Small tufts of reddish fur still clung to his claws, the taste of squirrel still on his tongue. He isn't sure how much he actually likes the texture of it. And so much fur he has to deal with while eating. The tom has long since found a small cluster of reeds to lounge in, listening to the soft bubbling of the river as it moves by. With a sigh he starts to pluck the fur from his claws with effortless motions before he glances up to the sky. The bright blue never stops to leave him in awe. It's beautiful and he has often stopped to lay back and watch as the clouds dance across. But today is hotter than he likes, making his skin feel almost scorched and so after his little tussle with that meal he is more inclined to have a bit of a swim. Bringing his gaze away from the sky he pushes himself to get up, arching his back in a full stretch before he slips his way out of the reeds.
There has been commotion everywhere these last few days, and none of which he has partaken in. The tom is not yet sure of these cats and all these places they've scattered too. He know at one point there had been two, vicious snarls had happened one day and then there was nothing. And now they seem like they are everywhere. It's a little crazy but he is intrigued with the idea that all of this can happen in such a short time. Sliding one white paw into the waters his jewel like eyes see the flicking motions of fish. A marble blue paw follows after the white and he eases his way into the water, swimming along the surface. He pauses for a moment and then suddenly dives under the waves, legs pushing him down and down further before he twists his form and comes shooting back up. Breathing hard out his nose he keeps the fish locked in his jaws as it flops about, or at least he tries to but this fish has some fight left in it yet.
It flops and jerks and he tries to readjust his grip only for the fish to jerk from his mouth and smack him in the process. "Argh, yae, little shite!" He snaps as it races away from him and truthfully he has the urge to go after the little beast. But he cools his emotions and actually laughs about it instead as he swims a small circle near the shore. "Lesson learned ah guess. Don' let th' fish fight yae in its house."
her maw is below the waters, jaws clamping further upon the wriggling beast. it is not silent in its departure, flailing wildly with fins slapping against the moving water. its all over with a swift movement, her head pulling from the river and letting the water run down her clenched jaws and drop onto the pebbled earth. this comes as second nature to a fisher, but further down she can see some struggle in the water. its nothing new now, with these land cats desperate for the delicacy that she had grown up on. but they're chasing away the fish with all this commotion.
she stalks further on, her tongue running along to scales of the carp. its comforting, in a way. the stranger speaks in a strange way, but it's his pelt that draws the molly in. its strange, but perhaps beautiful. definitely unique. she thinks that had she been born of such a pelt, she'd have an ego too large that it would suffocate.
he's new here, but she isn't sure if he's affiliated with the imposing riverclan. it's best to be neutral. "maybe stick to fur over scales. no cat wants to be up shown by a little fish." her tone is almost jovial, stifling her enjoyment for watching such a spectacle. her prized catch had been left by her paws, protected by a gleam of a claw. she's not sure of his intentions, just that she is going to have a full belly.
His movements have a laziness to them as he enjoys the current of the waters. Sure, he has lost his meal but he is not above trying for another one and perhaps later on. Ugh, but going back on the hunt and finding a squirrel does put a might fear in him to keep going for a fish. Still he is in another half turn when he hears the light steps of another and his two colored orbs shift to look at the cat that is upon the shoreline. He takes in her sleep brown pelt, peppered with white spotting and as she speaks the tom can not help himself but to chuckle. With ease he makes his way to the shore and he steps upon it, shifting his odd colored form before flicking water that drips from his tail. "Aye, but then ah won't be able tae enjoy th' other fruits of nature, lass. Besides ah think ah like 'em wit' less fur." There is humor in his voice as he tilts his heads slightly in thought. She must be one of the locals that lives around here, though he isn't sure if she is with those fighty cats. Maybe.
But he has no issue with any of them, he's a traveler. He's been this way and that but not recently since his upwalker mate passed away. He's been trying to find something he supposes, another family maybe. Not sure but it's kept him wandering and now he's stepped into a different world. Curious of what is going on around in these parts. "Yae go' a name, lass? Or am ah just interruptin' too much?" He gives a casual shrug of his shoulders as he doesn't mind if she does not intend to get too friendly. The way in which she keeps a paw on that carp, a glitter of dangerous claw tells him a lot about what he may potentially expect. "Charla's mine."
A daily dip in the river was good for his hips, he'd decided a bit ago despite knowing that the weight after he got out always made him limp a bit more. He wouldn't complain though, because at least he was getting some sort of exercise. He couldn't bear getting fat from lack of exercise, and his joints aching even more. His eyes, always bulging and wide, blinked momentarily when he spotted an odd-looking stranger in the distance with a molly near him.
Newcomers, perhaps? He couldn't really hear what they were talking about, but he still slowly, with a limping gait, made his way over to the duo.
"Some of 'em got some scales, youngun'. If you rip 'em off, they've got some meat there." He calmly stated with a crooked grin, the elderly tom making his way over to slip himself into the river. Once his large body made it in, a loud sigh of relief left the senior warrior. "Name's Corvid. Y'all look new. Welcome to RiverClan, I suppose."
the tom before her is pleasing enough to let the she-cat settle near him. he doesn't seem to be a part of any threat, a simple traveler. she's come across many in her moons, and usually leaves them be. they are never here long enough to stir up much emotion in the earthen molly. his accent-tipped tongue is interesting enough to keep buck still. that, she thinks, is new. there's been others with a far different speech than her's, but nothing to this variety.
he asks about a name, and there's a lightness in her paws. conversations lately have not been pleasant enough for names, let alone knowing a cat beyond invader and ally. "buck." it's a simple and quick name, as all names should be. something strong, something to be a signal. she's unsure of what charla may stand for, but for now he's fine. lacking any aggression in his movements and simply being at peace with moving waters. or, the most peace a land cat can be with water. she has no reservations with talking with him. she might actually enjoy seeing him around; a pleasant reminder of the calm days. simple travelers and needy cats who wished for the river's safety.
she's about to speak again before an ashen tom revels in the water. she thinks that caraway had told her of this one, but her mind slips on any name. perhaps because it never stood out to watch for any old toms. he's a got a limp, and it seems that his bones are aching. she would welcome him to the conversation, but his words drive any pleasantries out of her. a scowl is heavy upon her features. "this is just the river. riverclan be damned." she will not share with a clan cat.
buck is quick with preparing for her departure, only halting from grabbing her kill to look upon charla again. "I hope to see you around. not as a clan cat." she's sure that had she the ability, venom would be dripping from her maw. her fish is quickly reclaimed, and the molly saunters off. leaving a mumble of hatred for land cats and riverclan in her trail.
Corvid flinches when he hears the sentence leave the femme's lips, scarred ears twitching and swiveling back against his cranium as he watches her gather her food and step out of the water to leave. He tilts his head at the words she spat as she left, turning back to Charlamagne before lowering his head to the water in apology.
"M sorry, 'Musta said somethin' wrong. Didn't mean t' offend." Corvid croaks out, stretching his aching limbs out in favor of cracking tense tendons. "Hopefully I'll see 'er again, properly apologize."
He still didn't under the politics of this place.. Agh, youngin's and their beliefs he didn't quite understand..
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
