bog monster / intro


Jun 13, 2022
( ) the bogs are something the beast is most fond of, often decorated the in light plants that skim the top of the waters. they add a pop of color to the otherwise shadowed figure, and he has little complaint about the accessories. his jaw is filled with trinkets and treasures, or what someone like him could consider a treasure. the pinecone pokes against his gum, but the real treasure is the shining cricket. heart-shaped, with a small clasp that he could never dare to open. he hoped to hide it enough to bring it back to his kin, but plans can always end up changing.

cats from differing sizes and features have encircled, often traversing around and pouring into one place. he would never complain about seeing them, in fact, he was rather fond of watching others work about while he had taken his time to relax. the sun upon his back had quickly heated him up, caressing his spine as his furs begin to burn. but bigfoot never seems to mind much of anything. only focusing about relocating the treasures he found.

he likes to concentrate them where younger cats will find them, so he never makes them too hard to spot. a delicate feather here, a crisp flower there, hidden herbs and roots that he truly knows little about, and at last, the silver trinket. he's done his best to clean it, clear away the debris and truly have it sparkle and shine again. it's still a little dull, no doubt from being stuck in the mud, but bigfoot had almost made it as if it were brand new. he was...rather proud about it. and perhaps it showed, with the way his head was a bit higher and his eyes were narrowed with pride. he wasn't exactly sure what it was, or really what it was used for. but it was pretty.

╰☆☆ She's truly blessed to have the opportunity to get to know so many different types of cats. There are days Twilight wakes up, surrounded by a rainbow of pelts, and simply basks in the companionship she's grown to love. There are still cats she struggles to name--she's better with faces, for sure--but no matter the feline, their mannerisms, their quirks, she is proud to call them a member of her group.

Curious pale eyes light upon the otherwise completely-concealed tomcat in the shadows. He's tinkering with something--several somethings. She pads close on feather-light paws and tilts her head as she examines his trinkets. A feather, a flower, and something quite strange--shiny, iridescent almost.

"Where'd you find such a thing?" She curls her tail about her dappled white paws. It seems to be something Twoleg-borne, but she really has no way of knowing. Musing to herself, she thinks her son would like some of these items. Not much of a fighter, not yet a hunter, but with an appreciative eye for the world's beauty, when he bothered to lift his head up and look.
›  There was a certain futility to trinkets that Eagle...might actually admire. They're nothing, they're silly, and to have them says that you can devote your time to such silly and beautiful things. Because of this, he thinks he admires Bigfoot, if that is what such feelings could be called. He watches him set about his haul with the beginnings of a smile, like smoke at the edges of one's vision. Subtle and nearly as gone as it is there. Maybe it's that he gives it out, or maybe it's the habit of hunting down trinket itself. Whatever draws the smile draws Eagle too, and the willowy tom comes to look over all of it without any of his typical judgement. One might have expected him to berate Bigfoot for busying himself with unimportant things. He doesn't speak a word of it.

"It must have been very important to whoever last held it," he surmises, deciding that something so shiny could simply not have been loved at some point. "You find the strangest things."

  • n/a
  • ──── complete information can be found here.
    ──── eagle. cis male, he or they both accepted.
    ──── seventeen moons old, ages on each fifth.
    ──── gay, single, somewhat disinterested tbh?

    ──── a blue tabby with low white and blue-green heterochromia.
    ──── lean and willowy, with a slim build beneath a lot of thick fur.
    ──── currently in good health, has no injuries or notable scarring.

Berry finds many things dull, but not beauty. Naturally occurring beauty specifically, like the glimmer of fish scales or the verdant glow of sunlight through forest canopies. Eavesdropping with firmly closed eyes was how he usually spent his days, but there was something about the Collector that was always interesting to watch- the way he hoarded treasures and then cast them about, but in a peculiarly particular way. His form, and the glittering things about him, were cloaked in shadow- but peering with narrowed eyes, Berry thought he might have spotted some petals.

Flowers were temporary trinkets- and useful too, at least for Berry's hobbies. So for now, though silence sealed his jaw shut, his pupils stayed firmly trained upon that flower he had spotted, to see if anyone else would pick it up. Ears, too, tuned in upon the nearby conversation- he was simply gathering information, that was all.
( ) he is never aware if people will join him or not; he never truly cares either way if they do, but he welcomes them easily. twilight is the first to behold him, and he welcomes her with his attention and a lopsided grin. "in the mud. lotta things forgotten in there." the bog carries many things, both beauty, and tragedy. items lost to the world may be found again with a simple dig. they just need someone looking for them. bigfoot, perhaps, was too fond of the notion of taking in lost things.

the tom grows a little hesitant at the sight of eagle, with eyes more so roaming for the face of his small kin. the locket in a slight sway with a jolt of his head, and oh, eagle isn't actually here with harsh words. something calmer and even. "s'not strange. just dull." or perhaps it was strange, but it was just a locket to bigfoot. once loved before, yes, and now will be loved again. and if it were to soak in the marshes again, he hopes another soul will come by it. thinking that it would make a good gift for someone close. the concept was heartwarming.

"i wanted to give it to quiet, thought she might like something like this." the ink blotted tom usually saves the best of his finds for his sister. perhaps it's a formation of love, or guilt, or a combination of both. he does not dwell on it. the sight of berry eyeing the trio does not slip past bigfoot, but he doesn't confront the other. many things, bigfoot hides, in hopes they will be found again. to be used and loved by someone who ould appreciate it better than he could.

the young molly finds their way over to where their brother. she'd easily followed his scent, as it was something they were most used to, but caught on to the scents of the other three standing around. berry. eagle. twilight. they remember their scents first, and then their names. then their faces, each one mroe different than the last. this was how her brain worked. first scents. then names, whether it be name of prey or predator or simply names of other felines, and then faces. not when it came to big however. their brother was the most recognizable scent, other than death itself. "biggie." soft and honey toned, the normally mute molly calls to her brother, padding over with a slight tilt of her head. they make a gesture to everyone before bowing their head, turning back to biggie, waving their paw at their little findings. they were curious but with so many cats around, her voice is once again lost to her anxieties.