12-15-2017, 12:46 PM
[spoiler=street lights, people]16.11.15
For someone that scarcely cared enough about others to trek out of their safe, warm
home and generic comfortable place in front of the hearth, you'd think that that same
someone would resign themselves to their fate forever hooked into the tempting thrall
of twoleg-offered creature comforts, contenting themselves with barely moving an
inch a day if not less and curling up at the foot of his twolegs' cushiony nests.
Shocker, horror, overall stunner, today it seemed as though the leisurely life was not
to be ... on sheer account of the fact that Scorpio had gotten himself accidentally
locked out while sunning himself. He hadn't even seen it coming; he'd trailed out past
the open door just for a moment and made himself comfortable, turning his face toward
the sun like a very self-satisfied sunflower with all his limbs tucked in and tail curled
nicely about himself. Yes, this was truly going to become yet another snapshot of a
very fulfilling life. Just look at that smug grin. He didn't give a forest fire.
Until the rather large Maine Coon had stood, given himself a grand shake of the pelt,
wheeled around and padded almost directly straight into his front door.
Naturally, his first reaction had been empty incomprehension, olive gaze blankly affixed
on the solidly impenetrable wood. Then Scorpio had placed a single, testing paw on it.
Then he'd flattened himself against it with some bouts of very loud unsuccessful wailing
for attention; such came about the cruelest realisation that perhaps his twolegs didn't
appreciate him as much as they should, and so, in a flurry of tears (what? Cats
can't cry? What are you talking about), the tomcat stomped away. No, he wasn't sulking,
either. He was making a statement. See if they last without him for a day. Mumble.
And, you know, so here he is, staring blankly at the tomcat that was sunning himself
as well. The reminiscence of this to his own situation brought forth boiling unadulterated
rage. Who needs those fleshbags, anyway?
Scorpio's head tilted mechanically to the side. 'Abandoned by your terribly ungrateful
and highly irresponsible Upwalkers, too?' he asked plainly, sympathetically grimly.
NO he wasn't being bitter. Blah. Who needed them, anyway? Not him. Those housefolk
can go miss him. He'll let them stew a little before going back. Honestly. Ugh.
(He so was.)
18.11.15
Unfortunately, Scorpio had been and still very much was extremely unaware of having
a live audience witness his glimpse of mature and reasonable request to get back into
the house; the Maine Coon reeled minutely back at the other tom's admission of not
exactly having his own housefolk, nose pushing up with a frown of half-pitiful indecision.
'No?' he repeated almost rhetorically, slowly, and his sceptical disbelief shifted into that
of very disgruntled realisation at the stranger's next words. He should have known; he
didn't particularly have any smell that regularly denoted others staying with their own
Upwalkers. Egh, he felt unclean now. 'I feel as though you have a very skewed view
but don't let me stop you,' he meowed, politely and just a little twitchily. 'Freedom
of speech, after all. It's more conversation than my Upwalkers can give me.'
Living with his Upwalkers indeed definitely made for a very tame life; he slept wherever he
wanted, mostly gravitating toward the warmed foot of his generous feeder's beds, and
woke up whenever he wanted to give his legs a little stretch and head straight for the
kitchen where a bowl of the softest and best kibble could already be found waiting for him
alongside another bowl of clear water. He had all the freedom to enter and exit at his own
whim with the installation of a cat door and many things had been given to him that were
really all he needed - a tall snaking jungle of obstacles for him to climb and a peculiar post
that he made sure to mark delicately before slashing approximately ten times a day - and
he gave little but his own weight into their laps to be petted and brushed. Life was good.
Save for the fact that the cat flap had the tendency to jam and apparently his benefactors
found it perfectly fine to neglect letting him back in for hours on end (it's been around
ten minutes). ... And he's not fat, damn it. Or lazy.
Right?
He was just letting his Upwalkers do everything for him because that was the way you
did things. If someone was perfectly willing to fold your bed, you let them do it. Besides,
they were his. He didn't follow any orders from them so he didn't see anyone wrong with
sticking around and letting them heap food on him.
Scorpio inclined his head for the presumed stray to speak, short ears flicking forth, and
narrowed his eyes. 'It's freedom if you have no one to remember your face when
you have died or not come back for a while, I suppose,' he answered seriously.
'Or having to scrabble through rubbish bins just to be given one decent meal.'
His whiskers shivered minimally. 'Though feeling absolutely no security can be
missed, too, as well as suffering through cold night after cold night. Hmm. Yes.'
The highly accidentally pretentious cat delicately settled himself in front of the stranger,
blinking at him, and inquired curiously, 'Have you ever had your own housefolk?'
...Please don't be a ghastly forest cat, please don't be a ghastly forest cat.[/spoiler]
do i want to save my first get to know me meme. do i.
