breathe in, breathe out [FLOSTRICH, RENNIE]

[EREBUS PEITHO]

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[style=font-family:georgia; font-size: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; letter-spacing: -3px;margin-bottom: 10px; ]I CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN I DIDN'T LIVE THROUGH THIS DISGUISE. "Lazy bastard." His ear flicked at the voice, but he barely flinched an eyelid at the insult. In fact, he simply lay there as he had been for the past hour and a half - on his stomach, his head lowered, his muscles relaxed, one front leg crossed over another and his eyes closed as he snoozed in the late afternoon sunlight, relishing in the warm sun as his short-haired pelt absorbed the rays. A breeze blew across the savanna, buffeting the contours of his frame gently, playing havoc with the long-haired scruff, blowing in his ear .. His eyes snapped open, nearly blinding him with the sudden invasion of the sun's setting rays. He leapt away from the 'breeze' in his ear, letting out a snake-like hiss as he fixed reproachful golden eyes on the giggling female before him. And despite his reproach at being so rudely disturbed, he could not help but notice how striking she was in the setting sunlight. The late afternoon was his forte, as it proceeded the dark of night, and she was not the most beautiful, or the most flaunted .. but in his eyes, she was the reincarnation of Aphrodite herself. Stray lashes of pale light flitted across her laughing blue eyes, eyes that had been so shy when he had first met her, yet eyes that he had lived his life by. Those eyes were that one simple yet intricate reason that he lived as he did. Unfortunately, they also meant that he could not stay mad at her for very long. So, he sighed, and let the air of silent annoyance fade as he stepped closer to her. He did not quite give her the upper hand, though, snaking his neck out to nip with mosquito-precision at the crease of her neck, smirking to himself when she gasped and retorted in a similar indignant fashion, only to completely bely her mood by following the nip up with a sigh against his skin, before resting her chin with utmost trust against his broad shoulders. He returned the favor, his countenance relaxing in a way it never did, even when he was resting. Except when he was with her. That was what made Nyx so precious to him. Because her presence alone, her sheer trust in him and acceptance of his every side and mood means he can relax and gentle his inclinations. Still, he could sense something was wrong; she was hiding something. She had never been good at lying, but he knew she would not tell him in her own time unless he gently pressed the matter. She was not like him in that way - he did not take being pushed well at all, and would gladly do things in his own time. Not before, not after. "Tell me, N'li," he murmured, using her nickname. It always softened her up, let her know he was willing to listen to whatever she had to say. He felt her stiffen slightly, but he did not pull back. She did, anyways, stepping back to look up at him with an expression that was one part joy, one part uncertainty, and two parts trepidation. "Remember .. that day .. in this glade?" He grinned rakishly. Of course he remembered the day she was referring to, and his grin widened wickedly when she scuffed her claws in the sand and flopped her ears slightly, the movement a dead giveaway that she was embarrassed. That did not stop her scowling at him, though, which made his smirk widen. Then she took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, and he raised a nonexistant eyebrow in response. It must have been big indeed, he mused, for her to do that. And he learned just how big it is with her next words. "Well .. congratulations, Deer Boy. You have officially cemented your prowess as a male." " .. what do y- wait .." "Yes, Koishii. You're going to be a father." It was like a disease. A pathogen that floated with the air around him, in him, never content to leave him be, slowly eating away at his resolve. A chronic disease that slowly tore his heart and soul apart, and he wondered why exactly he had not lost his sense of self before now. Resilience. That was what it was. And Erebus hated it. It did not matter what would happen, how much that terminal illness known as grief and memory, broken dreams, shredded his soul .. his blessed mental strength would never let him fall, take that misstep off the high crevices of sanity. Koishii .. But he was so .. lonely. He could admit that, if only to himself. He could admit to himself that the pain was what drove him on, hardened him to small matters such as hunger and cold, both things he could have avoided if he had allowed his son to stay. He was somewhat of a bother, yes, but his insight was always amusing and even a bit wise in his youth. Still, he let it go and he left it. As if moving about would divest him of that maddening sickness of grief and loneliness. Of memories .. well, those, for a little while, he could leave behind when he moved. Especially out here. He was not some idiot young, nay, he had years of wisdom and experience, and it showed in the way lean muscle moved under his spotted pelt with calm confidence, the dark, depthless look devoid of all heated feeling as his gaze roamed the burning landscape, the way he paid no apparent heed to the hideous scarring of his right side, as if daring one to be stupid enough to mock him for it. The Savanna was a place for idiot young brutes, desperate for a female or cast from their mothers because they had made some moronic attempt to assert themselves in the territory of their father. It filled him with a certain sense of pride to know his own son had never been such an idiot, and in the quiet turmoil of his heart, he prayed the lad was, if not making something for himself, at least safe. The back of said heart whispered that while out here, he should find Ryomaru. His son's presence would alleviate his loneliness, those soft blue eyes a calming balm just as his mother's had been. But Erebus could not do that. Ryomaru was young, his life was filled with promise, and though he would gladly drop it to care for his old sire, Erebus would not allow it. Shaking his head, Erebus sighed, the cold air exhaling in mist about him as he took an incline of the land at a slow, careful stroll. He was in search of a particularly leafy tree to hide himself under, so he could settle to lick his bleeding wounds in peace. Hmph. He would be sharing too, he knew. He had not missed the scent of the female whom had made her residence in the same place, the heat burning the smell on the air. But unlike most, his maturity meant he had little wont to chase after a piece of female tail simply because she was there. That aside, he was still a gentleman, and even if he did nothing .. he would .. simply do nothing. Let her do as she pleased, so long as he got his rest. Should she find him, however, he prayed she would not find his injuries something particularly frightening alongside his scars. He had no patience through the pain for screaming. Erebus shook himself when he reached the top, crinkling his muzzle much like his son did when the snow that had made itself a home on his back puffed about at the disturbance. A flick of the ears to the sounds, and he found the female .. and stopped, for just a moment. She looked like Nyx. Damn it all. A trick of the light, dim lighting, that was all it was. Shaking his head again, his gleaming yellow eyes narrowed and calmed once more as he regarded this shadowy female, his dark ears turned backward in disgruntlement, his tail twitching spasmodically behind him, before he turned, his scarred side flashing just momentarily before he fell back (to abruptly drop himself into the dirt, scarred and bleeding side up) into the shadow of one of the larger trees near to him, ear flicking back to subtle sounds of her moving about doing whatever it was she was doing, head turned out to the plains and eyes as sombre and pensive as the landscape around him.[/style] Fallen here: there are 1435 WORDS in this post, which is especially for FLO AND REN. All muse and whatnot thanks to SOMETHING MORE.

