Border Loner/Rogue beneath the brine ✦ loner at border

[SILVERSILVER's icon]

x

The fleeting ( and terribly loud ) burts of color in the dark sky do little to affect the silver-colored tom stride. Frankly, it's a miracle he hasn't fallen asleep while standing, exhausted as he is. And as the night progresses, his paws grow number and number. . . can they even feel them anymore? Eh, if they stop to really think about it then they risk falling over, so best to keep it out of mind.

Glancing at their surroundings, Silver finds that they look relatively safe to rest in. It may be cold, but not so much he will freeze overnight. . . maybe. Hopefully? Surely not. Even if just for a bit, the tabby needs some rest, they've been walking for hours without doing so. Was the barn nearby? The lights in the sky did little to help in that regard. . . they lasted for seconds at most, and then the world plunged into darkness for several heartbeats before more popped. Humans were odd things. . . though he had to admit it was rather beautiful. Life was just as fleeting as the fireworks.

The tom rests his head on his paws as they lie down, fighting sleep to look up at the human-made show in the heavens. Silver yawns, keeping only a single eye open — though that likely won't last much longer.

OOC technically, he's inside the territory but he's not hostile!

SILVER

LONER
they / he, masc terms
06 moons old, ages on the 1st.
npc x npc
"SPEECH" // THOUGHTS // INTERACTION

penned by nocthymia

 

[DUSKHOUND]

Duskhound stops a short distance away, not close enough to be mistaken for company, not far enough to pretend ignorance. It stands with its weight settled evenly, posture loose in the way of a cat that has learned how to rest without ever quite relaxing. The fireworks crack overhead—violent bursts of light that turn the fields silver-white for a heartbeat, then drop them back into cold, honest dark. Duskhound doesn't flinch. Loud things rarely impress it. Sudden ones barely register anymore.

It watches the other cat lie down. Silver looks worn thin, the way travelers do when they've pushed past the point of sense and are now running on stubbornness alone. Duskhound recognizes that state intimately. It has lived in it for most of its life. There's a faint curl of amusement in the set of its mouth—recognition rather than cruelty. Duskhound lowers itself onto its haunches, tail wrapped loosely around its paws. The ground is cold enough to bite through fur, but it doesn't bother shifting. Another explosion of color tears open the sky. Duskhound tilts its head, eyes reflecting the fractured light without warmth. The humans, celebrating something again. They always are. They burn noise and color into the air like offerings to nothing. It doesn't understand it, and it doubts it ever will.

"You'll lose heat like that," it says at last, voice low and even, carrying just enough to reach without startling. It's given as a statement of fact as opposed to a warning. Its gaze flicks briefly to the surrounding dark, cataloging shapes, distances, the way the wind moves. Safe enough—for now. Safe is always conditional. Duskhound assumes Silver knows that too, even if exhaustion has dulled the edge of his caution. "Is there a reason you're here in particular? Or did you just get tired of walking and decide this was as nice a place as any?"