shelter everywhere i go // private

[✧ Mottledove.]

MY LITTLE DOVE WHY DO YOU CRY
chiara | 14 months | female | she/her | physically extremely easy | mentally very hard | attack in bold #74a2a5

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When chiara opens her eyes, it is to shiny metal walls and bars in front of her face. She doesn't understand why she's here - this isn't her home. She remember her twoleg getting uspet, and shoving her into an even smaller cage of plastic and wire, strange hands grabbing her, the panic - but not much else. Tired blue eyes blink slowly as the molly gets to he r paws - wobbling for a moment as her limbs struggle to find perchase on such a slick material. She hobbles forwards one pawstep at a time, and stares. There are many cats here - though it must be late, for she thinks she hears the sounds of soft snores and quiet breathe from most of them. But... not that one. "H-hello?" her soft voice is rough with disuse, and she clears her throat, blushing beneath pale coat. "Is ths- Is this the cutters-?" she's never been before, but she's heard horror stories. She hopes she is wrong - but things have certainly not been going her way at all lately.

// @Bunny
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[Bunny]

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It’s quiet right now in the shelter. The upwalkers have come and gone with the last feeding of the day; the room is dark, devoid of the harsh brightness of their fake sunlight and its strange buzzing. There are scattered whispers of conversation drifting up to Bunny’s cage, but most cats here have gone to sleep — his grumpy neighbor Ivy included. Not much else to do around these parts, especially at night.

Bunny is feeling quite bored himself, but he’s been sleeping all day and feels too restless to go back to sleep just yet. He wishes he could slip through the bars of his cage and run around in the dark.

Just as he resolves to try and sleep anyway, curling in a ball against the back wall, movement in the cage opposite his attracts his attention. The cat inside of it struggles up to their paws and approaches the edge before speaking, asking if this is the cutters. A molly, by her voice, and a young one, stumbling on her words as much as her paws.

”Hi,” Bunny replies in the same low tone, pressing closer against the bars of his cage. ”This isn’t the cutters, I don’t think. At least I haven’t seen any. Are you new here? What’s your name?”
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