IT'S HUMID IN THE MIDWEST | checking in

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

A whistling puff of air erupted from Daisy Flight as the short molly crested the rise. A wavering flag of frustration, her tail reached tall into the afternoon haze. Feathered streaks of honey and bronze caught the mellow streams of light, warm calico pelt a patchwork of grey, white and ginger aglow beneath the sun. The comfortable heat wrestled with the annoyance that locked her shoulders into a rigid stance and soon she found herself relaxing into the walk to camp. With the twoleg place slipping into the hedges behind her, Daisy Flight allowed her thoughts to settle and began sorting through the maddening conversation she had just endured.

"Tsssk" the bitter tut punctuated her decision. That was the last time she would speak to him. The apathy was always laid plain on his features, whiskers still as stone as she aired her difficulties. But, of course, when he spoke he expected the utmost reverence and consideration. Typical! Enough was enough. Today had been especially aggravating, his moronic tale of knocking over a twoleg metal rot pile apparently taking precedence over her concerns for the brewing tension in the forest. However, Daisy Flight couldn't deny she had felt a little pity, and bemusement, as his clay brushed eyes widened in genuine dismay. "The gulls laughed at me darling! Laughed!" the black tom had all but howled. Her exasperated retort had fallen on deaf ears as he mourned the drop in his 'desirability'. Unfortunately for her, there was no risk of that.

The sweeping shade of the pine trees cloaked her in a brief chill, the final smattering of sunbeams blinding for a moment. Since joining this new little community a few moons back the calico molly had felt calmer and more in control of her life. No more slinking between alleys and rooftops. The fresh, bright and rewarding life in the woods hadn't been easy, but not much in her life had been. Dipping monochrome paws into lush, dew-soaked grass and moss in the final stretch toward camp her pace quickened to an impatient skip. What an exciting new leaf she had found herself turning.

"Afternoon all, any good news?" Clear and dulcet, her query called out to those in the clearing. A distraction was just what she needed.
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[CHAR]

It's a warm afternoon, warmer than Char likes. His thick, dark pelt happens to absorb heat worse than the Thunderpath, and as a result, he keeps to the shade whenever possible. This usually means somewhere within the branches of the pine trees rooted in Rain's part of the forest, where he can feel the wind through his fur and see who comes and goes without being startled.

Char is not ancient by any means. He likes to think he's got plenty of years left, if he plays his cards right and lives within his means. Hunting and providing for others is something relatively new to him, but he finds the work easy enough. Many of Rain's cats are chattier than he likes, but he has no right to complain. The silver tabby tom had taken him in when he had no obligation to, allowed him a safe place to sleep, a forest full of prey, somewhere to lick his wounds and recover safely.

Tattered ears flick at the sound of a cat approaching beneath him. Perched in a tree rooted just outside camp, he's been watching the comings and goings without bothering to keep track. He doesn't know many of the cats still, and doesn't intend to get to know them. Who knows how long he's planning on sticking around. Besides, he's not known for his friend-making skills.

But her words cause him to snort in derision. He climbs from his perch, meticulous and careful about where he puts his paws. As a younger cat he might have just plopped straight onto the forest floor from his impressive height... but he knows better. Char is still healing, and besides, his muscles aren't as spry as they used to be.

"Good news?" He approaches Daisy from behind, entering camp just a fraction of a second after. "What good news are you expecting? That Briar and her frog-eaters have decided to leave us alone? Ain't happenin' anytime soon." He wrinkles the scarred bridge of his dark nose, as though one of the swamp dwellers had crossed his path and he'd caught a whiff of them.
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[Rain]

At chars words Rain would let out a snort “one could only wish” he says then let’s a hearty chuckle escape from his jaws as he shakes his head regretfully. He wasn’t sure why, but the cats over in the marsh hasn’t seemed to take to their presence well. They had spat at them, called them filthy kittypets, told him to go back to his twoleg den where he belonged. He had simply laughed in their faces. If only they knew, he did not have a home he could return to, even if he desperately wished otherwise.

