- Jun 30, 2022
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[ this thread is retro to the great battle! i just got attached to lark and wanted to flesh them out a bit more even though they're. yknow. dead ]
Nervous energy vibrates in Lark's throat. They're not entirely sure if they should label it excitement or nausea, or some strange combination of both, but adrenaline has left the tabby jittery from the tips of their ears to their toes. When they come bounding into camp, mouth full of squirrel and eyes lit up with a nearly violent fire, well– most of their clanmates know enough to instinctively jerk out of their way. "I did it!" Lark shouts, still muffled beneath their prey. Where's the fresh kill pile? In the moment of high emotion the cat has completely forgotten, and turns in sharp, dizzying circles to search for it until bright bird feathers finally catch their attention and they drop it off with a deep inhale that leaves as a jittery, overworked laugh.
It was the first time they'd caught prey. Sure, mice here and there but that was simple, they'd been doing that since they were still a kittypet, as some of these cats like to call it. But a squirrel? That was stuff they'd just dreamed of. They were huge, after all, and wild and out there while Lark was just– in. They'd promised themselves they'd do it, that it'd be their mark of a real wild cat, and knowing that they've accomplished their goals is probably a contributing factor to the energy.
"Guys come eat this squirrel I caught! Look!"
Nervous energy vibrates in Lark's throat. They're not entirely sure if they should label it excitement or nausea, or some strange combination of both, but adrenaline has left the tabby jittery from the tips of their ears to their toes. When they come bounding into camp, mouth full of squirrel and eyes lit up with a nearly violent fire, well– most of their clanmates know enough to instinctively jerk out of their way. "I did it!" Lark shouts, still muffled beneath their prey. Where's the fresh kill pile? In the moment of high emotion the cat has completely forgotten, and turns in sharp, dizzying circles to search for it until bright bird feathers finally catch their attention and they drop it off with a deep inhale that leaves as a jittery, overworked laugh.
It was the first time they'd caught prey. Sure, mice here and there but that was simple, they'd been doing that since they were still a kittypet, as some of these cats like to call it. But a squirrel? That was stuff they'd just dreamed of. They were huge, after all, and wild and out there while Lark was just– in. They'd promised themselves they'd do it, that it'd be their mark of a real wild cat, and knowing that they've accomplished their goals is probably a contributing factor to the energy.
"Guys come eat this squirrel I caught! Look!"