First post

[sorcha]

The old fire bird jumped and wriggled on that farm road covered in crusty pebbles, pushing behind it a trail of moon-like dust on this hazy morning. It was too early for the sun, and last night's fog had not yet lifted. Michael Eachan was the man in the front seat's name, the brown-haired guy with thick black glasses and a twitch in his temple that only Silk could bring out. "Lemme outta this car you ba-gah! hisss..." The tortoiseshell in his car would've torn up the whole back seat without her cat-carrier--which they could now never use again--and two angry red welts on his left hand reminded of the battle to get her into it.

Squeezing the Starbucks with his other bloodless paw Michael concentrated as hard as he could on the road ahead, trying to find his turn to an old winding road. It was all he could do not to chuck the skinny feline over the trees right here and now into some poor, unexpecting residents' yard. But Silk was Michelle's cat, and he was already crossing a line by dumping her peacefully. Sure, his wife would cry for days and days and days, but at last he'd found a reason and an opening to get rid of the wretched dock cat. "It was for the baby," he'd tell her, "I was only getting rid of her to protect the baby." Yea right. He'd always hated cats. The human and cat's relationship was a mutual one, though. That cinnamon-stick snatched her from the beautiful harbor, her one true home on the rocks by the splashing tides of the ocean, to a box with doors and the smell of kibble--kibble!--to wake her up each dawn with just one ledgeless window to look at the gray morning sky. Ugh, disgusting.

Outside the vehicle, only a few things could have ruined such a lovely morning. One could see three rays of sun as if it were stretching from a long night's rest. A few birds chirped sleepily, and the whole world was just waking up when Michael swerved the hefty car onto the Old Road wracking up about two gallons of dust and exhaust. As he drove faster and faster through the trees it was easy to see contrast between the gleaming yellow car and the peaceful gray morning, which had no purpose but to exist and live quietly as it always had and will. Michael had a thousand things to do today: meetings, phone calls, disposing of this awful creature, feeding, advertising, putting together his speech for tomorrow as he desperately needed that promotion, and had not a care for the present's joys.

That poor firebird screeched like a dying animal as the businessman brought it to a stop, and had not even settled back down as he wrenched two doors open and slammed the back one shut. It quivered flusteredly as he shook the cat carrier, trying to get that thing out and gone.

"What in the litterbox are you doing, fool?!" she screamed, clinging to the netting, spitting frantically and clawing for her life, "Y-you will set me down this instant and I will rip you to shreds and leave you strewn on the road, where--where McDonald's will make burgers out of you--WRAh-aw!!" Silk screeched like the firebird and stumbled on her feet, nearly falling to the asphalt so dizzy was she now. Whirling around to reattack her tormentor the cat was smacked with the dust kicked up by Michael's wheels as he sped off into the distance.

Abandoning her here.

[asphalt]

What was she doing here again? Oh, right. That human dumped her here. Right after Tomahawk had died. Asphalt rolled over to her other side, head on her paws, in the patch of sunlight where she had been dumped out of the car. Little rocks pocked her rather uncomfortably, and gravel was sticking to her coat, but she didn’t feel like moving. Hmmm, maybe she’d better. She could feel a car coming, the vibrations softly traveling through the ground. Better not stay in the middle of the road. Then she might by mistaken for road kill. Or turned into some.

As Asphalt finally got up and sauntered to the side of the road, she remembered her days on the aircraft carrier. The whole thing was always vibrating from something. And to hear human footsteps, you had to get used to the vibrations. When she had first come to land, she had been shocked by how still it usually felt. And small vibrations felt like shouting to her.

She flopped down under a tree. Looking up, she wondered what kind of tree it was. They either all looked like oak trees or they all looked like pine trees to her. This one looked like an oak tree, or whatever. Blackjay wasn’t here anymore to tell her what kind, and explain the difference again. Asphalt knew she would never see either of them again. And she was all alone.

Why should she mind, though? She spent the first two years of her life completely alone. Well, there had been the humans. But they didn’t really count. Asphalt sighed. She had known a grand total of six cats in her life, her mother, three siblings, Tomahawk, and Blackjay. But she couldn’t remember her mother and siblings hardly at all. Four weeks was all she had ever spent with them. But Asphalt, somehow, still missed them. And the old pair who had taught her everything about the real world.

