Today is of the Cycle Of The Seventh Moon.
Current Season & Month:  , Year: 543 A.R. (ref)

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The Hidden Estate of Duskhill

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NoOne
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The TonDen

The TonDen did not speak, but the waves of blue shimmering beneath its carapace showed it was contemplating Miiya’s words. It crouched low, allowing her to climb aboard with her basket of refreshments, then it stumped carefully out the front door.

Duskhill was still in sight as The TonDen, with Miiya riding just behind its umanoid torso, finally responded. “Yes. I would like to join yew for a picnic.” 

“What is a ‘picnic’?” 

 

[ooc: Miiya & TonDen to the Estate Grounds]


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NoOne
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Miiya

Miiya laughed, and nearly all the sadness was absent from her giggles this time. “A picnic is a nice outing with friends.” She replied. “Usually with food, but yew don’t have to eat if you… uh… don’t...” Miiya said as she watched the fungal forest streak by. “...eat, that is.”

Miiya noticed that The TonDen was taking them in a direction she had not yet explored. “Where are we going for our picnic?” She asked.

 

[ooc: Miiya & TonDen to the Estate Grounds]


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
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TOM CAT

A Felonious Feline

╺ ✽ ╸ 

[OOC: from the Caverns Surrounding Duskhill]

 

In the present, Tom-Cat was laid out on the cold stone floor of Duskhill’s great room, while Miiya minced off to fetch some water and towels and Myrae…well, Myrae stripped him.  He probably couldn’t fault her logic - he usually ran hot and now he was the exact opposite.  Sure, he wasn’t as cold as the Aeros had been down in the Ice Caves, but for the catboy, his cool skin spoke volumes to how close he truly was to the edge.  So when he felt the Drowess press herself against him in skin-to-skin contact, he sort of sank back into the warmth she offered.  Someone was also whispering into his ear, but it wasn’t Myrae’s or even Miiya’s voice he heard.

He heard Cheshire’s smooth tones.  He heard his brother’s voice from a time that felt like a lifetime ago…

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

Tom-Cat lay on the ground, unable to move after his last spat with Cattus and Cattua.  The twins had been especially brutal this time, their “play” quickly turning into a serious fight that left the smaller catboy beaten, bruised, and scored with bites and scratches that still leaked blood.  All because he’d gotten into an argument with the pair over who’d eaten the last of the fish crackers in the pantry, days earlier.  (He’d later find out that it’d been Cattus who'd eaten all the fish crackers.)  And now days later, the twins had jumped him in retribution. 

For his part, Tom-Cat had already forgotten about the argument.  

He’d been practising his pounce out in the overgrown rooftop “jungle” (an untended garden, overrun by vegetation) of the maisonette where he lived with Father, his nursemaid, Nannie Tulsin, the twins, and his favorite older brother, Cheshire.  He’d prowled, stalked, and pounced on the many butterflies, pilsin, and insects that proliferated in the unkempt garden, giving occasional chase to a floofy-tailed  kwiskwis that would come close and chitter-chide at him, before darting off on a merry chase throughout the rooftop.  (He hasn’t caught one yet; he will.)  He was on the edge of the roof when the twins attacked, sending all three catlings careening off the rooftop and onto a wide balcony below.

All at once, Tom-Cat found himself fighting with fang and claw in the middle of a ferocious scrap with his two older, bigger siblings as they tumbled across the balcony in a destructive ball of lashing tails, biting teeth, and needle-sharp claws.  It hadn’t been “fun” or “just a fight” between siblings; Cattus and Cattua had been out for blood.  And they got it; plenty of it.

As he lay there black and blue and hurt all over, Tom-Cat once again wished that he was a Big Cat.  One day he’ll be able to pay back all of the hurt that the twins put him through.  One day he’ll be bigger than them and they won’t be able to take him by surprise ever again.  At the sound of soft footsteps approaching, Tom-Cat started to shake, unable to help himself, certain that it was one of the twins coming to “finish the job”, so to speak.  He flinched when a shadow fell across him and blotted out the warmth of the sun, when a smooth voice instantly allayed his fears.

Shh, it’s okay, Tom.  It’s just me.” Cheshire’s voice was warm and sincere, and Tom-Cat felt himself sniffle a little as his older brother gathered him up off the ground.  He didn’t need to pretend to be a Big Cat around Cheshire; he could be the kitten he really was.  Tom-Cat winced, mewling in pain when Cheshire licked the puncture wounds in his neck where Cattus had bitten him with plenty of fang.  “Yew need to shift, okay?” Cheshire rumbled.  “Tom, I know it hurrrts, but I need yew to shift. Yew’ll heal fasterrr and I’ll be able to take carrre of yew.”  

Tom-Cat hurt, shifting wasn’t going to be fun or enjoyable; it was going to hurt.  A lot.  But his older brother was right.  He sniffled.  “What about Cattus an’ Cattua?” he asked, fear evident in his voice.  He curled his tail around Cheshire’s wrist; it made him feel a little safer.  His brother’s arms tightened around him, loosening only when Tom-Cat gave a small cry of pain.  When Cheshire replied, there was anger in his tone.

Don’t worrrry about them,” growled the older catboy, his brilliant, electric blue eyes momentarily deepening to a color reminiscent of the sky on the precipice of a storm.  “I’ve taken carrre of it.”  Cheshire smiled darkly.  “It’s a lesson neitherrr of them will forrrget, anytime soon.”  Tom-Cat didn’t doubt it; even though there were two of them, Cattus and Cattua were no match for Cheshire in either of their forms - two legs or otherwise.  Cheshire had always been able to best the pair, especially when shifted into his feline shape - that of a beautiful snow leopard.  Against those odds, the pair of Siamese cats had little hope.  

C’mon, little Cat,” coaxed Cheshire.  “Shift and let me take carrre of yew.”  Cheshire tickled Tom-Cat’s nose with the tip of his fluffy, white and black-spotted tail.  “I know it’ll hurrrt, but yew have to do it.” 