For someone that scarcely cared enough about others to trek out of their safe, warm
home and generic comfortable place in front of the hearth, you'd think that that same
someone would resign themselves to their fate forever hooked into the tempting thrall
of twoleg-offered creature comforts, contenting themselves with barely moving an
inch a day if not less and curling up at the foot of his twolegs' cushiony nests.
Shocker, horror, overall stunner, today it seemed as though the leisurely life was not
to be ... on sheer account of the fact that Scorpio had gotten himself accidentally
locked out while sunning himself. He hadn't even seen it coming; he'd trailed out past
the open door just for a moment and made himself comfortable, turning his face toward
the sun like a very self-satisfied sunflower with all his limbs tucked in and tail curled
nicely about himself. Yes, this was truly going to become yet another snapshot of a
very fulfilling life. Just look at that smug grin. He didn't give a forest fire.
Until the rather large Maine Coon had stood, given himself a grand shake of the pelt,
wheeled around and padded almost directly straight into his front door.
Naturally, his first reaction had been empty incomprehension, olive gaze blankly affixed
on the solidly impenetrable wood. Then Scorpio had placed a single, testing paw on it.
Then he'd flattened himself against it with some bouts of very loud unsuccessful wailing
for attention; such came about the cruelest realisation that perhaps his twolegs didn't
appreciate him as much as they should, and so, in a flurry of tears (what? Cats
can't cry? What are you talking about), the tomcat stomped away. No, he wasn't sulking,
either. He was making a statement. See if they last without him for a day. Mumble.
And, you know, so here he is, staring blankly at the tomcat that was sunning himself
as well. The reminiscence of this to his own situation brought forth boiling unadulterated
rage. Who needs those fleshbags, anyway?
Scorpio's head tilted mechanically to the side. 'Abandoned by your terribly ungrateful
and highly irresponsible Upwalkers, too?' he asked plainly, sympathetically grimly.
NO he wasn't being bitter. Blah. Who needed them, anyway? Not him. Those housefolk
can go miss him. He'll let them stew a little before going back. Honestly. Ugh.
(He so was.)
18.11.15
Unfortunately, Scorpio had been and still very much was extremely unaware of having
a live audience witness his glimpse of mature and reasonable request to get back into
the house; the Maine Coon reeled minutely back at the other tom's admission of not
exactly having his own housefolk, nose pushing up with a frown of half-pitiful indecision.
'No?' he repeated almost rhetorically, slowly, and his sceptical disbelief shifted into that
of very disgruntled realisation at the stranger's next words. He should have known; he
didn't particularly have any smell that regularly denoted others staying with their own
Upwalkers. Egh, he felt unclean now. 'I feel as though you have a very skewed view
but don't let me stop you,' he meowed, politely and just a little twitchily. 'Freedom
of speech, after all. It's more conversation than my Upwalkers can give me.'
Living with his Upwalkers indeed definitely made for a very tame life; he slept wherever he
wanted, mostly gravitating toward the warmed foot of his generous feeder's beds, and
woke up whenever he wanted to give his legs a little stretch and head straight for the
kitchen where a bowl of the softest and best kibble could already be found waiting for him
alongside another bowl of clear water. He had all the freedom to enter and exit at his own
whim with the installation of a cat door and many things had been given to him that were
really all he needed - a tall snaking jungle of obstacles for him to climb and a peculiar post
that he made sure to mark delicately before slashing approximately ten times a day - and
he gave little but his own weight into their laps to be petted and brushed. Life was good.
Save for the fact that the cat flap had the tendency to jam and apparently his benefactors
found it perfectly fine to neglect letting him back in for hours on end (it's been around
ten minutes). ... And he's not fat, damn it. Or lazy.
Right?
He was just letting his Upwalkers do everything for him because that was the way you
did things. If someone was perfectly willing to fold your bed, you let them do it. Besides,
they were his. He didn't follow any orders from them so he didn't see anyone wrong with
sticking around and letting them heap food on him.
Scorpio inclined his head for the presumed stray to speak, short ears flicking forth, and
narrowed his eyes. 'It's freedom if you have no one to remember your face when
you have died or not come back for a while, I suppose,' he answered seriously.
'Or having to scrabble through rubbish bins just to be given one decent meal.'
His whiskers shivered minimally. 'Though feeling absolutely no security can be
missed, too, as well as suffering through cold night after cold night. Hmm. Yes.'
The highly accidentally pretentious cat delicately settled himself in front of the stranger,
blinking at him, and inquired curiously, 'Have you ever had your own housefolk?'
...Please don't be a ghastly forest cat, please don't be a ghastly forest cat.[/spoiler]
do i want to save my first get to know me meme. do i.