Shipyard HOLY MACKEREL 🦐 ✧ [ tuna can ]

[Shrimp]

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Hunger is a splendid motivator to an otherwise docile cat. It inspires invention, ingenuity, and imagination—even if the feline in question has little grasp on those notions to begin with.

By all accounts, Shrimp was a 'simple' cat. A laid-back creature of basic instincts and small aspirations. Yet, that didn't mean the orange tom was dumb. He knew how to outsmart the likes of a can. He'd seen it done before: the wiggly digits of a twoleg grasping at the metal casing, the sound of a handle rotating, a sharp, grinding noise... and voilà!

Within one of the shipyard's old abandoned clapboard shacks, where the sun's rays would just barely penetrate the glass panes and illuminate the scattered dust in the air, Shrimp was perched on a countertop. Before his paws - by the lip of the wooden edge - was a small array of stones in a multitude of shapes and sizes. All were painstakingly arranged so that each would (ideally) fall onto the cylindrical metal can on the floorboards when knocked over.

The concept was straightforward enough: tip over the rocks, the can would pop open. And, if he was lucky, there'd be minimal spillage too.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Shrimp nodded to himself and steeled his nerves. His whiskers trembled from anticipation. The prospect of an intoxicating fishy scent brought the corners of his mouth upward, the tabby's eyes shining in sheer delight at what was to follow. With a slow raise of a paw, the orange cat tapped the most jagged-looking stone, watching it fall.

It misses the mark by a wide margin, rolling toward the small building's open doorframe.

"Oh, darn you!" he spits, but he's amused more than all else. "Darn you, Mr. Stone! You had one job!" The tabby's tail is caught in a right tizzy, flicking to and fro in mock agitation. With a quick turn of his head, he fixes his attention on the remaining stones, squinting slightly. With his stomach as his counsel, Shrimp takes it upon himself to sweep the entire line of them, striking at the very base of the arrangement. "Tally-ho!"

A pronounced dent appeared in the lid after the ensuing rockslide, but it stubbornly refused to yield its prize. Darn it! And what with the clamour he's caused, the portly tom may have just invited the entire shipyard to this little bounty of his.

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[Bay]

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Unlike Shrimp, Bay is far from a simple creature—or so he likes to think, which transform that thought into undoubted truth, with nobody to tell the confines of his mind otherwise.

The metallic rattles from within the stationery abode is what piques Bay's interest. Sometimes, a curious mind can yield satisfying results. That bunch of rutting wood with the silent laps of the sea can be inviting to stray minds; the desperate and the scared tend to forego sense, and from that point on, it is easy to weave a tale or two to get them into Bay's favor.

When an abrupt sneeze disrupts the ever-settling bits of dust, Bay realizes—all too late—that it is merely Shrimp. That rotund hide of his is not easy to push into action, so even if his opinions are easily swayed, Bay has found little reason to mess with this tom. The most he offers now is a show.

"Wasting all that time and effort on some mush?" Bay all but scoffs; quite literally turning his nose up at the notion. It is a point of pride, the way he avoids meddling with those naked rats, so that they can leave him be in turn. "Better be worth it." He nearly blends in with the charcoal-tinted shadows of the ship's insides. Only the mismatched eyes offer something of himself to be looked at, should anyone bother to do so... and despite his very obvious rejection of Shrimp's ideas, Bay lies in wait, suggesting he very well might be interested in that "prize" after all.

 

[Shrimp]

"Bay?" A blink, and then a brightening. Shrimp's eyes were a pair of full moons as he regarded the other tom's presence, ears perking. No longer alone in this little shed of his, he's eager to fill the silence. "You're here! Just the cat I wanted to see."

He takes a moment to groom the fur about his chest (which'd admittedly gotten mussed when the other male had startled him). The dearth of enthusiasm across the dingy room was a bit of a damper on his mood, though, so his shoulders slumped. Just a teensy bit, not a whole lot. That's because Shrimp has all the confidence in the world that Bay's opinion on that would change in due course. Maybe, he can find himself twirling tails with a new friend for a while, too.

"You're in for a treat, mister, you just don't know it yet." He nodded to the canister just a stone's flick away from the other's shadow-dark paws. "Mush would'a been a fine thing on its own," the plump tabby goes, taking a few paces along the countertop. "Fish, however, is divine."

More than that, twolegs tend to keep mush in a material that's easier to puncture with claws. Fish is special. Harder to get at, harder to find, and absolutely worth every moment spent chasing after. "Just gotta, uh, just need to..." Shrimp trails off, the fur at his nape rising as he zeroes in on the cylindrical container, sizing up his target. "One more try." He announces. Since he's out of stones, he'd have to take matters into his own two front paws. Hopefully, he's not too heavy to do that.

"Move. I'm gonna jump."

 

[Food]

unbeknownst to the two other cats, a third stranger had been meandering through the shipyard, also looking for his next meal. a much smaller little black and white tom padded around somewhat aimlessly, and while fluffy, he was probably too thin under his coat, being a poor hunter. the four-moon-old, spying the old shack, began to trod towards it as his ears pricked in its direction, hearing the clattering from inside and the discussion being held within. slowing his pace as he approached, he pricked his ears and began to slowly pad up the old wood beams leaning on the side of the dilapidated building. he thought he heard the cats inside talking about eating something or other, but... as he tried to get a whiff of the air, all he got was the usual salty tang and smell of old wood, although he knew he had no real idea how to use his senses very well. "is there really some fish in there..?" he mumbled to himself, still creeping up the side on the old wooden boards and barrels. "maybe they'll share whatever it is they've got... but I should listen to make sure they're nice first." still waiting, he pricked his ears up to see what would happen next.

 

[SARDINE]

Behind the third comes another, a gray-splotched face only slightly older than the previous, though still scrawny — still hungry.

Sardine's mother will hardly be happy that he's wondered off from their makeshift den, but the tom wouldn't be surprised if his growling stomach was loud enough to give away his location to any of the danger he was meant to be hiding away from.

So… he's here, instead. Wherever here is. His mother should be happy, should be proud of him for being a problem solver — for trying to find something to quell the song his empty belly roars out.

It's the spying kitten he finds first, peering into a den that hardly stands out compared to the one he's been sleeping in, mumbling to himself about fish. Fish.

The word grabs his attention, tells him to draw closer toward the stranger's path for even a mere glimpse of what the younger is going on about. The stranger hesitates where Sardine doesn't, and the tom finds himself pushing further, peering into the den at the nearest opening he can find.

Two cats, wayward stones, a shiny strange-shaped one the focal point of the orange one's peculiar process. Sardine thinks he smells food, the familiar scent of a fish his mother brings back home to share with him, but… where? He doesn't see a single fish between the two cats.

" What — " the scrawny tom makes his presence known between clatters, " What are you doing? "
​

 

[Food]

The younger and smaller black and white kitten turns to face the newcomer.
"Oh, hiya! I'm just listening to these guys."
He tips his head towards the shed.
"There's two growups in there, they're talking about food, but..."
Cocking his head, he turns back towards what he was focused on and flicks his tail tip.
"I can't tell what they've actually got."
For a moment he just stared at the shed, thinking to himself. Then he seemed to remember there was someone else with him, brightening up and turning to face the other tom as he pads toward him a bit.
"Are you on your own too? I haven't seen my mama in... a while, maybe we can be lost kits together!"
He grins, exited at the prospect of having someone else after all this time.