[size=25pt]MILES.[/size]
[size=6pt] time to lay claim to the evidence
fingerprints sold me out
but our footprints washed away
from the docks downtown[/size]
Miles looked at the two teenagers warily, and did not turn his eyes away as he picked up a pack of french fries and began to eat them. "Take it," he said. It seemed the cashier girl was too preoccupied with staring at him to realize that they hadn't paid yet. Maybe they didn't have to run for it after all.
Posts by Black Widow
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He followed right on her heels, more excited than he would ever admit. This happened every time, the usual stiffening of the tail, the slow rising of the hackles along the nape of his neck; he embraced its familiarity, and dug his claws into the soft rotten floorboards beneath him. "See those sacks hanging from the wall?" He lifted his forepaw and pointed to a crudely wrought and well-aged hook, whose flaky rust spotted the canvas nosebags attached to it. "The trick is to cut a small hole in the bottom of one and wait with your mouth open." He sheathed his claws and padded over to the back, where Ophelia was standing. He made a tiny nick with his teeth and lapped at it vigorously before stepping aside. A fine shower of what looked to be white dust fell down through the opening and pooled onto the floor.
Georgie inspected the pile, gently poked it with a paw. "Hm, I must have crushed it. Normally they come in cubes."
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((Really? Thank you.
I tried. Hope that kick-started your plot!))Georgie, unable to contain himself, burst aloud with raucous laughter, tears springing to his eyes. He flopped over onto his back and rolled around, succeeding in coating his dark pelt with a fine layer of old lint and yellow dust. He was black by the time he managed to rise to his paws, and even then he was still caught in a fit of chuckles and snorts.
"Way to go," he mrrowed, and the words seemed to roll off his tongue. "That's enough to last us a week."
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[size=25pt]MILES.[/size]
[size=6pt] time to lay claim to the evidence
fingerprints sold me out
but our footprints washed away
from the docks downtown[/size]
Miles nodded, but otherwise did nothing. He was the epitome of relaxed, his spine arched up against his seat, his arm draped carelessly over the plastic; in one hand was a half-eaten burger and in the other was the liter bottle of Coke. -
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"What else would I be laughing at?" He stifled as much of it as he could in a box of Aunty Ann's shoe polish, but the cardboard was too thin to block out most of his guffawing. "Leaving already, sugar?" Another bout of laughter. "Going to meet your sugar daddy?" He hooted at this, and keeled over again and flopped around like a fish out of water. "God, this is the best laugh I've had in ages."
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[size=25pt]MILES.[/size]
[size=6pt] time to lay claim to the evidence
fingerprints sold me out
but our footprints washed away
from the docks downtown[/size]
((Okay, bye!))Rogue's sudden sympathy, besides being completely out of character, didn't sit well with Miles. "We don't have time to hang around and play Parent Trap," he said. The whole story reminded him too much of Glasses and his blond-haired barbie doll of a daughter. "What we need is to get some fuel and move out quickly." With that said, he crammed the two Big Whoppers in his mouth, swallowed, and grabbed a napkin. "So get ready to leave." He dabbed at the darkened corners of his lips, sparing these few precious seconds for a lapse back into common etiquette--the manners that Glasses had spent years drilling into
him--and then abruptly stopped, wadded up the napkin into a ball, and crushed it against the cheese-encrusted table. -
[size=25pt]MILES.[/size]
[size=6pt] time to lay claim to the evidence
fingerprints sold me out
but our footprints washed away
from the docks downtown[/size]
Miles ignored her outburst and said very slowly and simply, "Do whatever you want. I'm not staying to be caught and tossed back in a cage." He got up from his seat and looked at them, fugitives, and in retrospect, they were a group, a team, bonded together through hardship and pain. He didn't want to lose that, to break that feeble tie so soon when it would only have gotten stronger with time, but he didn't want to lose what was most precious to him either, and that was freedom. "You guys do whatever you want, stay or come with me, or go solo." -
Leviathan was sticking closer to her than usual, and the reason was not because the mouse bile had finally worn off--they still reeked like crowfood, but not as much as they had--no, it was actually because they were more cats. And more cats meant more mouths to feed and claws to cross and pelts to tear. He did not like it. All his life he had been a loner, and though two was company, three was a crowd, and he was a very strict believer in such sayings: too many cooks spoil the broth.
