Closed The Colony Poor Man's Poison //Smoky

[Leopard]

SO LET GO, YEAH LET GO, JUST GET IN

OH, IT'S SO AMAZING HERE

It was the near silent, cold nights like this that Leopard could almost swear she felt his pelt brushing against hers. A cold comfort when reality once more came crashing down to remind her that her mate had been dead for moons now. A tightness in her chest that never seemed to fade, only intensify with every moon. A quick glance was given to check that Seal was asleep before she rose to her feet to silently pad out of the den she had carved out from the roots of a tree on the edge of the colony's camp.

Thin fur fluffed up against the autumn chill as golden eyes took in the camp, even with most cats sleeping or out hunting the tension was palpable. One might be able to take a claw and slice through it like a leaf. For a blessing, she mused, none of the kits seemed very aware of how unstable they all were. Teetering on the edge with no bottom in sight.

"Petrichor," It was a faint murmur meant for no one's ears but her own. "Would we be struggling this much if you were here…?"

Had this been the right thing to do at all?

There would be no answer from the tom, of course. There never was anymore. With a sigh she shook herself once more against the cold before turning away from the camp. She needed to hunt, her daughter needed to be fed. Her own hunger gnawing at her empty belly no longer mattered. But she was so tired… Hunting became harder with each night that passed. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd find something larger than a mouse tonight.

IT'S ALRIGHT

❀ ─────’CAUSE THERE’S BEAUTY IN THE BREAKDOWN─────

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[Smogmaw.]

They are like ants. Ants, scattered without a queen, running about aimless in search of direction. They scurry to-and-fro in frenetic desperation, but no single pawstep seems to bear purpose. They have no unity, no resolve, no discernable rhythm to their madness. They are nothing. Obsolescent. Pitiful and miniscule.

A sigh dies in the wind. The shadow-laden tabby fights off a short and aggressive lull which gnaws at the underside of his eyelids. Having left the comfort that was his shared nest alongside Halfy, he shambles across the clearing at a sluggish pace. His mood is bleak. It's been bleak ever since Fray began looking like death on four legs. Now, there is no more pretending things are alright. He's confided in his mate that they need to abandon this place, seek pastures elsewhere, preferably ones without an absurd glut of cats to compete against for scraps. And Smoky knows he isn't the only cat who sees the skies for how grim they are. Who smells the same cloying odour of destruction at every turn. They all do. They're just too trapped in their own despair to take action.

His flank brushes up against one of the four great trees that wall up their clearing. Its bark is crumbling in the oncoming cold, and serves to scratch his pelt and relieve him of an itch here and there. Afterwards, he loops around it. A haphazard impulse urges him to pause, stare into the encompassing forest, and he finds himself at the sight of Leopard in his peripherals.

It's the movement which steals his attention first. And then comes the brief strain of words that issues from her maw, slurring and indiscernible from afar. Smoky shifts away from the trunk with a sharp and accusatory glare. She looks rattled, sounds rattled, but appears otherwise whole and sane. From her sullen pacing, she'd clearly gone to collect her thoughts alone. Before he can think to keep his tongue to himself, and refrain from invading her privacy, his mouth blurts out:

"What're ya wailin' on about, Leopard?" Slapdash and blunt, just like the rest of him. If not also curious, concerned, whatever way he wanted to put it. He reckoned every cat needed an ear to talk at these days. Approaching on wider strides, he looked down on her from the stretch of his neck and held her within that firmly placed stare. "You leavin'? Wouldn't blame you for it, frankly."

He knows that to be untrue - it's merely projection on his part. Were that the case, there'd be a young Seal tucked beside her mother's haunches, clinging to the fluff of her coat in anticipation of what lay beyond. Probably just out for a walk, hunt, jaunt, something or other.

 

[Leopard]

SO LET GO, YEAH LET GO, JUST GET IN

OH, IT'S SO AMAZING HERE

Leopard nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected voice, so lost in thought as she was, whirling around with fur standing on end before relaxing as she recognized Smoky making his way toward her. It took her a moment to parse the question. Wailing? Surely he hadn't overheard- No. It was clear from how it was phrased that he hadn't. She gave a tired smile at the larger tom, golden gaze darting upward to the stars above before she finally spoke.

"...I was talking to my mate you could say," She paused, unsure how to elaborate. She had never talked much of her past before joining the colony, and this was maybe only the second time she'd said more than a brief 'hello' to Smoky. "Sometimes it feels like he's still here, he liked nights like this."

Petrichor had been able to find wonder in even the simplest of things, from the leaves changing in leaf-fall to how starpelt seemed to shine that much brighter on clear nights away from twolegplace. He'd spin stories for her that he'd heard that every star above was a cat long gone and watching over them- it had seemed like just a kit's tale. Something to keep little ones entertained and in one place to give exhausted parents a short reprieve. But now it was a small, if fleeting, source of comfort for Leopard. A light laugh left her, like that of a bell on a kittypet's collar. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of leaving." She shook her head before turning to once more face the forest sprawling before them. "But right when leafbare is around the corner? Seal is still so small I worry she'd freeze to death before we found somewhere else. Perhaps in Newleaf we'll move on."

