FRIEND OR FOE // wandering barn cat


‧͙⁺˚*・༓☾ GENTLE GIANT ☽༓・*˚⁺‧͙
Jun 8, 2022

Big paws slosh through the outskirts of the dim forest. Curiosity led him to this part of the land... usually, water wasn't up Big Guy's alley, but the cats of his part-time colony spoke of this place often. They told no good of it nor the cats who roamed here so you'd think that one would say away, but Big Guy was Big Guy. He wasn't the brightest and could be too friendly. Naively he thought that maybe a friendly visit could help boost the two groups' standings with each other, even if just a little bit!

The tom smells nothing of kittypet save for what rubbed off him due to his friends, instead, he smells heavily of horse and a minor mixture of fresh-cut grass. Though he wishes they weren't so mean to his kittypet friends, he hopes that his background is enough to give him some sort of a talking chance with them. Who knows! Maybe he'd leave at the end of the day with new friends for both his and Rain's colony.

But... it was kind of scary here. Despite his large size, Big Guy felt small... every distant noise or shadow caused for intense dread. This place was a fitting dwelling place for monsters his mother told him about in stories when he was a child. What if instead of encountering a cat... he encountered something terrible. A shiver runs down his spine as he anxiously stops in his tracks, suddenly regretting this outing.

"Um... Hello...?" He dares to call to any listening ears that may be around him, he felt as if he was being watched. If no one called back to him he was getting the hell out of here! He couldn't take this creepy place any longer than he had to.


Be rational. Be rational. Just smelling the traces of kittypet smell made her antsy, it made her defensive. Still this wandering tom didn't seem to be here to cause any problems. In fact he looks down right terrified of the place he is wandering around at the current moment. Her tail sways back and forth slowly, carefully as she watches him from the shadows that she so easily steps through, gaze watching with a frown on her muzzle. Though she isn't sure to his presence here she knows that he doesn't belong here. The other group has caused enough troubles here that she is not having being friendly on the mind but at the same time she shouldn't be too quick, right? Just because one of them is here, or potentially one of them that doesn't mean that she can pounce even though her claws itch to do so after the most recent conflict before. She found it rather amusing when one of them was slapped like the kit that he surely was. The voice pulls her from her thoughts, the hesitant hello making those molten orbs pull up from the ground before she finally sighs and forces herself to slip from the darkness she is so comfortable with.

"And who might you be?" Distrust is clear in her tone despite her expression being neutral. He is a large tom but she shows no fear in her gaze. Only a guarded expression and one that shifts over him before she flexes her claws against the soft packed ground. Whatever reason he is here for she is sure that they will get to the bottom of this. She doubts he is here to become part of the colony. He has a strange smell of grass as well and something else that makes her nose twitch.

− ♱ ABOUT : he had long since accustomed to the ever - steady influx of wanderers and loners passing through their lands ; all sorts, some lingering to announce their passing, some not. big, small, elder, youth . . it seemed any and all kinds back then, before the kittypets had invaded their pine forest and taken up residence where they weren't welcome. fewer come, now -- unwilling to get in between the skirmish between two groups whiskers away from war. he didn't blame them, really. bicolored audits perk at the sound of nearby voices, one familiar and one decidedly not. being nearby he takes his approach quietly, emerging from beneath the bramble with nothing but an interested hum, slinking his way aside bone. the woman had already questioned whoever their little visitor was, and seemed not to identify him as an active threat despite her tensed, agitated posture. the trace of kittypet being so faint, it seemed to miss him, icy optics instead shifting to settle evenly on their visitor.

he's . . large. bearing thick, chocolate - point stripes that twine eagerly up his hulking, otherwise porcelain figure. despite it, he is hardly imposing ; smelling heavily of sweet hay and sunlight, and an animal cicada had only seen but a single time. upon his journey to the marsh, away from his colony, he'd passed a place so vibrantly crimson it caught his attention -- it had also been excessively large. similar to a twoleg home if two had been stacked on top of one another, fenced with wooden posts threaded in a drooping, spiked wire. cicada feels himself swallow hard, throat clicking with the effort and prompting him to clear his throat abruptly, dipping his head to give his chest a couple of quick, embarrassed licks. smooth. his now averted eyes seemed to bring to attention just how long he'd stared without word. at least to himself.

he'd always borne too - long limbs and whiplike figure, lacking heavily in the muscle tone department and making up for it with height few seemed to match. this guy was simply big. bigger than most he's met, and certainly bigger than him. sleek - furred cheeks still warm, the oriental mix would settle onto his haunces, curled tail wrapping tight over snow - dipped paws. now that he could see past the sheer size of the tom, he could tell he was afraid -- of what, cicada wasn't aware, " are you lost, einzelgänger? " he adds, pale eyes coming to flit towards bone for a moment. she is distrustful, gathering dirt beneath her claws with each flex of slim paws. he hoped the company could ease her nerves, even fractionally. his gaze settles on the big guy once again, the corners of his maw curling into the whisper of a smile," you look like you've seen a ghost. "

He's nowhere near as impressive as the imposing black and white figure Bone makes as she stalks from the shadows, amber eyes gleaming like fireflies. Nor is he as stately as the tall, dappled Cicada at her side. Ash is close to the ground, too-white in some places, too-gray in others, his face a blend of panic and fear.

The kittypet is big. He had not been present when Rain had brought his posse into their home to confront Briar; he had not wanted to be there, lest blood be spilled. But Ash had merely tagged along on a hunt, desperate to prove to himself that he can find success more than once. It's the point-faced tom who has blundered upon them, and, as Cicada points out, he is spooked-looking.

Ash forces the fur at his neck to lie flat. It's bristled out of unease, rather than aggression, but all the same he does not want to look unnerved when his companions are collected. Briar does not want unneccessary fights, and Bone is their leader's kin. He suspects she shares her sister's views.

"Is... is that how all kittypets smell?" His voice tumbles out before he can stop it. He puts an embarrassed paw to his muzzle. He couldn't help the surprise; there's a strange stink to him that isn't entirely covered by the pine forest clinging to the outer tips of his fur.
( ) "Woah-ho-ho, someone's been eatin' good!" Crow caws as they saunter over, orange eyes flitting up and down as they take in the musculature of the other tom. This dull hunting patrol has become interesting. Although the hulking tom doesn't smell anything like Rain's pampered pets, nor does he look particularly threatening (despite his impressive size) with that spooked expression, he's still met with suspicion by his posse. Typical of the marshland cats, they figure. Always so quick to unsheathe their claws...

"You've gotta tell me your secrets," Crow drawls as they lean forwards, ears perking. They cannot take their eyes off of him, not out of distrust but rather out of intrigue. Muscles rippling underneath thick tawny fur, blue eyes like sunlit pools... A stark contrast to them, a scrawny thing, boringly achromatic fur cloaking their thin frame. Their cheeks burn, eliciting a soft laugh from the smoky feline. Everything else seems to fall away. Their groupmates are speaking; they barely hear a word.

They stare for far too long, yet they seem unaware of it.

"What brings you to the swamps, tiger?" The pet name seems intentional yet unintentional all at once. A smirk plays on Crow's lips, his tail curling above his spine.