The Narrows

[elio]

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In a quite and desolate part of town resides a small alley way know by the twolegs as unsafe but by rouges and strays alike as a much needed home. Cutting between a crumbling brick factory and an older hotel its lined with dumpsters, old boxes, and scrap metal which offer shelter and a dry place to sleep for all who dare to enter.

[nyme]

THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT
BUT I ALSO KIND OF WANTED TO

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"LOOK ON MY BOX, YE MIGHTY, AND DESPAIR!"

Tsolmon has, like many other cats (or so says the smells 'round here) taken refuge in the Narrows, nesting down in a mildew-y old box that had once housed some sort of kitchen appliance—not that Tsolmon would know anything about all that. They know it smells of tallbeast, but so does just about everything else here. They also know (and this, this is far more important) that the box is big, leaning tall against a brick wall, and sturdy enough to hold their weight atop it.

So, like a cruel monarch on a towering throne, Tsolmon slouches, smug, atop their box. They survey what is now surely their kingdom, all lordly and special-feeling on account of acquiring a very very tall perch. Go on, tell them they're not ruler of the world; see where that gets you.

Feeling very accomplished and prissy after getting that most regal declaration out, Tsolmon starts in on a brisk bath. One must look excellent when one is excellent.

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