▹the salad days are over // private

[oats]

{ @Brxken }
Shepard padded through the meadow, his three working paws barely grazing the scant patches of wildflowers that grew about. The day had an air of potential to it, and he liked his odds at the moment-- his nomadic lifestyle was a painfully easy one, and Shepard barely denied that fact. He raised his head, sniffed, turning to see a pale field-madder bush amongst a couple of rye stalks. The burly tom shook a couple of grains from his tightly coiled pelt, and began stalking onwards, not wanting to wait another moment. An injured foot was curled in closer to his bodice, and if anything had taught him, he would not be seen weak. It could very well cost him his life.
Speaking of those affairs..
The cream-coloured tom found himself slowly growing tired of the lonely life he lead. No relationship he had was… real. He craved something more than mere weak alliances, more than one’s fresh-kill or their life. Longing was something Shepard knew well, and yet only now did he want to act on it. Freezing mid-stride, however, he flicked his ear, all thoughts pausing at a split-second's notice:
He was not alone.
A thrush sent itself soaring up, up up-- towards safety. It was clear that whatever had disturbed it had not put enough effort into its stalking, and Shepard let out a sigh. That was a meal-- one or more, wasted. If one bird got away, many more probably would be roused by the sharp alarm-call it let out as it fled.

[lio]

@pupy;

There goes another one. Looking up, the red-brown tom turned his strikingly blue gaze to search for more prey, but alas, the thrush had already warned everything around. The tom grumbled, annoyed, and hopped out of a bush. He nearly crashed into another tom, yelping rather loudly. As to not knock the other over, he fell on his side and winded himself.

After gaining his breath, the tom rose to his paws and shook dust from his pelt. He stared at the other, his pupils dilating. "Well, hello there." He dipped his head in a formal greeting, remembering to be polite. " I'm Ollivander." Cocking his head to the side, the red-brown tom,
Ollivander, allowed his gaze to travel across the other's form, his ears flicking. Interesting, he thought with a mental chuckle.

"And you are?"

[oats]

“I did not…” Shepard’s tail lashed, shocked by this stranger’s sudden appearance. It seemed as if he had not seen the tom once-- hadn’t dealt with him once. He was a wildcard of sorts, and that struck the well-built feline with a sense of what was either fear or dread. He did not quite know what to expect, and although Ollivander appeared to mean well, Shepard found himself fixing the smaller tom with a haughty stare before plainly stating, “My name is Shepard. May I ask where you came from? You seem.. Inexperienced.”
Of course he seemed inexperienced. From his sleek-brown pelt to the way he held himself, it was blatantly obvious that this tomcat had practically been nursed until it was time to learn what the world truly was.

[lio]

His eyes lit up, and he bounced around on his paws lightly. "I come from.. somewhere." Ollivander looked down at his paws for a moment, a negative aura soaring from him. Just as quick as his blue gaze averted,
it sped back into place, resting upon Shepard.
He flung his tail into the air, beginning to bounce around the larger tom.

Then, he tripped.

Ollivander yelped, crashing face-first onto the ground. He groaned softly, lifting himself up and spitting out dirt. "Ouch." Shaking dust from his fur, the red-brown tom sputtered as the taste of dirt swept across his tongue. He looked around, yet couldn't find a puddle. "Zis tasthes groth!" He whined, his tongue sticking out.

[oats]

Rolling his eyes, he snorted. “Of course you did. Or what, you came from the void?” He raised a brow, surveying the Havana Brown with some incredulity. Shepard had thought this was a threat? Very humorous indeed, he’d say.
Anyways, he figured Ollivander's bouncing was sort of cute, if not annoying. Either way, he could cope with it. “Sorry for the way I--” The burly tom had started an apology, before his companion found his face firmly planted into the ground. He found it hard to keep himself from involuntarily shrinking at the painful sound of the impact of Olli’s head. “Are you.. Are you okay? Like, actually. Do you want water or something?”
Ah, it was already the beginning of a beautiful relationship indeed.

[lio]

[ This one is short ;0; ]

"Water," Olli mumbled,
his tongue still lolling. He whined again, the taste lingering longer and longer. It seemed to become stronger as time passed, and the tom began to frantically look for a water source. Swinging his tail around, Ollivander huffed and gazed at Shepard, awaiting his reaction. He looked at the tom pleadingly, though, desperately wanting a drink of water.

[oats]

@broken
“Yes, yes,” he murmured, quickly moving towards Ollivander. “Come on, if you don’t want dirt in your mouth. Just… don’t try to swallow the dirt.” He didn’t want to waste another moment, and bounded off, without so much of a look back-- Shepard simply expected the tom to follow his instructions as others did in the past. He guessed Olli was going to be hard to get rid of, but he could get used to the other feline’s company. Only Starclan knew how his spirit needed lightening, of course.

[lio]

The tom trotted after Shepard,
his head hung low in embarrassment and shame. His ears flattened back against his head, and he began to slow down as sadness overtook him. Ollivander whimpered softly, closing his eyes and flopping on his side. He sighed, although it sounded like a cough as his tongue muffled everything. The tom curled into himself, always having very fragile emotions, and always doubting himself. He was never good with embarrassment.