If she- or the colony for that matter- survived that long.

"...I was about to go hunting, care to join me? I'm sure Halfy would like to wake up to food waiting for her." Truthfully she didn't care if he joined or not, but it felt rude to not at least offer.

IT'S ALRIGHT

❀ ─────’CAUSE THERE’S BEAUTY IN THE BREAKDOWN─────

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[Smogmaw.]

Smoky doesn't comment on the other tom's passing. He doesn't offer condolences, or sympathise, or make an empathetic noise to show that he understands her suffering. Losing Halfy, as a notion, was an abyss which he refused to peer into—to even consider it seemed like treason to the love they shared. He knows grief is a pitfall. A maw, waiting to swallow those who wander too close. It is not something to be trifled with, and so he will not, not even vicariously.

Mouth tightening into a straight line, there is a flinty, distant stare to his eyes. They latch onto the night sky in the same direction as Leopard's gaze, and his posture loosens up to something more lax and amiable. Half-lowered lids give a slumberous sheen to his bronze irises, and the weight of the moonlit air brings a yawn to his lips. That soft and fleeting laugh of hers doesn't quite reach the silver tom, and his ears are quick to swivel away at her following remarks. There's something to be admired about her endurance, though, and a subtle hint of esteem creeps into his countenance when she speaks on the obligations of kinship.

That, too, he understands, and is what keeps him tethered to this crumbling wreck.

"Sure," the response is terse, characteristically so, yet it is delivered on a sigh of resignation rather than an irritated huff or scoff. "Prefer huntin' at night, anyhow. Always took to the shadows better." Smoky does not await an invitation. With a tip of his muzzle, he pads onward into the thicket, the fur lining his shoulders raised in bristled alertness. A furtive glance, cast over his shoulder to make certain Leopard was keeping up, and he begins the search for any scents of note.

Some pawsteps further in, and the tabby's dark-striped tail flicks with a curt gesture. His head tilts toward a nearby patch of fronds, where the earth beneath is freshly disturbed and gives off a tell-tale aroma of vermin. Jaws go ajar to remark on the find, but he catches himself in a short breath; a stray wisp of thought drifts across his awareness, prompting his skull to pivot back around.

"When Fray goes," he starts, his voice falling to a low rumble, as if to avoid the ears of those back in camp, if any are listening, "I don't think we'll all start twirlin' tails and singin' our worries away. And if there's fightin' over who gets to play leader next, it'll be bad. Real bad." It doesn't take a great leap of logic to predict the outcome. The colony's cohesion was already so frail. He steps around to fully face the molly, now, his ears twitching restlessly atop his head. "You wanna leave, I'd say to do it. Instead'a gettin' you and Seal caught up in all that." The tabby can't be the only one harbouring these suspicions—this disillusionment, and the accompanying certainty of collapse.

 

[Leopard]

SO LET GO, YEAH LET GO, JUST GET IN

OH, IT'S SO AMAZING HERE

She did not expect a response from the tom, Leopard suspected that perhaps it was a story Smoky had heard several times before. Or perhaps even lived at some point. One parent or the other dying was not unheard of- it was a dangerous world out there, from foxes to the twoleg's monsters on the thunderpath to the very weather itself. It could at times feel like everything was stacked against you. Seeing him so stone faced in response served to all but confirm her suspicions. Smoky was often a cat of few words, and the silence spoke volumes to her.

"Hunting is often much easier at night with pelts like ours," She mused with a light flick of her tail before following Smoky. "It only makes sense to use it to our advantage. Work with what you've been given and all."

The quiet as they walked felt surprisingly comfortable, though it was quickly interrupted by signs of prey. Leopard drew in a breath, about to crouch to stalk forward when Smoky spoke up.

When Fray goes…

She frowned, nodding along in agreement. Despite her tendency to keep almost entirely to herself, she was no fool. She was not oblivious to the goings on of the colony despite her attempts to act like nothing was wrong in front of her daughter to shelter her. Seal was beginning to see the act for what it was, though. Asking questions that Leopard was gradually becoming unsure how to answer. "I know." Was all that left her lips, voice low- a silence in the night that lasted perhaps a beat too long. "There is no peaceful way this can end, I think. Barring a miracle." The atmosphere had been building for ages now, serving to make time feel like it had slowed to a crawl and exacerbated the situation. The writing on the wall was plain to see for anyone who cared to pay attention. This could only end in blood.

"When Fray dies…" She licked her lips, briefly looking back in the direction of the camp. Almost afraid of being overheard. "When he dies, Seal and I will move on before the fighting starts. It can't be very long now, if we're lucky it will be before the first snowfall." An uncertain question still danced on her lips, but the tabby bit it back before moving to step around the other. There was still hunting to do.

'...but what if something happens to me, first?' The thought snaked its way into the back of Leopard's mind. 'What will happen to Seal, then?'

IT'S ALRIGHT

❀─ ─────'CAUSE THERE'S BEAUTY IN THE BREAKDOWN───── ─❀

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  Leopard
  — Colony Cat
  — She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — A dark grey rosetted tabby with yellow eyes
  #3a7b8e
  
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