Posts by BEAU.

— LYRICSLYRICSLYRICS

Using!

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Through the vast outlook of reeds and other marsh plants, a roseate hued Sphynx could be seen maneuvering through the dense vegetation. His icy visionaries seemingly sliced through the dark shades of brown and green, which could easily seize anyone's attention. Being the uninhibited, moderately ill-mannered individual that he was, it wasn't out of his nature to make a move as daunting as this. His plan was straightforward. He was going to establish his roots here, or, in less descriptive terms, get a life. As he was growing older, he discovered that the loner lifestyle was no longer suited for him. It was something he would never publicly admit to, but he had become exceedingly lonesome over the stretch of 3 years. Although mildly embarrassed of his lackluster social life, he was hopeful that all of that would change today. It was quite apparent to him at this point that he didn't thoroughly think out this process, let alone how he would introduce himself. So, he simply reclined on an elevated patch of grass in hopes of being discovered.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Beau hadn't waited more than 5 minutes, and he had already obtained the attention of two strangers. He was acutely aware of the fact that this was only due to his rather outlandish appearance, but this only crossed his mind momentarily before he addressed the older feline. "Yes, I was trespas- uh, I mean, just happened to stumble upon this..." His eyes frantically flitted about his surroundings, searching for a way out of the hole he was gradually digging himself. His gaze was lured to a cluster of mushrooms, a typical sight here in the wetlands. "...Charming family of mushrooms! This, of course, made me think of how pathetic and lonely my dismal existence has become." Damn, did he really just say that out loud? There was no redeeming himself at this point, so he assumed defeat and admitted to his intentions. "I guess what I'm trying to say, is that joining a clan such as this doesn't sound too unappealing to me at the moment." As he drew in a frigid breath of air, he was abruptly taken aback by the kit's observations. He rarely ever left his old den in the forest, so he never realized how vulnerable he was compared to other cats until now. "Thanks for the examination... comrade. I actually lost all of my fur due to a pesky infirmity. It's highly contagious from what I've observed" He remarked sarcastically, awkwardly adjusting his posture as he did so. He didn't have much experience with kits, or any cat for that matter.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Did these cats seriously believe that he was riddled with disease? Beau knew he was a bit unsightly, but not to that extent. Perhaps he needed to consider new grooming techniques. Nevertheless, he went forth with the topic, and used it to his comedic advantage. "Contagious? Oh yes, quite. Where I'm from, we call this ailment Plague of The Prune." He spoke in expressive tones to Doestar, concluding his sentence with a wink. He hoped that making his distasteful sense of humor more apparent would ease any concerns that she possibly had. "No, I probably got it from the pack of Hairless mole-rats I was raised by." He responded dryly to Silverfoot, followed by a throaty chuckle. "Forgive me, I don't believe I've officially introduced myself. Name's Beau, not that hard to remember. Just one syllable."

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

The hairless tom nodded. "Yes, that would be the reason I've graced a portion of RiverClan with my presence today." He adjusted his posture once more, allowing his threadlike tail to wreath his surprisingly dainty paws. He wasn't nearly as muscular as one would expect a male cat of his age to be, which made his loud-mouth personality all the more cringeworthy.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Needless to say, Beau wasn't particularly fond of the attention his appearance was bestowing unto him. The sound of him clearing the tightness in his throat pierced the vail of silence in a most insufferable way, triggering the pads of his feet to produce a light layer of perspiration. He hurriedly tried to read the expressions of his new acquaintances, hoping to get a grasp on what their perceptions of him were. It had become painfully obvious to him that his slightly effeminate build would be seen as a handicap to most RiverClanners, and he would need to do a great deal of convincing to prove otherwise. His stomach dropped as he momentarily contemplated Larkthroat's inquiry. He loathed the thought of admitting to his true intentions, as the whole reason he had begun his journey here was to ease the pain of his desolation. That was nothing but an embarrassment to him. Beau knew that his personality type was hard to swallow, and it was the very thing that had run off just about every individual in his life. This was his chance to change that, to finally prove his worth. "And that's just it. I'm tired of having the luxuries in life handed to me on a polished stone, especially if I'm the only one benefiting from it." He promptly tore his gaze away from Larkthroat's, returning it to the sodden earth beneath his fidgeting appendages. "Being of some use to others is a change that I've been craving for the past..." No, he wasn't about to reveal his age. Not today. "Uhh... for the past... few seasons." Not a bad save, Beau. Not bad at all.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

(sorry I'm super late!)