Tom-Cat sniffled again, but nodded.  With soft words of encouragement from his older brother, he managed to shift.  At the time, he was no more than a large and fluffy, blue-grey furred kitten, and after shifting into his snow leopard form, Cheshire was easily able to grab him by the nape of his neck and carry him off to a safe place where he could lick Tom-Cat's wounds and care for the small kitten.

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

As Tom-Cat lay on the cool stone floor of Duskhill, he shifted at Myrae’s urging.  He wasn’t a little kitten anymore, however; he was a panther-sized cat that was now even bigger than Cheshire.  Still, he might as well be a house cat for all the menace he exuded right then as he remained on his side, his breathing fast, shallow, and pained.

 

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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NoOne
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Myrae

The Drowess was waiting, arms akimbo, as the Ton-bu-lance hove into view. “Yeesh. Again with this shu?” She groaned, feeling Miiya’s eyes on her. “I’m not a healer, yew know.” Myrae directed the TonDen inside to the residence’s greatroom. “This is coming out of yer commission.” She informed the supine catboy, as the TonDen laid him out near the room’s steam vent. “Girl, go make yourself useful and get me clean water and towels.” She dismissed the hovering Miiya. “Hot and cold and clean.” She hissed after the departing Aeros.

Now, how the hell did yew get poisoned by a dead Sunstealer?” Myrae wanted to know, as she began ministering to the stricken assassin. That was a pretty easy diagnosis, thanks to the earlier roaring and the fact that Tom-Cat’s insides were not completely liquified by the venom. Had the beast still been alive when it’s poison tentacle had stuck him, he would have received a full dose and been beyond anyone’s help by now.

Tom-Cat seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. Good for the in, bad for the out. Like other shape shifters Myrae guessed he'd heal better in animal form. However, his wounds would be easier to clean without all that fur. 

When Miiya reappeared, standing hesitantly with a load of supplies, Myrae made a point of leaning over the catboy, giving the Aeros girl full display of her décolletage, with Tom-Cat's face as the vessel bearing up her generous endowments. "Well, don't just stand there, bring them over here, dummy." 

"Don't touch!" Myrae hissed at Miiya as the drowess climbed atop Tom-Cat. "He's damaged enough. He doesn't need yew fumbling around, not knowing what yer doing." So saying, Myrae put her own hands pretty much everywhere on the prostrate catboy as she did what she could to wipe away blood, gore, and poison residue. Into the worst of his wounds she poured a few drops from a bottle of some foul-smelling tincture. 

When she had done her best to annoy the bejesus out of Miiya, oh yes, and heal Tom-Cat, Myrae moved to straddle the Catboy's neck, with hands pressing down on his wrists. "Hold his legs while he shifts. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself further." She ordered.


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Irihi
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Miiya 

The Aeros girl hustled back to the great room with the ordered supplies. In her worry over Tom-Cat she almost missed the fact that Myrae's ministrations were a bit… intimate. 

Who was she kidding? She didn't miss a thing! It was impossible to miss. She wanted to ask why. Why was the drowess showing off her total lack of inhibitions with Tom? Was she laying claim to him?

Okay, okay. I get it. But he's so hurt! Focus on helping him! 

It was super-distracting and annoying and Miiya wanted to tell her to quit it, but she had no idea how to give voice to those thoughts, so she just stood by and stewed, laying her light frame his ankles while Myrae essentially sat on his face with her…

Just get this over with, please. 

And then Miiya was holding paws instead of feet. “What the kvek!?” Miiya couldn’t help her exclamation, which--of course--was immediately met by a sardonic look from the drowess as she climbed down from the large… housecat? That had seemingly replaced Tom-Cat. 

He’s a…” Miiya started.

Yew didn’t know? Didn’t guess from the name? Your bite marks? Getting carried off the beach?” Myrae shook her head. “Yew really are thick. Yes, Tom-Cat is a shapeshifter.” She paused. “Of sorts.” She amended. 

Miiya realized she had jumped back when fur had replaced flesh under her hands. Her mind was, only now, catching up with present events enough for her to feel embarrassed at her reaction. “I… I didn’t…”

Myrae

Yeah yew didn’t.” Myrae affirmed. “There’s a lot that yew ‘didn’t’. Myrae hissed with perhaps a little more venom than was called for. “There’s a lot that yew ‘can’t’, and I’ll bet there’s plenty more that yew ‘won’t.’” She raised a finger in Miiya’s face. “So, honey, why don’t yew vith off and do what yew do best? Go sulk in one of my rooms, in my house, in my clothes, over my assassin. Or maybe make yerself useful and cook my supper?”

Myrae knew she was being a little overly and overtly mean, but this was her house, and the Aeros wasn’t welcome. She hid her feelings and thoughts for a living, she’d be damned if she was going to start doing so in her free time as well.

Miiya  

Wait… Tom-Cat was Myrae’s… uh… what? She had not mentioned anything like that during the lecture she’d given about not seeking out The Atrocity. Miiya had known they had a relationship--that much was clear--but she had thought it was purely professional.

Which, in retrospect, yeah, was pretty stupid of her.

A more savvy girl might have had a ready retort like “well, then you’d better tell yer man to keep his filthy paws offa me.” and Miiya would come up with that zinger in about a half-hour after she did exactly what Myrae ordered and retreated to the kitchen. Now, however, she was just sorta dumbstruck in the presence of not only Cat-Tom, but also the dusky lioness standing between herself and the felinoid and roaring at her in venomous whispers. 

In the kitchen again, which was not Miiya’s least-favorite place by far, the Aeros girl reflected on what seemed like an endless roller-coaster day. It had started out pretty good but there were so many ups-and-downs she couldn’t even begin to categorize it. Well, she thought she could make some sort of super-sweet confection with some of the supplies she had discovered in the pantry. That would help even things out in the end. 

I don’t need things evened out. The assassin hired to kill me probably won’t die, and he’s involved with the arfline drowess, and I don’t have to worry about him, and this isn’t a get well soon cake cuz I’m gonna eat the whole thing myself, and I’ve got nothing to be sad about except 

But I did have a nice picnic with Mister Tonden, I guess, for a little bit. I wonder if it likes cake. I mean, it doesn’t eat, but maybe it’d like to look at it. 