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Even then it took him a while to sober up, and he wasn't particularly interested in rousing himself from his little fit either. When the laughter abated a little, he stood and leaned against the wall for support, his shoulder digging into the soft wood there. "Alright, alright. I didn't mean it," he spat crossly. "I'm sorry. Now take that back. I'm only alone because all the pretty ladies are taken." He sniffed. "And the rest are too young to know left from right."
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She watched him slowly raise himself, and this stance was infinitely better in more ways than one. "Excellent," she purred, and was that a smile she wore on those black lips? "Now, I will tell you what's good about this." She got up and began to circle him, her eyes latching on to the most minute of details. "Your toes are square on the ground. It gives you the foundation, because you wouldn't want a foundation of lopsided bricks and gaps, no." She shook her head for extra effect. "You want even and uniform, and that's what a cat naturally does when he falls from a tree and onto the ground." Well, except you. "And your tail, it's straight and relaxed, because your muscles are used to this kind of standing. It's natural." Around and around, and the circle was getting noticeably tighter. "Your eyes, though, should be here," and then she struck out with a sheathed paw, lightning fast, and tapped his chin, forcing his head to jerk back, "looking out across the beautiful land of Thunderclan."
((Hope you don't mind that I powerplayed a bit there. If you want, I can edit the post.))
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[font=Arial]Clement spared a glance to the side to appraise the new arrival, and he was awarded with a pair of spectacular eyes, wide and almond-shaped; but their formation was not what was so extraordinary, it was their color: a bright lime green that faded, no, retreated into a brilliant neon yellow, two colors residing in each iris, and the pupil, so dark and rich and black. If he had had what he was lacking, he would've called her beautiful, but he no longer felt the urges he used to ever since he was brought here kicking and screaming from the Smith's residence. He had settled down since then, and had assimilated fairly well into Project Felidae. It didn't suit him, but he was honing a real feel for the ebb and tide of life around here, and it was not so awful that he entertained thoughts of escape. It was like a paradise, or paradise forgotten.
"Who do you think will win?" he asked. He didn't believe Marshall would give up like that for a minute. "I'm betting on Marshall."
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"That's wonderful!" She went on to praise his progress, and how naturally he seemed to take to the exercises. "I can't wait until we train again, because--guess what?--we're going to learn," and here she stopped to let out a little squeal, which made her look like a teenage schoolgirl, "how to fall." She clapped her paws together in awkward applause, smiling as big as any idiot.
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[size=25pt]MILES.[/size]
[size=6pt] time to lay claim to the evidence
fingerprints sold me out
but our footprints washed away
from the docks downtown[/size]
Miles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He hadn't wanted to go off alone. "That's great," he said, smiling, and beamed at Gracie. "What about you?" -
"No," he replied, and flicked his ears. It took him a moment to digest what she was asking of him. Did that mean he had an actual say here? Was he, dare he dream it, important? But he wasn't a particularly ambitious guy; all he really expected and wanted in life was to get out of it in one piece, and he didn't know how having a bunch of lackeys yipping at his heels was going to help much in the stealth department. Sure, they could take down larger prey now, not that he had much trouble with larger since he was large himself, but this was a window of opportunity, and he just had to stand on his hind legs and look inside first. Which he did.
Perhaps he should've said something, added in a little piece, but he couldn't come up with anything except to leave him alone. His master was the only one whose company he sought for--she was quiet, thoughtful, contemplative--and on the other side of the spectrum, he tolerated Dezzy's constant whining, and her fanciful and childish airs. Desolatestar was rough and coarse, Leviathan was rough and coarse, but Dezzy was just plain wild, a kind of roughness that was so coarse as to look smooth; there was more to her than she, or he, as a matter of fact, would like to admit.
"Don't do stupid things," he said, and leaned back against a tree and dissolved into the shadows.
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((Could you quote your post and post it in that thread, Barrel Racer? I replied with Miles there. And I was planning on them meeting up, too. I'm thinking the next stop for them will be the city, and Central Park, because we can say that the School was based in NY, and they can stumble across each other.))
The wind blew.