Posts by tyrian.

Somehow she'd missed this as she believed she should have been here earlier -- but she wasn't late yet and that was good. What also was good was how this meeting sounded. Promotions, demotions, announcements. That sounded like a lot of changes and that meant excitement, drama, and maybe some emotions on the way.

Oooh, yes. Idioma was interested. The young daughter of Catalina perched somewhere near Pocketkit sending the said feline a small smile of greeting. They'd talked a few times and the female hoped that they might become friends. Maybe. While the kitten was good at talking and socialising, the actual making of friends was harder. Real friends, people you could count on.

She was young, impressionable, and with childish hopes but even she knew that such a friend was hard to find and harder to keep. And she knew she might not be the best at it, and she was scared that she couldn't be one for someone else due to her odd speech and her tendency to get distracted. And her ability to trip over her own paws was quite amazing as well, and as far as she was aware clumsiness was not the most beautifying quality.

Original:

Now theoretically she wasn't supposed to be out of camp. But when did Idioma listen to such a silly rule like that? Nope, this kitten was out and about and no rule was going to stop her. It wasn't like she was going to get hurt in her own territory and it was good to familiarise yourself with your home. Right? That was what she planned to tell anyone who questioned her that was. Capture? Nah. She'd fight 'em off.

The reality was that the outside world was not quite as safe as Idioma currently believed. And she was not as fearless or invincible either. But she was young, and young children always did this kind of thing. And most of the time they wouldn't get hurt either because somehow you had to survive to adulthood and kids just had that aura of managing to make it somehow.

So when sobbing reached her white and fawn ears Idioma when to search it out. No matter of privacy or wondering how someone might react to some kit marching in. Because she didn't know the identity of the cryer yet, she just knew someone was sad and that irked her mildly because she felt fine and what would they have to be sad about on such a nice day?

Yeah, Idioma would grow up some day. But right now she was as simple as ever. She had the maturity of a five year who had just started school; young and not the most subtle of creatures but beginning to find their own identity and independence. That was really what wandering the territory was all about, right? And she had no need to grow up earlier as Pocketkit might have, she had never truly experienced loss or had to deal with death yet.

The feline had come up to the tree, met by the sight of a rabbit arriving with a carrot. This bemused Idioma and she stared the prey animal for a few seconds before recognising him as the rabbit who was not prey but didn't really speak cat all that well either. OK. This was obviously not the source of the crying. And although the motives behind this simple action were beyond her in that moment, she looked up to find the source of the crying.

Her mouth puckered down this time, almost automatically. Just like she had returned the dark smokes smile, she mirrored the facial expression, to a certain extent, as she recognised who exactly was crying and where they were, nestled in complex branches of a tree.

When at the truck, she hooked her claws into the rough bark and began to make her way up, slower than she would have liked as she was not yet comfortable with climbing, but surely closer to the other feline. Once she had balanced herself between the trunk, the branch jutting out which held the other kitten, and an adjacent branch - she wasn't brave enough yet to venture out further on the limb of the tree - and spoke.

"Pocketkit? What is the problem? What do you think? To find a job?" she half whispered over to the feline, not sure what else to do. Trust Idioma to think it might be something physical.

Original: Pocketkit? What's wrong? Are you alright? Should I get a shaman?

Idioma was out again, peering into the rock pools, observing the creatures in there. Every so often her paws would dip in to disturb that water to see the reactions of animals such as hermit crabs or other times to fish out so etching to gain a closer look at it before placing it back into the briny water.

The fawn and white bicolor started, her body giving a small jersey of surprise as she hadn't realized someone was coming up behind her. Immediately she blushed, the tips of her ears going warm, feeling quite stupid that she hadn't picked up on the gentle thudding of a cougars paws and the clickclack noises from his katana. Apparently she had been quite intent in her wish to study the creatures in the rock pools.

The kitten looked up with her blue eyes that were beginning to show the hints of amber, a fact she was proud of as that meant she was getting older, at first startled but she forced an easy smile to grace her maw. "Oh, sorry. And just look at the crab. They look really weird"

So what was muse again? x3

Original: Oh, sorry. I was just having a look at the crabs. They look really weird.

