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Post by HUXLEY VANDERBILT on Jun 7, 2012 17:58:02 GMT -5
Night literally falls in Kenya, like a curtain of sticky dark warmth. One moment, the sun is high in the sky and you can feel its warmth on your face; and then suddenly you blink and bam, it's pitch black and you're not even sure if you've opened your eyes.
Unless you're a cat, that is. Huxley's somber eyes glittered a cold amber in the haze, twin points of expressionless gold. He relied more heavily, however, on his ears-- giant radars, constantly moving to taste the velvet darkness-- and his nose, which was leading him in the direction of carrion.
He paused as a wall of aroma hit him like a welcome punch in the face: the sweet perfume of fresh zebra, almost totally obscured behind the overpowering stench of rotting meat and the stale presences of other creatures: hyenas, Huxley could scent, and lions and wild dogs and vultures. All old, though.
His stomach growled a reminder and, for once, Huxley was its slave: suddenly aware of the aching hunger in the pit of his belly, he lunged forward to bury his muzzle in the tender flesh of the zebra's haunch. Its white stripes glowed in the bleak wash of moonlight, draped sickly in tatters in the bloody grass. The eyes were gone, as well as most of the large organs, so the skeleton was a ghasty slight indeed; Huxley felt the intestine slip and slide beneath his paws as he tore off huge chunks of stringy muscle with ravenous abandon.
He would normally be more cautious to avoid larger predators, but his pricked ears kept him alert and on his toes. All he could hear, though, was the frenzied ripping and sucking sounds of his own gnawing.
[/blockquote] He's a growing boy <3 [/blockquote] |
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Post by KIVULI MCHEZAJI on Jun 8, 2012 17:27:13 GMT -5
In the darkness, he was only as solid as a shadow, dancing on the edges of everything. Invisible. Gone in a second, or less. Curling on the edge of an acacia tree, running headlong into waves of grass. And oh, he was invisible. He was only as substantial as a shadow, or at least, that's what he felt like. He had been observing the zebra carcass for some time, moving almost constantly to scan the nearby brush for predators. He was not normally a scavenger, if only due to the fact that he was never able to compete with the hyenas, lions, jackals, and vultures. For the most part, Kivuli Mchezaji caught his own food. Nevertheless, hunger was cramping his stomach, intense enough that it was painful, and he was feeling indolent. The combination, laziness and hunger, were the makings of a scavenger.
But he wasn't stupid. There was always someone larger, wanting a piece of flesh--someone larger, who would willingly snap his jaws at the caracal. Kivu was still observing the carcass, debating on the safety of venturing from his hiding place in the long grass, where he crouched. His tail flicked, his ears twitched--just as he was about to creep forward, another shape darted through the open and practically attacked the remaining haunch of the zebra. Kivu flinched backwards, feeling very irritated. And then he realized that it was no lion, no cheetah, no leopard, no hyena. No. It was one of his own kind. He paused, cocking his head to the side curiously.
I might as well say hello, eh? he thought, but confrontation was more on his mind. He had been watching the zebra, waiting for a safe moment to eat! And here this stranger is, recklessly barging in on his carrion! Kivuli sent one more cautious look around him, and then to the sky, before he stood and swaggered out of the grass, a shadow made real. He didn't seem particularly upset, but his tail was lashing behind him and his eyes were like embers set into his skull.
"Clever, aren't you?" Kivuli Mchezaji drawled, his voice dripping with insolence. "Running out into the open like that. Lucky there aren't any lions here, or hyenas. They could have been sleeping a little ways off in the brush, and you would have never known. Then, snap, there goes that pretty little head of yours." Obviously, there isn't much in it. He arched his brows sardonically and strolled closer. He wasn't afraid of this stranger. If anything, he was feeling cocky. Kivu sat graciously on his haunches a few feet away, moving like water--smooth and effortlessly. He flashed his teeth in something that resembled a smirk. "The's name's Kivuli Mchezaji."
He didn't want conversation. He wanted food. And perhaps a little confrontation. After all, confrontation made everything more interesting.
ooc - - - sorry this is so rambly D: i kind of had a burst of muse. dunno from where xD
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Post by HUXLEY VANDERBILT on Jun 9, 2012 11:47:07 GMT -5
Huxley's incisors tore greedily at the cold meat, pearly white and crimson in the flickering moonlight. He hadn't eaten for days, and he could have sworn that nothing had ever tasted so good. Maggots writhed like serpents in the sea of rancid flesh.
He wouldn't normally lower himself to eating carrion this old; it must have been steaming out here for nearly a day and it was impossible to know what diseases or parasites could be nestled between the tendons. Still, the reason Huxley hadn't eaten was sheer absent-mindedness. He forgot to eat most of the time, and then suddenly he would be hit by a concrete wall of starvation. Not the best way to live one's life, yes, but it worked for him.
He was so invested in his midnight feast that it took him a few seconds to register rustling in the tall grass behind him. He froze in mid-chew, his jaws hanging open with a precious mouthful of half-masticated muscle between them. Every golden hair stood on end. He resisted the urge to turn around but instead stayed crouching, his dark eyes wide open and staring sightlessly straight ahead at the zebra hide.
Internally, Huxley cursed his own cavalier attitude. This was it. Killed by an angry lion. He would never be able to fly again or to feel the silky rush of air and adrenaline coursing around and through his body.
A long silence wound its way between the two felines: Huxley's opponent had clearly come to a standstill. The only sound was of Huxley's teeth clicking together as he clenched his jaws instinctively, unsheathing his claws silently into the warm mud. He counted down the seconds. At ten, I'll turn around and attack, he promised himself, hardly daring to breathe. What if he hadn't been noticed yet? By waiting like this, he was losing his element of surprise. But...
One, two, three, four, he counted in his head, mentally mapping out his moves. He'd twist around, leap and bite. It wouldn't be hard. He'd done it before.
Five, six, seven, eight, he continued. Too bad he didn't know how big this beast was. What if it was just a bird? Then he'd feel like the fool he was.
Ni-- "Clever, aren't you? Running into the open like that. Lucky there aren't any lions here, or hyenas. They could have been sleeping a little ways off in the brush, and you would have never known. Then, snap, there goes that pretty little head of yours. The name's Kivuli Mchezaji." It was a higher voice than Huxley was expecting: a drawling tenor instead of the bass rumble that he was prepared for. Definitely male and definitely a dickhead, but not large, by the sounds of things.
Huxley relaxed slightly, lowering his head but keeping his claws unsheathed and his hackles raised. Nonchalantly he turned as he spoke, appraising the figure behind him: a dark caracal with huge yellow eyes narrowed to hostile slits. He was... there was something about this newcomer, Huxley decided, as if he was trying too hard not to try. The way he sauntered over just oozed scumbag, too, Huxley mused.
"Ooh, I'm so scared," he responded, flashing a dry smile. His voice, however, had an edge to it. "Kivuli, huh?" Huxley made a point of not giving his name in exchange. This Kivuli fellow didn't deserve his respect. "That's a grand name. Want some zebra?" His smile gaped even wider, changing from merely sarcastic to outright mocking. Huxley wasn't going to back down to some cocky stranger who thought he was a badass.
[/justify] |
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