her former life with an unloving mother. Or mayhaps the kitten would write her story in a different way? He couldn’t see her as a bloodthirsty member of the Iris Pride, but many a thing happened in the big city, and Echo had in more than one occasion seen gangs form for different reasons, some sticking together just as closely as any pack would do. Some he’d been sent out to spy, or even destroy, both which he’d done without question.
He flickered his ears and lashed his tail playfully. The bones beneath them said no sound, and no mother was coming back to find her kitten. Echo wouldn’t even bother to ask if Canvas was scared, if she’d prefer to stay with her mother – a loving mother that was. Everything was quiet around them, not a thing but their words and breathing could he heard. At least, for now, the still bones beneath them held even though they hadn’t been used for much the last millions of years.
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