Private YOU KNOW THE BEST COMES OUT THE WEST ☽ timber

[vampire]

As it turns out, that first night spent teasing strands of bramble from the pocosin wasn't the last. Only the first of many, in fact; seriously, how can one camp demand so much protection? It's as if the hollow had grown a mouth and started eating their building supplies. Logically, Vampire knows that it takes hard work to build a home, that their numerous young and injured and weak need all the protection they can get. But more dramatically, they wish they could go a day without nicking their lip on a carried thorn.

Today, they lay their paws in the direction of what is beginning to coalesce into a nursery. Strands of ivy choke the muddied wall nearest to his left forepaw, a haphazard landmark for his own bizarre mental map. The hollow is still unfamiliar, wearing a strange veneer of mucky newness punctuated by the near-constant drizzle.

" What the— "

their meow cuts off with a well-timed prick from a bramble. They ruffle their pelt and drop the coil of briar. When they duck into the forming den, they find the chocolate-dipped face of @Timberfrost watching them back. Vampire has been making it rather a point to dodge the faded tom, lest they be made to recollect their confrontation or (horror!) apologize for it.

Which they definitely do not do now, as she rather brusquely demands,

" What are you doing here? "

​

 

[Timberfrost]

—————————————————— 'Till I can't run no more ✦

Oh my days, was he tired. His paws felt worn, poked and prodded by far too many scattered bits of weeds he had accidentally trod on. It was a wonder he hadn't gotten a thorn stuck in his paw, really - the thought of having to go to get that treated among so many wounded cats sent shivers down his spine. It was nice to have the option now for sure, but he dreaded the day he would actually have to use it. At least the cats here were... nice enough, as far as he could tell. He was sure some of them wanted to bite his head off, including that one white cat he kept seeing aroun—

Speak of the devil. At that very moment, a not unfamiliar voice pricked his ears. Timber whipped around, abandoning the prickly piece of ivy he had been busy weaving into the side of one of the dens. "I-" He stuttered, the words of the other taking a moment for him to wrap his head around. "I Still Live Here???" The tom finally answered incredulously, blinking in astonishment at his sudden intrusion. He was here first, damnit! "This is my job? I don't know where else you expect me to be?" For a moment, he just stood there blinking at the other, wondering what could have possibly sparked her to stumble in to where he was working. Unless—

"Oh, you've brought some stuff!" Timber said happily, immediately brightening. "That's good, I was startin' to run out. 'Cuse me-" The brown tom immediately got up from deeper within the den, making a move to attempt to step around the pale cat to retrieve the bit of briar she had brought him. He had all but entirely forgotten the squabble just seconds before, blinded by the joy of not having to trek back out into the mud to find some more brambles.

It's true, I want to be with you tonight

But I'm a little too late

• 
  Timber
  ✦—Shadowclan Caregiver
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A large chocolate tabby with pale gold eyes
  #9A775A

 

[vampire]

A flat gaze is thrown the direction of the incredulous tom, as if it were an affront for him to be here. Quite the opposite, really; she is the one intruding, the one making demands. But she still doesn't trust this one—what cat would precede them in this foreign place and still not want to stake a claim? Truly, all he desires is to join their ranks and babysit their orphans, surrounded by milkscent and strangers? Suspicious.

Perhaps they impose too much of their own perspective.

" I don't know. Elsewhere. "

He draws his neck back like a swan, looking affronted. Vampire likes to think she has just enough self-awareness to know she's being a little illogical, and also enough to know she can't quite help it. When he starts towards her, she doesn't quite bristle, but the elegant line of her shoulders goes hard.

" Oh. "

It's muttered under her breath, a half-there exhale. Rather critically, she eyes him; it is good, she must begrudgingly acknowledge, that he's so eager to work on reinforcing the nursery. Besides, Vampire doesn't want to slog back out into the cold muck of the pocosin just yet in search of more.

" Yes, sure. It was meant for this den anyways, the paws placing it are insignificant. "

They flick their sliced ear and edge a little further into the den, taking high-legged deer-steps as if they navigate drifts of snow rather than half-made nests. Careful on velvet paws.

" I should like to see the little ones well protected. A good layer of brambles dissuades all but the most fervent of attackers. "

​