The Colony house of the rising son ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ OPEN

[Hawthorne]

Every day was more tiring than the last, he wondered briefly what the point of fighting the inevitable was but then he saw his fellow colony cats skinny, rib cages showing like iron bars rung alongside their slim figures and he grit his teeth and forced the defeatism down; wallowing in self-pity never served anyone more than grief. Grief. Great cats of legend, he was more tired of that than the starvation, the ache in a belly could be fulfilled even for a moment but the one in the chest settled like an unruly beast, claws dug in and clinging fast - unwilling to be dislodged. Every cat here had their taste of it, bitter and sharp like swallowing holly leaves, so he felt somewhat selfish for even dwelling on his own; its not like he hadn't had time. His father had always been there, they'd enjoyed moons of togetherness, he had a parent who had loved him unconditionally and for that he ought to be grateful. Be grateful like so many orphaned kits that Fray had not be snatched from him before his time. Grateful he'd gotten to bond with the older tom, to grow beneath his sheltered wing. Fray had lived a long life, his suffering now a mix of weary bones aging and failing to uphold his weight and the hollowness of hunger forming a deep pit in his stomach. Though Hawthorne tried to ensure his father fed, the old tom could barely chew, could barely keep it down, so weak now his battered head remained tucked between too long claws and cracked pads.

From the hollow beneath the ancient tree the tabby tom slid out with the untouched mouse between his clenched teeth, blood still freshly seeping; prey his father hadn't wanted and so his mismatched eyes wandered to find another to bestow with it, not feeling the urge to eat himself despite his own hunger pains - the nausea was too overwhelming, his anxiety gnawed at him; a great dog picking clean the bone. Spotting a cat nearby he approached with his head up, morose expression falling aside as he trotted forward on long slender legs to cheerfully whip the mouse by its tail out in a wave.
"Hungry?" He asked, tone lighthearted. Normally he would have prioritized his mate but her brother had tended to her already and so he hadn't needed to worry - sometimes it was nice having Water Snake around, other times he could never really read the guy.

 

[Hum]

Hunger was a dreadful thing, and Hum knew that it would only grow worse as the days passed, darkening earlier and the winds shifting to a more bitter coldness. The scant prey that called the area home would be diving into their nests for the upcoming Leafbare, and then the colony would have that much less to eat - he wondered if they would have to turn to eating berries, what ones wouldn't kill them, like some sort of overgrown mice. As if in response to her thoughts, Hum's stomach let out a low, pitched whine, and Hum grimaced at the sound. Embarrassing as it was pathetic, in his eyes. He knew that there were others who were far more deserving, more in need of prey than she was; the young, the old, the injured - even if they'd all be equal in death, they needed to have care in life for one another.

Fur fluffed out against the biting breeze, Hum saw Hawthorne coming from a fox-length away, and still found it strange that the tom had chosen to approach her of all people. There were others in the colony that he was better acquainted with, that he was family with, and instead of going and offering precious prey to them, he'd come to her. It was amusing, in a way, and Hum looked up from where he was laying as Hawthorne presented the mouse.

"Aren't we all?" Hum retorted with a low chuckle, adjusting himself so that he was sitting far more properly to receive a visitor. "Where'd you find that morsel?" She went on, eyeing the mouse - because she was hungry, even if he'd never admit to it. He briefly wondered if Hawthorne had crawled into every little nook and cranny that he could find to get that mouse, like some sort of rabbit burrowing into the earth to find shelter. A train of thought, that - rabbits always seemed so abundant in the easier seasons. Perhaps they had some insider knowledge about the world that existed beneath the ground everyone else stood on.

despiertan hermanos! ᓚ₍ ^. ̫ .^₎ que la mensajera ha llegado.

• OOC .ᐟ
• HUM .ᐟ HE/SHE, SHADOWCLAN
  .ᐟ peaceful + healing powerplay permitted.
  .ᐟ penned by Archivist - .archivist Discord.

​

 

[Straw]

Straw strides over with a spring in his pawstep, one unbefitting of the encroaching Leaf-bare. It's a fatal error on Hum's end to not call dibs on that mouse. A misstep. A real blunder. In doing so, she casts this allegorical ray of heavenly light upon the opening he has left, and the downy-pelted tom doesn't even think twice to seize his chance. "Oooh~!" he emits, initially staking his claim with an urgent vocalisation. "I'll take it then, Hawthorne, please-'n-thanks!"

The leader's son walks on a path laden with thorns, no doubt. At every corner or lapse in his step awaits a thousand bitter eyes and ears ready to prick him from a distance. But Straw sees his character. He sees that Hawthorne's heart is in the right place, and is able to trust that he's a cat of good intent. Thus, Straw treats him like any other, with a smile and a chirp and a tip of his noggin.