The fawn bi-color had been bored. And so she had created herself something to pass the time, what had started as doodles turned into tiny mazes in the dirt, clawed in, until the idea had occurred too her to create a large Maze that she could actually walk about in. The idea struck her as a good one and she hurried about, finding a stick, finding a place large enough and where she could etch I the boundaries easily.

In the end she had found herself on the beach, dragging a stick in her mouth and a tiny blueprint in the dirt of the camp, and making her Maze by gouging lines into the sand. The tide was going out so while she made sure to keep her lines out of range of the waves, her work would not be disturbed for some hours.

When she was finally pleased with her work, she placed the stick she had used to create the labyrinth in the first place at the beginning of her twisting lines and then a mound of sand that she covered in shells at the end. From there she carefully got herself out, stepping over lines until she was back at the beginning next to the stick.

" Hey, would anyone want to try my maze? "

Original: (this one I'm leaving because it kept coming out really weird e.g. "Oh, no, do you want me?" Or "Prove? To my desk.")

"Oh, lo hice muy bien. Todavía es demasiado pronto para salir a comer y esas cosas?" She replied, tyrian not giving the original this time as for once google translate had been relatively faithful. It was obvious enough she wanted to go out, the food was of less important to her. But she knew enough not to rush her mother too much in the morning, despite the feeling that Idioma felt of her being awake enough for her mother to be active minded as well.

She would recognise this later as a typically kit is narcissistic tendency to gain a sense of themselves before a sense of sharing and a proper understanding of others.

Idioma seemed to be the first to find her. The delicate kitten was perhaps not the hardiest or the most level headed in these kind of situations so when she found the object of her friendly advances in hope of some kind of bond in such a state, her mind fled and she acted on impulse.

A strangled scream of surprise, horror, and fear escaped her and she began to back away wanting to unsee those twisted limbs blood and the hanging noose on the tree. Idioma shut her eyes and shook her head violently, scared of the deathly silence from the female. Because screaming, agony, was better than this horrid silence.

The kitten thought Pocketkit was dead, and she hadn't encounter death before. Not that she could remember. She was told that she had been born in death - that she had siblings that had been still born and that she was the lucky one. But she had never seen anything like this yet.

And she shouldn't have, as while every kit broken rules and went about the territory, she still wasn't supposed to be here.

In her panic, it never occurred to Idioma to go for help, she just closed her eyes tightly as if it would erase the image burned into her mind.

Original:

But the kitten was panicking, and although the voice of some authority would normally cut into one of these episodes she would have when the stress was too much instead she sent let out a godawful screech that sounded vaguely like the word help. But her mouth had never opened, and an unexpected blast of telepathy must have ripped through the minds of those nearby as she only registered the very basic need of the supplied by lacey.

and that was enough to shock the kitten into silence, and a pliant still figure, because she hadn't been expecting that. Because she hadn't known she could do that.

But that would be enough to alert the Shamans back in the camp anyhow "You can give it a try if you'd Like! And as for a level of difficulty, I hope it's not that simple but I don't believe it would be nigh impossible either." She replied to all the queries in an umbrella kind of way, encompassing them all in those two sentences rather than address everyone directly.

Original:

The kitten was unusually quiet, sitting in camp and looking at her paws. After Pocketkit had fallen into a coma, and re awoken, she had gone out of the camp less terrified she might find another sight like that again. But even as broken limbs and blood refused to be forgotten Idioma was much the same. More aware perhaps, but still the same.

so what was the exact reason behind the not quite hidden downward curl of her Lips? Well, because she hadn't been getting out she had joined games with some not kits throughout that period. A group of boys were happy enough to play with a girl like her, but at some point in time something changed and now they played "boys games" and she wasn't allowed to join in.

She couldn't see what was different except for a certain amount of swagger and more fighting than a more passive activity like moss ball. And she wanted to join in, tumble down in the dust and mud like they did. But, no, she was a girl and thus she couldn't play. It just wasn't allowed because these were "boys" games.

It wasn't that she didn't like being a girl -- she could be quite into what the boys called "girly" games, but not all the time.

But it wasn't the distinction that hurt the most in that moment.

It was the feeling that she should belong wherever. She couldn't explain it any other way.

Original: