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neutral_omensTime: September 1, 2000
Place: Manor Grounds - somewhere with trees
Status: Public
Summary: Bast is...conflicted, to say the least.
It was a fairly warm day, and the dappled light that trickled down through the trees gave Bast a sense of inner peace she hadn’t felt for…oh, forever.
She gave a happy gurgling purr, and rolled over on the soft ground, rubbing her face into the leaves and relishing the sweet, wild scent of mold and fur and feathers. Her skirt hung somewhere about the treeline, not too far from where she lay clad only in her fur. In weather like this, she honestly saw no point in clothes. The only reason she wore even that item of clothing was the looks she had received – yeah, she knew perfectly well of the comments she’d got – at the barbeque last week, looks that said that she was a Bad Kitty, No Fish For You, Get Your Paw Out Of The Hamster Cage.
So she’d dressed, and the bad looks had gone away, mostly.
She must’ve slept, dozed off for a few minutes in the warmth, because
(silly silly sekhi silly silly sekhi -sister-self don’t leave me -course not member I’m just the kitten how could I -but we’re all gonna die no-one sees us anymore -silly silly we can’t die nine lives member? -Course you’re right mau-mau* -silly silly)
the next thing she knew something cooed a few feet away, in the undergrowth and Bast rolled over and up into a crouch, silently, instantly awake and alert in hunter-mode. Ears pricked forward, she heard the leaf litter crackle softly as whatever it was- her nose said pigeon but her ears thought it was too big – shifted and pecked as whatever food it had found.
Now you see, that’s why she hated clothes. Total pain in the tail when it came to getting caught on twigs and things.
Few steps closer – three, two, one tail’s-length away - and she leapt, extended claws finding the woodpigeon just as it tried to clatter into the air, and landing on the pinned wings with a triumphant yowl, tail lashing like a banner in a high wind.
The sound of her prey’s pounding heartbeat drove her crazy, and she tore out its throat with eager fangs, swallowing flesh and feathers whole. Say what you like about chicken and mince, but nothing – nothing – beat fresh meat, warm and whole and succulent.
She ripped a few handfuls of feathers off the small corpse, tossing them in the air and batting at them like a kitten as they floated down, laughing both out-loud and mentally.
Bast grinned and rent another mouthful of meat from the juicy breast of the dead bird, but then froze, ears going flat against her skull as she heard someone crashing through the trees, and went pale under her fur. She was suddenly hyper-aware that she was fairly naked in the middle of a corps, with blood and feathers stuck to her muzzle and an unsightly mutilated dead bird at her feet.
Bad Kitty, Out you Go. No Fish For You Today.
She stood up defensively, ears still flat to the sides and fur bristling slightly, stepping in front of her kill as whoever it was came to the small clearing.
((*Cat-cat – like kit-kat, really))
Place: Manor Grounds - somewhere with trees
Status: Public
Summary: Bast is...conflicted, to say the least.
It was a fairly warm day, and the dappled light that trickled down through the trees gave Bast a sense of inner peace she hadn’t felt for…oh, forever.
She gave a happy gurgling purr, and rolled over on the soft ground, rubbing her face into the leaves and relishing the sweet, wild scent of mold and fur and feathers. Her skirt hung somewhere about the treeline, not too far from where she lay clad only in her fur. In weather like this, she honestly saw no point in clothes. The only reason she wore even that item of clothing was the looks she had received – yeah, she knew perfectly well of the comments she’d got – at the barbeque last week, looks that said that she was a Bad Kitty, No Fish For You, Get Your Paw Out Of The Hamster Cage.
So she’d dressed, and the bad looks had gone away, mostly.
She must’ve slept, dozed off for a few minutes in the warmth, because
(silly silly sekhi silly silly sekhi -sister-self don’t leave me -course not member I’m just the kitten how could I -but we’re all gonna die no-one sees us anymore -silly silly we can’t die nine lives member? -Course you’re right mau-mau* -silly silly)
the next thing she knew something cooed a few feet away, in the undergrowth and Bast rolled over and up into a crouch, silently, instantly awake and alert in hunter-mode. Ears pricked forward, she heard the leaf litter crackle softly as whatever it was- her nose said pigeon but her ears thought it was too big – shifted and pecked as whatever food it had found.
Now you see, that’s why she hated clothes. Total pain in the tail when it came to getting caught on twigs and things.
Few steps closer – three, two, one tail’s-length away - and she leapt, extended claws finding the woodpigeon just as it tried to clatter into the air, and landing on the pinned wings with a triumphant yowl, tail lashing like a banner in a high wind.
The sound of her prey’s pounding heartbeat drove her crazy, and she tore out its throat with eager fangs, swallowing flesh and feathers whole. Say what you like about chicken and mince, but nothing – nothing – beat fresh meat, warm and whole and succulent.
She ripped a few handfuls of feathers off the small corpse, tossing them in the air and batting at them like a kitten as they floated down, laughing both out-loud and mentally.
Bast grinned and rent another mouthful of meat from the juicy breast of the dead bird, but then froze, ears going flat against her skull as she heard someone crashing through the trees, and went pale under her fur. She was suddenly hyper-aware that she was fairly naked in the middle of a corps, with blood and feathers stuck to her muzzle and an unsightly mutilated dead bird at her feet.
Bad Kitty, Out you Go. No Fish For You Today.
She stood up defensively, ears still flat to the sides and fur bristling slightly, stepping in front of her kill as whoever it was came to the small clearing.
((*Cat-cat – like kit-kat, really))
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