The Greenhouse [ closed ]

[plum]

The Greenhouse

please read: this thread is a closed, private location. i'll be using this for plot's sake. do not post here unless invited to do so by me. if a character is posted here without the member obtaining my permission, i have the right to ignore the post entirely as though your character is not present. thanks for reading.

A twoleg's greenhouse, an extension of their den, where there was once an abundance of Datura. The beautiful plant sickened a year ago, however, and never grew back to its prior glory. It now produces a handful of blossoms rarely, making each moon-white flower priceless. The twoleg has their reasons to keep this plant alive, surely, but so too do the cats who harvest from the greenhouse. The Oracle and his family thrive off of this plant and its many uses, and guard this precious resource from other cats. Many may use it, but only by the will of The Oracle.

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[ trigger warning: do not read this if you are uncomfortable with any form of torture, captivity, or forceful actions. ]


Submerged in darkness for so long, it was easy to blur the lines of reality and dreaming. A thick scent clouded the senses, and stranger feelings began to replace true thoughts and intentions. How had it come to this?

There was no remembering, and in truth, no thinking about anything now.

A cat with dark brown fur approaches with a bundle of leaves in their jaw which they drop nearby. Pitying eyes observe her, though she could not differentiate anymore what was here and what was not here. There had been many times before that she had been fooled by her mind... A mind which was no longer even her own, anymore.

Lifting her head, the cat stares at the apparition with unfocused eyes. The cat with the leaves sits just out of reach but picks a leaf up and begins to eat it. No... Chew it.

Then, from beyond her line of sight, the paw of another cat behind her comes down on her jaw and presses her head to the ground again. The paw presses until her lips part. The apparition in front of her leans over then, leans close, and transfers the bitter herb into her open mouth.

The paw on her face evaporates, and her mouth tingles. The cat in front of her picks up another leaf. But they keep this one for themselves.

Time passes, perhaps, and the warmth surrounding her brings her back into a different dream. Colors melt together, and lights begin to dance in vision she did not know that she had anymore. She attempts to speak, but her voice is washed away.

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"You haven't done anything useful since leaving us," a stern masculine voice says in a tone most simply described as scornful.

"Tell me why we should not reject you as a member of the family from today on, why I should forgive such a- a..." the voice trails off, at a loss for words.

From elsewhere, somebody speaks in response: "What more is there to do? No one cares, no one's looking. And I have other important things to do, like-"

"It doesn't matter what they have you do!" The first voice booms. There is a scuffling sound, and a panicked gasp from the second, lighter voice.

"Your responsibility lies here, you answer to me!" A soft, muffled thump followed by the second cat grunting between their teeth signifies some form of bodily contact. The stern male grows quiet, but his voice sounded terribly full of malice. "Or has their preaching changed you."

There is a stretch of silence, where whatever followed those words was far too soft and subtle to eavesdrop on. It was too much of a challenge to tell what happened, but any cat may have been capable of making an educated guess and being near to the truth of it. After only a lapse of a few moments, there is a single, soft whimper.

The male speaks again, sounding smug... And challenging. "Go back, and if another moon passes without so much of a whisker of progress..." He trails off into thought, and the other cat sniffs- Something that sounded moist.

"You can join that one over there."

There is another shuffling noise followed by a quiet that told her that she was now left alone with the male who had been speaking. She could only imagine what would follow that conversation, and had hoped for one of the simplest conclusions: the other cat leaving her. It was such a shame that this would not happen.

"You should learn to breathe deeply and sparingly if you want to trick others into believing you're asleep," the male says. He sounded far closer this time- Practically beside her. She had not heard the movement. Growing still was foolish at this point.

"Look at me. I command you."



Opening her eyes, Nectarflame stares into the face of her captor.

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Moons dripped by like rain down a stone. Nestled within the greenhouse time was at a standstill, though. Nothing happened, nothing began or ended. Everything that was always had been, and the only law of existence was that one always existed. Maybe she was going mad, in this place of warmth and quiet, where colors danced around her vision like birds in a field of seed and insects, where elements did not reach and hunger did not grip and blood did not shed.

Was this peace? Was it complacency?

Nectarflame had long since become intoxicated by the aroma of the greenhouse and, when fleetingly visited by those in the family she was beginning to recognise, by the soft and buttery taste of the herb they fed her. She did not know of anything beyond the confines of this small world she now belonged to, and it seemed she never thought of anything anymore. Was she capable of thought, in this state?

So it felt both like a lifetime yet only a second had passed the next time the bengal is visited by the tom who captured her. He had with him another who was unfamiliar, despite having been here in the past. They were smaller, darker, and Nectarflame was not so sure they belonged here. They did not seem sure of their place, too. But all the same, the three now shared this space.