[CALYPSO VITALIS]

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To be perfectly (and rather embarrassingly) honest, Calypso found that, while she was walking with a purposeful stride and a tilt to her ears that signaled a very palpable intent, there was absolutely no purpose to her wandering. In fact, the dark lady decided to herself that she had passed by this particular patch of grass at least twice now, finally proving to herself just how deplorable her sense of direction was. And while that would have been acceptable when she was younger, fresh-faced and just out of the litter group, it was somewhat embarrassing to be aware of the idea that many younger than her could find their way around the savanna with ease. By all means, it was easy for her to admit that she would have been entirely more comfortable at home, but her mother had insisted she leave to strike out a life of her own - and Calypso wasn't entirely sure if that was simply maternal concern or the desire to have the odd feline out of her fur. That passing thought visibly affected her, making the sooty cat take pause for a moment, her panting loud in the sweltering heat. While her coat was, perhaps, something she could be proud of in time, it lacked the lighter colors that would have proven beneficial and reflected the light away. As it was, her black fur was simply absorbing the heat and making the midday sun all the more unbearable. Whiskers twitching, the serval seriously considered just dropping to the floor and resting but ultimately came to the conclusion that it would only be adverse to her health.

Whiskers twitching, Calypso resolutely continued walking, though at a much slower pace and with a swing to her low head that suggested exhaustion. Sleek pelt glistening in the sun, she promptly decided so just follow where the path took her (granted, most likely in a circle), since there was no wind to aid her in finding any prey to satiate the hunger that was growing in her stomach. Though her movements were heavy - almost to the point of being clumsy - each paw-step was light, barely rustling the grass underfoot, the yellowed stalks brushing against her dark underbelly. Though she had been in the area for quite a while, she didn't consider the place even close to being her new home - in fact, it had only been her reluctance to leave the savanna that kept her to firmly rooted in one spot. There was absolutely no doubt in the servals' mind that if she was confronted she would not stay around for much longer. But alas, she hadn't seen another soul around with the exception of the few voles and other rodents that had served as her dinner. There solitude was different, and yet it was exceptionally... lonely. She was so used to having another living being around (and a reassuring presence at her back while she slept) that she honestly didn't know what to do with herself.

She didn't even know where to start.