She wondered if there was anyone else around here to meet. Maybe some of those all outdoor cats, like Tomahawk had talked about. Seemed like a nice enough place. All the nice trees, and… mini-tree plant things. Bushes. Yeah, that’s what they were. But Asphalt didn’t feel like moving, or hunting, or exploring, or really even just lying there. But just lying there seemed like an alright course of action. Let anyone else around here come to her. She laid her head down on her paws. The earth felt to still. She would feel everything coming.

[sorcha]

Sniffing the air and giving a tiny mew, Harbor squinted confusedly at the horizon. She took a step onto the asphalt, and delicately set down one dark paw before her, or as delicately as the heavy-footed kitty could, and let her pupils widen at the horizon. Maybe it could convince him to return, like it had worked for extra tuna treats? "...meow? M-Mich--bah!" Why was she even trying; it was obvious that he couldn't hear her, that foul horrid man! How could he; why did he? She'd never done anything wrong besides defend herself against his hard rough hands and scent of malintentions. What did he expect an independent cat like her to do otherwise, let him kick her with hard black boots or hit her with his rough palms? Petty curses swarmed through Harbor's mind as tears flooded her yellow, now-squinted eyes. This wasn't fair--this simply wasn't fair! She'd never done anything wrong... never did anything wrong...

Suddenly she froze, and her eyes once again returned to stark, dry, and open wide like the sun in a Costa Rican photograph. The torti whipped her head around and took another swig of air through her black nose, her one forward paw snapping to her side again in one swift movement. Yes, she'd definately scented something. Someone.

The dark forest trees beside the road appeared mysterious, yet unearthly calm enrobed in fog, as if their secrets were in perfect honesty and their beauty found in danger alone. Harbor felt her heart race like a mouse's... she did not desire in the least to enter the cold-shouldering wood. Never would she admit it but the tortoiseshell was afraid. One blink betrayed it, and that was all. A cruel yet queasy look passed over her countenance as she scooted slowly around, towards the scent. What on earth was she doing? Harbor didn't think of the trouble she'd get herself into if the cat was stronger. All she wanted was a thing to do, get her mind away from dwelling upon her masters' mistake of leaving her there, of the conspiracies she would plot against... Michael. Right now was not a good time. After a few moments of discernment Harbor decided the cat meant no immediate harm and was probably unaware of the tortie's prescence. But the femme-scent shifted, rolled over. Harbor froze, at the edge of the path now, and smelled the cat move towards a tree.

The tortie thought for a moment, then stood up on her short, dark-patched legs, letting her cropped tail swish one time, and walked unassumingly toward the tall, broad tree where her wet, ebony sniffer informed her the other she-cat would be. Only a few steps more till the realization that Harbor had no idea what she was doing, since salutations weren't high on the tortie's typical to-do list. But today was no typical day...

[mur]

Ah, the good old forest she had been wandering around in for a better part of two hours. She'd run into the death-trap trying to get to that Chesire place, hopefully finding some 'grub,' as she liked to call food. But, nuh-oh, she had to get stuck in this dump of a forest. Her lengthened pelt bristled as she thought of having super-magnificent-amazing-extra ordinary super strength. She would cut down every tree in the place, making a nice, neat and orderly path, that would lead here and there, so cats could find their way with ease. Hah, she bet no feline around here thought of that, grandeur scheme. Tangle huffed a laugh, moss-green eyes scanning the horizon with an uneager look. The smell of other cats burned in the air, giving Tangle a fair idea that there were one or more cats just down wind of her. She wasn't all that eager to meet up with these strays, as she was simply passing through. If she could ever find her way out of this cat-eating monstrosity some would call a forest.