"♫A mouse from your paw's worth two in my jaws, and Hum can have the scraps that I don't waaaaant-♫" The melody is short and improvised, and sung as Straw rounds about the two and nuzzles himself between them, his purr rumbling away. Affection flows from within him without end, no matter how dire things may become. A single ray of sunshine amidst a forest full of rainclouds.

Or snowclouds, rather.

(penned by willie)

 

[juniper]

The melodious chirrup of Straw's playful 'theft' is enough to steal away her attention from the lazy efforts she calls grooming. A paw pauses, hung halfway through its action while mossy pools shift towards the source... Hawthorne has stumbled into a new conversation, producing a mouse as a humble offering to his hungry allies. Hopefully Hum does not take offense to such teasing song... The chocolate dappled feline stands, shambling towards the tiny group with the nagging idea that their huddled figures might help to keep her paws from freezing with each harsh breeze.

"You'll be lucky to get a bite in," they grumble, though their kicked-gravel tones hint at joking. Straw was likely not so selfish as the let his friends starve... and any ancestor with eyes knew that Straw considered anyone a friend if they looked at him nicely enough. Her vision shifts towards their wayward prince, searching his face through half-lidded lashes as his muscles shifted with a half-hidden tension. Fray still isn't feeling well... And who could still feel well at an age so senior as his? If the rest of them were lucky, they too would get the opportunity to shape generations before finding their final breaths.

"I'll have to go hunting later... see if I can't find something big enough to share with others..." A bit of wishful thinking but... They kind of needed a bit of hope right now.​

​

 

[GENTLE]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — This leaf-fall was proving to be unkind not only is it cold but the lack of prey begins to cause the ribs of his fellow colony cats became visible especially those with shorter coats. Not to mention, the illness that had struck their senior leader who rests within the hollow in an ancient tree and its enough to make the silvery tom's eyebrows furrow with concern. His whiskers twitch noticing Hawthorne slipping out from the tree itself before making a beeline towards one of the other cats that live amongst them, the son's leader didn't search for his mate instead offering a mouse to Hum who didn't seem to eagerly accept it instead she tries entertaining conversation. It isn't long until someone else approaches and their obvious want for the small morsel, the large tom continues to rest where he is listening to the conversation nearby and can't help the way that his mouth twitches in amusement at the scene unfolding before him. Straw's certainly a pleasant presence to be around despite how gloomy the days are as of late, Juniper joins the group next mentioning how the golden toned tom would be lucky enough to get a bite in.

Juniper talks about hunting later to see if they could find anything big enough to share with everyone and his earthy eyes turn in the direction of the chocolate tabby, both of his ears angle forward only to slip his snowy dipped paws from underneath himself. "I could help you," He pauses as he offers those there a kind yet tired smile and his body shifts in the slightest so he pushes himself onto his paws so that he's sitting on his haunches, "I'm sure the extra paws would be plenty helpful." Or so, that's what he hopes considering that he isn't the best hunter due to his sheer size and how his pale coat doesn't blend in with the warmer tones of the forest. It wouldn't stop him from tracking any potential prey so that their groupmates could, at least, sleep with something in their bellies no matter how scrawny or small that it'd be. Perhaps, they'd be blessed with the catch of a plump rabbit or squirrel that would feed a few of them if they shared it amongst themselves.

I KNOW IM MADE OF CLAY THATS WORN 𓆩✦𓆪 BLINDED BY THE IMPERFECT FORM

• ooc —

• 

  WARRIOR SKILLS;
  
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧
  HUNTING
  
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧
  TRACKING
  
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧
  COMBAT
  
  — ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
  STEALTH
  
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧
  STRATEGY
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and brown eyes
  ✦ gentlestorm is a very warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he's very social and willing to lend anyone a paw if they need it. he's very patient, caring, and it's usually rare to earn his ire.
  ✦ 28 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ demiromantic bisexual ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset ; peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[SABLE]

Failure had crossed between the tuxedo and his prey far too many times today for his mood to preserve anything as jolly as his fellow colonists. The grand standing oak and its shrubbery were too dense for his comfort, the litter dusted by leaf-fall crackling underpaw just a hair too soon before he could pounce. There are other's he knows that find their fortune far easier than him, however he sees Hawthorne's success as anything but.

A mouse with hardly any teeth-marks to shed more preyblood than it's proper hunter did. Fray has gone another day without eating, as do so many others.

Their thirst for survival clings like tatters against the autumn wind. It is shaky, and only as strong as it's tailor who slowly succumbs to his own fragility in old age. Ignorant to the goings-on's beyond his own son's face.

"I wouldn't bother with that strip where you can see the river. Must've scared every mouse and vole into their dens..." Sable's scowl said as much, his pelt flecked in cold mud and the stray torn leaf from his efforts. Fruitless, in the end, he hated how exposed these forests left him.

