𓆝 . ° ✦
It is Plague's first day out of camp alone since the day she moved in. The safety of her kits was a concern, of course - she couldn't trust strangers not to poison them with incorrect ideals. But, more than anything, WindClan hadn't trusted her immediately, and the last thing she needed was more prying eyes. It is not until her presence becomes more accepted, more passive, that she allows a queen to keep an eye on her children so she may go out for a walk. The rains have ceased, if only for a day, but dark clouds loom in the distance. It may be her only chance to get some alone time at last.Though.. it's not the only reason why the queen is out today. There is an ulterior motive guiding her paws across the moor, to the border in which she came from. It's almost subconscious, the way she returns to the place she fully lost her home, if not for the determined yet nervous way her brain buzzes. At the border, where the scent marks are strongest, Plague stops, gazing across the empty expanse towards the distant treeline where her old colony resides, a few days' walk away. She stands stiffly, tail-tip flicking behind her, as her eyes shift across the horizon.. searching for something. Or someone.
..Until her vision reaches a shape, so close that she's surprised she did not see it sooner with how focused she was. The stranger nearly scares her out of her pelt, as she takes a startled half-jump backward and puffs out her tail. Plague stands in silence for a few moments, taking in the sight of the feline before her - a battle-scarred ginger tom, perhaps much older than her, with a single eye. Scary, it is, but.. it is alluring, the passive yet confident expression it holds as it examines her back. Decidedly more intrigued than scared, the molly settles her fur and takes a couple steps forward, sniffing the air.
"You're not WindClan,"
she observes, a question masked as a statement. When did she ever become so interested in any other than herself? What is it exactly about this cat that draws her into conversation? Is it the mystery of the unknown, or the scars upon it that tell a strange, eerie story? "Who are you?"
✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧
- ooc: — @Elohim hi this is so late sorry
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a complex molly; timid and meek on the surface, but what dwells beneath?