Her tail twitched alertly, tasting the air with a sense of pride. This, she had always been good at. Being cautiously curious. Was that even possible? Bah, why did she care. Tail-tip flicking back and forth impatiently, she whuffed at every tree, slinking back each time something spooked her. The, 'Red alert, another cat!' mode, had taken over. Tangle, inch by inch, made her way to a clearing. 'A clearing!? In the middle of Cat-eating Forest?' She mused to herself, quite serious about the cat eating forest part. Mm, quite different, indeed. Her paws tapped the pieces of ground she stepped on, as though it might collapse underneath her weight, as she made her way across the clearing, belly flat to the ground. Tangle huffed as burrs were engulfed by her long fur. This little, insignificant, pestering, fur eaters! 'Burs...' She spat to herself. 'Burs, burs, burs! If only they had made cat fur, bur proof!'

As she came to the edge of the clearing, and into more forest, she was unaware of the drop only a few feet from her nose; As her head was quite frankly, hidden under the tall stalks of grass she stalked underneath. She raised her head, looking like a spy as she hopped across the last few feet to the drop. She liked to think she was graceful, as she lifted her tail, proud of herself for getting it this far without bumping into the cats she'd scented earlier. Of course, silly her, the wind had changed directions, and her scent was now blowing toward the kitties. As she plunged over the small drop, she yowled.

"Rawr-GHA!"

That was pretty much all that was said, other than a slight rumble of cursings. Tangle tumbled head over tail down the drop, falling flat to her stomach, and in the midst, managing to find the narrow dirt road. She coughed and spluttered, feeling as though she might hack a lung any time then; However, her melodramatics weren't needed, as she simply had the wind knocked out of her. Oh woe is her. Femme stood, giving her chest a few self-conscious licks, before continuing forward. Her tail flicked side to side crossly, as she had just made a fool of herself, in front of all those trees... Well, two cats as well, but she hadn't known that. Ah well, the trees couldn't see anyway. Sauntering forward, she found herself on the other side of the road. A joke crossed her mind, 'Why did the chicken cross the road?' She didn't understand what the point of it was, a chicken would cross the road for a many number of things, let alone to get to the other side. What was the point of that joke? It wasn't even funny. Some strays along the road had told her it, and Tangle hadn't been able to find it in herself to laugh. She shrugged, and as she did so, nearly walked into another cat. Tangle yanked back in surprise, and let out a 'Me-ah!' type of sound. The cat was a dark colored tortishell. Tangle was a brown tabby, with oddly green eyes. "Er... sorry...?" She asked, backing up. Ah yes, the clumsiest cat was back. She chuckled to herself slightly, but looked back up to the she-cat, taking a look at the tortie.

[ooc , Mind if I join?]

[sorcha]

(ooc: sure, go ahead. ^^ I love your sig, btw.)

[asphalt]

((ooc: I don't mind... =D ))

Asphalt watched the other cat. She didn't feel like moving though. Lazybones... part of her mind told, her, but she ignored it. As far as she could tell, though, the other cat hadn't noticed her, under her tree of... oak, or whatever it was. It's not like it matters whether I know what kind of tree it is... she thought to herself, before she realized she was still thinking about the stupid tree. She decided to think about something else.

Like the other cat. It was a darkish color, with lots of splotchy looking things of other colors. Asphalt didn't think that she had ever seen another cat like that. Wait, maybe it wasn't a cat? Asphalt narrowed her eyes. Well, it was the right shape for a cat. And that was enough, she thought.

Asphalt suddenly sat bolt upright when something else suddenly crashed down on the road. Asphalt almost thought she could feel the vibrations from it landing. But, while what vibrations got though sounded like shouting, much less made vibrations to be felt on land. When whatever it was got up, though, Asphalt realized this was a cat. Well, she thought it was a cat. It was more likely to be a cat than that other... cat... because it looked more like one of the cats that she had met before. But, it's eyes were different. Much, much greener than Tomahawk's had been.

Well, Asphalt heard the one-she-was-fairly-sure-was-a-cat speak cat! So it must be a cat. Feeling more comfortable now with someone that looked more familiar she got up and padded over to the other two... cats. Hello she said quietly, hoping one of them was at least somewhat nice.

