She smells like lemongrass and sleep,
She tastes like apple juice and peach.
She tastes like apple juice and peach.
.
That lousy, no-good waste of space of a cat. The very thought that he had left poor Ratchet to bear that weight alone churned her stomach until she could almost taste bile on her tongue. Gaia had nothing but contempt for cats who couldn't follow through, who left their own blood behind to struggle, to starve, to grow without them. Her tail lashed once, twice, rhythmically slicing through the tension gathering in her chest before she turned her gaze toward Melinoe and Tire. Her face remained composed, perfect, porcelain stillness, but within, a storm clawed at her ribs.
" If you sniff out the mongrel that left Ratchet hanging... " she said coolly. " Do be sure to give them our regards. I will do the same. " The words carried no heat, but the iciness of them made their point clear. It was almost a pity she couldn't set the hound on that coward. Almost. A quiet huff escaped her as she lashed her tail again and padded forward, springing up onto the fence with effortless grace. From her perch, her gaze swept over the dogyard below. The leash was there.
And... Oh.
Her pupils narrowed, brown eyes catching on the limp shape sprawled beside the chain. It didn't move. Didn't bark. Did it even breathe? " Do you think...? " she murmured, head tilting slightly as she cast a glance toward the others. Her tone was careful, calculating. " Is it dead, or merely sick? " She would not step closer. Not yet. She'd seen what teeth like those could do, and she had no desire to add a scar to her collection.
Speech, thoughts/emphasis