Though it was her place to recognize any foreign sounds and react appropriately to them, Calypso was considerably preoccupied with lamenting her current situation and trying to distract herself from the oppressive weather that she paid no heed to the dry rustle of grass somewhere behind her. As such, she was oblivious to the scrutiny of her visitor and probably would have remained as such had he not dropped so heavily to the ground. Fortunately, she was not so removed to not hear such a sound - with a gasp of fright (and perhaps some indignation) the female whirled around, every hair on her body standing on end. Sufficiently doused and cooled down as a result of her scare, she stared until she was able to discern the others' figure from the dried stalks around him, body tense, posture alert and ears pricked in his direction. He seemed to prefer resting over any interaction, resolutely staring away from her and though it was somewhat disheartening to see, Calypso was fully prepared to move away. As friendly as she deigned to be the majority of the time, she wasn't one to ignore body language and this male seemed to scream disinterest.

As she turned, she caught the scent of blood, and it was curiosity that made her turn again. Though common sense made her pause and the urge to pay attention to his posture made her hesitate, Calypso was not about to walk away when it was so obvious that the source of the coppery scent was the newcomer. And so, with ears tilted back and body lowered as she crouched forward as non-threateningly as possible, the dark serval moved as close as she dared, straining to get her nose to the wound while still keeping her distance, her voice tiny when she spoke.

" Are you alright? "

It was, after all, curiosity that killed the cat.

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[HUXLEY VANDERBILT]

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Huxley always had places to be and to go. He was almost always late for something-- he'd be chasing that bird, or he'd be trying to find a ledge high enough to jump from but low enough so that he wouldn't kill himself. He relished the adrenaline rush but there wasn't much to enjoy about death, Huxley figured, with a rare burst of common sense. Although there was a part of him that wondered what life was like after death. Was it a paradise full of pancakes and butterflies (those, you see, were and still are Huxley's favorite things ever)? Or a hellish world populated by hippos? Huxley's muzzle contorted into a snarl despite himself at the very thought. He hated hippos. They were so fat and shiny and oh, god, their hygiene policy... or lack thereof. Just seeing them lounging there with their filthy maws presented to the public, being picked clean by a pair of servile birds, was enough to make Huxley want to vomit himself. "Disgusting beasts," he muttered under his breath, trying to ignore the tingling of the lumpen stump where his tail used to be. It always itched when he thought about hippos-- just another reason that he hated them so much. Anyway. Point is, Huxley normally had too much to do and too little time. This was one of those rare days between his obsessions: he had just gotten over his flying phase and was searching for something else to focus on. Hippo slaughtering, perhaps, he mused. Without something to base his life around, there was an empty hole in his life. Instead of spending every waking hour chasing after birds (and every unconscious hour dreaming about them), he was... aimless. Wandering. Searching for inspiration and feline interaction, because when you got right down to it, Huxley was lonely. It was, after all, a glorious day: not a bad day at all to be aimless. He had covered many miles and his paws ached, and-- worst of all-- Huxley still didn't know what the hell he was looking for. He was looking for something to look for, if that made sense, which wasn't a bad activity in the blazing midday sunlight. It was quiet on the savanna: most sensible creatures were asleep in the shade somewhere at this hour, and even birdsong was subdued. The insects were at their loudest though, chirruping a horny chorus (imagine Natasha Bedingfeld's "I Wanna Have Your Babies" sung by insects to the tune of Beethoven's 5th Symphony), and so at first Huxley, concentrating on staring at the ground and on tuning out the sex songs, didn't hear the voices. Or, well, the voice, but it was generally safe to assume that if there was one voice, there was another nearby. He slowed slightly, pricking his ears and surveying the golden grassland with inquisitive eyes. There was a dark figure a hundred feet away, easy to pick out from the various shades of mottled yellows and tans of the grassland. He couldn't see any details but the figure was clearly small, about his size, and-- he scented the air thoughtfully-- female. And it was talking to... Huxley narrowed his eyes, looking for her companion. Ah, yes, there it was. A small spotted figure reclining on a bluff, staring off pensively at the horizon. Male. Were they lovers, or...? Excitement prickled Huxley's pelt. Whoever they are, they were new people, and Huxley loved meeting new people. Setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, Huxley trotted towards them, making as much noise as possible so that they wouldn't feel threatened by his arrival or think that he was trying to attack them. He was probably close to their size, anyway, for once. He was used to being the smallest of the bunch. And he could take them in a fight, he'd wager: his hindlegs could pack a pretty mean punch. So it was with a merry kind of swagger that he approached, oozing confidence and enthusiasm. ALL THESE SIMPLE THINGS, THEY STICK LIKE TRUTH, LIKE ICE, LIKE FIRE. listening to REPTILE by citizens. yes, still >8U

