reptile | p

**val** · #1 October 8th, 2024, 06:38 PM

the beast of hunger had slithered from its den, reared its cobra head, sank its venomous fangs into his soft underbelly, and drained him empty like acid eating away at his insides. and if mold grew in the corners, it did now. and if sickness festered deep within until it ran through his bloodstream, pumped by his faltering heart, it did now.

crow-food had never looked so tantalizing before. it beckoned the way a crystalline creek did, and he was nearly blind to the flies gathering thicker than a full-moon gathering.

nearly.

(don't get that lazy. you're better than that. i hope.)

an internal scoff. of course he was. hunting used to be his passion.

...used to.

muscle memory is what gets him up into the tree to hound the squirrels reaping the oak's harvest, though it's the usual affliction that drags him back down to the ground like a bird shot from the sky. a wrong stumble and a wrong inhale - there goes his paw, right off the branch.

he's tired.

he's so tired.

couldn't he lie here until the vulture swooped down, and hope he could snag his claws into its glossy black coat and turn the tables?

he's definitely capable: laid his pale chin on the grass and wearily gave the shadowed elms a thousand-foxlength glare. maybe he rested his eyes, too, though he never remembered closing them. just a small nap -

just..

..one.

@SuspiciousMindz

**SuspiciousMindz** · #2 October 24th, 2024, 09:37 PM

UNDER THEIR NOSE ACTIVATED

Curiosity led her away, or was it paranoia? Across the border, away from the place called home. It hadn't felt like home in several moons. A couple seasons now. How many moons had it been since she'd been out here? Was it when she met Hannibal... yes. Right. After that, it was a constant battle of reaching out to interact with Neo where she could, the only other staple in her life.

Did her friend even count as a staple? In the broken mind of a psychotic feline, it sure did. The entity that brought so much fear and paranoia also brought comfort. It brought friends to her dreams that she never knew she'd needed. It drove away the enemies that their cursed leader let live in the clan.

Trot. Trot. Trot.
Pause.

A hauntingly familiar scent tickled the senses of the Bengal. What is that? Friend. It drew old memories out, made her both growl and seek comfort in it. It took no time tracking it down, only to find a sad sack of fur and bones. Her head tilted, eyes squinted, trying to process what she was looking at. Friend.

So, her forever friend was certain this was a friend.

"Layin' on death's door, eh?" A simple question. A threat to help him. It'd been a while since she'd had a proper taste of blood. She was glad her friend had been satisfied for a while now.

Another sniff.
A harder glance.

A memory.
FRIEND.

"....Alder-
Mr. Grumpy..?"

@val

**val** · #3 Today, 10:03 AM

"not. dead." the sleepy mumble came of its own volition. he couldn't help but protest; he couldn't be dying yet, could he? a scowl squinted open his eyes. he didn't like how whoever this was insinuated he was a carcass, essentially. why would they say that? it sent a prickle of unease to his pawpads.

the unease increased tenfold when he recognized that pelt. Treepaw? his ears flattened against his skull. that name sounded like the grating of metal colliding; two monters meeting in the intersection with a skidding of rubber paws.

"that's not—" he sputtered. his eyes opened wider, then narrowed warily. he rasped out, "don't call me that." weak paws slid underneath his ragged body and pushed himself up, despite the protests of his aching limbs. "what're you - what are you doin' here," he asked. the words' tone dropped low as his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth.

@SuspiciousMindz