E
EIGENGRAU
Guest
Oil-spill bird, whose wings weighed down with weariness... Your dreams are the only wind under your feathers.
It was a loose string of a poem that Eigengrau had devised, woven from words as untethered as moss, or perhaps more akin to the Twoleg garbage they shed like excrement. Too many felines did underestimate the power of words, he figured. He could hardly be considered articulate and verbose, but at least he knew the value of verses. Hypocrite, he was, to chastise the man for his tongue when he wrought his own to exhaustion. He couldn't help getting lost in his imagination, though. The walk to Skyclan had been nothing but boring, with skyscrapers softer than concrete surrounding him and a path that did not sting like cement's scorn in front of him. Eigengrau had grown used to the city's symphony, how loud the Monsters would howl, and how quiet they would hum as they perched upon unnatural nests divided by their sullied-white line. The Monsters were like flightless birds - creatures damned to asphalt passages, bearing clipped wings and destitute eyes aglow. He pitied them, truly. No matter how formidable or imposing, a chained beast was naught if it were chained. A storklike gait stumbled about with calculated grace, and though he was most certainly lost within the winding labyrinth of the arbor, he would find his way to the promised land. All cats had that innate sense of direction, he knew. Well, he hoped.
A serpent of a man slithered through the shadowed woods, with darkened coal hues blending into the gloom, as though he had been birthed from such primordial chaos. Turquoise eyes, beset in pluck sockets, were the only thing to distinguish him from the nature he bumbled through. This sneaky strategy was oft-used when avoiding trouble, which he did quite well. Misfortune seemed to belie him like a bear trap, though, and he often found himself in dire straits. Well, that was what the tongue is for - to untie one out of the knots of trouble. Every few steps, his paws would crack against underlying foliage, as though he were trying to announce his arrival regardless of his shade-colored pelt. Despite all his pompous swagger, he was but a housecat bobbing along the saline sea, and he could barely swim. Obviously, he tried not to allow such unbridled fear to break through a stone-carved facade. He danced and bounced around like he took the world for a spectacle, as if he was a fluttering hummingbird that evaded the grit and horror of the world, a mere observer instead of a player. It was indicative of how he saw the cats around him - mere pawns haphazardly placed upon the field, and he was no different. At least he acknowledged it! At least he took the universe's displays for a fool!
Eigen only stopped when he picked out an unfamiliarly tangled smell through that of the forest, as keen and whiplike whiskers nosed through forefathers' footfall, for trailblazers found it apt to leave a legacy one way or another. It was clear that they had just been here, too. Lucky day for me, I suppose. It was the same scent that many kittypets and loners dragged behind them, and he recognized it from when the daylight warriors retreated back to their warm nests. It was saccharine, almost, though interspersed with the sweats and toils of a life long lived. What idiots, he mused. I wouldn't choose to kill myself just for some points of honor. Honor, what's that? Nothin'! Seaglass eyes lit up with the candlelight of adventurous devilry, a toothy smile indenting the edges of jagged countenance, as though his creator's hands were imprecise and wobbling. Only an uncaringly-novice creator could let such a nihilist thrive.
"Heeeeyy!" He yelled with a gravelly yet unwearied voice, worn from the smoke that the city breathed out, and yet still sprightly with the energy of a younger tom. "Wake up, Flyclan! Or was it Styclan? Anyways, I want to jooooiiinnn! Let me iiiin!" He continued to shout like a mad drunkard, with giggles and laughs blustering through the wavering, willowy declaration. He was perfectly sober - he was just high on life. He never liked to take things seriously, and he wouldn't start today.
It was a loose string of a poem that Eigengrau had devised, woven from words as untethered as moss, or perhaps more akin to the Twoleg garbage they shed like excrement. Too many felines did underestimate the power of words, he figured. He could hardly be considered articulate and verbose, but at least he knew the value of verses. Hypocrite, he was, to chastise the man for his tongue when he wrought his own to exhaustion. He couldn't help getting lost in his imagination, though. The walk to Skyclan had been nothing but boring, with skyscrapers softer than concrete surrounding him and a path that did not sting like cement's scorn in front of him. Eigengrau had grown used to the city's symphony, how loud the Monsters would howl, and how quiet they would hum as they perched upon unnatural nests divided by their sullied-white line. The Monsters were like flightless birds - creatures damned to asphalt passages, bearing clipped wings and destitute eyes aglow. He pitied them, truly. No matter how formidable or imposing, a chained beast was naught if it were chained. A storklike gait stumbled about with calculated grace, and though he was most certainly lost within the winding labyrinth of the arbor, he would find his way to the promised land. All cats had that innate sense of direction, he knew. Well, he hoped.
A serpent of a man slithered through the shadowed woods, with darkened coal hues blending into the gloom, as though he had been birthed from such primordial chaos. Turquoise eyes, beset in pluck sockets, were the only thing to distinguish him from the nature he bumbled through. This sneaky strategy was oft-used when avoiding trouble, which he did quite well. Misfortune seemed to belie him like a bear trap, though, and he often found himself in dire straits. Well, that was what the tongue is for - to untie one out of the knots of trouble. Every few steps, his paws would crack against underlying foliage, as though he were trying to announce his arrival regardless of his shade-colored pelt. Despite all his pompous swagger, he was but a housecat bobbing along the saline sea, and he could barely swim. Obviously, he tried not to allow such unbridled fear to break through a stone-carved facade. He danced and bounced around like he took the world for a spectacle, as if he was a fluttering hummingbird that evaded the grit and horror of the world, a mere observer instead of a player. It was indicative of how he saw the cats around him - mere pawns haphazardly placed upon the field, and he was no different. At least he acknowledged it! At least he took the universe's displays for a fool!
Eigen only stopped when he picked out an unfamiliarly tangled smell through that of the forest, as keen and whiplike whiskers nosed through forefathers' footfall, for trailblazers found it apt to leave a legacy one way or another. It was clear that they had just been here, too. Lucky day for me, I suppose. It was the same scent that many kittypets and loners dragged behind them, and he recognized it from when the daylight warriors retreated back to their warm nests. It was saccharine, almost, though interspersed with the sweats and toils of a life long lived. What idiots, he mused. I wouldn't choose to kill myself just for some points of honor. Honor, what's that? Nothin'! Seaglass eyes lit up with the candlelight of adventurous devilry, a toothy smile indenting the edges of jagged countenance, as though his creator's hands were imprecise and wobbling. Only an uncaringly-novice creator could let such a nihilist thrive.
"Heeeeyy!" He yelled with a gravelly yet unwearied voice, worn from the smoke that the city breathed out, and yet still sprightly with the energy of a younger tom. "Wake up, Flyclan! Or was it Styclan? Anyways, I want to jooooiiinnn! Let me iiiin!" He continued to shout like a mad drunkard, with giggles and laughs blustering through the wavering, willowy declaration. He was perfectly sober - he was just high on life. He never liked to take things seriously, and he wouldn't start today.