[EREBUS PEITHO]

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[style=font-family:georgia; font-size: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; letter-spacing: -3px;margin-bottom: 10px; ]THE WORDS YOU SAID TO ME, THEY COULDN'T SET ME FREE. "Pa. Pa. Pa!" A single ear flicked lazily in the direction of those shrill cries, half listening and half not as the owner of said honey-sweet tones chattered on. Erebus did not look up, as he was far more content to bathe in the afternoon sun and feast his eyes on the crisp summer grass under his paws. Said grass was scratching his muzzle and filling his nostrils with mouth watering scents as he proceeded to lip the chaff-colored plants, contemplating idly whether or not to take a bite. Several moments passed in this fashion, or maybe it was one moment. Maybe it was even an entire hour; he just was not sure, considering he was looking at the ground and not up at the sky as he was more often seen doing. It was just a little quirk he knew was both endearing and drove his mate absolutely mad, because while it was one of his habits and it allowed his always spinning mind to relax, it was infuriating because once he started doing it he became incredibly absent minded and lazy. Or, rather, lazier than normal. And his N'li, as he called her, admitted to finding it ridiculously sexy when he got to acting like a big, lazy crocodile, complete with reptile-in-the-sun smirk. It was simply annoying because - Actually, she still had yet to tell him why it was so annoying. He grinned inwardly at that thought, before oofing in surprise when he felt a small weight collide with his side. It did not hurt, but it was a surprise no less, and he flicked his tail in annoyance before giving his daughter a chiding look. Eyes as dark as his own looked back at him reproachfully for a moment, but Kichiro had never been very good at playing it tough with him. She was a 'daddy's girl', after all, and unless she knew right off the mark that he was joking with her, one well-placed glare could leave her cowering in shame. It would leave her with eyes huge and filled with what suspiciously looked like tears simply because she could not even stand the mere thought of him actually being angry with her. Or hurt or disappointed in her, for that matter. Like now, she was looking up at him in that exact manner. The problem was that he as well did not like seeing her like that, even when she had upset him. It had taken him a long time to school himself into turning away from those devastated looks, because as much as he loved her and coddled her and would do anything to keep her happy and break the bastards who made her cry; he knew very well that good parenting should be two parts discipline as well as three parts love and support. And if he let her get away with something she had done wrong, then he definitely would not have a healthy relationship with her; he would not have the respect and devotion from her that he did now. And she would not be the little darling that she was so much of the time. After all, she was so very much like him. He sighed softly and shook his head, his dark ears falling backward into his scruff. He let her squirm for a moment longer before gentling his body language, figuring she had had long enough to reconsider and think about what she had done. Her reaction was immediate, and she pressed as close as was possible in the space of a heartbeat, her small muzzle nuzzling in a sort of unhappy relief into his broad chest, uncaring of the scars that made their home there. "You weren't listening to me, Papa," she said plaintively, looking at him with a mixture of stubborn reproachfulness and (as always) complete adoration. He sighed again, shaking his head so his ears flopped. No, he was not, to be honest. Not fully, anyways. But he got the basic idea of what she was saying, so he hazard a guess, putting on his most innocent expression. "You have been jumping off of that rock into the river again, and you did it without breaking your neck or letting your mother catch you?" Apparently his guess was correct, because the reproachful look faded, and she grinned at him so mischievously that he suddenly realized why exactly people are both drawn by his own similar grins and yet are simultaneously frightened by them. She nodded, headbutting him playfully before prancing about. She was an odd little mix of genes - her eyes were his, and her mannerisms were his, and even her body was his in most ways. But in color, she was mostly her mother - pale and golden-cream, save for her markings, which were his, and the deep dark black of those. Either way, she was beautiful, as far as he was concerned. And even as she grew older, he was completely dedicated to driving off, maiming and killing any male who thought himself worthy of her. Maybe there would be a male who came close to being worthy of her one day, but he had yet to find one. "Yes, I did it, like you had the other week! And nope, Mum didn't see. Mwahahaha," her cheeky yet somewhat maniacal cackle cut off short at a sweet, soft tone behind them both. "Mum didn't see what, pray tell?" They both froze entirely at the voice, one ear dropping each as they turned with equally guilty, lopsided smiles on their faces. Blue eyes were watching them both with amusement, and that dangerous warning that told them both that they were discovered, even if those blue eyes had no idea what they had done this time. But those blue eyes also told them that they better do some 'fessing up, because the Gods help you if you did not. Nyx raised a nonexistant eyebrow at him, her mate, and his firstborn offspring and daughter, though her muzzle was twitching in amusement. A tiny, dark form with wide blue eyes peeked out from between her legs, and though they were both counting their potential blessings, Erebus took a moment to lower his head and coo gently at Ryomaru. The kitten blinked at his father and cooed back, the sound squeaky and broken, causing his tiny rib cage to expand almost comically before he glanced back at his older sister and buried his head back into his mother's leg. Nyx took a moment