WINTER OF OUR YOUTH | p. chervil

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    [fancypost bgcolor=; width: 155px; borderwidth=0px; -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); margin-top: 42px; margin-right: -55px; margin-left: -50px; color: #d2d2d2;][align=center][size=20pt]MIKE ★[/size]
    WINDCLAN ★ TRAINEE[hr][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; width: 335px; height: 145px; overflow: auto; borderwidth=0px;][size=7pt]/retro to the tornado OOP


    Last night had been awful. Despite having used the bed in his cabin, Mike had barely slept at all. There were too many thoughts swimming around his head, possibilities and hopes that could eventually become false.


    So, he had come to the very logically conclusion that he was homesick.


    Now as he sleepily descended the short flight of stairs leading from his cabin, he was greeted by an NPC of the same age who led him over to the fresh-kill pile, explaining how it worked to him. "You've gotta be kidding me! I'm not eating any of that!" Mike exclaimed as he stared at the NPC, giving him an irritable stare. He couldn't just eat these poor dead animals, that was... that was cruel! He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. The NPC simply gave him a shrug, picking out something to eat before walking away.


    With a grumble, the boy would walk back to his cabin and seat himself on the first step, unable to keep himself from staring at a dead rabbit which sat on the top of the pile. It appeared as if it was watching him, piercing his soul with its blank eyes. It made Mike want to throw up. Sighing, he covered his eyes with an arm. Why did this have to happen to to him?


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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]To say that Chervil was amply worried about Mike, a newcomer whom seemed particularly fazed in regards to.. most things - would be somewhat of an understatement. From the moment that he had stumbled across the other, rather skittish and panicked due to whatever predicament he had been thrown into, by Windclan's border, the concern had budded within him, now accumulating as he overheard the other exclaim in protest to an npc, in regards to what he presumed, happened to be the fresh kill pile.


    The collie's fictional brows would furrow as he watched them return to their porch, and as they drew their fore-limb over their eyes, he'd veer from what he had been originally tending to, instead opting to approach the other. Cherviltea would aim to sit briefly by the other, trying to offer an airy smile, despite the underlying concern that still seemed to knit his expression. "Hey Mike, how are you holding up? Is something wrong?"


    TAGS 05/09/2016
    [fancypost bgcolor=; width: 155px; borderwidth=0px; -webkit-transform: rotate(-90deg); -moz-transform: rotate(-90deg); -o-transform: rotate(-90deg); margin-top: 42px; margin-right: -55px; margin-left: -50px; color: #d2d2d2;][align=center][size=20pt]MIKE ★[/size]
    WINDCLAN ★ TRAINEE[hr][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; width: 335px; height: 145px; overflow: auto; borderwidth=0px;][size=7pt]Instantly, Mike would lower his arm from his face as soon as he heard Cherviltea speak, turning to look at the older male with a neutral expression. "Um, yeah, i'm doing ok. Why?" He said in response, clearly being defensive.


    There were many things wrong at the moment. If he had to list them all, it'd be a list that started at the roof of his cabin and ended at the ground, most of them things he missed from his human life. For example, his friends, Hawkins... Eleven. He could go on forever.


    It would be too complicated to explain it all. And who would believe him? They would take it like a joke. A human turning into a cat? It was unheard of.


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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=none; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth=0px; width: 370px;font-size:8pt;line-height: 130%;][justify]A human having turned into a cat.. actually wasn't as unheard of as the other seemed to believe - though it was probably only natural for him to feel that way. Cherviltea wasn't aware of their troubles, but if they had spoken of it, he'd be happy to assure them that their predicament wasn't as uncommon or unorthodox as they assumed it to be.


    Though, that probably wouldn't ease the pain of being unable to communicate with one's friends. Cherviltea wouldn't really.. be able to understand that, though, really.. Of course, he did have friends that he missed - but not from life before Windclan. From life before Windclan, he only missed one friend (her being the only one he had had, in all honesty), and she was dead due to his own flimsy decision.


    Chervil couldn't say that he was too convinced that they were indeed alright, but he'd go along with it nevertheless, deciding that it'd be better if he didn't happen to push. "Ah, I don't know really.. I thought you looked a little troubled though, and I figured that I'd check up on you." The collie would add, with a light smile. He couldn't say that his concerns had been immediately eliminated, but he wouldn't pry.


    TAGS 05/09/2016