- Mar 4, 2024
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𓆝 . ° ✦ Mint Julep had not really expected the past three days to go as they had. He had been getting along just fine, life alone in the forest, away from twolegs and the only cats he'd known. Better than expectations of what being kicked out would bring of him. His father had trained him well, perhaps too well for a runt who had finally grown into himself. That was why he was cast into exile, wasn't it?—himself, that was, not his father. Why his father had left clan life for a life of lounging around without any hint of excitement, he hadn’t a clue despite constant pestering on the subject. But he supposed that being cast off, cast aside, separated from a mentor for showing off the skills he had learnt, could bring things full circle. His hunting had come along well enough that he was really in no danger of starvation, he didn't think (though he felt a pang of hunger as he thought it). And certainly his skills in combat were honed enough for self-defense should the need arise. He was still young, he knew that, but youth was no reason for him to lack confidence in himself.
That said, there was a huge weakness he had discovered in himself. Mint Julep was dearly, dearly lonely. He would have loved having even one person to talk to, and with each passing hour realized that this whole “going-it-alone” business was no business for him. Coming full-circle indeed, he mused. Well, he still needed to find a clan. And with any luck, they'd see his skills and welcome him in. Or… perhaps he'd best not show his cards too soon. He wouldn't want another incident, another time with no place to go. He'd show just enough, that was it. Enough to be underestimated if need be. Perhaps he could find other trades. Ignore how heavily his abandonment left him. He didn't mean to hurt anybody, really. Yes, he'd make sure that he could be the sort of personality that could be swept under the rug. Nothing memorable about ol’ Julep, they'd say. No, that wasn't quite right, he could think of something better—too many other memorable things, and all of them positive, so why focus on specifics? Or maybe he just needed to hear something, have any kind of reputation at all.
For all his musings, they were still just fiction. Plans that had no real sense to them, that couldn't really be put into motion. Plans that failed to account, he thought to himself as he walked, for the potential that he could have been recognized as his father's son. He… doubted that was possible, given how many clans there were and how nobody would even know his father sired kits, and he didn't even know the fellow's clan name so there was no way of him bringing up the subject of whatever exile must have happened to lead to his father even being a kittypet at all. Perhaps he even lied about the whole thing, and there wasn't a worry at all. Maybe it had been a lie and everything Julep had learned and built up was completely useless—though he doubted that was entirely possible given the mice he'd been eating over the past few days. But it was still something unaccounted for. As he walked, perhaps not initially taking in his surroundings as he should've, he noticed a distinct shift in smell. “Ah—” he gasped to himself. Here he was, on the edge of his very own frontier. Whichever clan he had stumbled upon, whichever it was, would finally give him a taste of the life he'd really been craving.
That said, there was a huge weakness he had discovered in himself. Mint Julep was dearly, dearly lonely. He would have loved having even one person to talk to, and with each passing hour realized that this whole “going-it-alone” business was no business for him. Coming full-circle indeed, he mused. Well, he still needed to find a clan. And with any luck, they'd see his skills and welcome him in. Or… perhaps he'd best not show his cards too soon. He wouldn't want another incident, another time with no place to go. He'd show just enough, that was it. Enough to be underestimated if need be. Perhaps he could find other trades. Ignore how heavily his abandonment left him. He didn't mean to hurt anybody, really. Yes, he'd make sure that he could be the sort of personality that could be swept under the rug. Nothing memorable about ol’ Julep, they'd say. No, that wasn't quite right, he could think of something better—too many other memorable things, and all of them positive, so why focus on specifics? Or maybe he just needed to hear something, have any kind of reputation at all.
For all his musings, they were still just fiction. Plans that had no real sense to them, that couldn't really be put into motion. Plans that failed to account, he thought to himself as he walked, for the potential that he could have been recognized as his father's son. He… doubted that was possible, given how many clans there were and how nobody would even know his father sired kits, and he didn't even know the fellow's clan name so there was no way of him bringing up the subject of whatever exile must have happened to lead to his father even being a kittypet at all. Perhaps he even lied about the whole thing, and there wasn't a worry at all. Maybe it had been a lie and everything Julep had learned and built up was completely useless—though he doubted that was entirely possible given the mice he'd been eating over the past few days. But it was still something unaccounted for. As he walked, perhaps not initially taking in his surroundings as he should've, he noticed a distinct shift in smell. “Ah—” he gasped to himself. Here he was, on the edge of his very own frontier. Whichever clan he had stumbled upon, whichever it was, would finally give him a taste of the life he'd really been craving.
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MINT JULEP — HE/HIM ・ 10 MOONS ・ APPRENTICE OF SKYCLAN ・ PENNED BY PUZZLES