The batter certainly didn’t need any more salt. Why the frett am I crying? If it had been a get-well-soon cake, then maybe Miiya would’ve considered adding some snot for those arflines. As twisted up as she was inside at the moment, she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t be eating all of it, herself, as she had promised herself, so she blew her nose into a handkerchief instead of the mixing bowl.

What-ever.


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Lassroyale
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Joined: 10 months ago
Posts: 706
 

TOM CAT

A Felonious Feline

╺ ✽ ╸ 

“When you're used to hearing purring and suddenly it's gone, it's hard to silence the blaring sound of sadness.”

– Missy Altijd

 

Cat-Tom had been drifting in and out of consciousness, but he’d been mostly ‘out’ during Myrae’s…ministrations, which, given their intimate nature, was really sort of a shame.  Not that he’d admit that to the Drowess (or anyone else, for that matter), since the former spy didn’t need any more information with which she could someday use against him.   He was also slipping in between the past and the present.  On one hand, he was back with Cheshire being taken care of by his older brother, being carried like a kitten and having his wounds licked after Cattus and Cattua had sought retribution for a stupid argument.  On the other, he drifted back to the present where he found himself lying on the floor, a warm, curvy body pressed along his side, and strong, sure fingers stroking absently through his soft fur. 

 

Right then, he was floating somewhere in between, the two blurred together into a confusing fever dream of past and present.  Myrae’s fingers gliding through his fur and stroking his ears and face, became confused with Cheshire cleaning his wounds, his rumbling purr vibrating in his chest.  He hurt physically and everything inside of him still ached, even as his greater body mass and general accelerated healing in shifted form was already beginning to dilute the poison in his veins.  The fire in his blood gradually began to lessen as the bonds of the Sun Stealer’s poison weakened, broke apart, and diminished.

 

As the poison slowly left him, he took comfort as Myrae pet him; comfort, which was such a scarce commodity in his life, both in childhood and currently, and emotional understanding, even less so.  Cheshire was one of the few people who freely gave both and that was like a boon to Tom-Cat, even if he didn’t always recognize it or understand it.  He called out for his brother like he was still a small kitten, seeking the comfort that was so rare in his life, especially given current circumstances.

 

Mmmreow?” Cheshire?  “Mreow.Please.  Mrrreeeow…mreow.”  Big brother…please.

 

Cheshire didn’t answer.  His brother wasn’t there.  There was no one.  He had no one.  Cat-Tom rallied himself, closed himself off from the sadness he felt in his breast which he couldn’t parse right then, not understanding at the moment that it was a sense of sadness and anger trickling through from the bond.  This time it was he who went cold.  His animal didn’t try, nor wanted to try to understand the complicated mix of emotions he felt secondhand.  It was focused in the here, now; it focused on the tactile. 

Almost without thinking, he shut himself off from the bond,  albeit temporarily.   And, although she was perhaps unaware of the imprint, it was likely impossible for his bondmate not to feel the sudden cessation of warmth that had been seeping through the bond, up until then.  Not that Cat-Tom cared at the moment; he was currently more animal than man, and right then his animal selfishly (or not) sought its own comfort for once, wanting it - needing it. 

 

Cat-Tom cracked open one lambent yellow eye, his gaze at first unfocused, bleary.  Instinctively, he sought his brother, he sought Cheshire.  When he didn’t see him, he shifted his gaze to the face hovering a bit above his own: Myrae.  He blinked, pulling fully away from the past to be wholly present, as he finally took in his current situation.  He was lying on his side, the Drowess sort of draped over him, stretched out along the length of his back, seemingly lost in her thoughts as one hand stroked through his fur.  He allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, allowed himself to pretend she was giving comfort, even if it might have been unintentional.

 

That was the thing about the voluptuous Drowess, however; you never really knew.  She wasn’t one to do things by half measures, that was certain.  And what Cat-Tom’s more instinctual, animal mind told him right then, was that Myrae liked him, was comfortable with him, and was comforting whilst also taking comfort.  He was fine with that.  In fact, he appreciated it.  For all of her venom, he understood her blunt demeanor.  Unless on the job, the Drowess didn’t play games; she was as straightforward as one could be.   Hells, given his line of work and the type of people he usually rubbed shoulders with, it was almost a relief to be confronted with someone so straight and to the point.

 

The giant feline shifted, and beneath the palm of her hand, under his sleek form and soft fur, Myrae would his muscles loosen, the tension in his body rushing out of him as he finally relaxed.  His head was bigger than hers in this form, but nonetheless the pantherine cat leaned back and into her, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder and…side, as he scent-marked her whilst also giving a feline form of, ‘thanks’.  She probably knew what he was doing, but he really didn’t care right then.  He was feeling particularly alone and he once again owed the Drowess for tending to him.

 

He looked up at Myrae and twitched an ear; only the Drowess would know what she saw in his gaze right then as he said, “Mmreoow…”  

 

Then he lay his head back down, and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her fingers through his fur for as long as it lasted.

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Irihi
(@irihi)
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Myrae

With the winged gadfly gone, Myrae subsided and her bedside manner became more solicitous of her actual patient and less directed at his little shu of a girlfriend. She sat beside the juvenile great cat and gently stroked his fur as he groaned and mewled for his brother. “Take it easy, kid. Yer safe. Yew’ll be alright.” She whispered in her wrecked voice as Cat-Tom nuzzled her. 

Once Cat-Tom seemed to quiet, Myrae took her leave. As obnoxious as the kids were, she was secretly glad that the catboy looked to pull through. There were three more days until the rift aligned. Both of them needed to be ready for the trip to the surface worlde by then. Yes, it was death to Aeros, but Deephome was not doing either of her two young charges companions any good. Time to get them back up under the sun and sky.


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Irihi
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Miiya

And now she had cake. 

It didn’t make her feel any better.

Well, that wasn’t true. She felt fuller. Full felt better than empty. 

