private SUBURBIA OVERTURE 𓆩♡𓆪 DALMA

[DAWNGLARE]

No concern of Orangestar's could ever keep him keep him from what he wanted. A fools errand, that, to keep mortal tethers to something that is anything but. What is a petty want to her could so easily be the thread stringing her very world together... Ream of web that if snapped, would bring her beating heart to a standstill. The other pillars would tumble soon after... cracks left from the death of a star finally taking shape. He, of course, is not foolish enough to balance atop that thing to begin with... Their downfall would effect him none. He'd teeter over this very fence, grinning fangs in tow, unthinking of what ruins he may leave behind. ( And was this true, that the dust would roll off of him so easily? Well... )

Idle discomfort prickles strangely at his pelt. Wildcat nonsense was nothing more than that, but perhaps the incessant whining has worn him down to exposed nerves and blood... Each shadow passed is paused before — scrutinized by a harsh narrowing of sky - tones and sniffed for sickness before he proceeds. Hackles raise against the sun's Greenleaf heat, beating down with an unseeable, pompous air. He keeps his claws to himself, bites down his curses with pearly fangs on a pink tongue. Ridiculous, to be caught up in the madness of something so utterly impossible. Were there to be any fate that was his, it would not be here... Not this strange, brutal irony. No, there was no danger for him here. That is to say — there could be no danger for him anywhere. Tred around with a quickness are thoughts of rheumy - eyed fever. Tread around with a quickness, and yet strangely, he finds himself pivoting to where the housefolk grew their greenery, a sudden taste for catmint on his tongue.

A fox face treads twoleg - hewn wood lightly, balance being a skill that he has never quite lost. A narrowed gaze scans below for what he so desired: the cure to sickness... any would do, really. An aggravated flickering of his tail perhaps threatens his steadiness, but he is no amateur. As a twitching nose takes in the scents of below, idly perhaps, he picks up the scent of salt...

OOC: @Dalma :3

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[Dalma]

Incessant twitching took hold of a heavy laden pelt, the suns rays beating down upon the flesh hidden beneath quickly becoming insufferable as the day dragged itself endlessly onwards. This land was as unfamiliar as Dalma himself, the journey forced upon him some undefined time ago leaving him disoriented, his destination undefined, his wandering aimless. Resilient as he was, even the strongest of wayward souls will eventually succumb to the wrath of the world, the sea and sky waiting in solemn anticipation to reclaim them. He had not yet reached the point where he suspected as much, nor had he yet contemplated the possibility of altering his course towards something so morbid, though this still left him with much to be desired.

He had taken a turn at some point, the details of when or where being lost on him in his detached state of mind, offering him only a partial sense of awareness. The colors of the landscape morphing from the natural earthly greens and browns to disorienting hues of colors unlike any seen in mother nature's gifts. Fractal light which so often presented itself against the multitude of leaves and brush did not dance along the frame of any living being here, nor did it illuminate the open ground below- there was no such ethereality in such a place. It was almost depressing, the way the space seemed so derelict despite the overstimulating layout- buildings stretching far beyond his field of view, mashed together in rows with so little space between each other, one might wonder if there were any break between them at all. However, these thoughts and observations were as fleeting as the wind that he found himself longing for now- a beacon of hope like a streak of luminance from the lighthouse cutting through an otherwise cataclysmic maelstrom. He had only himself, his compass nothing more than instinct and dwindling hope, and a drive to survive- a prospect so much easier said than done when he lacked the proper skill and knowledge to keep himself properly fed and watered, this new world unlike anything like he had ever known overseas, back on the docks.

Left, right, left, right, on and on his pattern of steps continued, slinking through the shadows cast by the buildings and white-picket fences which obscured the blazing orb above behind their looming structures. He walked with a slight gait, unsteady but with an underlying air of calculation indicating that this was purposeful- not caused by any form of injury. His frame was hunched in on itself, head tilted downwards as if sizing up prey that was not there, an unwelcome presence indeed- though it was by all accounts, unintentional. His demeanor only changed upon an unfamiliar scent drifting through the air around him, growing stronger as it reached his glands- his jaw now slightly agape and his ears perked upright as his body stilled before halting entirely. It was as unfamiliar as everything else surrounding him, and yet it was different enough to be identifiable all on its own- pine trees, sap, and albeit more subtly, a faint trace of lavender. As if his spirit has been born again, he swiftly made his way towards the direction in which this scent was emanating from, the way it seemed as though it didn't belong, same as he, intrigued him.