((My posts feel so short compared to yours ))

[sorcha]

An exclaimation of surprise stuck in her throat, Harbor attempted to hiss, but the sound which came out was more like an out-of-tune trumpet being played on for the first time than anything else. What?! What, what was this--another cat? Was this forest infested or something? The tortie barred her teeth and tried again, but softly, as if self-conscious of the noise she’d made before—like a cattish curse without syllables or sounds releasing her surprise into the air. Her spangled pelt shrunk back down, and the femme struggled to regain her dignity and balance. Then she glared at that... intrusion of her personal space, letting the other she-cat know she was not all the friendly sort. Proud as she was, Harbor would not admit that such potential conflict was perfectly timed, and she was almost relieved not to have to dwell on Michael's soon-to-be-very-costly mistake. Humans. Pfft.

"Erm... sorry,[/b]" apologized the tabby on the ground, who slowly began to rise to her feet—it was another she-kitty, and she looked to be just about Harbor's age. One thing that took the tortie a little aback were the irises that turned her way, wide and a similar shade of green as the tortie's mum. Not that she missed the old hag—Harbor hadn't seen the old cat since she was 8 months old. The new cat backed up on the asphalt and chuckled nervously. She didn't strike Harbor as terribly rude... but looks can be deceiving; the tabby had knocked her down. On purpose (potentially.)

Habor drew herself up with an aggravated expression, and tried to look as if she thought the other nothing more than a nuisance. Tried. "Well," she said huffily, in such a manner she hoped sounded threatening—but was more likely overwhelmed and nervous-sounding—"just... just watch where you're going next time." The two eyed each other for a few moments, and Harbor's front paw began to shift uncomfortably under the other's gaze, letting her black and brown foot trace around a tiny patch of grass stubbornly attempting to make its home between the dark pavement's cracks. After awhile, thinking of nothing else better to say so long as the other female just... just sat there, the tortie blurted irritably, "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

Social skills had never been one of Harbor’s strengths.

"Hello.”

"Mra!" Again puffed out the patches, making Harbor easily visible through the morning haze from which… another feline had quietly crept. She was a black cat, and after a small sniff Harbor realized with only slight relief that this was the femme she’d originally been stalking. Once again the tortoiseshell hadn't noticed another feline sneaking up on her--what was wrong with her sniffer today? Couldn't she smell left from right anymore—

Harbor was breathing, right? A little disconcerted by this thought, Harbor took another draught of forest air, but thankfully while every scent she got smelled dankly wet the tortoiseshell had no problem receiving them.

... And now there were three she-cats sitting in the middle of the road practically waiting for a car to run over them, staring at the two other strangers. What fun. Harbor grumbled something about the economy—which she knew absolutely nothing about, but had always assumed that’s what you complained about when things got rough—and added in a louder, more shaken-sounding voice, "You... you scared me, too" in the black cat’s direction. She looked at the other two cats and their woodland backdrop, not expecting an answer to what the tortie considered a confession. After only a little hesitation, "Oh, bother, who are you guys? If I'm going to look at people the rest of the day I at least want to know what their names are." Discouragement was beginning to throb in Harbor’s furry temples; she always despised social gatherings. Today was not at all her day... not at all.

(ooc: Sorry about the edit--bbc code and I don't get along very well at all apparantly...)

[asphalt]

Asphalt plopped down on the road again. She liked it in the middle of the road. It seemed like the sun could filter through all the trees and bake the road, and then bake her on it. Warmth on all sides, thought it was somehwat ruined by the fact that she was laying down on the road. Being on the road makes you feel alot better and alot worse at the same time... but the better outdoes the worst, and the rod is nice. Amusing.

If other cats coudl read her thoughts, they would probably think this revelation to be weird coming from a three years old cat like Asphalt. But she was always coming up with kitten-ish thoughts like this. Or maybe it was just her weirdy personality that could be traced back to where she had spent the first few years of her life.

Asphalt didn't say anything to the colorful weird cat when she said that she had scared her. Asphalt didn't think that she was a very scary cat. Though, if people thought she was scary, she wouldn't mind. Well, yeah she did, but she wouldn't mind if people thought she was fierce in a nice sort of way. And Asphalt was unsure of how to respond to a comment like that anyways, and when she wasn't sure, she usually stayed quiet.