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• "mew"
• 

  SABLE— he/him ･sixty-two moons ･colonist ; no clan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[Hum]

If Hum'd dreamed of having the mouse that had been presented to him, he was sorely slow in claiming it, for Straw appeared at his side and claimed it as his own. It was no matter; the other colony cats seemed to be looking to organize a hunting patrol, and Hum figured he might as well tag along. It would certainly beat having to cozy up next to Straw, his affection threatening to overwhelm Hum. There were upsides and downsides to living amongst so many others, he supposed.

"Count me in. We can head opposite the river, in that case." He nodded in greeting as Sable joined the conversation, letting those gathered that the stretch near the river would be pointless to lead their hunt to. They might not find anything, and exert their strength on hunting trails, but if they did bring home anything it would have been worth it. He eyed Sable in his peripheral, assessing the older tom down to the detail. Sable had been one to step up and challenge Hawthorne over leadership, and his tactics had caught Hum's attention.

despiertan hermanos! ᓚ₍ ^. ̫ .^₎ que la mensajera ha llegado.

• OOC .ᐟ
• HUM .ᐟ HE/SHE, COLONY
  .ᐟ peaceful + healing powerplay permitted.
  .ᐟ penned by Archivist - .archivist Discord.

​

 

[Hawthorne]

"I sat outside a tree hollow this morning and sweetly sang a little song, asking the mice to come to my paw." Hawthorne raised a paw as he spoke, toes wiggling as he dropped the mouse near the younger cat's paw, "But that didn't work so I had to do it the old fashioned way." Settling to sit proper the brown tabby raised his paw closer to his mouth to neatly groom, pausing mid-tongue lick as Straw arrived in a flourish of wiggling ginger fur and piercing meows that would make a bird turn its beak up appalled at the sound, "Maybe if I had your vocals the mice would have answered my previous call." His nose wrinkles, tone friendly despite his words - a gentle ribbing among friends. It was only when Juniper and Gentle both arrived with offers to hunt and a reminder of their situation that he let his smile falter into a grim tightening of his jaw, a breath inhaled and exhaled in a heavy huff of noise. He wished more than anything he could fill every belly and give them room to simply relax and sunbath in peace before leaf-bare crept inward to claim the last shreds of warmth from them, but life did not stop for his lightness, the struggles continued all the same.

Hawthorne's mouth opened to offer to go as well when he paused, teeth snapping closed and mismatched eyes honing in on Sable padding over morose and looking quite the fright.
"Perhaps if you didn't go swimming in it as you look like you did, Sable." The brown tom said, tone strained as he attempted his best effort in coming across light and joking even if the other tom's prickly demeanor rubbed his fur the wrong way. He wasn't a fool, he noticed the sharp, impassive glance of narrowed amber eyes in his direction often and he couldn't even pretend he didn't know what it was about. The judgement that rolled from the tuxedo was suffocating in a way that made him feel almost like prey, a squirming mouse beneath an ashen-colored paw. The chiding, joking manner he spoke to others was lacking with the other tom, his attempts were met with little more than dismissal. Still, he tried, lips curled and smile sheepish as he rose to stand from where Straw had wedged himself between him and Hum.
"I'll come as well, one mouse won't suffice. Perhaps we try further towards the deeper woods?"

 

[juniper]

The presence of friends is welcome most during times of strife and struggle... it is their combined strengths that give them better odds at survival. The jovial tones of Gentle ease the prickling anxiety that runs beneath the surface of her skin, a small smile of gratitude cast the dusty tom's way. She plans to answer, to thank him and discuss the semantics of when they should leave and where they should go when the familiar voice of a sulking shadow steals the focus of jade stare. Her heart breaks for him, for the defeat the ripples under taut muscles, the patchy messiness of his fur. "Sable," she entreats him, softly protesting his bad attitude but unwilling to do more than lightly scold him.

She could not blame his frustrations... could not bring herself to be angered by the silent glares he sent her friend. Shamefully, she flicks her gaze towards Hawthorne as he strains to find humor in the shape of sharpened words, humiliated by the tension that binds the two of them. It tugs, painfully, at some place in her chest- I should ask Serpent if Hawthorne's said anything to her... If anyone would humor the chocolate she-cat's concerns, it would be her.

A hesitant sigh stutters from barely parts lips, standing to close the distance her mate has left between them, a nose tucked gingerly under his chin in a bid for companionship, patience. "It won't be bad hunting forever," she reminds him, hoping that the promise of new-leaf will be enough to stem the flow of his blistering anger. "There's plenty of forest to search-" She swings her head to look towards Hawthorne, pausing on Hum as well, "We'll find something."