Did cats eat cake? Did cat-boys or boy-cats or whatever Cat-Tom was? “Yew know what? Frett her.” Miiya said. She had meant to say “it” but it had come out as “her.” Yes, frett Myrae. Cat-Tom was her friend. He had saved her, hurt her, carried her, comforted her, laughed with her, and just given her a little relief in this just… in this… in this everything bad. She hadn’t told the truth, or known it, or understood it when she had screamed at him yesterday. Tom was her good. If Myrae didn’t like it, if she thought that violated some claim the old vixen thought she had on Tom, then that was between her and Tom. Miiya was going to go see if cats liked cake.

Hopefully they liked baked cake better than raw Aeros.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 10 months ago
Posts: 706
 

TOM CAT

A Felonious Feline

╺ ✽ ╸ 

“When you're used to hearing purring and suddenly it's gone, it's hard to silence the blaring sound of  sadness.”

– Missy Altijd

 

After Myrae took her leave, Cat-Tom moved a little closer to the warmth of the steam vent and curled into a ball of glossy black fur, sleek tail, and huge paws.  He yawned, flashing fang, and rested his head upon his front paws as he wrapped his tail protectively around himself, the tip brushing his nose as he covered his face.  

The heat from the steam vent finally began to stabilize his core, and compared to the earlier chill under his skin, it reminded him of being a kitten and finding that perfect patch of sun on a windowsill in the maisonette. At least one that hadn't already been claimed by one of the twins,  that is.  That was back when he could still fit on windowsills, of course, but that really wasn't the point.  The point was, the warmth felt good.  It instantly made him drowsy, and he relaxed bonelessly as he dozed off into a pleasant sleep, filled with odd, though not-unpleasant, dreams. 

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

Once again he's a kitten back in the rooftop jungle.  He bounced around as he pounced at butterflies and insects.  Except this time there was no Cattus, no Cattua; this time, no attack came.  And so he was left to prowl through his rooftop domain unmolested, stalking the chitter-chiding kwiskwis and swatting at fat bumblebees.  He's pushing though a particularly dense, overgrown section of the garden, when he happened upon a pilsin with a broken wing.  

He instantly stilled, dropping low, watching.  He crept forward, then stopped. The bird was small and brightly colored, with eye-catching red plumage that stood out from the light grey of its wings.  The kitten tilted his head to the side.  The bird was...pretty. 

Weird.  

He's never thought that before.  Pilsin were prey.  They were not pretty.  And yet, he couldn't take his eyes off of its red-toned plumage,  fascinated by the way the sunlight reflected a myriad of oranges and deeper reds as it floundered about on the ground.  He crept closer.

He should be pouncing it.  If Cattus or Cattua were here, the pilsin would already be dead. The thought sends a shock down his spine, making his tail twitch and his ears flatten.  He… he doesn't want that.  He doesn't want the twins to kill the bird.

Wait, what?

No matter how many times the kitten thoughg about it, it continued to be true: he doesn't want the bird dead.  He managed to tear his eyes away from the hurt bird for a moment and looked up.   Way, way high up in a tree whose branches leaned over the rooftop from the lot next door, he spots a nest.  It must have fallen from there.  As he looked back at the hurt pilsin, he's surprised that it's not injured even more badly than it is.  Still, the nest is very high up, nestled between two branches that won't hold his weight, no matter what he might wish. 

But he can't let Cattus and Cattua have the bird, either.  The pair would torture it for sure, before ultimately growing bored and eating it.   The thought causes something to twist in his guts.  He has to try to save it at least.   

Before he can change his mind, the kitten darted forward and, as carefully as he's able, took the bird into his mouth and minced off to one of his hiding spots that the twins haven't yet found.  Or so he hoped. 

 

╺ ✽ ╸

 

Cat-Tom woke suddenly, remaining still but blinking open his eyes.  Unbeknownst to him, as he dozed he opened himself back up to the bond and it'd nudged him awake because…

...Her.  She was near.  No, she was here.  In the room with him.  Suddenly, Cat-Tom felt guilty for running off, for taking the contract on her life, for hurting her – in more ways than one.  Mostly though, on a basic, animalistic level, he felt bad for causing his bondmate distress.  

And really, it was as simple as that. 

The giant felinoid got up slowly and padded softly over to Miiya.  Standing, the pantherine cat was nearly eye-to-eye with her, and he held his gaze level with her own as he approached.  He stopped just short of reaching her and sat, his ears perked forward and his tail cutting serpentine patterns into the air.  In the equivalent of a feline apology, he issued a low,  "Mreeooww."  

Then he leaned forward and sniffed the cake in her hands.  "Merreow?" he asked.  He stood, and, if she let him, Cat-Tom would follow his instinct to throughly scent-mark her, rubbing his face and alongside hers…as well as her wings, shoulders, and any part that she'd let him, really.  And, if she'd let him do that, he'd follow it by beginning to purr in pure, animal satisfaction that his scent was properly back where it belonged – on her

Either way, eventually Cat-Tom would flop down onto his side in a feline show of submission, and begin purring anyway. 

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Irihi
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Miiya

The Aeros girl tried not to look as nervous as she was while Cat-Tom nuzzled and… spoke?... to her. He was big. He was furry. He had fangs and claws. Miiya tried and failed to hold her gaze up in response to the huge cat’s. If Tom was in there, he was in the company of something wild and dangerous. 

I mean, he’s already wild and dangerous. That’s why this is so excit-- That’s why I don’t know if I like this yet

This is so weird.” Miiya tried to cover her nervousness with words, as she’d often seen Cahron do. “Yew can turn into a giant… cat?” She said in a querulous tone. “What is that like? Furry?” Miiya was not the practiced hand at extemporaneous humor that her brother was. “I guess yew can’t talk now, huh?” She ventured an observation. 

The Aeros girl laid a hesitant hand on the greatcat’s head as he wended around her. “Do yew like… being petted?” She wondered. “Do yew… eat mice, like, raw?” She queried with a bit more irreverence. 

Miiya was purposefully avoiding talking about the elephant in the room, even though she thought she could read it in the tense windings of Tom-Cat’s muscles, maybe hear it in the tremulous tone of his vocalizations. There was an order to things, and Tom being contracted to kill her was--maybe a little surprisingly--not at the top of the list. 