to fuss over him gently, an infinitely precious sight that always melted Erebus' heart, before she was looking at them both again. He could feel Kichiro press closer to him, and her words were muffled against his hip, for him alone to hear. "So what's the plan?" His genius mind thought up any number of complicated escape strategies, and everything in between. But only one escaped him, and he spared his precious mate his best smug, goofy smile before whirling on his powerful haunches. "Run." Life really, really sucked. Memories never faded, not even when you forcibly tried to fade them. No, they stayed there in much the same way as grief left a dent on one's heart .. never fading, never breaking, always there to torment you to the brink of grief-maddened insanity, until you wondered what was real and what was not. Yeah, Erebus Peitho knew that better than anyone. It was his favorite part of the day though - late afternoon, when the sun was still warm, but low enough to cast the shadows he so loved to let dance over his body, caressing and concealing his dark form like a long forgotten lover of old times past. The clouds were at their most splendid; they were crisp and white with the promise of nightfall, yet they were shot with all the colors of fire and passion and everything in between by the sun as it began to set. Erebus loved the clouds. But these days, he hated them even as he loved them with single-minded intensity. Because they reminded him of what had been, what should have been, and how much life plain hurt. He could remember clear as day, as if it were yesterday and not years ago .. at this time of day, in another time, he would be lounging about one of the grassy hills, face turned up to watch the moving whisps in the sky and contemplate. No doubt, he would have Kichiro at his feet; his little daughter, his precious princess, fixedly trying to see what it was he saw, asking question after question before she finally settled, simply content with his presence. Ryomaru would venture from his mother's side to explore one thing or another, before squealing in fright and bolting back to her, or Erebus himself, and hiding when his curiosity grew a tad overwhelmed. And Nyx .. darling, precious, beautiful Nyx. His N'li, his beloved .. the love of his life. And she had left him. It was beyond pure torment, even years on. Because even years on, he still remembered every single little thing about her like only his mind could .. her voice, her smiles, the way those smiles always shifted in that way that was for him alone, that look in her eyes, eyes that he had lived his life by. The way she never asked more of him than what he could give at the time, simply content to press her face to his after a long day, and do naught but listen to his breath and his heartbeat and take in the sight and scent of him. He was fairly certain he had no heart anymore. It had been taken the day she had been taken from him, for she had owned his heart. And when she was gone, his heart was missing too. Erebus was not one for dramatics, though, and he tried to push his painful thoughts aside, instead concentrating on the terrain around him. He did not know why he was here still; he had initially passed through the area after bumping into Dotro and Sayuri, and their little one, Kaede. Kaede was the image of her mother, with the coloration of her father, and an interesting mix of her mother's temperament on a slightly more laid back level. Erebus knew that would be Dotro's influence kicking in; his old friend had always been a fairly laid back fellow. It was why they had gotten on so well. The distinct sound of soft footprints brought his ears up, though, and Erebus turned his yellow eyes with a mixture of curiosity and irritation. He paused at the sight of the female, though, blinking once, his gleaming eyes washing over her form again with a practiced, if not blind eye. As a private male such as himself, he would never understand why some individuals did that, approached another in a way that was both somewhat intriguing and distasteful to him. Still, her question did, for the briefest flicker of moments, incite what was clearly a playful smirk. Very, very brief indeed, but it was there - the slight upturning of mouth, a wicked, teasing glimmer in expression. And in those cold, fathomless eyes, even as they reflected the dryly amused countenance of the raven, was a warmth. A brief, tantalizing glow of distracting warmth not unlike watching hard chocolate be melted into liquid sweetness, or the sunrise and swirl through the eddies of dust left behind by the cold night. He doubted, however, that this female would recognize it. For it was a look that had once been common in that lazy yet shrewd gaze. It was the gaze that had once looked upon a willowy, pale female with blue eyes. An equally pale but more solid daughter. And a son. A kind, gentle son as dark as his father. Both with the same haunting dark eyes as their father. And perhaps the memory, brief as it was, would even hurt the well-meaning heart of the female if only she had known. The moment passed eventually, though, and Erebus turned eyes no longer warm but entirely back to their deathly cold darkness, back to the landscape behind the female. One ear flicked forward as if considering her words, before of all things, he pulled himself to stand and began to move forward. Past her, with naught a word or sound but his presence along and the sound of large, measured paws stepping upon the ground. As if there was no interest left at all, and yet when he finally spoke in that meltingly sensual baritone voice that always bordered completely on a rough growl, there was no hostility in his tone. Perhaps there was even a subliminal message as he measured those cold yellow eyes onto the approaching figure who strutted with obvious arrogance. A male. "I suppose it depends on what you define as 'alright', little girl."[/style] Fallen here: "there are 2159 WORDS in this post, which is especially for FLO AND REN. All muse and whatnot thanks to SOMETHING MORE. Oh, BTW, sorry it's so long and drawn out MY MUSE FOR HIM IS CRAZY RI' NAO!"