Weaving through the terrain with a second wind of vigor, the scent grew stronger as he closed the gap between himself and whatever- or whoever- it laid claim to. Perhaps this was not the wises choice, to rush into the unknown without first considering the danger or the casualties that may come along with it, however this was never something that Dalma often mulled over. A merry life and a short one, a motto he would so often honor in his behavior. His path took him into the closed in area behind a nearby home, something that he knew was called a "yard" by twolegs, though the connection behind the title was always lost on him. As he slowed to nonchalantly survey his new surroundings, he was almost shocked to see another living creature- another feline no less- perched atop the fence which concealed the premises. Boasting a quite well maintained coat, the pristine ivory a breathtaking contrast to the darker cherry-hued mask and stripe which snaked against the long, wavy-furred figure. He waited for the light thunk of paws to hit the grass below, an indication that they were now on the same level, before eagerly pressing his way forward and intercepting their path- stepping square on top of a pile of fine greenery in the process, greenery which those haunting blue eyes had been so fixated on a mere moment ago.

"You..." He spoke slowly, softly, an octave which carried eerie drawl, capable of sending a trickle of unease down anybody's spine. "...You a'h familia' with dis land. It is yers, just as you a'h its..." A thick accent- presumably one of Caribbean descent- altered his words into ones most unfamiliar to anyone who did not hail from the same land, though it was not so heavy as to impair his speech entirely. His singular eye seemed to light up with viridescent flame as he continued on, excitement unconcealed in his display. "Ahh...But first, you must be wahntin' ta'h know me. De name given ta'h me be Dalma. And yerself?" The introduction was swift, the desire to know the one he was speaking to innocent in nature, and yet his presence brought about a sense of unease- his eagerness foreign in the shadow of the all too common suspicious and wary nature of clan cats. His intentions were hard to gauge, to be sure- and that was what was so disconcerting.​

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my first post be nice to me please

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[DAWNGLARE]

He's so close now. Glinting eyes relax at the sight of twoleg - grown sprigs and their purple blooms. Salvation in flower form. Strange irony, in the way they root beneath Her so... and yet the living mice on Her back would be lost without it. Only one of these things made a proper parasite, but then... if the other thrived off of the leech's living, did that make them both blood - suckers? The dilemma was as old as time itself, and it's this that he muses over as his head dips to snap at the neck...

And then a chestnut paw makes a massacre of it all. Dawnglare leaps backward with an undignified scream.

White paws scrabble to tether themselves to Her skin, nearly knocking together in their franticness. Blue eyes, wide like moons, connect paws to a face with a single snapping motion. Dingy is the first word that comes to mind. A pelt that hasn't felt the rasp of a mother's tongue and grey - pink skin that winds an ugly path past their muzzle. Something indecipherable is draped across their coat, like silk weaved by a spider with one - too - many heads. Dawnglare observes this all with a raised spine and white jaws slightly agape. Unknowingly, his claws have slipped from their sheathes, prickling the ground with an uneasy curling motion. An icy gaze then dips back down to the carnage... Snapped stems. Deliverance abated. Surprise renders him stunned rather than furious, at first.

But it rushes in with certainty, in the grinding of fangs and cavernous eyes that flock deadly to He who has made himself his enemy. Perhaps all of this — the shock, the anger, static of sorts filling his ears — is what renders this stranger nearly incomprehensible. The thing weaves tongue twisting words that seemed more enchantment, than anything else. The possibility stretches his gaze just that bit wider. A plumy tail lashes, uneasy, at the thought of hex set by unfamiliar paws. Though of course – he would be immune. ( Wouldn't he? ) Borne of confusion, disbelief, an icy - hot anger, a hiss rattles the word, " What? "​

 

[Dalma]

The unruly screech paired with the erratic frenzy of a retreating body made Dalma's own legs falter, though only slightly, his head flying back as his ears plastered themselves to the sides of his head- his head felt as if it had been split in two from the sheer volume of the stranger's admittedly dramatic vocal reaction. To instill such fear was hardly ever his intention- he was never one to provoke needless violence.

"Err..." For a moment he was rendered speechless, any words left in waiting on his tongue stripped from him, unable to return. In an attempt to regain his composure and bring some much needed peace back to their introduction, he cleared his throat and righted himself once more, taking some considerate steps back as to allow for more room between the two- his retreating figure leaving those pristine and precious herbs in full view for the world to observe- nothing but a flattened, tattered pile of wasted potential. "Y-Yer name?"

While awaiting a response, his eye flittered downwards to fixate on the space in which he had once occupied, only now coming to make the connection between the emerald heaps of ruination left behind and the distraught expression contorting the once delicate face of this unknown feline. With a frantic dip of his head and the flexing of claws, he began to understand, the realization sending a flush to ignite every inch of his newly prickling flesh. "You wan'ed dose, don't it? Oh, please fergive de misstep, miss- I-If dere be a way fer me 't right me wrongs, name 't."

The entire circumstance was without a doubt not one of good fortune for either participant, though it was clear to see which one of the two was more at fault. The foreigner felt as though it was his responsibility to fix what he had clearly been the one to break, especially weighing in the fact he had originally approached with the intention of asking for assistance- something that deserves to be repaid, and he had done the exact opposite before even having been given the opportunity to inquire as to his whereabouts or where he should direct his course next.​

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