raging on a sunday </ catnip

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  • widow hadn't actually traveled too far from the new "home sweet home". turning corners, hopping through empty windows, and dodging fallen bricks. it was such a simple leisure to go and walk the streets alone. a sweet solitude and freedom from the disgusting chatter of those she had decided to bed down with. asphalt and dirt melting together into brief glances of freedom, freedom she knew was temporary. it seemed by the day that more cats that had once lived in these streets like her had decided to join up with the band of rogues living within the courthouse. the appeal of marble walls and stone columns.

    something snapped her from the pondering of their future, a smell. the white hot smell drifting on the air, a trap set for any cat foolish enough to fall for the allure. it was rich, filling her mouth like the juiciest freshkill. perhaps widow was one of the aforementioned fools, perhaps a life of boredom was part of the leash pulling her in. the black cat hadn't even realized that her direction had changed, a slight turn to the right. eyes closed just for a second but still experiencing the disorientation as they snapped back open.

    she was being led to an abandoned twoleg home, looming and grossly off-white. what once was a clean suburban home, maybe with cats of its own, was now a ruin. it was always a curious sight to see the figures of the past in the way abandoned boxes and bags of litter sat on their curb. though still, beyond the reek of long rotted food and melted plastic lay the enticing smell. her whiskers were twitching, standing deathly still in front of a chipped picket fence. internal debate raging on, considering the danger of entering the yard.

    it could be the home of another feline, scent covered by the reek of mint- or even worse, a dog. the torn up ground underneath was the only evidence that someone had ever even entered the garden, yet unease still filled the pit of her stomach. the battle of desire and logic ruling in favor for an unknown hunger for excitement. widow started shoving her head through the burrow, the claustrophobic experience didn't last long, her small body easily fitting through. a serene feeling quickly fell over her, despite the small tufts of fur caught on the splintered wood.

    a clearing revealed a wooden box in the middle. the wood had long rotted away, falling away completely on one side to allow the spread of what appeared to be the most delicious weed. fronds of white flowers sprouted from the patches, close to the ground lay bunches of leaves and dandelions. widow swore she could feel her pupils expand, heart rate instantaneously spiking. not in the way it usually did, no fear present within her chest, merely a warm gurgling noise.

    "ahe-mmhm.." it was the first time there was a spring in her paws, bouncing to the patches and leaping in with no premeditation.

       

    YOU'RE THE LOWEST TYPE

    widow + senior warrior of bloodclan + tags

  • Being a local around these parts, Jersey knew just about every hidden treasure trove, every secret that only a resident would know. However, sometimes he missed things. It appeared that one of clan cats (or a rogue, who even knew anymore) had fixated onto something and squeezed into one of the abandoned gardens. Now, it really wasn't any of his business what others did in their personal time, but he was nosy. Thus, the bi-colored tom made his way towards the rotting fence and glanced through the opening.


    Luscious green leaves decorated with small white flowers ━ that could only be one thing. Ohoh, she had found the good stuff. Being a stray, Jersey knew that catnip was one of the basic "happy plants". It didn't grow too much around here, so he had not chewed on some for a long while. "Ey, I hope you're plannin' to share some a' that." Commented the tom as he squeezed through the fence as well. Request or not, he was going to take some green for himself.

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    *:・゚✧ ━━━━━━━━━━━ 「 BLOODCLAN . 25 MONTHS . TAGS

  • * The effects of catnip weren't something Sinclair had ever planned to explore, and they still weren't when he stumbled across the patch on one of his wayward, wandering exploits. His mind was a minefield of vulnerabilities he had no interest in exposing to the masses; With help from a sedative, he'd risk being loose-lipped enough to spill the secrets he had so carefully locked behind a toothy smile. Instead he watched the careening herbs and grasses, flecks of sunlight whizzing through the midday amity of green and gold. Bugs. From a fence overlooking the garden he hadn't anticipated the arrival of Widow, of all cats. Springing from the ocean of green with a playfulness he hadn't expected from a tightly-woven woman such as herself. Clearly the intoxicating haze of catmint had befallen her, or something of the like.


