- Sep 10, 2022
- 24
- 6
- 3
wait around, i'll smile again
Though it's been a short while since he joined, Watson hasn't shown his face around camp for much time at all. If asked, he'd say he's just adjusting, but he knows well that it's because he's been anxious and afraid. He feels silly for it as a grown tom but he's had little experience with other cats until the fateful day his twoleg passed and he met Skittles. He'd reacted similarly then; loafing in a wet alley, squinting in the rain with an aching stomach but no will to move an inch. It took a long time for his companion to coax him up. To outlive his owner, felt like he had outlived his usefulness and he didn't know what to do with himself any longer. In a way, he still doesn't, but he feels stronger than he did those moons ago. He can swallow down his nerves and put his best paw forward. At least try. He's met some of these cats back in the twoleg place and though he's not sure he made the best impression at the time, he at least has a general idea of them. Regardless of it all, he'd been informed that he'd need to pull his weight so he ought to start somewhere.
First thing's first, as he leans down to take a sip of water, he catches sight of how downright mangy he looks in his reflection. "Mmm. You've looked better, haven't you old boy?" Yet it's a good sign that he at least feels an itch to care and with a bothered sigh, he starts combing his tongue through his fur for the first time in forever. A few hairballs later and he looks less like a fuzzy caterpillar blob and more like a presentable tom. He adjusts his plaid bowtie collar and ignores the sad feelings it conjures. With his fur in order, Watson actually looks much more like his younger age than his grumbly voice and attitude imply. As he stretches following the long sit, his bones pop and ache as if to argue against that point. With that out of his way, Watson treks out into the pines to pitch in with a request he overheard. Something about someone needing cobwebs. What in the world a cat would want cobwebs for he hasn't the faintest clue but it's at least something he's capable of completing with little experience. After all, cobwebs were practically part of his pelt when he was creaking around abandoned two leg homes.
Minus their trek here, this is the first time that Watson has been out in the wilds (at least alone) and he appreciates the quiet as it soothes him. He watches the sunlight twinkle through the trees, listens to the crying drip of leaves from a recent shower, and gets so caught up in his nature walk that he almost walks right into a spiderweb. Jerking back, the cat pulls up his heckles and hisses at the small arachnid like it's to blame. "Why you nob... Touch me and I'll pick my teeth with your legs. I mean it!" The spider stays deathly still then spindles it's legs, as if arguing back. Well at least it's a sign that he's on the right track. Ducking beneath, the leaf colored tom catches sight of a labryinth of webs tethered through some bushes stripped down to red in leaf-fall. Laden with shining dew, it's a beautiful in a way and he shortly admires it. Watson then looks around, spotting a long stick shaped like a wishbone toward the end and that he can stand to lift. (If one eats with the devil, he must do so with a long spoon). Using his stick, Watson begins to rake it through the webs, praying not to disturb any of their creators and turning in place to package it compactly like a rolled rug or some very, very disgusting cotton candy.
First thing's first, as he leans down to take a sip of water, he catches sight of how downright mangy he looks in his reflection. "Mmm. You've looked better, haven't you old boy?" Yet it's a good sign that he at least feels an itch to care and with a bothered sigh, he starts combing his tongue through his fur for the first time in forever. A few hairballs later and he looks less like a fuzzy caterpillar blob and more like a presentable tom. He adjusts his plaid bowtie collar and ignores the sad feelings it conjures. With his fur in order, Watson actually looks much more like his younger age than his grumbly voice and attitude imply. As he stretches following the long sit, his bones pop and ache as if to argue against that point. With that out of his way, Watson treks out into the pines to pitch in with a request he overheard. Something about someone needing cobwebs. What in the world a cat would want cobwebs for he hasn't the faintest clue but it's at least something he's capable of completing with little experience. After all, cobwebs were practically part of his pelt when he was creaking around abandoned two leg homes.
Minus their trek here, this is the first time that Watson has been out in the wilds (at least alone) and he appreciates the quiet as it soothes him. He watches the sunlight twinkle through the trees, listens to the crying drip of leaves from a recent shower, and gets so caught up in his nature walk that he almost walks right into a spiderweb. Jerking back, the cat pulls up his heckles and hisses at the small arachnid like it's to blame. "Why you nob... Touch me and I'll pick my teeth with your legs. I mean it!" The spider stays deathly still then spindles it's legs, as if arguing back. Well at least it's a sign that he's on the right track. Ducking beneath, the leaf colored tom catches sight of a labryinth of webs tethered through some bushes stripped down to red in leaf-fall. Laden with shining dew, it's a beautiful in a way and he shortly admires it. Watson then looks around, spotting a long stick shaped like a wishbone toward the end and that he can stand to lift. (If one eats with the devil, he must do so with a long spoon). Using his stick, Watson begins to rake it through the webs, praying not to disturb any of their creators and turning in place to package it compactly like a rolled rug or some very, very disgusting cotton candy.
