through the wormhole with... — nighttime chilling

[ThistleBack]

His jaw hangs slack, eyes blank and piercing through the tangle of limbs above his head- darkness was settling in and the day was coming to it’s end. A string of drool connecting his gaping maw as he stares from his sprawled position against the dirt and grass. " What if the trees can hear us… " his tongue is dry as he speaks, cracked from its slacked position. " see us… smell us…" he counts off with a thoughtful blink of slitted silver hues. " creepy " he finalizes, and that’s coming from him. " Like frogs- empty-headed slime globs just… wha- sitting on leaves and staring. " he rambles off.

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[PANTHERPELT]

"AM I YOUR DREAM GIRL?"​

A dull, slow voice interrupts Pantherpelt’s important business—staring at the sky and chewing on sticks—and the she-cat flicks an ear in startled annoyance. They give a halfhearted sigh, before finding themself moving toward the lazy voice. Their curiosity has been piqued. Another she-cat is asking Chompers (an odd given name, she thinks, but no less odd then their own!) to join them in thought. Panther, though, doesn’t ask.

They stare back at the dual-colored feline with narrowed amber eyes alight with amusement. None of these fools are normal, Pantherpelt decides. They like that. She settles onto her haunches a couple tail-lengths away, grinning broadly. "They can," she says, with absolute certainty. "They move at’cha when they think ye ain’t lookin’." The wild-furred feline nods sagely, tongue darting out to trace over her fangs.
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[ThistleBack]

The smell of flowers perfumes with the arrival of the floral-adorned feline with her strange ways yet undeniably beautiful colors. Eyes seafoam, whimsical, and always curious in this odd sort of way. Her way of speaking is barbaric, tuned with oddities of phrase that Thistleback couldn’t possibly understand without subtitles. Yet, she was always kind to him. An unnecessary kindness that the brute didn’t know what to do with- slitted eyes move slowly toward Deer, one of the only to toss him a nickname other than jackass. " purely intrusive " he dubs his thoughts in response to her approval of them.

She carries a stone- of course she does, she has some strange obsession with them. Crooking his limb, he rests his chin on an ebony paw to study her blue and grey rock. " of course weirdo, come… lest I acquire some sort of rock-curse from you " he was a thousand percent convinced the lass was a witch.

Pantherpelt emerges, fanged dark-furred beasty- another feline who speaks oddly- an accent he couldn’t place to save his life. She speaks with confidence in tow, enough to convince a child with ease. Enough to persuade Thistleback to keep an eye on the trees.

" that’s reassuring " Thistleback didn’t have many nor normal fears, and another had just been unlocked. He was an existentialist, truly. Pantherpelt, she drank your blood when you’re sleeping- he was a thousand percent sure. " What if the rocks are the same- and here you are, letting them infiltrate ... traitorous fiend " he cackles with a pointed claw at Deer’s stone.

’ I’m probably about one light accidental bonk on the head away from total and clinical insanity ‘, he humors himself idly.

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