    "We just keep running into each other, don't we?" He gave away himself with an incredulous smile, pale eyes watching from the other end of the garden. He was aware of her dislike for him, but it didn't prevent him from making conversation. She made him both curious and amused, but not exempt from his terrorizing brand of entertainment. From behind her emerged Jersey— equally eager to get a taste of the rousing herb as well. She was safe from Sinclair's full attention once again, as he turned his pallid gaze to the bowtie-wearing rogue. "Hey, brother," He cracked a joking smile, getting to his paws and stretching his spine into a tight arch. "Doesn't that stuff make you—uh.. Weird in the head or, something?" He ambled along the fence with the posture of a zookeeper observing his caged lions, having drugged the meat he'd fed them. Would they start getting loopy? That would be hilarious.

  • ✦ ✧ ✦ Catnip. An alluring substance that Waspwing had never felt herself especially drawn to, but nonetheless it was a thing that intrigued her. As a former healer catnip was rarely used, though the side effects were often amusing to watch when the odd member needed it for pain or a bit of relaxing. She'd taken a whiff once or twice, but nothing that did much for her.


    The tantalizing smell that had lured Widow in seemed to be spreading, the black tabby appearing shortly after Jersey and Sinclair. She curiously slid her way through the gaps in the fence; she wouldn't get too close, well...Waspwing padded closer and maybe just a little sniff wouldn't be such a bad idea? Widow seemed to be enjoying it, so why couldn't Waspwing enjoy herself?


    "I hope we're sharing..." Waspwing purred as she settled down into the greenery, ears laid back in a relaxed v-formation as Widow pounced and bounced about in the grass and herbs. "And it's mainly a relaxant, though in leafbare it's very good for treating greencough, though it's hard to come by unless twolegs happen to be gracious enough to grow it." The black tabby hadn't meant to ramble, but the smell was bringing back all of her time in the greenhouse, treating sick cats and secretly enjoying the strong smell of herbs as she worked and mixed poultices and smears to go on wounds.

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    REMEMBER NOT TO GET TOO CLOSE TO STARS———— ・゚✧ 」

    ❝ THEY'RE NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU LOVE LIKE OURSinformation

  • of course he was here, widow was beginning to feel the curse of her resent settle into bloodclan. jersey approaching a distance away as if mocking her inability to resist the pleasurable aroma. of course, it wasn't her place to refuse to share regardless of her disdain for either, so any aggression would only be of her fault.

    "make yourself at home.." but keep your distance she wanted to mutter to jersey. it was uncertain whether she would even have the gal to attack. the most likely outcome being the fleeing of a young female rather than the regret of her black and white counterpart. she could feel the buzz of energy still in her legs, vulnerable and stretched out on her back, letting the fronds surround and coat her. if not in a safety stance, she would at least conceal under baby greens. he didn't seem to be a threat, at least asking for permission, though one could never be too careful with those who found such a sick pleasure in mocking her fear.

    "we just keep running into each other, don't we?"

    her pelt prickled instantaneously. what was become a familiar voice whispering from the shadows of a corner she had failed to search. even before entering the garden widow had prepared for danger, though no level of preparation was enough to see that curved smile glint from feet away.

    "sadly." she nearly whispered, desperate for him not to hear yet tempted to yowl it. it was unsurprising that him and jersey were close, if not blood brothers greeting each other. they both had that certain way of talking, certain way of holding themselves.

    widow rolled onto her stomach, pushing up and letting her body stay close to the ground as if ready to pounce on her intruders. both distracted by their examinations of her finding. a tail lashing in her bushes, static running along her body as if struck by lighting brewing in grayed clouds. sinclair seemed uneasy around the plant, uncertain. widow was by no means a mischievous feline, though the playfulness brought upon by her personal patch of mint brewed nothing short of a genius idea. claws extended, digging into the earth and roots below her, sending the soil and collection of plants gripped rocketing at sol. a rare smile crept up on weak lips hoping that she would be able to see the effects and dirt ruin his professionally greasy appearance.

    then.. an angel. speaking nothing but knowledge on the plant that was clearly of some use to their little spattering of a clan. guilt may have crossed her mind for destroying one if pride didn't take priority. widow would never mind sharing with someone with actually applicable knowledge, kindness.