Are yew… okay now? Does this…” she waved a hand over his furred back, “...make you well? Yew were…” And suddenly something jammed up in Miiya’s throat. 

She had been trying really hard not to think about that. How he’d looked de… so hurt. How he’d been torn to shre… 

Myrae had helped. Her purposefully-offensive bedside manner had kept Miiya’s attention off the severity of Tom-Cat’s injuries. Her brusque orders and implied insults had kept Miiya busy, kept her angry, kept her distracted.

Kept her from panicking at the thought that she might lose her only friend. Kept her from obsessing over why he had gone off and tried to die. Now, though...

That furred face was right there, stuck in her own, again. This time Miiya’s suddenly watery gaze did meet Cat-Tom’s. Abruptly, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the big cat’s neck with a sob. “Why did yew do that?" She cried into the thick fur. "Why did yew go away, Tom?” 

Miiya unexpectedly found that these questions were a lot easier to ask when the respondent couldn’t answer, at least not in any language yew could understand. “Did yew think I didn’t want yew…” Miiya was not sure if she was asking the catboy whose fur she was currently dampening, or herself, these things. “...around?”

"Don't." Miiya only got out the one word before hiccuping sobs choked off the rest. Don't think that. Don't do that. 

Don't be this way. It was with the very best of intentions that the thought settled into her mind, into the bond she did not even know existed between them. It was with a fluttery, bleary-eyed, very very mostest bestest nascent hope for the future, concern for his well-being, and absolute terrible immutable razorblade of certainty of what was right and good, that the seed of les fleurs du mal was planted, by a shake-shoulder slip of an Aeros crying into the coat of her Cat-Tom.


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 10 months ago
Posts: 706
 

TOM CAT

A Felonious Feline

╺ ✽ ╸ 

She was his greatest possibility. His reason. His why. He would give whatever she needed to be whole and happy, because loving her was as essential as drawing air.

Pam Godwin

 

It can be argued that Tom-Cat exemplifies the concept of res extensa and res cogitans, or dualism. As per Descartes: I think therefore I am. 

Who he is conciously, is independent from his body; Tom-Cat is Tom-Cat whether on two-legs or on four paws, because both minds (man and animal) are one in the same.  The two are inextricable; there is no Tom-Cat without Cat-Tom, just as there’s no Cat-Tom without Tom-Cat.  The animal is always just below the surface of his skin, glimpsed in the curve of his snarl.  The man is always just behind the cat’s unwavering, predatory gaze, and heard in the color of his vocalizations.  

He is the animal, just as the animal is the man.  Tom-Cat is Cat-Tom is…well, he simply is.  

Man.  Animal.  Predator.  Killer.  Saviour.  

Yes.  

He’s all and he’s none; he’s just Tom-Cat.

There’s subtle differences, of course. Tom-Cat is all fast thoughts, buried memories, and the capacity for such poignant depths of feeling and devotion, the sharpness of which ’has been dulled through the repeated lessons of bruises, broken bones, and shattered trust.  Cat-Tom is all fast-twitch muscle memory, animal instinct, and the roll and shift of sleek muscles beneath a predatory gait.  In many ways, Cat-Tom is much simpler and more honest with his emotions, the animalistic lack of restraint for what he feels direct and uncomplicated.  His feline hindbrain operates on instinct honed through a millennium of evolution, instinct that tells him what is right, what is wrong, and what needs to be done to survive, to protect, and to, in a great many ways, love.  

So when Miiya throws her arms around the great cat and buries her face into his neck, her tears soaking into the soft, thick fur, Cat-Tom doesn’t spend time wondering at her actions.  Nor does he question what’s coming through the bond, the painfully black and white, straightforward and clear-cut honesty of her emotions speaking directly to his animal core.   He feels nothing but frank sincerity in the feelings Miiya is sending through the bond, and it's at that moment that Tom-Cat’s world narrows significantly, until he can only live, breathe, and feel the Aeros who has her arms around him, her tear-streaked face pressed into the soft fur of his neck.

Her.  His bondmate.  

Hers.  He is.

He’s too overwhelmed, too young, too inexperienced, to not give himself over wholly to the bond; he is too animal right then to recognize the innocent seed of fleur du mal that's been planted in soil fertilized with the best of intentions.  What is that saying about the road to Hell…?

None of that matters to Tom-Cat, to Cat-Tom; all that matters is his bondmate.  Instinct tells him to protect, to comfort, to make whole.  And it’s with these, with his best intentions, that something settles within Tom-Cat’s chest as a primitive, primal part of himself entwines itself with her, entangling them until there’s only two possible outcomes for them: bonded or broken.  Tom-Cat, against everything he’s ever told himself, ever promised himself about letting others in close, felt the shape of the nascent bond between them begin to shift into something a little more solid, a little more real, and that much harder to ignore.  It’s still only an imprint; it was not and would never be, a fully fledged mate-bond unless (or until) he gives her a mate-mark.  (That at least, is something he knows he will never do.)  

This change in his world, this change in him, manifests itself physically as a rumbling, satisfied purr.  Cat-Tom’s eyes close in half-lidded, animal delight as Miiya’s arms tighten around his neck.  He continues to purr in a soothing drumbeat that vibrates in both of their chests, seeking to comfort her.  Gradually, her tears begin to ease, slowing as she sniffles and buries her face deeper into his neck, the last of her hiccuping sobs muffled by the plushness of his fur. 

The great cat then pulls back slightly and looks at her, his ears twitching as he reassures her with a soft mewl.  “Miiyeow,” he says, nuzzling her shoulder.  His tail swishes as his whiskers tickle her ear. 

Then Cat-Tom presses his furry face and surprisingly cool, dry nose, into the crook of Miiya’s neck and smells her, taking a deep, thorough inhale as he commits her scent to memory.  He rubs his cheek up her neck and then against her face, once again vocalizing, “Miiyeow.”  If it’s possible, the huge feline sounded oddly…content. Happy, even.  He smells her again, his purr growing in volume and intensity as he does so. 

