lean muscles ripple beneath the ginger pelt of the caracal as she slips into the central hub of camp, her tufted tail tip flicking side to side as she leaps up on the nearest purchase, her pale eyes glossing over those shuffling about her. "OI SANCTUARY, GATHER 'ROUND FER WEEKLY TASKS." she calls in a loud bellow, not truly caring to be sweet and easy on the ears. they've got shit to do, places to be, and the niceties are on hold until then. "or ya know, jus' linin' up works too." whatever floats their boat.
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