I NEVER FUCKED WAYNE, I NEVER FUCKED DRAKE | joiner

[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]Crouched on one of the landscape's rolling hills, among the whiteness of snow, was a dark speck. It peered down at the village through yellow slits, eyeing the cabins like a wolf eyeing a warren of rabbits.
Hungry. Jones felt hungry, but that wasn't unusual. It was usually in the literal sense, the more... biological sense (it was amazing how much he could eat, despite his small size). But this time, what he was feeling was a distinct and carnal sort of hunger. Like he was about to do something bad to someone, but he didn't care. It was an anticipatory feeling, one that was hard to describe. Sort of subtly angry, primal.
The munchkin cat squinted, which was hard, because he was already squinting. But he squinted harder, struggling to see the camp through the flurry of snow that was currently sweeping through the area. How he had even made it up the fucking camp? Mountainous terrain was a bitch to climb, especially with his tiny legs. Seriously, it was as if some fucker had grafted the legs of a fucking child onto his adult cat body and thrown him into the cruel world, left to waddle around aimlessly on his tiny kiddy legs.

Perhaps he should have picked an environment more suited for him, but fuck it. Phantomclan- if it really existed, god knows the weird loners he'd spoken to could have been talking out of their asses- was the only place in the direct vicinity that was offering up residency. At least, that he knew of. He wasn't about to hike a fucking mile to the fabled Wyvernclan or The Knights of Sweden, so Phantomclan was the most feasible option. He probably wouldn't be here long, anyway.
That is, if he was even let in. He was probably hidden by the current storm of snow, but it was still a bit weird he hadn't been greeted yet. Like, couldn't these people smell him or something? Was that a thing?
Sneering, the bowtie-clad tom curled into himself, shivering. Someone had better come soon, or else he was gonna just... dig a hole in the ground or something, and sleep there. Which wasn't favorable.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]Ah. A marginal crowd. The munchkin feline pursed his lips, edging away from the group slightly with his ears pinned to his head. Moderately-sized gatherings, while they did not particularly annoy him, were a bit of an inconvenience; they called for more social interaction than what he deemed was necessary.
The felidae stood, brushing himself off briefly; little flecks of snow had accumulated on his person, dusting his dark pelt with dots of ivory. He remained silent for a moment or two, flaxen gaze flitting from his Phantomclanner to Phantomclanner. Mm. A diverse bunch.
"Are you currently offering lodging?" With a nonexistent brow raised, the small tom finally spoke, tone flat and curt. All business. He wasn't here to make friends, after all, just to find a warm place to sleep so he didn't die.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; color: ; font-size: 8pt; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 300px; height: 200px;][font=georgia]Nicholette sufficiently caught the loner's attention- Jones severely craned his neck to look up at the tigress, struggling to meet her gaze. Damn his tiny legs. He refused to acknowledge his rather compromising position, and forced a grin on his maw, despite the fact his neck was hurting like a bitch.
Clearing his throat, he forced a more peppy tone into his voice, and continued to speak- this time to the necromancer. "I'm Jonestown. Warren Jonestown, but you may call me Jones. I was wondering if I could take up residency here? I'm sure I can make myself useful."
Yeah, that was a fucking lie. Sure, he could catch a mouse or two, but besides hunting, Jones admittedly wasn't much of an asset. Which was okay. Nobody's perfect. At least he had an excuse- having the legs of a literal child and all. Ah, the daily struggles of a munchkin cat.
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