[CALYPSO VITALIS]

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There was something decidedly odd about the whole situation, and while Calypso was straining to keep her thoughts in the here and now, they continued to flash back and forward, as intangible as air. Wondering how on earth he had managed to get such a wound, she let her dark eyes skim over the dappled sweep of his pelt, taking in the gnarled scars with an air of quiet deliberation (and perhaps a little wonder). The serval had never been this close to another of her kind outside of her family, and while the thought was intimidating the experience was also decidedly humbling. While she was not known for being outspoken, Calypso was not a bystander and did not sit and watch as life passed her by. Even so, taking the initiative for a situation like this was still odd and the skin under her dark pelt prickled with embarrassment and discomfort as she realized that her attentions may not be entirely wanted. This male had, after all, seemed to disregard her presence without any desire for aid, despite the wound. If anything, he seemed to be focused on his thoughts and intruding on them had been the last thing the feline wanted to do - her concern had made her reckless. Stifling the urge to sneeze as the coppery scent was quick to overwhelm all others, she slowly withdrew, chewing the inside of her cheek to force herself not to talk.

No doubt she'd make a fool of herself.

Even so, Calypso did not fully retreat, some obscure part of her mind hoping that this newcomer was not antisocial enough to deny her (even silent) company. It was reassuring on an instinctual level to be with another of her kind after having been cast away from where she considered home so suddenly. The serval glanced at him quickly and back once again, completely missing the sudden metamorphosis of his expression in favor of avoiding the frigid depths that they had been upon her own scrutiny but moments before. With a studious attention one would expect from a scholar she took in the dappled rosettes and splotches on his deceivingly dark fur, even going so far as to turn her eyes and her head away from him altogether as the silence stretched on. Either he hadn't heard her query or he surmised that it was simply too unimportant to deign with an answer. Either way, Calypso was far from repeating herself, fearing she would appear like a pesky annoyance. Her dark pelt rustled as she shifted, folding her legs comfortably (albeit hesitantly) underneath her upon coming to the decision that the company could be enjoyable, despite being silent and cold and actually quite intimidating. Right?

All too suddenly she found her ears pinned back to her skull as the other moved suddenly, obviously finding her companionship just as irritating as she'd expected. His scent, though unfamiliar, left her a bit breathless, though that could easily have been attributed to the way she'd held her breath upon making herself comfortable. Calypso was quick to stand up in response, resigned to the fact that she'd probably been an unwelcome intrusion to his peace yet still determined to leave him on a positive note. That decided, the feline opened her mouth to speak, whiskers twitching, before he took her by surprise and answered her previous question. For a moment, she floundered, not knowing how to take his statement.

'Alright', as in, not having any blood or substantial physical wounds on your person--

I'm far from being little--

Do you make a living out of being deliberately confusing--

Patronizing--

Overwhelmed, the dark serval eventually settled for a meek and yet rather indignant,

" If I'm little, then you're old. " Ignorant to the fact that her response could have been taken the wrong way, she gestured to the wound on his side almost vaguely, " Maybe you're not aware, but you have blood. Right there. That's not alright." To be honest, she thought it was idiotic to exacerbate a wound for the sake of remaining alone. Though she was in the process of opening her mouth to tell him as such, Calypso eventually become aware of the soft paw steps a little ways away, snapping her jaws closed in the process, and consequently of the hitch in the intimidation factor from the other serval. Swiveling her head around, ears pricked forward, she let her lustrous pools eyes settle on the feline who was quickly approaching, aware that things could get messy. And yet the only thought on her mind was the fact that, with an added person, the awkwardness of the situation might abate. Softly, she stepped forward, tail flicking lightly as she blurted out a soft chirp. She didn't speak, yet her body language was as welcoming and friendly as it ever got.