He flicks his fluffy silver tail in greeting as he approaches the two, a gentle smile that was ever present plastered on his maw. “Good news?” He asks then contemplates. “Hm, well, I did eat a pretty fat squirrel this morning and that was pretty good” he says, reminiscing on his breakfast and how good it had been, how filling. His mouth almost started watering again at the thought. ​

 

[ASPEN]

Good news. Aspen was a stranger to it, at least as of late. He was still reeling from the fact that his mate had taken his son to live with the marsh group of all cats. Aspen did not know a one of them personally, but if stories were to be believed, Briar and her group of crowfood-eaters were nothing but trouble. Hearts as dark and cold as the territory they called home. As far as Aspen was concerned, there was plenty of forest for everyone, maybe they just needed to work out a way to make sure nobody was hurting the prey population. But no, his mate had felt that she and their son would be safer in the marshes with that cold-hearted she-cat. Aspen wondered if she thought it was because the marsh group would succeed in driving their colony back into the Twolegplace, where abundant dangers awaited them all.

But, maybe instead of dwelling on that, he could focus on the good things. After all, he had a lot of friends here, cats he genuinely cared for. That wasn't something the marsh group could boast about, right? They were probably fighting over three-day-old carcasses while he, much like Rain had just announced, had enjoyed a fat, plump bird for breakfast that morning. "I had a bird this morning. Fat and juicy, too. I guess we can all be glad we aren't eating frogs and carrion. That's good news."​

 

[honey]

Cats all around the pine group should know this by now: Fritter hates talking, hates new people and company. When the call for good news echoed around the clearing and voices began to pipe up, she just wanted to run away and hide. Something that Char brought up, a cat painted with dark greys as if a stormcloud, piqued her curiosity and against her whole body screaming for quiet, she kind of perks up and silently pads to the gathering group. Shes standing in the back as cats chatter back and forth, trying to strain her ears for more on the conflict, but there is none and cats resume talking about the good news they got.
Shes about to walk away just as silently as she came, but something in her heart stops her, begs her to open up. "B-Bonjour," she stumbles over her words and her voice is barely loud enough for Fritter to even hear, so she fixes it for the next. "I found... Pretty flowers. Violette, light color, very pretty. Colorful." it was true, on her walk earlier, she found very pretty lavender colored things, so she took it to decorate her little area with. Inwardly she cringes as she remembers Scarletts chiding quip about how she spoke and she feels sick about it, would they understand her? Did she speak strangely compared to these group cats? She was a long way from her first home and she finds herself longing to cower back in to those familiar streets. Hopefully they knew what she was talking about.​

☾ "speech" ☽​

 

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

The imposed neutrality and optimism dusted across her bi-colour face was swept away at the mention of the marsh folk. Weary, knowing eyes settled on the scarred tom who had woven his way down from the treetops. "Well, of course, they've certainly proven themselves to be as stubborn as the mud they sleep in." Daisy Flight lamented, grey nose wrinkled with distaste.

Twisting to face Rain's silvery form as he approached beneath the dappled sunlight, the calico molly gave a slow blink in acknowledgement. She had been aware of the formation of his little group for some time before finally committing to leaving her home on the streets. Apprehensive about a life in the sticks, it had taken some thought- and some arguments with him- to take the leap. Now she understood them, and her gratitude at being able to be a part of it was something that wasn't hidden. After hearing of Rain's, and Aspen's good fortune hunting her fern-green eyes softened. " Good prey will make anycat happy, no wonder they're so unwelcoming!" The reality of the joke still stung a little, but she allowed her chuckle to roll freely.

"Bon-jour to you too." Pronunciation a bit stilted and off-key, Daisy Flight took in the skittish, clay brown swirled molly. Fritter was a cat she hadn't spoken to much, but her colourful description of a floral discovery piqued Daisy's interest. "Those sound lovely"
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