"My name is Asphalt. And I'm picking the last name Arcticice." She said. Again, her speech was weird because she had only really learned the true cat language over the course of the last year. She often talked of things like she had no sense of time. She had really been given the last name by her mentor, a couple of months ago before he had died.

Comfortable on her patch of road, she went on speaking quietly. "I like this road. It reminds me of my home-on-the-boat. Well, it reminds me of the land-and-blastoff plain on it. It had something like this all over it. Like it was one giant road. But it was always either very hot there, or very windy there, or sometimes both, so I never went up there much..." For long moments she continued to think about her old home, almost forgetting anybody else was there, or that she had been talking to them.

[sorcha]

The black cat broke the silence before Harbor’s discomfort, which would’ve broken over the short fuse of her temper momentarily if the third cat had not spoken. “My name is Asphalt,[/i]” said she. Harbor’s ear twitched, a gesture she made when she was confused or struck by a sudden thought, “And I have chosen the last name Articice.[/i]” Huh. Such an odd surname for a cat with such dark pelt. Although if her name was Asphalt the tortoiseshell supposed it overid “Articice.” What caused the twitch in Harbor’s ear previously was that the femme’s words were slurred, like a small child’s just learning how to speak… and yet this Asphalt girl seemed older than Harbor herself by at least a year, or more. Harbor gave the idea a mental shrug. Eh, not important—just a tidbit worthy of her mild interest. “Harbor,” she muttered, not remembering if she had introduced herself to the new stranger—or the old one for that matter.

[asphalt]

Asphalt leaned back on the road, looking like she was going to sleep or something. Harbor... She said quietly, eyes closed. Then she opened them again. That's a nice name. It sounds safe. Or something. A cool name. Though I like my Asphalt just fine. Your name reminds me of place-where-stop-for-long-time." She said. She was talking about her home ship again, I thing she often wandered back to when in conversation with people. She meant the long times her ship stopped after a six month deployment. She had never left the ship then, but she had never left it. Occasionally watching the real world outside the ship from the flight deck or something. But the world-outside-the-ship had seemed unreal, until she had been taken away from it.

Asphalt laid her head down. And listened. The world was completely filled up with noises from all sorts of things all around. The wind through the trees, little bugs everywhere, and the occasional passing car. It was noisy. But definitely not the same noisy as her home-on-the-boat had been. A much different kind of noisy. Almost a nicer sound, though it still seemed sort of strange and foreign. Almost subconsciously, Asphalt started to hum along with the general tune of the world around her, now almost truly forgetting everything else around her.

[sorcha]

After a moment of blush and mental babbled excuse-making for the compliment, the tortoiseshell cocked her head at the black femme. Harbor wasn't sure what to think about this... 'Asphalt' girl. She reminded Harbor of her son, Ubastian (whom she'd be ashamed to know now was called "Gordo" by his owners) when he was a littlie before he turned into a paunchy little butterball, still learning his left from his right and his mewl from his caterwaul--and more importantlyfor little Ubastian, his tuna from his kibble. Yes, yes, the patched cat was far too scrawny to even hold potential for child-bearing, but she'd done it and was proud. Anyway, Ubastian had been somewhat like this femme: dotty, sort of sweet, and completely unaware of his immediate surroundings. It was insanely irratating not to be able to carry in a conversation, not to mention uncomfortable--yet at the same time... nice.

It was relaxing not to have someone looking at you constantly, and Harbor loosened up her muscles. Somehow her judging nature didn't mind when the cat began to hum. Harbor grinned wryly, She's like a child. Yet, a little embarrassed at letting down her guard once she noticed the tortoiseshell's muscles quickly froze up again, and her typical tone returned after the moment of softness, "So what did you get thrown out for?" Only a hint of bitterness crept in at their common condition, here in this crazy forest. A car zhooped on past, nearly swerving into a tree, on the Big Road, but the asphalt on which the femmes sat remained peaceful and abandoned.