Beau's unmoving physique lay coiled in a wrinkled heap, hidden away in the seclusion of his earthen den. With his sizable ears swiveling about on his cranium, the faint sound of a tom hissing in guttural tones rang in his mind. This caused his dreams to become heavily distorted, leading to vivid visions of his mother rebuking him in a gravely manner. This unpleasant memory awoke him with a startled gasp, bringing him to an upright yet slumped position. Much to his dismay, he could still decipher the distant sounds of chatter, all thanks to his immense ears. The only place it could be coming from was the nearest two-leg locale, but it wasn't usual for them to give their feline prisoners free rein of the neighborhood. Naturally, this piqued Beau's interest.

Indolently, the tom hauled his limber frame into the golden arms of sunlight, which seemed to be beckoning him forward. His ice blue visionaries immediately closed shut, not fully adjusted to the brightness of day. Through squinted eyes, he scrutinized the angular two-leg dwellings in the distance, only to be met with an outrageous display. A herd of felines stampeded through an opening in one of the nests, an expression of urgency plastered onto their faces. A rather pensive looking tom appeared to be at the head of it all, judging by the apparent fascination some of the escapees had for him. He hadn't seen or spoken to a fellow wildcat since he was discarded by his mother, so he would most definitely be paying this guy a visit. The slender tom snuck around the complex as best he could, analyzing his surroundings for an appropriate time to make an advancement. He had found the perfect place to hide, a place no logical feline would suspect; a trash can. Beau made pitiful attempts at buffering his nose from the ardent stench with his bony tail, but that had very little success. Any longer in this Hell hole, and he would lose his last meal. All at once, the cacophony ceased, leaving behind an impenetrable curtain of silence. Now, was our hairless detective's chance to make his move. With little warning, he thrust himself from the tin container, colliding his head with the lid whilst doing so. In an unwieldy heap, our hero came tumbling down with the rest of the trash can's contents. "Ok, I know how this looks, pal, but I promise you there's an explanation." He grunted as a rumpled napkin descended upon his muzzle.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Needless to say, Beau found this to be a rather anticlimactic response, considering the fact that the "Creature from The Deep" was seemingly summoned from out of a trash heap. After feverishly grooming the filth from his supple skin, he managed to compose himself enough to take in the sight of the unfamiliar tom. Clearly, he surpassed him in looks, that much was obvious. Though Beau was exceedingly isolated, he had observed many rogues and passerbys from the safety of his nest. None of them came close to resembling this fellow. Another oddity was despite having hurtled his way out of a two-leg's nest, Omen shared no likeness with the kittypets his mom had always described to him. In simpler terms, this tom was different. "I'll cut to the chase, pretty boy. Name's Beau, like a bow but uglier." He collectedly stated, walking in repeated circles around Omen so as to get a better glimpse. "And I'm going to assume that your roots don't lie in that there two-leg nest. Am I far off with that observation?" Beau didn't have the most sophisticated manners, but he meant no harm. It was the only way he knew how to interact with others.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