To his feline senses, his bondmate’s scent was better than Grade A catnip, made even better because his scent was overlaid atop it and intermingled with hers.

Then,with a small headbutt, the giant cat leans his weight against her, asking in his way for her to sit.  If she did, Cat-Tom would first sprawl half in her lap as if he was nothing but an (way) oversized housecat, and eat the remains of the cake that Miiya had brought and dropped when she flung her arms around him.  After he’s eaten his fill, Cat-Tom would lay his great head in her lap and doze off again, his world set to rights with his stomach full and his bondmate near…

 

…And at some point in his sleep, he’d shift back into his two-legged catboy form, wearing nothing but a bloody bandage around his torso and his undershorts.  Though whether his head was still ensconced in Miiya’s lap, remains to be seen.

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 720
Journey starter  

Miiya

Hugging a giant purring cat proved, rather unsurprisingly, therapeutic. Though she was not granted answers to her questions beyond various and sundry iterations of “mrrow” she did feel better sooner rather than later thanks to furry nuzzles. She was also happy to see that Cat-Tom liked cake.

Though she had not done much besides ride--first Tom-Cat and then TonDen--cook, and eat, it had been an emotionally draining day. The luminance from outside had dimmed during Myrae’s ministrations, and it felt like night. Sorta

Having a warm purring lap blanket was nice. Aeros physiology made sitting one of the best positions of repose. Miiya could lie on her back, but that usually resulted in her wings falling asleep, and they felt pins and needles when circulation was restored nearly as much as arms or legs. Facedown was the best prone option, but sitting leaning against something with wings forming a surrounding cone of feathers was often best. Since she was already seated, Miiya didn’t see the harm in curtaining them both within her wings. She wasn’t going to sleep, there were dishes and this was the floor of the-- 

...

Didn’t see the harm until the next morning, when she awoke after an inadvertent full night’s sleep, with Tom-Cat’s now Uman head cradled in her lap. 

Somehow that was weirder to her than a giant housecat face. But it’s kinda nice too. Miiya had never held another person like this, though--on rare occasions when she was ill or hurt--she had been comforted in similar fashion by Sen. 

I do not get this guy. Miiya thought to herself as she let her eyes wander down Tom-Cat’s bruised and bandaged torso. His world seemed to be all violence. Miiya had never killed anyone, wasn’t sure she could, but that was the currency of the boy who’s head she held in her lap. The Aeros girl couldn’t resolve the idea of that with his reaction to her. He cared what she thought of him. That thought in itself was thrilling, and Miiya’s musings went a bit off-track. She let herself look at the sleeping catboy for way too long and in waay too much detail, focusing on his slightly parted lips just beneath the ends of the strands of his mussy shock of hair. She swallowed and moistened her own. “Tom…” She whispered, her voice far too subvocal if her intent had been to actually wake him.

It was not.

Miiya bent forward, lowering her head, bringing her face closer to his. What would it feel like; his warm breath against her cheek? “To-om…” This time she called his name even quieter. What if she bent further? What if his lips just happened to graze her cheek? 


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Lassroyale
(@lassroyale)
Patron Saint of Hawtbois, Catboys, & BAMF Babes Noble
Joined: 10 months ago
Posts: 706
 

TOM CAT

A Felonious Feline

╺ ✽ ╸ 

Is still trying to complete the, “Wake Up Peacefully in Front of Someone” side quest. 

 

 

Tom-Cat sleeps hard through the night, pulled deep under the veil into a truly peaceful and restorative slumber, the type of which he so rarely achieves.  He sleeps peacefully, for once free of the usual tumult of uncertainty, danger, and casual violence that suffuses his daily life, and that has over the years made sleep sometimes seem almost like a concept instead of a constant; like it’s something that happens to other people and not him.  To him, sleep doesn’t mean safety and security; he doesn’t associate it with fresh sheets, warm blankets, and soft pillows.  He’d learned early on that survival meant sleeping lightly with one eye open, and waking quickly with a dagger at the ready or with fists already swinging.

There was a time when Tom-Cat would only sleep when his body forced him to, his dreams constantly plagued by fragments of half-remembered memories, a confusing mess of the traumatic and the mundane assaulting his unguarded mind whenever he slept. It turned sleep into something to be avoided until absolutely necessary, insomnia making him so bleary-eyed and strung out on days of sleep deprivation, that at some point his body would simply shut down and force him into something of a sleep-coma that, while unsatisfying, was mercifully dreamless. 

Tom-Cat’s gotten better since then, even though it wasn’t that long ago; now he is only occasionally plagued by insomnia, maybe once every few months. Given the strung out, twitchy paranoia that used to be his normal, he counts it as a win.  Regardless, the assassin still doesn’t sleep much, usually only able to grab an hour, maybe two if he’s lucky, of light and unsatisfying rest that more often than not finds him waking feeling untired, but not refreshed. 

Here is the simple fact: no matter how much he might wish differently, Tom-Cat, at least right now, does not wake gracefully.  Right now, he doesn’t wake calm or collected or slowly.  He doesn’t yawn or stretch or rub the sleep from his eyes.  Out of necessity, he’s learned to associate waking with danger, viewing it as a moment of vulnerability that led to hurt and pain for those who aren’t prepared.  For too long, waking meant fighting, meant bruises, meant pain, meant suffering - the type of which he will  do anything to avoid experiencing, ever again..

It’s fair to say that for Tom-Cat, waking is something chaotic and unpredictable.  The morning after is when he was always the most vulnerable, at a time in his life that found him at the mercy of those who might - and often did - hurt him, mere minutes after opening his eyes.  Some of his deepest hurts occurred in those moments, and it left him with scars in many hidden places and cuts on his soul that haven’t fully healed; wounds that seep infection into the deepest trenches of his mind and whisper foul things in his lowest moments.  It taught him to view waking with other people nearby as dangerous, that sleeping next to another was a liability that left him exposed.  It taught him that he can never truly be safe and secure unless he is alone, that it’s only safe to let his guard down when he’s by himself.   

