- May 16, 2024
- 8
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˚ . ❀ ˚✦ . ✿ From atop a fencepost some small distance from her home, with the mindless chatterings of her twolegs behind her, Primrose watches. It's a habit that she had fallen to as of late with her eyes half-closed and focused on the far distance. Beyond the safety of her home the birds seem to call even louder than they do here. The containers of useless stones the twolegs hang from tree limbs and branches of metal call in birds, which seem to love the inedible fragments, but they're colorful and fleeting. Here and gone. They don't live here — maybe they know that a hunter prowls, however lazy and well-fed. Whatever homes they make seem to be in the forest some small distance away. Trees there seem so much thicker and sturdier than the one in Primrose's yard. This one flowers, at least. Beautiful blossoms that shower down when the wind blows too strongly. Her twolegs hate picking them up, but love to see her play with them.
There was a simple problem with all of this, in that Primrose is no longer content with the petals. There are things beyond this yard that she can't quite touch. A whole world that stretches past this lovely den. She remembers her littermate, so intent on living life his own way, and wonders if anything had come of that.
Primrose stretches languidly and falls into a half-sleep, her contentment disturbed only by the sound of the den door closing behind her twolegs, and, eventually, by the rustling of paws through seasonally-thick grass, far heavier than the noise of any squirrel. Her eyes peek open, first one sliver of pale green then the other. In the distance there is a cat. In the corner of her vision is a swath of blue. When she turns her head for a better look, the creature comes into focus not as some great prey creature, but– a cat. Headed towards the forest? Or perhaps away from it? The motion, for this brief moment, seems almost parallel to the treeline. "Are you going somewhere?" she calls, shaking out her fur. The bell jangles briefly. "Did you lose your twolegs?"
There was a simple problem with all of this, in that Primrose is no longer content with the petals. There are things beyond this yard that she can't quite touch. A whole world that stretches past this lovely den. She remembers her littermate, so intent on living life his own way, and wonders if anything had come of that.
Primrose stretches languidly and falls into a half-sleep, her contentment disturbed only by the sound of the den door closing behind her twolegs, and, eventually, by the rustling of paws through seasonally-thick grass, far heavier than the noise of any squirrel. Her eyes peek open, first one sliver of pale green then the other. In the distance there is a cat. In the corner of her vision is a swath of blue. When she turns her head for a better look, the creature comes into focus not as some great prey creature, but– a cat. Headed towards the forest? Or perhaps away from it? The motion, for this brief moment, seems almost parallel to the treeline. "Are you going somewhere?" she calls, shaking out her fur. The bell jangles briefly. "Did you lose your twolegs?"
- ooc: @Whiskey
- "speech"
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˚ . ❀ ˚✦ . ✿ 𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮. she ╱ they. kittypet and prospective daylight warrior of skyclan. littermate to slate and cloverjaw. purebred maine coon ——
—— a black smoke ╱ silver tabby chimera with soft green eyes despite the boxy breed standard of maine coon cats, the edges of primrose seem invariably soft. her thick, sleek fur is silky to the touch and eternally well-groomed, broken only by the lines of chimerism between her pelt colors and the pale purple collar she always wears. its rose gold bell is often muffled by her fur, but not entirely.
