The Narrows

[elio]

Note: This is a public thread, open to everyone who wishes to use it.

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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.

[ open ]

[spooky_bluee.]

Moss turned the corner and saw a cat on top of a box. He tilted his head and slowly approached the weird cat. " Uh.. what are you doing? " Moss asked, slightly smirking at how foolish the deranged cat looked. " Ya know that's a.. box. " He teased and his smirk grew bigger.

@nyme

[nyme]

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"Hm." Tsolmon stares down their nose hard at the stranger, playing for aloof, playing for scrutiny.

"Worm!" They announce gleefully. Perhaps the power has gone to their dusty grey head already. "Feeble, powerless worm. Has my box alrready stoked a great jealousy amongst maggots?? Go on. Go on, seethe." The smugness is palpable and shamelessly obnoxious; two things Tsolmon is very good at. The freckled little cat wobbles up to their paws, inching to the edge of their perch to further lord this great new power over Moss, only—

"GH—!!!" The oh-so-magnificent box is made of weatherworn cardboard, and even a small thing like Tsolmon needs to move carefully to avoid an accident. When they don't, in fact, move carefully, Tsolmon's paws dent the weak edge, their weight shifts abruptedly forward into the unexpected sag, aaaaaaaand,

"NO! HELP! HELPHELPHELP THERE IS NO GLORY IN THIS DEATH!" Tons of audacity and not a crumb of good balance. They scrabble awkwardly, having managed to twist just enough to cling to the top edge that had just betrayed them with their hind feet flailing dramatically beneath them. To be so clear, Tsolmon is not in danger of dying from this fall. Probably the worst thing that might happen is that they accidentally tip the box over and scuff their pads on the drop.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

[spooky_bluee.]

Originally Posted by nyme

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"Hm." Tsolmon stares down their nose hard at the stranger, playing for aloof, playing for scrutiny.

"Worm!" They announce gleefully. Perhaps the power has gone to their dusty grey head already. "Feeble, powerless worm. Has my box alrready stoked a great jealousy amongst maggots?? Go on. Go on, seethe." The smugness is palpable and shamelessly obnoxious; two things Tsolmon is very good at. The freckled little cat wobbles up to their paws, inching to the edge of their perch to further lord this great new power over Moss, only—

"GH—!!!" The oh-so-magnificent box is made of weatherworn cardboard, and even a small thing like Tsolmon needs to move carefully to avoid an accident. When they don't, in fact, move carefully, Tsolmon's paws dent the weak edge, their weight shifts abruptedly forward into the unexpected sag, aaaaaaaand,

"NO! HELP! HELPHELPHELP THERE IS NO GLORY IN THIS DEATH!" Tons of audacity and not a crumb of good balance. They scrabble awkwardly, having managed to twist just enough to cling to the top edge that had just betrayed them with their hind feet flailing dramatically beneath them. To be so clear, Tsolmon is not in danger of dying from this fall. Probably the worst thing that might happen is that they accidentally tip the box over and scuff their pads on the drop.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

Moss blinked. "Worm?" He repeated and watched as the cat wobbled on the box. "How old are you?" Moss asked. They looked no older than 6 moons! Moss shook his head. "I'm not a worm!" He meowed loudly and rolled his eyes as the young cat yowled loudly about their "death." Moss sat and watched the young cat, licking his chest fur as if this was normal to be happening at the outskirts.

[nyme]

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"NOOOO!"

Tsolmon falls down and lands harmlessly. So. All of that was beyond anticlimactic.

There's a quiet moment where maybe they're reflecting on their behavior and feeling sheepish and remorseful—only, no, that's very much not what is happening. Tsolmon was just standing, petrified, processing their ongoing existence and coming to terms with the fact that that drop was totally nothing to be worried about. Once they get over it, they whirl around. This stranger must pay!!!

"A worm and a milk-bellied coward," Tsolmon sniffs sullenly. "I could have died, worm! 'Tis a failure most grievous, to ignore the suffering of your betters! I am owed...an apology! Grovel, cad!" They demand childishly, stamping their feet on the asphalt. Moss's question almost goes ignored, but Tsolmon is charitable enough to squeeze a very quick and informative "Oh I'm eight," into their tantrum before going on to curse him and his kin and demand, again and again, that Moss repent somehow.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

[spooky_bluee.]

Originally Posted by nyme

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"NOOOO!"

Tsolmon falls down and lands harmlessly. So. All of that was beyond anticlimactic.

There's a quiet moment where maybe they're reflecting on their behavior and feeling sheepish and remorseful—only, no, that's very much not what is happening. Tsolmon was just standing, petrified, processing their ongoing existence and coming to terms with the fact that that drop was totally nothing to be worried about. Once they get over it, they whirl around. This stranger must pay!!!

"A worm and a milk-bellied coward," Tsolmon sniffs sullenly. "I could have died, worm! 'Tis a failure most grievous, to ignore the suffering of your betters! I am owed...an apology! Grovel, cad!" They demand childishly, stamping their feet on the asphalt. Moss's question almost goes ignored, but Tsolmon is charitable enough to squeeze a very quick and informative "Oh I'm eight," into their tantrum before going on to curse him and his kin and demand, again and again, that Moss repent somehow.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

Moss watched the young cat fall. He watched the cat stamp around like the annoying little kit they were. Moss didn't answer and just sat there, glaring at them.

Just 8 moons? He thought to himself, then snorted. Not surprised, with the way they're acting. Moss straightened and meowed harshly, "No."

[nyme]

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"N—....????? No?!" After a startled flinch at the older cat's tone, Tsolmon is aghast, slack-jawed. 'No' is not proper language for a worm. This is simply unconscionable. Their thick tail whips irritably, slapping the ground with a whap-whap-whap.

"Consider this your final warning! Grovel now, or be destroyed!" They demand, shoving up into Moss's personal space.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

[spooky_bluee.]

Originally Posted by nyme

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

"N—....????? No?!" After a startled flinch at the older cat's tone, Tsolmon is aghast, slack-jawed. 'No' is not proper language for a worm. This is simply unconscionable. Their thick tail whips irritably, slapping the ground with an irritated whap-whap-whap.

"Consider this your final warning! Grovel now, or be destroyed!" They demand, shoving up into Moss's personal space.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS

Moss let out a cough, an attempt to stifle back his laughter. "Okay. Destroy me." He shrugged and unsheathed his sharp claws. Moss tilted his head and sized the cat up.

"I guess you could make a good dinner." Moss meowed slowly and grinned. "Not a lot of meat but that's alright." He threatened and cackled wildly.

[nyme]

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

── ? ! ── ꩜ ── ! ? ──

TSOLMON . 8 MOONS . THEY/THEM . LONER

Tsolmon is the picture of self-righteous fury, all bowed up and bristling, braced for an attack...but they don't strike with the paw that's risen to do harm. They don't strike because this stranger has claws, too. Big, grown-cat looking claws which...which of course Tsolmon isn't daunted by in the least! It just...caught their attention, is all. Briefly. And of course, Tsolmon is not frightened that Moss might eat them! They just...gulp extra hard because their mouth is suddenly dry for other, unrelated reasons, is all.

"Th-These be your final moments, rampallian! You'll sup on naught!" They decree, raising a paw to strike this worm down. "Lo! Death is nigh!" ....Tsolmon squeezes their eyes shut and swats blindly. Their claws are extended so, theoretically, it could be an injuring blow...unless Moss simply steps out of the way.

@Bluest+r~ ; MOSS