- Jun 8, 2022
- 14
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── ( ᴛᴀɢs. ) These cats were full of such arrogant pride. Claiming this world, the land and its supplies as their own– they speak to each other as if divine right could be decided by the living. Her disdain for both groups grow with every complication, and yet...and yet she knows, deeply within herself, that her disdain is nothing more than a shield for her anguish. There are many faces within both places that have become familiar to her. She cares for them, cultivates them, looks after them. Even when they meet in passing, and those that she had once known look at her as if she has betrayed them all, Yarrow yearns to tend to the wounds that must plague their souls. War is an all-consuming thing. She hates not those that engage in it, but the act on its own. The hungry darkness that swallows all of them whole.
These lands, at least, are mostly untouched. She is able to wander the oak lands with her eyes open in wariness but her mind settled in the knowledge that those who come across her will not hold any true numbers. A patrol would not have the full backing. This she could bear. She has caught her own prey to enjoy in the silence– a squirrel, as those in the forest are wont to hunt. They are fine predators, with far greater prey availability than she had seen in the marsh. That, at least, she did not miss about her previous home.
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n/a
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──── yarrow, eventually yarrowtongue. cis female, she - her pronouns.
──── approximately five years old, though age unknown. ages the first.
──── sexuality unknown, presumed to be wholly disinterested in others.
──── lilac silver ticked tabby with curly fur and deep, muted olive eyes. -