The Colony tired bones // open

[midgetooth]

In the far corner of the clearing, Midge's head was resting on her forepaws as she tried to ignore the gnawing of her belly. Living with the Colony had gotten her much further than she could've gotten on her own in her condition, but it wasn't paradise. Too many mouths to feed- it felt like as soon as someone walked back into the clearing with something, it was being scarfed down by a hungry mouth. She honestly filled her time with eavesdropping, these days, not having much else she could do. She was listening more than watching as two cats bristled up at each other, posturing, before a third broke them up and the clearing was quieter again, the three just vague shapes in her vision. Bored was such a mild word to describe her current mood. She used to just go hunting when she didn't have anything else to do, but, well. Her ailing vision all but prevented her from doing so, and she didn't want to risk messing up someone else's hunt by wandering the forest.

She sighed, rolling onto her side in an attempt to soak up what small warmth the sun provided. Just one of those moons.

 

[KARST.]

Karst presumes that it is the elderly and the infirm who feel the greatest toll of such scarcity. The lifeless standstill haunting the colony, from Fray down, is most palpable on the maws of the frail. These are cats who are not being provided for, who need to be provided for, and there is no shelter or light for them in this shambled hierarchy. Bleakness finds no purer form than what Midge is certainly experiencing. She is bound to ruin because of another's squandering. He cannot pity her, lest he join her in the muck. But his chest fills with something airy and fragile, which dully stirs and causes an ache to make its home where his heart thumps away. Empathy is what it's called. An almost mythical feeling in this cutthroat time. Shadow-tinged limbs make little sound against the dry grass and the coming wind, but he gives a gentle rasping cough to alert Midge of his presence. He need not startle her into an early grave—not after she's survived this long already. Eyes bear down on the cat lying still, weary, and abject. They simmer with earnestness in the meek light of day, and fixate upon her in a pensive furrow. "You're old," Karst says, as though declaring a fact and making an observation at once. "Really, really old. Must have seen a lot. So, what do you make of all this... uncertainty? Have you seen anything like it before?" His words, despite their clumsy delivery, are toned with a note of somber respect. It is wisdom and perspective that he seeks, for both are solemn guides to understanding, and inevitably, resolution. He doesn't have food to share; were Midge to send him off on those grounds, she would be in the right to do so.

 

[midgetooth]

Midge's ears perked at the sound of another cat, and when he spoke she rolled back onto her stomach, stretching her forelegs as she did so. The words aren't welcome, exactly, certainly not the blunt reminder of her age, but she was bored, and she wasn't about to turn away conversation right now. Her younger self was probably rolling in her proverbial grave at the thought of entertaining company, but times change, and cats change with it.

She gave his words some thought, not bothering to turn to look at him, knowing she wouldn't see much more than a shape. When she finished mulling it over, she folded her paws underneath herself as she spoke, "I've seen a lot, you're right about that. Never seen a group this big, but I've certainly been in plenty that have... let's say fallen apart, to put it mildly," she paused to yawn, "I don't see this lasting forever, if that's what you're asking me. Something's gotta give, or change, or something. Don't know what, was never big on community, myself. But someone's gotta figure it out soon, or things are about to go very south."

 

[Dunny]

☼ ✧

If there's one thing you don't see much, living on your own, it's very old cats. You see some, of course -- Dunny spent some time in twolegplace and there are more, there, cats who've been around longer than everything. Many of them had twolegs of their own before they ended up with the rest of them -- that's how they got this old, he thinks. In the forest…

It's hard, getting slow in the twolegplace. Harder, in the woods with predators ready to snatch you up.

So Dunny really respects the elders they have. Midge's been around the block a few dozen times by now and there isn't much she hasn't seen before: that kind of wisdom's hard to beat.

She's a bit of a pessimist, though. He's not sure how he feels about that -- is it the getting old that gets to you this way? He doesn't want to reach the end of a hundred moons and have only concerns to keep him warm.

"You ever seen a group that made it?"

He asks as he comes up to the pair, dragging a squirrel along. It's a bit chewed up: he, admittedly, got hungry on the way. But Viper's already fed, he thinks -- hopes -- so he put it down between Karst and Midge with a twitch of his whiskers.

"Sorry for barging in -- but I brought food?"

He sits next to them, tail waving slightly.

" Or any that made a good attempt, at least. Because I don't know about you two, but I can't say I have any ideas on how to make things easier on all of us."

None that doesn't end in blood, that is.

✧ ° . ☼ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: —

• DUNNY — HE/HIM･ 25 MOONS ･ COLONY CAT ･ PENNED BY @Kangoo

  A solidly built flame point/red tabby chimera with golden eyes and a small nick across his lips.

 

[KARST.]

Reminiscient tales and hollow aphorisms are well and good, but insight is better—and Karst's deep-set eyes beckon for her to explain further, beyond the anecdotes, far past the generalisations.

All this talk about needing change to happen is stale air in his ears. It is nothing he does not know already. He digs his claws into the soft topsoil of the clearing, lashing his tail in a discernible flare of disgruntled disinterest. Not at her. Rather, at the cat who does not understand her, and more or less sought her counsel in vain. But the tom can at least glean that Midge feels they have yet to reach their crisis point: something's got to give, or change, or something, she had said.

"You've a weathered eye, Midge," the tom meowed, and let his ears prick at the sound of Dunny's voice. Karst lifts his head up. The squirrel between them looks scant and forlorn; a boon as paltry as one could ask for, but it's better an offering than anything he has in turn. There's a pinch to his nose's bridge as he concedes his space to Dunny with a bob of his head. "I don't need any, thanks." More food for Midge is fine. Sincerest gratitude drifts in his expression, nevertheless, at Dunny's hasty effort to play host.

Karst sways closer on his haunches to better accommodate their company, shared warmth where it can be gotten. The red tabby's concerns are rightly placed, his query sensible and on mark. But there's a slip in the other's words. At least, one that Karst perceives. "What is 'making it', aside from simply surviving?" he posed. "Every day we live is a victory over the threat of collapse. Could say we're making it right now. Until we aren't."

The glower he bears at the dirt beneath his paws doesn't hide that last remark. And he realises how quickly he's looped to the inevitability of ruin, that which Midge had given prophecy of.

 

[midgetooth]

Midge perked up slightly as Dunny approached with the squirrel, tasting it in the air. When Karst confirmed he didn't want it, she quickly reached out to hook her claws into its haunch to pull it a bit closer. She gave a nod of gratitude to Dunny, her worn down but still present pride not letting her quite thank him outright, instead choosing to answer him, "Hm. Can't promise they're still kicking, but the group my kits are in were doing alright for themselves, last I heard. Those folks don't have patience for the old or the weak, though, so they have less on their minds." Her tone sounded like she was rather cross with the group, but she didn't say anything further about them as she leaned down to begin eating the squirrel hungrily.

After a long few moments, when she was about half done, she added gruffly, "I'd keep my head up, if I were you. I didn't make it this far accepting that hard times are end times. If we do all stop 'making it' here, there are other places. Twolegplace, or maybe other woods if you're able to travel."

She quickly resumed eating. She'd gone and reminded herself of her family, the fool, and now was trying to distract herself with finally having food. There was no use dwelling on what she'd left behind.