LET'S GO OUT WITH A BANG
Moving houses. It was always such a bittersweet thing if he was honest.
Johnny didn't understand why they did it, but like clockwork, every ten moons or so his people would uproot themselves and take off to find a new nest somewhere far away from the last, leaving behind everything and everyone they'd taken the time to get to know in the months prior. And he'd be a liar if he said it didn't hurt just a little to have to so suddenly leave behind the many friends he'd made and the places he'd grown fond of. But that was the job, wasn't it? As much as he loved his friends and home, at the end of the day his duty was to his twolegs. Because who would guard the property while they were away during the days, if not Johnny? Who would greet them when they finally returned home late in the evenings and replace their frowns with smiles by acting just a bit too much like an overgrown kitten? And who would keep them warm at night while they slept, or walk them to the porch to see them off in the mornings?
As much as it hurt to keep leaving things behind, he had a job to do, had people who relied on him.
Which was why, when he'd spotted movement in the treeline beyond the fence, he'd decided to investigate. It may only be his third day in this house, but make no mistake, it was his house and he would most definitely protect it from anything that wanted to prove itself a threat. He may not have been some big rough-and-tumble stray, but Johnny was no stranger to a fight, nor was he a coward. As he took up a watchful position on the fence however, amber eyes trailing the dark figure of something in the trees, he came to realize his property wasn't being stalked. In fact, the other cat -because he could see now that's clearly what it was- wasn't even looking his way, too focused on the bird they were stalking.
And maybe he should have left it at that, because blatantly staring at a total stranger was definitely a good way to start a fight he wasn't meaning to, but for all his smarts, Johnny had a habit of letting his impulses win from time to time- only when he felt the consequences were something he was willing to bare. And if he pissed off a stranger for staring and took a few licks, well, that was fine with him. He'd been cooped up inside since before they'd even moved, and aside from the cat that lived to yards over, he hadn't had a real interaction with anyone outside of his twolegs in well over a week.
So he may have been a little restless, a little eager to finally see another cat who was wearing a collar.
Johnnys own collar, red with a golden name template, hung proudly around his neck from where he crouched atop the fence, and he could make out the purple of the one this tom had on as well. It put him a little at ease because seldom in his experience did other housecats pick fights over things like territory or status. There just wasn't a need for it. And so he remained on the fence, and he watched, because along with the fact that this was most likely one of the cats from the neighboring houses, Johnny had never lived near a forest before, had never seen another cat hunt it's own prey before.
He wasn't sure he could look away if he wanted to.
He couldn't help but take note of the others movements, how despite the tension in coiled muscles ready to spring, there was a relaxed confidence to go alongside it that suggested the inky and ivory feline was well versed in this particular dance of predator and prey. Johnny had never hunted for himself before, mainly because he'd never had a need to do so, but he found himself silently willing the other tomcat to succeed.
He almost let out a satisfied hiss of his own when the other finally made the kill.
While the hunt hadn't been his own, he shares in the sense of satisfaction the other must surely feel at a job well done- a challenge overcome. And maybe it was because Johnny himself had never killed live prey, but there was a flash of interest that came at seeing someone do something he couldn't. Well, couldn't was a strong word. He was sure he could do just about anything if he wanted to- with 'want' being the keyword there. He'd just never had a reason to land the killing blow when half the fun was the chase itself- not when he had a bowl of food waiting for him back home. It'd be a waste.
And he probably should have put an end to it there- the staring, that is- but for some reason molten eyes stay fixed, observant and curious, watching even as the cardinal falls from their jaws and silver eyes find themselves landing on the line of fences, on him.
His shoulders tense beneath the others gaze, but he doesn't flinch or break the look once caught, too stubborn to act as if he hadn't been watching them now that it was so obvious. It's too late to pretend he wasn't, and he's only half surprised when the white-faced raven leaves his kill to stalk toward the fenceline. And the closer he draws the easier it is for Johnny to see that this stranger isn't like the other housecats he's known in the past. While the toms collar says 'cared for' his body says otherwise. It's rough and scarred, wild like the woodland he emerges from, and he feels the fur on the back of his neck raise when their voice carries up to him.
"It's awfully rude to stare."
His tension is rivaled only by his curiosity as he turns to face the other cat, not willing to leave his side exposed to the stranger as they settle on the fence beside them. Had they not had the purple collar hanging so obviously around their throat, Johnny may not have let it get that far. Strays and rogues had only ever proven to be dangerous to housepets like him, and he would have never allowed such a a dangerous individual to settle on his twolegs fenceline like this with him- not because he hated them, but because he'd never been in a situation where things didn't quickly devolve into violence.
For some reason, the strays and rogues had never thought very highly of cats like him and his housepet friends, and he had learned to expect the worse from them.
But this cat was collared, and even as Johnny watched in the heartbeats that followed, the steel in their gaze seemed to soften, the edges no longer blade-sharp as they settled on him and with a scowl that seemed to lessen in its intensity.
"and not introduce yourself."
And cautious as he is with strangers, Johnny isn't the type to condemn without reason. It isn't in his nature to start pointless fights or to act coldly toward others, and maybe -just maybe- there's a part of him that's even jumping at the chance to finally fucking talk to somebody and do something interesting for the first time in a week. So he decides to take the opportunity he's being given and run with it, flashing the larger tom a crooked grin as he forces his shoulders to relax a little.
"Ah, well I wouldn't want to be rude, would I?" he replies, bright eyes watchful. "They call me Johnny. Who're you?"
future skyclan warrior - male - 29 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - a short, stocky tomcat with patched fur, amber-gold eyes, and no tail 
OPEN for Dice battles |
stine#3004