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[HUXLEY VANDERBILT]

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As he neared the two servals, Huxley concentrated on the conversation. He could hear shreds of it, carried through the stagnant air that parted reluctantly around those terse words like a river around a rock. Those absurdly large caracal ears of his finally came in useful for something-- eavesdropping!-- but even as pricked as they were, he could only catch snippets of it. Both cats were talking quietly. Definitely lovers, Huxley mused to himself. That was so cute though. What would they be talking about? Huxley tried to summon a hypothetical conversation to mind. "Honey, I... there's something I need to tell you," he imagined that skinny black chick saying. Squinting into the wavering midday sun, he could almost see her lips moving in sync to his words. Encouraged, he imagined the male smiling tenderly and looking at her with eyes full of compassion and warmth. "What is it, honeysugarpieloveyfacesweetheartbabycakes?" the spotty little fellow would reply, and his face would light up with pride just looking at her. D'aww. So much love. "I..." The lady would scuff her paw on the ground, look embarrassed, maybe gnaw on her lip a little. Then she would glance up coyly from underneath her lashes (did cats have eyelashes? Come to think of it, Huxley wasn't certain. He pawed at his own eyes inquisitively but he couldn't feel anything. Huh. He'd have to look into that later) and she'd say in that meek little voice of hers, "Pumpkin pie, oh love of my life, I'm... you're going to be a daddy soon." Huxley's stomach felt all lovely and warm. The image... it was so cute. He just wanted to lay down and smile at the sky. Anyway, so the new father's face would be all like O_O (lolwhut, me, a daddy?) and then like C< (mm I remember dat night... I couldn't walk straight for days) and then like 8DDD (I JUST LOVE BABY KITTIES HOMG) and then like c: (I'm gonna be a daddy, guise!). And he would lovingly lick her forehead and say something like, "I honestly couldn't be happier right now," and then they'd have hot post-pregnancy sex and-- Oh god. Huxley blinked. What if they started, like, mounting each other as he was approaching? What should he do? Just yowl a GET IT INNN and walk on? Or give them a wide berth? Or... Huxley's steps slowed with uncertainty. He didn't want to thirdwheel or anything. But maybe he should give them a congratulations of some sort, considering that they had some kittens on the way. Huxley loved kittens. They were like tiny little bundles of joy and fluff and you could bat them around and they wouldn't bite you. They might pee on you, but Huxley didn't really have a problem with pee. "I've always wanted to be a godfather," he mumbled under his breath, making up his mind. It was practically his duty to pay his respects to the happy couple. He didn't have a gift though. Huxley cast his mind around desperately for an idea and then his gaze landed on a sizeable rock before him, glimmering seductively in the golden puffs of sunlight issuing from between the clouds. Huxley knew instantly that it would be perfect. They'll love it, Huxley crowed internally, gingerly closing his jaws around it and lifting it from the ground. It was heavy and warm from the sun and it scraped unpleasantly against Huxley's incisors. Still, it'd be worth it to see the unalloyed delight on the happy couple's faces. Hey guys, Huxley tried to mew as he neared to a few yards from them. Unfortunately, the roof of his mouth was dry from the rock and his nostrils were clogged with soil, so it ended up as a muffled but friendly "heffngh hishrig," combined with an overly zealous smile. Zeal was Huxley's speciality, after all. ALL THESE SIMPLE THINGS, THEY STICK LIKE TRUTH, LIKE ICE, LIKE FIRE. listening to FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE by bright eyes. if you watch the music video, you'll see where this post came from. i just have so many feeeelings D8

[EREBUS PEITHO]