It makes it so that he wakes with his heart pounding and adrenaline flooding through him, whether he’s alone or not.  No matter if he’s in a bed, wedged into the corner of a room, or asleep on the floor with his head in someone’s lap; he wakes up with fight in his veins.  He wakes tightly coiled, expecting hurt and tense with the memory of old pain; pain that he can still feel like the phantom ache of mottled bruises in the pressed pattern of fingerprints fanned out over the jut of his hips.  He’s all animal instinct and trauma-ingrained habits whenever he wakes, like a switchboard of neural synapses and sensory information that relay commands telling him to move, to fight, all before the sleep has even cleared his eyes.

Or at least that’s how it usually goes.

Luckily for Miiya, Tom-Cat doesn’t wake snarling with his claws out and lunging for her throat.  Neither does he explode into motion like in the Ice Caves, launching into a corner and filled with panic and gripped by the phantoms of his past.  Neither does he blink slowly awake and give her a sleepy smile; he doesn’t reach up to slide his palm along the curve of her cheek.  

No, what happens is something in between and much stupider, a series of impulses at cross purposes, resulting in a rolling checklist of aborted actions, all culminating with Tom-Cat more or less slamming his head into Miiya’s face and braining himself on her nose. 

It goes like this: 

There’s a lot going on behind Tom-Cat’s closed eyes as he begins to surface from the depths a deep, restful sleep. The sensory information is already filtering through his half-awake mind, synapses firing in a series of relays that make a few things clear: lying on floor → head not  on floor → stones cool  skin → skin → no shirt or pants → hear breathing→ shallow, fast → mine? → not mine → NOT mine → NOT ALONE → GET UP → NOT SAFE → MOVE → FIGHT → MOVE→ DEFEND → MOVE → NOW.

All of this speeds through the catling's brain in a matter of seconds, and once he’s processed that he is not alone, his instincts fire off a stroboscope warnings that scream Danger! Fight! Move! Not necessarily in that order.  Tension tightens his spine, coils in his muscles; his heart begins to pump faster in anticipation, drumming out a fast rhythm as his blood rushes hot through his veins.  Adrenaline floods through him, snapping his senses into sharp clarity even as it jolts his sluggish mind fully awake.

His ears swivel and hone in on the person’s rapid breaths, direction and distance( judged in a snap: up - above - CLOSE.  Tom-Cat’s eyes snap open and he starts to surge up into a sitting position, intending to put distance between himself and this person, when a fissure of powerful intutuion bolts brightly up his spine like an electric current, bypassing impulse and instinct with one command that supersedes all others: STOP. 

The effect is immediate: the catboy seizes up as his body instantly tries to abort his action and reverse his upward momentum.  

As a result, Tom-Cat only manages to get his shoulders and back about five inches off the ground before coming to such a jarring and abrupt halt that it almost appears as if he collided face first with an invisible barrier.   In an automatic attempt to abort his forward momentum, Tom-Cat wrenches back, which effectively stops his movement as intended. 

By some miracle, the catboy just manages to avoid striking Miiya’s face with own on the upsurge.  Unfortunately, the same can’t be said on the backswing: when he jerks back, his head slams--point blank--directly into Miiya’s face like a cat-eared wrecking ball. Though his head doesn’t hit her with any great force, it's still hard enough that he feels a little twinge near the back of his skull where he brained himself on her face.  He winces in sympathy; if he feels that, he can’t imagine how it feels for her--

Wait. HerTeleskela.  Damnit.

Tom-Cat is fully awake now, his senses (including his sense of mortification) on high alert as he carefully leans forward and then rises into a partial crouch before pivoting back around, feeling guilty and more than a little bad that he (once again) woke up like a jookan spazKwesh! He really hopes he didn’t break her nose.  

He smells the fresh copper scent before he fully turns to her, but still he’s a little shocked at the amount of blood that’s pouring out of Miiya’s nose.  It cascades down over her lips and chin, seeming weirdly bright and too red as it flows like a river, staining her skin and dripping onto the grey stone floor.   Tom-Cat stares for a second, his mind caught somewhere between concern and a deep seated disgust that he shares with all of his siblings for nose blood.  Don’t ask for a reason - there is none.  It’s just…gross.  Any one of them would probably happily lick your wounds clean, but they all draw the line at nosebleeds.  It’s honesty a weird and arbitrary anathema they all share, and it takes the him a moment to tamp down his immediate desire to recoil in disgust.  He, somehow, through sheer force of will, manages to look concerned and contrite, instead of grossed out.

Uh, kwesh!” Tom-Cat begins, pausing for a moment when he notices that Miiya has her head bent forward.  Without really thinking, he reaches out and places a palm on her forehead, and not-so-subtly pushes and tilts back her head.  He’s careful to avoid the faucet of blood pouring out of Miiya’s nose and withdraws his hand quickly, absently wiping it off on his bare thigh.  He frowns. 

Sorrrrrry, Teleskela,he says in a long, apologetic drawl.  He really does feel bad, though even as his guilt sparks through the bond, he unconsciously looks around for a cloth or something to give her to stem up the flow.  Anything, he'll take any sort of fabric... His yellow eyes dart around the room a little desperately, because her nose is still bleeding, flowing free and unrestrained as if all the blood in her body was making an attempt to rush out through her face. Or something.  Kwesh, at this rate she’ll pass out from blood loss in ten minutes, flat.  Well, okay, maybe not that quickly, but it certainly looks that way.  At least to him.  He may, admittedly, be a little biased, but all the same he would really like her nose to stop bleeding, now. Please.  

Wow, that’s uh,” he mutters, staring a little horrified as the seemingly unending stream of red liquid continues to flow.  “Not looking like it’s slowing down…” he abandons whatever he'd been about to say as something in the catboy seems to crumble in the face of her continued nosebleed.  “Kwesh, Teleskela!he finally exclaims, a weird edge to his tone, although it's so faint as to almost be imagined.  “How arrre you bleeding this much frrrom a simple nosebleed?”  He might be getting a little hysterical, and, sure, he knows it's stupid aversion, but he's trying; it's early, and he just woke up.  Think about it, though, if you sometimes used your tongue to clean another's cuts, would you want to lick blood that came from someone's nose? No, you wouldn't.  Because it's gross.

