- Jun 9, 2022
- 538
- 270
- 63
( ♡♡♡ ) His voice carries light over the forest, a sweet, siren's song in contrast to the odd warblings of this land. It was becoming somewhat of a routine: wandering into the great unknown only to return to his nest of angel's wings for the night. He thinks he'd much rather die than spend his nights outside where it's cold and dreary, to leave himself vulnerable to any sort of insect searching for meek prey. He would not be found in such a position, no, he's leaps and bounds ahead of such forest dwellers. The worms would rather tunnel in the dirt than use what has been given to them. Foolish. Pride higher than heavenly
This one has traveled here before (he thinks so, anyways), a deciduous forest marked by it's winding oaks. His paws carry him beneath the brush. Thickly-plumed tail waves behind him in a carefully crafted rhythm, swinging to the beat of his own song. The forest has left ample blessings for him, clearing the sky and allowing the sun to soak into his fur. The trees provided just enough shade to keep him cool whilst being able to indulge in the heat. Yes, perhaps not everything out here was so awful.
Of course, this thought is swiftly retracted the instant he's hit with quite-possibly, the foulest thing he's smelled in his entire life. Salt and bog and rot and— stars.
He visibly recoils, nose scrunching up upon his face in its best attempt to flee this mortal prison. Claws unsheathe to dig at the ground in a reflexive motion of defense. Something so foul could be described as nothing less than a bad omen, benevolent forces raining upon these cats swift and with vigor, cursing them with unspeakable horrors. Surely, surely it had not smelled of this before. He turns and turns and turns, searching for a source "Surely not—"
[ TL;DR wandering kittypet smells the new scent markers and starts shivering his fucking timbers and spinning in a circle because bad smell = plague is coming; open to all, marsh cats reply to be called foul </3; @ASH @KELP. ]
This one has traveled here before (he thinks so, anyways), a deciduous forest marked by it's winding oaks. His paws carry him beneath the brush. Thickly-plumed tail waves behind him in a carefully crafted rhythm, swinging to the beat of his own song. The forest has left ample blessings for him, clearing the sky and allowing the sun to soak into his fur. The trees provided just enough shade to keep him cool whilst being able to indulge in the heat. Yes, perhaps not everything out here was so awful.
Of course, this thought is swiftly retracted the instant he's hit with quite-possibly, the foulest thing he's smelled in his entire life. Salt and bog and rot and— stars.
He visibly recoils, nose scrunching up upon his face in its best attempt to flee this mortal prison. Claws unsheathe to dig at the ground in a reflexive motion of defense. Something so foul could be described as nothing less than a bad omen, benevolent forces raining upon these cats swift and with vigor, cursing them with unspeakable horrors. Surely, surely it had not smelled of this before. He turns and turns and turns, searching for a source "Surely not—"
[ TL;DR wandering kittypet smells the new scent markers and starts shivering his fucking timbers and spinning in a circle because bad smell = plague is coming; open to all, marsh cats reply to be called foul </3; @ASH @KELP. ]