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[style=font-family:georgia; font-size: 20px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #000000; letter-spacing: -3px;margin-bottom: 10px; ]I'M STUCK HERE IN THIS LIFE I DIDN'T ASK FOR. She was, undoubtably, nervous. His slanted yellow eyes missed absolutely nothing. He was as perceptive as the vulture who scavenged his meals, and he was as wily as stereotypes proclaimed his species to be. His mind was, perhaps, partially insane, but it was the mind of a genius no less. It only seemed a bit insane, and only because he lacked the ability to properly deflect stimulus in his environment. And he did not know why he could not; he just knew that unlike any others, who could block out things in their environment except for what they wanted to experience, he was incapable of doing so. It was as though his very mind lacked the trapdoors needed to do so, and thus, he saw everything. Heard everything. Smelled everything. Felt everything. Even the smallest of details, he could sense. It had served him well when he had been a lover, for he had felt every movement of his beloved, every sigh, every touch, every minute detail. Every single one: he could absorb like a sponge and store in his memory until he the day he remembered nothing more. Perhaps that was why he struggled so deeply, why he was so incapable of forgetting, why he was haunted by his precious Nyx. But now, it could very well serve him again. His mind was crowded with everything around him, including the senses of this female behind him. His eyes had seen the mixture of her feelings in her own, the twitch of skin under her black hair, the flicker of ears and the toss of tail. His intent gaze had registered the minute details of her curves and definition being lost by the dark contour of her coat over skeleton, the individual strands catching the late afternoon sunlight, settling one by one, then two by two and four by four over the ridges of her body until it settled completely, turning nearly blue in the orange sunlight. If he had been a more demonstrative or easy going male, Erebus Peitho may have been endlessly amused by the way the beautiful (yes, he could admit she was quite beautiful) female sort of struggled after he moved and spoke, and he wondered just what she was apparently conjuring up in her mind. In a way though, he was amused, but it was kept ruthlessly quelled, buried far beneath a tainted, broken heart and a cold, sardonic mind. He did not move from his statuesque position, still watching the wandering male as he seemed to find his goal (a rock, a bone?) and keep along moving, no longer heading in their direction. His ears were not quite lain back, but not quite forward, and those gorgeous, fathomless eyes that had once sparkled with the melted topaz borne of love and life, and perhaps would again one day, though the chances were very slim. The reason for their melted hues no longer existed, after all. Even as his pose remained as still and fathomless as it was, his gaze flickered briefly like the shutters of a window with sadness at the thought. His head lowered slightly, brilliant sunshine streaking across his scarred, deformed cheekbone, his expression falling with a kind of fragile, yet masculine elegance. It was the slightest of poses, difficult to pick out lest you had the eyes of an eagle, or the familiarity of a friend, companion or lover, but it's slightness and silence, the lack of outward grief, screamed of pure fury and rage and heartache, simply made it all the more poignant and heartfelt for even the coldest of souls. Erebus certainly felt it. And then his breath exhaled in a silent huff, as if he had thought of something to say and then discarded it. He was briefly startled by her forwardness in his age, but before he could respond, she continued talking. He purred quietly, almost as if musing to himself that way of sharp minds and the borderline insanity of the genius IQ, his ears flickering back at the rustle of wings in the branches of his tree. He might have smiled wryly, he was not quite sure. No, he was not the biggest, nor the most muscled, the tallest, but he was cunning, and his presence alone unnerved many, simply because it offered both danger and solace in its way, tormenting the viewer with one or the other. He could do just that in this moment, with this female in particular. And yet .. while he had lost much and changed a great deal, the male named for the despair and the fleeting shadows that danced across his own skin was still, underneath, the gentleman that Nyx had fallen for, and borne the foals of before everything had gone to darkness and ill fortune and sick, twisted fate. Thus, while she seemed alright, his better nature appealed that he make a closer inspection of this female, just in case. He doubted she was really hurt in any way, not physically at least; she was walking well enough. Perhaps resting, but she seemed far too tense for that. Huffing quietly to himself in a manner that could mean anything along the lines of annoyed, amused in some form, suffering or lazy, he slowly turned himself about and went directly past the female again, sure that the male would leave them be and would be not a threat to the female any longer. His large paws brought up gentle puffs of dust from the ground beneath him, his muscled, wiry form rippling under his patterned pelt as he moved. Those same tormenting golden eyes, fathomless yet with a hint of caramel warmth beneath the terrible emptiness, appraised the female, the scarring along his side invisible to the female's eyes while he walked about her. And when he finally came to a stop in the shade of his tree (again dropping himself onto his uninjured side), those dark eyes narrowed slightly, as if such kindness despite the blackness was an ailment to a male that had once been, if reserved, a whole, loving soul. "Old indeed, little girl. But still capable of caring for myself. Or would you rather lick my wounds yourself?" The voice of the male was surprisingly rich and low, dark and warm, almost sultry again. Like honey chocolate, or black licorice. Like whisky, magnetic and addicting without trying even as he lifted his head, one nonexistant eyebrow raised slightly over his gleaming eyes, clearly waiting for an answer to his intentionally suggestive proposition.[/style] Fallen here: there are 1435 WORDS in this post, which is especially for FLO AND REN. All muse and whatnot thanks to SOMETHING MORE.