Her captor pushes the new one between them. "I have an offer."

"Kill this, and I will consider releasing you from this nest with special permissions."

Like a watercolor painting, light melts across the eyes of the golden cat and turns the world around her into a dream. Her tongue, thick on the nectar of the flower petals scattered around the dead bird by her paws, struggles to shape itself to the words running through her mind. Silence was her only response, but she moves towards the offer.

Killing something, it sounded so foreign. What did it mean? What was death, was it blood? Was it the absence of yearning? If one wanted for nothing, was one still alive? Nectarflame shuts her eyes as her thoughts whirl down a drain. Once, she had the answers for these questions. Once, she did not struggle to say.



In front of her, the child lowers his belly to the ground and flattens his ears. How long had it been since he was safe, warm, at home, surrounded by peers who- while they knew nothing of him, still respected him? Crocuspaw, who had finally embraced his new name, swallowed the thick bile of realisation that had gathered at the back of his throat. Behind him, his father, The Oracle. And before him, a prisoner who had just been shown freedom... Fear fell from every strand of coarse fur on his pelt as though it were a tangible thing that could pool beneath his body and threaten to drown him.

A boy.

He was still only a child.



He had known that the prisoner would not let him down, but as The Oracle's son begins to coat his paws in blood, a strong sense of excitement begins to trickle into the cat's veins. Eyes shift from the mound on the ground to the imprisoned experiment. He studies her closely- The lines of her face, the distant glazed over look in her eyes, the muscles beneath her glossy coat that retained memories she herself long since let go of.

A smile overshadows his face, like the moon covering the sun.

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"We took too much."

This tired voice belonged to the Oracle's mate, and as she stood at the base of the plump green plant, her tail curling slowly to and fro in thought, weariness sagged itself over her shoulders. It draped around her neck in a gentle manner, the comforting embrace of an old, life-long companion. Her paws scuffled the sand-swept brick as she turned to pour that quietly resigned gaze over another cat who approached from behind. The cat was massive when standing beside her, though he was fairly large even without his long-lived bride to showcase the difference. The Greenhouse fell silent after her mournful acknowledgement of their loss. A heartbeat passed and the Oracle halted at her side, his darkened gaze traveling up the moonflower's shrunken body. A single flower opened up near the top earlier in the morning, too far removed from reach.

"The-"

"Be silent," the Oracle growled to his companion. "Is it not the duty of your daughters to tend to it? Where have they been?" Now, he focused his crude and unsettling glare over the female's slim, graying face. He'd loved it, long before white hairs began to grow in around her muzzle. Long before her gaze grew distant and her cheeks sunk in. Time was never a friend to any of them, but age alone was not the demon that stole his bride's soul. He frowned the longer he stared down at her, the longer that her lack of a response indicated her continued submission to him, the Oracle, and their places in this family. He was to be obeyed. To refuse a command was to welcome death's quick claw. "Speak."

And the old female lowered her head, grateful to her mate for his benevolence. "My daughters do what they have always done, Oracle," she replied in a quiet tone. She lifted her foggy eyes to the plant once more and sighed softly. "Your last guest..." Trailing off, the female reconsidered sharing this thought with him. It could very well upset the male, and she knew already that he was displeased. Her hesitance brought out a resigned interest from the Oracle. The last cat to take up an extended residence in the Greenhouse had left them a moon ago, though not freely. He had not anticipated the experiment would escape, but his worry was not for the experiment to find its way home or tell anyone of what it had endured for nearly two years.

The Oracle chuffed, entertained by some dark thought passing through his mind. He never would have told his mate that the experiment only proved a success because of the additional push he'd given it personally. Losing kin was a temporary inconvenience, especially weak-hearted kits who mewled for help the moment they saw just how deep their grave had been dug beneath their paws. It was a resounding success, although now... His gaze swept the datura one more time before he shook his head and turned his back to it.

"If you are with kits, tell me now," the tom remembered to say to her before he left. He cast a searching gaze over the female's small form and frowned as she bowed her head to him again. The fur along his spine prickled with frustration and he let out a soft hiss. There had been a time, long ago by now, that his companion did not bow to him, but stood proudly and owned her shortcomings. The effects of caring for the datura took its toll on them all, but perhaps his bride the most. She was typically here, exposing her paws and tongue to the plant most often. This memory was not to suggest that the Oracle cared or felt remorse for the loss of his companion. "Then stay," he growled.

And the female did remain in the Greenhouse for some time after he left, wondering. As her tired stare settled over the plants lining the floor of the Greenhouse, her mind wandered in search of ways to resolve the looming issue at paw.