    "let us enjoy it now and make note of its location. however destructive twolegs are.." distraction from the two toms in the form of another purr of satisfaction "they do seem to have fancy and useful possessions."

    rubber balls for kits to play with, collars that these cats wore with pride, plants capable of healing the sick and relaxing those who never felt the peace of a deep breath. the minty bitter smell continued to fill her nose, easing the malicious looks she could continue to throw at her two doppelgangers.

    YOU'RE THE LOWEST TYPE

    widow + senior warrior of bloodclan + tags

  • * 'Sadly,' She balanced the word carefully on her tongue, yet clearly tempted to lash it at him with the force of an angry whip. Not today. He watched this ebony adder uncoil in the rolling green, rancour draining from her posture with help from the herb. He had misread her newfound recreation, though for he had failed to intercept her plans to chuck dirt before it was far too late. "AAA—!" A cry tears from the back of his throat as he's showered in chunks of brown— the biggest of which collides with his shoulder in an audible thump. Balance on the fence thrown, mittens slipped and gripped desperately to the lurching wood. "W—Woah.." He exclaims wobbly as the post teetered beneath his weight, which was anchored only shallowly into the earth. Balance regained, an angry green eye is fixed unblinkingly to his aggressor. "You!!!" Ire is verbalized as a black tail lashed against the wood underfoot. She'd evaded his wrath from the safety of the herbs. "If there wasn't catmint I'd come down there and kick your tail!" He shook his fur out, exploding rage bubbling back down with a questionable swiftness. "But I'm not interested in getting all weird in the head right now."


    His knowledge was clearly limited, and in his ignorance he was left to assume the worst about a herb he'd yet to even experience for himself. Therein existed the irony of his distrust, even as Waspwing wandered forth with her muted words of wisdom as a healer of sorts. He wasn't convinced, and in all his misgivings, would remain as such. He sat and began to preen through his perfect plumage of black and white, blemished now by specks of dirt. He grew quiet, disinterestedly listening to the two females chat.

  • . an' what do we have here?


    catnip was indulged in once, a forbidden smell between her and her lover. memories became hazy, slurring into the unknown, pondering upon odd thoughts in the pleasant company of someone she loved. she remembers making lark laugh that pretty laugh and how she could thoroughly submerge in such a sound. nimh smiled with white teeth, pink lips exposing each rise and curve to her fangs. she smiled for the girl and for her only, a giddiness she hadn't shared with no one else. as if she's staring in the sun, blinded by infatuation, basked in warmth: she didn't want to leave, instead wishes she could stand still with the girl forevermore as their world slowed. such tranquility gave way to slight paranoia as she returned back to the sisters, who noted her improved mood and happiness. her precious secret, a sore memory now.


    she catches the end of the interaction between sol and widow, soil staining his tuxedo pelt, flood of heated worlds escaping his curled tongue. the molly offers a boisterous laugh, belly deep and genuine, as she nears the gathered group, yellow eyes fleetingly noting who was who. 'fraid t' be a little weird among friends, are ya? she asks, coming up beside waspwing, tufted ears flickering slightly at the blowing wind. her large head shifts towards widow and she nods absently in agreement, attention now enraptured by the bundle beside her. they ain't useful fer anythin' else though. somewhere deep inside, a voice urges her not to dare to sniff the unfurled ferns, potent aroma be damned. while sol didn't wish to be weird in the complete sense of the word, nimh only weirdness was launching into philosophical thoughts, a laugh to accompany each statement. she'll forget whatever she said, a blissful fog clouding her memory. a good distraction, she figures.


    AND YOU LOVE HER, YOU LOVE THAT GIRL

    penned by kal !