R
RED
Guest
A large expansion of stars open before him, deep blues and indigos dance across the sky above the soft yellow glow of Two-Leg Place. Wind buffets his fur, sending it array as it blows towards his face. He had moved eloquently among the alley ways, white capped paws maneuvering through the rubbage and trash that scatter along the cemented flooring. Somewhere far off, a hound bays with a ferocity, no doubt chasing something or on the alert. He did know—nor did he care. Dogs do not frighten him that much, for he was too swift and too intelligent for a slobbering behemoth to take him so easily. A silver can sits before him and he leaps as he's done so many times before, his acrobatic skills on par as always when he lands with a soft thud, scaling the large dens of Two-Legs till he climbed upon a balcony with a small garden hanging delicately along the edge. He looks into the glass wall of one of the dens, staring at the eerie glow of lights that brighten the den. Two-Legs were such strange creatures, and so terribly nasty. They just threw their trash anywhere they wanted without much xonseq for it all, though Red supposes they do sometimes have some delicious rewards inside—provided you weren't caught searching through it.
He huffs then, deep cerulean eyes narrowing before he leaps atop another balcony, then other, until he finally made it upon the flat roof above. He takes in the scenery before him, listening to the roaring of distant monsters and murmur of Two-Legs along the streets. Apart of him loved the thrill of living here, but another hungrier part of him wanted more. He wanted more and he couldn't have it. Sharp hues rest upon the suddenly dark part if the land, the forest. Tales of wild cats that love among them, forming groups called clans and fighting over territory. It was all such rubbish. He's met a few, none seemed deemed to be so powerful and vicious as the kittypets deem them as. They held no right to those lands, just as a certain tom had told him not so long ago. Speaking of him, Red hadn't seen that silver tom as of late. Did he eventually succumb to their ways? Frolicking among the trees with his tail held high? Or did they finally kill the bastard? Ivory whiskers twitch at the thought, a stray ivory talon tapping at the floor below him in a rhythmic motion—and he smiles. Tap. Tap tap. His claws clacked. A stronger force of wind tugs at his fur now, pulling with it the scent of fresh air and sweet pine scent that bathed his tongue and he inhaled it hungrily. Such a wonderful aroma compared to the putrid scent of monster and Two-Leg rubbish. Perhaps he'd pay them a visit one day, who knew what would lay ahead of him.
He huffs then, deep cerulean eyes narrowing before he leaps atop another balcony, then other, until he finally made it upon the flat roof above. He takes in the scenery before him, listening to the roaring of distant monsters and murmur of Two-Legs along the streets. Apart of him loved the thrill of living here, but another hungrier part of him wanted more. He wanted more and he couldn't have it. Sharp hues rest upon the suddenly dark part if the land, the forest. Tales of wild cats that love among them, forming groups called clans and fighting over territory. It was all such rubbish. He's met a few, none seemed deemed to be so powerful and vicious as the kittypets deem them as. They held no right to those lands, just as a certain tom had told him not so long ago. Speaking of him, Red hadn't seen that silver tom as of late. Did he eventually succumb to their ways? Frolicking among the trees with his tail held high? Or did they finally kill the bastard? Ivory whiskers twitch at the thought, a stray ivory talon tapping at the floor below him in a rhythmic motion—and he smiles. Tap. Tap tap. His claws clacked. A stronger force of wind tugs at his fur now, pulling with it the scent of fresh air and sweet pine scent that bathed his tongue and he inhaled it hungrily. Such a wonderful aroma compared to the putrid scent of monster and Two-Leg rubbish. Perhaps he'd pay them a visit one day, who knew what would lay ahead of him.
[ EXECUTIONER STYLE ]