A NEW LIFE;; o, intro

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    SO LET’S BE SINNERS TO BE SAINTS

    AND LET’S BE WINNERS BY MISTAKE —tags

    It had been a few moons like this. A few moons since he was no longer a prince. The cat had been adopted by a nice family in Italy, but they had abandoned him when a new life had been brought forward for them. Which absolutely sucked for the outbred cat. He had been living with this... ugh. Fiendish group of rogues. He had to get used to the hard life. Most of all, he had to make friends.


    What was the best way to do that? Food.Now, Macchiato would make sure he always had enough, and give the extras to others to get on their good side. He had just finished scrounging for scraps from a nearby restaraunt. Bits of beef and chicken spilled out into a box he laid down. And then, he carried it some distance away before calling, "Hey, amici! Let’s eat!"




    LaBwFve.png

    Over a hill made of trash was a bone wearing broen tom. His eyes glowing like fire. The guard slowly padded down the trash heap and approached the stranger. He gave a low growl and kept his head low. "I spy with my little eye a kitten." He sang in his deep throated voice.

           

    <° } } }<

    -tags-

    The wounded boy toddled over after his unfamiliar clanmates, plopping himself down nearby the box of delicacies. Canary knew Blahkenmuro liked chicken, so he decided he’d save some for him. He noticed Macchiato’s obviously foreign tongue. His clanmates said a lot of odd words but this one seemed like from another planet. “Golly, what’s an amici? Is that Mexican?” Canary asked. He was extremely unfamiliar with foreign cultures and languages. At the moment the child’s head was wrapped in cobwebs and he had a nasty black eye in conjunction with some other wounds on the right side of his face. He felt incredibly weak, but decided he’d try his best to keep participating in his clan’s activities.

    //mobile also I love Macchiato so much omg



    SO LET’S BE SINNERS TO BE SAINTS

    AND LET’S BE WINNERS BY MISTAKE —tags

    Okay, call whoever was on the trash heep creepy. The egotistical cat stared at Pistachio, blinking. Ooookay. Hew cleared his throat, and began speaking. "I am a full grown cat, thank you very much." His voice was laced with sarcasm. He was not going to show this cat that he held any fear. No, Macchiato was too good for that!


    He then heard the child behind him. He... he thought amici was Mexican. Well, it appeared this one had no clue about the greatness of Italy. No worries, Macchiato would come to the rescue and teach him about the wonderful culture he had come from! With a grin plastered on his mw, he gave a couple scraps to the kid. After all, he was a kind and generous cat. And it wasn't that giving stuff to a wounded kid would make him look better than he actually was, no way. "No, no. Ragazzo, the word 'amici' is Italian. It simply means 'friends'!"