Post by Quince on Jun 20, 2017 13:51:13 GMT
It was believed that cats were solitary creatures. They encountered each other, sure, sometimes they even mated together, but hunting in packs was, some had said, a foreign concept. And, perhaps it was. What they hunted was enough only for one. Yet, the misconception was that they were solitary creatures. This is not the case, as cats tend to form social structures, especially when they're smart enough to integrate into earthling culture.
The thing is, Quince did not know that this was a misconception. Or, perhaps he did. Either way, he was using it as a justification for not doing anything productive. He'd lie there, still. One could almost mistake him for a corpse if not for the annoyingly audible breathing.
What's with that thing up above, anyway? He'd seen many people fly up there, so there must have been something there.
The thing is, Quince had been up there once before. Except, there were scary things there, like a pink thing that chased him and a really really really big dragon. It was traumatic for his young mind and he had unconsciously decided to forget such events, bringing him to his current predicament. He'd have to find out what's up there sooner or later, wouldn't he? Again?
But that'd take effort.
Oh, well, now or never.
In three. Two. One. He tried to lift himself off of the floor, but moved too quickly (that is to say, he moved) and got a headache. Zombie-like in his posture, he struggled to get on his own two feet. But, deciding that that was too difficult, he instead reverted to his species' origins: four-legged movement. The fat of his belly rubbed against the floor as he moved. If he were to move up there, he would need some energy.
Thankfully, he had access to catnip. He smothered it in his face before throwing it aside as new energy filled his very being. He jumped— as in, literally jumped— onto his Flying Nimbus. It was a Dark Flying Nimbus because he wasn't pure-hearted enough for the usual version, except it was dyed yellow so people wouldn't know. The color was still off, though.
It bounced a bit, struggling to support his weight. But, slowly, it went up. Hopefully there won't be a dragon at the top to greet him.
Soon, he saw a sort of bowl. Was this were the people went? If not one of them (well, one did) stopped in by his place before going up there it must have been pretty important business. He found himself at the top of the hemisphere to find a white tiled area with some weird house structure in the middle and trees closer to the edges. He jumped off of the cloud and on to a tile (making a teeny-tiny dent in the process), his power pole in hand (adjusted to account for his diminutive stature). On his back was another stick, a certain kind of stick, the one that had been passed down in his family for at least a bit. This was the stick of the Senbyo.
Despite making two steps in the past twenty four hours, it seemed that the catnip had run out. He was puffing because of the strong sun. Well, at least he could stand on his own two feet.
He collapsed.
… Make that four feet.
Hey, who's that over there? Who, indeed? He crept over in that direction, much like an cat would.
((PL: 4,245))
Bing Gan Maeve Rakshasa
((whoever else is usually on the lookout can join))
The thing is, Quince did not know that this was a misconception. Or, perhaps he did. Either way, he was using it as a justification for not doing anything productive. He'd lie there, still. One could almost mistake him for a corpse if not for the annoyingly audible breathing.
What's with that thing up above, anyway? He'd seen many people fly up there, so there must have been something there.
The thing is, Quince had been up there once before. Except, there were scary things there, like a pink thing that chased him and a really really really big dragon. It was traumatic for his young mind and he had unconsciously decided to forget such events, bringing him to his current predicament. He'd have to find out what's up there sooner or later, wouldn't he? Again?
But that'd take effort.
Oh, well, now or never.
In three. Two. One. He tried to lift himself off of the floor, but moved too quickly (that is to say, he moved) and got a headache. Zombie-like in his posture, he struggled to get on his own two feet. But, deciding that that was too difficult, he instead reverted to his species' origins: four-legged movement. The fat of his belly rubbed against the floor as he moved. If he were to move up there, he would need some energy.
Thankfully, he had access to catnip. He smothered it in his face before throwing it aside as new energy filled his very being. He jumped— as in, literally jumped— onto his Flying Nimbus. It was a Dark Flying Nimbus because he wasn't pure-hearted enough for the usual version, except it was dyed yellow so people wouldn't know. The color was still off, though.
It bounced a bit, struggling to support his weight. But, slowly, it went up. Hopefully there won't be a dragon at the top to greet him.
Soon, he saw a sort of bowl. Was this were the people went? If not one of them (well, one did) stopped in by his place before going up there it must have been pretty important business. He found himself at the top of the hemisphere to find a white tiled area with some weird house structure in the middle and trees closer to the edges. He jumped off of the cloud and on to a tile (making a teeny-tiny dent in the process), his power pole in hand (adjusted to account for his diminutive stature). On his back was another stick, a certain kind of stick, the one that had been passed down in his family for at least a bit. This was the stick of the Senbyo.
Despite making two steps in the past twenty four hours, it seemed that the catnip had run out. He was puffing because of the strong sun. Well, at least he could stand on his own two feet.
He collapsed.
… Make that four feet.
Hey, who's that over there? Who, indeed? He crept over in that direction, much like an cat would.
((PL: 4,245))
Bing Gan Maeve Rakshasa
((whoever else is usually on the lookout can join))