It would appear that Beau wasn't getting much information out of this guy, and he most certainly didn't entrench himself in two-leg trash for nothing. Perhaps he needed to do a bit more prying. "Well, someone's tight-mawed." He snorted impishly, immediately discarding the traumatic experience he had just endured. He was going to get intelligence out of this exceedingly well groomed tom one way or another. "I take it you have quite the following." He noted rather dryly, gesturing his needle-like tail towards a scattered array of felines retreating into the unknown. "A hero like yourself should improve in spirits. The scowl isn't a very good look." The gangly Sphynx joked sardonically, referring to the squinting expression Omen had displayed moments ago. "Oh, that's right. I suppose it would be customary for me to inquire as to what your name is, yes?" He questioned, although he was a little more intrigued with obtaining his backstory, rather than his name.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Beau's reflective, indigo optics scintillated like polished marbles. Due to the unusual angle at which the sunlight struck his face, a somber shadow concealed the shrunken pupils that were assiduously examining Omen. His explicit, and rather strident way of addressing others painted a personality that was surprisingly more self-assured than how he actually felt. Truthfully, his deficient manners and mocking sense of humor were an attempt at making himself more at ease. A very pathetic attempt, at that. In this particular instance, however, he was using his fanciful talk to his advantage with Shadowed Omen. Much to his dismay, the proclaimed prophet was able to confirm this with passivity. Beau was certainly no intellectual, but he knew when his intelligence was being evaluated. "Shadowed Omen... I like the way it rolls off the tongue." He spoke in an undertone, revealing a subtle smile as he did so. His diminutive, trilateral face always cursed him with a fiendish appearance whenever his maw parted into a grin. "I'm quite charmed by your apparent fascination with me. The last time I was called out on one of my escapades, I was being chased around a flock of chickens by a she-cat resembling a skinned mole-rat." He recalled, shuddering at the abhorrent memory of his mother. "I congratulate you on your striking level of accuracy, divine one. You've successfully discovered that I'm about as shallow as two weasels fighting over petrified manure." He scoffed, secretly embarrassed at the veracity in his own statement. "All sarcasm aside, it sounds like you had a pretty sweet gig at the... the... watch-a-ma-call-it, tribe?" Clans were one thing, but tribes were a concept that Beau scarcely knew about. He was practically a hermit, so this was no surprise. "Transitioning from there to the two-leg nest is quite the downgrade, I must say." The extrinsic looking tom chortled, completely oblivious as to what Shadowed Omen's intentions were.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

Beau's quizzically large ears perked with interest. Quite understandably, this was by no means the first time he was questioned on his atypical appearance. Being the persnickety individual that he was, he took very little pride in the scrutiny his anomalous looks supplied him with. Sadly, this was the only oddity that made his life the slightest bit alluring. After the vivid display of Beau's less than admirable conversation techniques, it wasn't very surprising that Shadowed Omen was already trying to change the subject. Begrudgingly, Beau went along with it. "For my kind, staying clean is the least of our worries. My fortunate self has all of Leafbare to look forward to." His gaze faltered as the words fell from his maw flatly. As anyone could imagine, it was a marvel that Beau had survived three long years as a loner. He endured the frigid seasons and bleak nights by seeking heat from the vents outside of two-leg nests, but even that was a failing consuetude. He knew that because of this, he would need to eventually discontinue his independence in exchange for a more conventional clan life. "If you can imagine it, I live in an abandoned fox den, just underneath that oak tree." He gestured one of his prolonged limbs to a spindly oak, looming ominously in a remote location. "It's not the ritziest, but it keeps the rain out. The odds are stacked against me at this point, so I'll be forced to make better arrangements for the future." This was one of the reasons why Beau hoped he wouldn't become the topic of this conversation, due to his scanty living conditions.

tags | "speech"

— OUR BONES ARE TOO WEAK

The delicate, yet nimble feet of a roseate Sphynx glissaded across the pebbled banks of a river. He had a shrew in his sights, and he wasn't going to let it cut loose. There was a ravenous gleam in his cerulean visionaries, as his much anticipated meal was moments away from his grasp. Then, like a fleeting veil of fog, it had disappeared from his horizon. It was almost unheard of for the proficient hunter to lose a feast due to such an amateur mistake. After several moments of despairingly searching for his prized target, he came up empty-pawed. A very disillusioned Beau indolently fell onto his side in defeat, flanks heaving in a labored manner. His fatigued gaze adjusted to the hazy gloom, allowing him to adequately perceive his surroundings. As if matters couldn't get any more arduous, his escapade had landed him well within the boundaries of RiverClan territory. His lissome physique ached from over-exertion, so even trespassing wasn't enough to motivate him. He languidly allowed his eyelids to fall with the force of gravity, sealing his electrifying blue optics behind them. Hopefully, RiverClan would forget about his iniquity, and he could forget about his disconcerting failure.

lakefog

tags | "speech"