Private Shipyard GLORIOUS THORN [ downy ]

[willowburn]

(☾) in the aftermath of the storm, willow strikes out on her own. sun warms the ice strewn docks of the shipyard, a thankful respite from stormy winds and dark skies. with hungering mouths crying like baby birds in the hovel that willow's family find themselves in, the smoke tabby takes the first opportunity to escape to the hunt. prowling down a boardwalk, claws hooked into the wood with every step to keep from slipping, the slender feline twists their neck one way to the other. bright eyes catch on every wave from the sea, every wind's movement in the grasses, fueled only by the mournful memory of her hungry niblings, still damp from the horror show of a night ago.

turning a corner, willow spots movement and whips their head toward it. disappointment and curiosity hit them in equal measure as they find the fluffy form of a fellow hunter, crouched on the rocks along the shore. slinking slowly forward, willow watches as downy's paw dips tentatively into the water, not nearly quick enough to catch even the slowest salmon. a breath of amusement escapes the scarred feline's nose, and they approach.

"having trouble there?" from the boardwalk, the molly strikes an impressive pose, tail kinked over her back as she gazes down with cool green eyes. leaping down to the rocks below, willow tips her head, whiskers twitching. "cold paws?"

WITH THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // @downy for u " #979c88"
• 
• WILLOW ☾ SHE / THEY, SHIP-YARD CAT. 28 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a lithe black smoke feline with ghost striping and leaf green eyes. long smoky fur dashed through with grey and white adorns her frame, sliced across by darker stripes that frame her face and legs. eyes like sage, brilliantly green, gaze with an intelligent look. she is scarred across the bridge of her angular nose.

 

[downy]

She's been watching the same fish for what feels like hours now. The same glimmer and shadow as it whirls and swirls in the water, taunting her... Her paw arched towards it once, twice, and to no avail. It is the third time that Willow sees, her limb slipping beneath the chilled waves and watching as the scaled prey simply swims out of her grasp yet again. Downy feels like everything only gets worse and worse, and there is no manner of reprieve. The laugh adds to it, if someone could call it that.

"Huh - What - ?" Downy sits upright, a wet limb held out and away from her body. She looks at Willow, first surprised, then embarrassed, and as she looks down again, incredulous. Of course it'd be her who finds her in this predicament, haunting the same fish that haunts her. She'll remember the way it swims even in her darkest nightmares. The molly grits her teeth and shakes out her paw, "I don't get how you do this," she admits. "They always just - move. I've had better luck hunting down birds..." which is still a grand 'ole zero, but she was able to skim a few feathers from one once.

"Storm tried teaching me but I still can't..." she trails off once more, ears folding to her skull.