private THIS PLACE IS A PRISON — lacey

[JAYPAW.]

The sun rises above the skyline, reflecting in blue eyes as they watch. Crouched atop the window sill is Jenko, his tapered tail swaying as it dangles from his perch. From the kitchen, the familiar sound of kibble rattling into bowls could be heard. But Jenko remains disinterested, his eyes going half-lidded as a twoleg calls for him. He's in no hurry to eat the bland, tasteless food that they offer him.

A bird descends from the safety of the branches, hopping along the lawn in search of food. Jenko's muscles tense as if preparing to pounce, chittering. His head tilts, misaligned gaze focusing on the feathered creature. A fleeting thought crosses his mind, one that he thinks of far too often; what does it taste like? Would it taste better than his kibble? Jenko is almost certain that it would. His stomach growls as if it's in agreement.

The thumping of a twoleg's footsteps alerts him to their arrival. Clumsy oafs, he berates them silently. He's surprised that their stomping didn't scare the bird away; but it lingers in the yard, still foraging through the grass. The twoleg calls Jenko's name once more, but he does not acknowledge them. He leans closer to the prey outside instead, only to recoil with a grunt as his nose bumps against the cold glass of the window. Behind him, the twoleg rumbles in what he could only assume is some kind of distorted laughter. Jenko exhales sharply. Stupid, he thinks.

The twoleg shuffles closer. Jenko's fur rises, a warning look sent over his shoulder. Don't touch me, his expression says. They do not listen. A large hand reaches to stroke his back. Jenko hisses, swiftly leaping from his perch in an attempt to escape. He stumbles upon landing, bumping against the twoleg. Stupid, his mind echoes. Whether the ire is aimed towards the twoleg or himself is unknown even to him.

Jenko scurries into a different room, away from the twoleg's annoyingly invasive hands. It's there that he sees Lacey, and he puffs out a sigh of relief. Someone he could tolerate the presence of.

"Have you ever thought about leaving?" The question is abrupt, but it's a thought that's plagued him for his entire life. All that he's ever known is contained within these walls. To some, it brings them comfort. For Jenko, it frustrates him. The confinement is suffocating. There is more beyond this den, and Jenko wants to study it all.

Jenko shuffles closer to Lacey, sitting a few mouse-lengths away from her. He stares at her intently, cocking his head.

@LACEY ​

 

[LACEY]

Plated gold encircles her neck, the deep yellow making an eclectic pairing with her electric blue eyes. She blinks once at the question, twice at the distance. Even though her cooler-toned brother was the more guarded of the two - moodier - it was rare that he was so far away when he was present. Lacey was the type of cat who craved - nay, demanded - closeness. She shoots a pout at her sibling but allows him an answer.

"Sometimes I dream about jumping out the window and chasing rabbits all day." Their humans owned a rabbit she was never allowed to play with. It was a snobby git of a creature.... oh, how fun it would be to knock that thing down a peg or two.... She yawns and rolls over onto her side, big blue eyes half-closed in contentment. "Or do you mean like leaving this room? Because this is my room, I marked that chair fair and square."
​

 

[JAYPAW.]

Jenko misses the pout entirely, his sister's disappointment rolling off of him like water upon a duck's back. Instead, he huffs at her answer. She isn't understanding him. He does not mean the frivolities of dreams, where one's whimsies could become a reality with the blink of an eye. He wants to know if she's ever devised escape plans, scouted potential exits, longed to be anywhere but here. His tail tip flicks once, twice, and then stills. "No." His teeth click together with mild frustration at her misunderstanding. She inquires if he meant leaving this room, furthering the conversation away from his true intentions by claiming that she'd marked the chair. His nose wrinkles. I could tell.

With lips pursed, he shakes his head. "No," he parrots. "Have you ever thought about leaving and never coming back? Have you ever..." Jenko doesn't find the words to articulate himself, and he huffs again. Why must speech be so difficult? "Do you want to leave? I'm going to leave." It's decided, then and there, sealed by the statement that falls from his lips. With or without her — although he would much prefer if his sister accompanied him, as she did hold a special place in his heart — Jenko would leave. He would not tolerate the overbearing twolegs and the bland meals any longer. ​