Tom-Cat swiftly gets to his feet, briefly glancing down as, for the first time, he notices the somewhat bloody bandages wrapped around his torso.  He looks up at Miiya and catches her eye.  “Don’t move, I’ll be rrright back," he says.  Without waiting for a reply, Tom-Cat turns and disappears with a swish of his tail. 

He's only gone for a few minutes before he returns, this time carrying something.  “I just grrrabbed the firrrst thing I saw off the clothesline,” he offers by way of explanation.  He shrugs and then unceremoniously unsheathes his claws and begins tearing the fabric into more manageable sizes.  “Herrre, Teleskela,” he says, pushing a few pieces of the now-square cloth into her hands.  “Trrry to stop the bleeding beforrre you pass out.”  He says this with a note of genuine humor, his yellow, kohl-rimmed eyes holding a glint of mischief.

He shoots her a sort-of-grin and steps closer, his desire to comfort winning out over his weird aversion to nosebleeds, albeit by only a small margin.  A very small margin.  The catling stands before Miiya with his ears perked forward, on alert and ready to offer whatever help she might need, somehow managing to appear relaxed as his tail idly cuts ‘s’ patterns into the air behind him. 

Amusingly enough, as Tom-Cat stands with one hand resting casually on his hip in an unconscious model’s pose, it looks for all the world like he’s modelling some hot new fashion trend that’s takenthe Underneath by storm: dirty bandages, black undershorts, and nothing else.

This post was modified 1 month ago by Lassroyale

TOM-CAT: Kiana Beach Battle (3/3) - ☆Try Again - ★Powder Keg - Soft,soft - ★Stupid Little Tom-Cat - ★Miiya & Cat-Tom - ★Sparring - ☆The Great Tipsu Hunt! - Stolen Kiss - ☆Not Cheshire - Returning to Her - ★Baths & Comfort - ☆Wings, Tails, & Love - ☆Cave Storms - Climbing the Walls - ★1st Kiss - ★Makeouts & Memories -★Laughter & Kisses
───────────
DAETH: Breaking Callon - Pleasure w/Pain - Sensing Death - ★Kissing Fate 2/2 - Precariously Balanced Nature - At Long Last, Eddellyn - Precipice - Entering the Hedge Maze - ★The Minotaur & The Labyrinth - Into the Aegis - Button Pressing - Thunder & Honey
───────────
RISQUÉ: Fun with Fisticuffs!
[Chatte]Enter Chatte - Chat w/Castor -Proposing the Race
──────────────────
[ ☆ = favorite / ★= extra fave]


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Irihi
(@irihi)
Villainess Noble
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 720
Journey starter  

Miiya

OW!” The Aeros girl took the full impact of Tom-Cat’s startled awakening literally on the nose. “Oh kvek!” She reeled back, one hand keeping her from toppling over, the other jumping to her abused face. There were a couple additional curses hissed in the surprise pain. 

But Miiya was pretty tough. She’d had her share of crashes and even been in a few fights, so a smashed face was not something totally new. “Oh gods…” She said in a bemused tone, righting herself and regarding Tom-Cat, hand still on bruised nose. “...sorry. Are yew okay?” She said nearly in simultaneity with him remarking on her own injury, before he dashed off somewhere. 

Miiya’s voice sounded a little stuffy and a moment later she felt something warm on her hands as her nose began bleeding freely. “Oogh.” She accepted the towel from Tom-Cat.

I hope it’s one of Myrae’s favorites.

The Aeros girls eyes sparkled behind the towel held to her schnoz. Her giggle was one part nervous, one part delight, one part shy, and three parts bloody bubbles. “Oh tseert!” She swallowed some of the coppery liquid and tried not to splutter or spray with coughing mirth. 

She was having trouble not laughing, retaining a bit of poise, and breathing all at the same time. You know what? Yfrett it. He probably doesn’t care that you’re not a shrinking violet. Miiya took a breath and blew a pretty gruesome symphony into Myrae’s towel. 

Looks like a murder scene. 

Miiya choked back more giggles at the thought. She half-knew she was acting super-weird, but maybe that would help distract Tom-Cat from any uncomfortable questions as to why their faces had been so close in the first place. 

Soo… yew hungry?” Miiya wanted to know, bloody towel held offhandedly. "Uh, I mean for breakfast… not this." Oogh, even weirder. Maybe I should just stop talking.

With the tears of the headbutt cleared, her Aeros blood clotted quickly and Miiya was pretty much back to normal by the time she stood up. “I… ah… can’t believe we slept here.” She said brightly, if with a little hesitation. 

With yew undressed like that.


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NoOne
(@noone)
Citizen Citizen
Joined: 1 year ago
Posts: 527
 

The TonDen

The great golem of blue ash was in a different location this morning. It had spent the afternoon and the night turning the happenings of the past day over in its mind and it had something to say to its companions. Though the TonDen was a large crab-like creature of numerous appendages, it managed to stay mostly out of the way while Miiya and Tom-Cat prepared themselves a breakfast. The great construct was squatting near the table, and soon found itself joined by Myrae. 

When the others had seated themselves and begun to partake of their morning meal, the TonDen spoke at last. “I have made a decision.” It announced without preamble. “I enjoy pleasant outings with friends.” It said. “This outing is called “Picnic.”.”

That’s nice, Mister TonDen.” Said Miiya around a mouthful of something akin to oatmeal. “I like Picnics too!” 

They are very not-Rei.” The golem continued in it’s rafter-shaking voice. “There are many not-Rei things I enjoy.” It paused.

My name is of-Rei: “TonDen”. This is her word. I do not enjoy it. Therefore, henceforth, I wish to be known by the not-Rei name: “Picnic”.” The Picnic formerly known as TonDen announced. After another short pause, it continued. “Except for when I do battle, when I am closer to what I was, when I was of-Rei. Then, I wish to be known as 

“No Picnic.” "

 The golem concluded.


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