[asphalt]

Asphalt stopped her humming and looked back at the other cat. " 'Twasn't thrown anywhere..." She said, confused. The closest she'd ever been thrown ever was once getting thrown out of someones bed. But she had been hopping their nice soft pillow. Then Asphalt figured out that that couldn't be what this think-its-a-cat-patchy-harbor-safe-place-for-big-boat-name. Asphalt figured it must have been a figure of speech. Maybe this other cat(?) was talking about getting taken away from her home. She saighed at that thought and laid her head back down and closed her eyes again.

"Mebbe it was just for being a cat. He doesn't like me. And they don't like me either. So they want to throw me off boat-that-is-home. But I get to stay with guy-who-bosses-others-around-but-is-still-nice. But there was little older-than-kitten-but-still-young person who don't like me. And for some reason he's kicking me out. And I end up heres. And you ends up here. Howd's you ends up here. Did someone throw you somewhere?" Asphalt said in a long, and continuous stream, not waiting for Harbor's answer on the throwing question. Most likely because she had already forgotten by now that she had asked it.

[sorcha]

Harbor listened, proud sympathy on her face as she attempted to grasp the meaning of this confusing cat's words. It seemed... Asphalt had been a ship's cat, then thrown out by the captain and crew or something, then moved in with a yelly man and his teenager who dumped her here. So, this cat was from the shore, too!

But when her question was sent back to her like a roundhouse kick, Harbor was silent for a moment, her features freezing and her stare turned to the ground. Then suddenly the tortoiseshell hissed. "For nothing," she rasped bitterly, trying not to allow entrance to the bit of sorrow, "Just nothing! That horrible, good-for-nothing--"

Now... it was probably good that Asphalt wasn't paying attention anymore, since Harbor didn't exactly mind elaborating on how she felt about Michael in words that the writer does not deem appropriate for this post. But after she'd finished spouting her emotions--with the exception of her... almost rabidly foaming mouth from all the spit she'd let fly with her insults--the tortoiseshell felt... oddly better. If uncomfortable. Harbor took a swipe at the smallest of her black patches with barbed, pink tongue to try and regain just a little dignity, and noticed she was... panting. Dangit. How embarrassing was that?

"Um," she said finally again, wondering if the blue-eyed femme across from her noticed her at all--and sort of hoping the impossible that her outburst had gone unnoticed, which it was unlikely it had in its entirety--"M-maybe we should get off this road." Harbor patted the ground with her soft-furred tail, the soft morning light of a newly risen sun casting gold on her caramel spots and through her severe yellow eyes. "Let's not get run over."

[asphalt]

Asphalt, in fact had been listening a bit. But her not so good grasp on all of the cat language meant that she really was able to made sense of little of what the other cat said after a while. Maybe when the cat was in a better seeming mood, she would ask her what they meant. She thought though that maybe she had heard Tomahawk mutter a few of those under his breath a while ago, but he declined to explain what they meant later, and had seemed embarrassed. Blackjay had seemed shocked when Asphalt asked her, and had also not told her what they meant, and seemed rather angry at Tomahawk for the rest of the day. Asphalt hoped the other cat wouldn't be the same either.

Hmmm... getting of the road would be nice. Wonder where it goes, though. There used to be a road on top of ship-that-is-home, but it didn't go anywhere. Just from one end of the ship to the other." She said, snapping back to the conversation like she hadn't just been spacing out a couple of seconds ago. She got up, shaking her pelt out to get some of the gravel and dirt out. Then she blinked at the other cat. Where do you think we will go? I don't know much places around here. Do you? She asked. She was feeling much better about talking to this strange cat now though.

((OOC: My procrastinating on school projects is catching up to me =P))

[sorcha]

(lol, I know what you mean. *griamce*)

Harbor opened her mouth as if to reply, but let her jaw close. She licked her lips to get rid of the spit and gave her patched shoulders a small shrug. "I just got left this morning, " was all she could think to say, "So I've got no idea where I am." Harbor swept the road and surrounding forest with its tall tall trees and noticed through austere eyes the fog had lifted. "Wanna just pick a direction and run with it?" That's all it seemed like they could do to Harbor. Left or right. Left or right. Left or right...