Encounterlogs
Gonthorians Odd Encounter Sr Calista 240808
Morgan's morning takes an intriguing turn when she encounters a peculiar young man in a rain-soaked clearing near a treehouse café. Despite having recently recovered from a severe injury—a rat bite that led to the loss of her arm—Morgan's spirits are dampened not just by the rain but by the curse she carries, which lays her inner thoughts bare. As she navigates the sodden ground, a disheveled young man appears, seemingly a thrall discarded by a vampire, desperate and fearful, yet oddly seductive in his plea for help. His approach fluctuates between vulnerability and a strange allure, suggesting a complex interplay of emotions and intentions. The peculiar encounter underscores Morgan's unintended vulnerability, brought starkly into focus by the curse that forces her honesty, creating a scenario ripe with tension and uncertainty.
Meanwhile, in a parallel narrative, Rachel finds herself ensnared in a dream world, embroiled in a dramatic chase that shifts from hunter to hunted. After an adrenaline-fueled pursuit, she awakens in an idyllic forest clearing beside a large ginger cat, a stark contrast to the urban perils she faced moments before. The dream constructs a seemingly perfect feline paradise, where Rachel indulges in the delights of hunting and sharing fish with the ginger tom, a realm where every desire of her feline form seems fulfilled. However, the tantalizing perfection of the dream serves as a poignant reminder of her reality and her true desires. Rachel's realization that the dream, however satisfying to her feline instincts, cannot replace the complexities and connections of her actual life prompts a profound reflection on identity and belonging. The story poignantly concludes as Rachel, despite being momentarily swayed by the utopian dream, acknowledges her deeper yearning for her true place in the world beyond the alluring yet ultimately unsatisfying fantasy.
(Morgan's odd encounter(SRCalista):SRCalista)
[Wed Aug 7 2024]
At the clearing beneath the treehouse cafe
This part of the park looks wilder and less cultivated, but closer examination of the carefully trimmed trees and bushes reveals that this impression is intended rather than from any lack of care. Several spruces, firs, and beeches create a small grove here, providing plenty of shade against the harsh sunlight during the day while still allowing enough light from the night sky to bathe the area in a a soft silvery-blue glow. A gigantic tree towers above the rest at one end of the clearing, branches reaching majestically skywards as if in benediction over its smaller cousins. Cradled in its arborian embrace is a large, beautifully constructed treehouse overlooking the spacious grove, further supported by thick wooden beams carved into simple but graceful arcs near the base of the platform. A vine-like rope ladder hangs from one end of the deck for the more adventurous visitors, and a steel fireman's pole stands boldly on the other side for people to slide back down. A safer, saner method of access has also been installed into the shape of two wooden ramps gently sloaping perpendicular to one another so as to elevate away from both pole and ladder, reducing the chance of reckless injury.
It is morning, about 71F(21C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining.
(Your target and their allies encounter the former thrall of a vampire who has been discarded by their previous owner, likely mind controlled into complete devotion the thrall wants nothing more than to return. It is up to the characters to either help them return, or stop them from doing so.
)
Morgan is currently struck by a curse! One which forces her every inner thought out. It's been a difficult day for Morgan, her arm got bitten off by rats last month and now, fully restored, she finds herself just recently surfacing after a difficult recovery. Now, she feels a bit lost, and finds herself wandering just at the edges of the woods in the rain, thoughtful.
It's pouring rain and the smell of loam is headier here where Morgan walks, the leaves and earth being turned and beaten from the heavy pattering rains. The ground squelches under her footsteps from water levels so great that the ground simply cannot drink enough to keep up. From within the woods at the corner of her eye, there would be the slip of a shadow between trees. As her acute senses focus in, two things would become apparent of this figure: it is a tall and all together too skinny young male, and that he is humming. The humming sound is melancholy and unsettling, having the serene features of a lullaby but with a desperate sounding almost fear to the tune.
And it's apparent he's about to make Morgan's morning either shittier or better as he comes toward her like a buoy in his sea of fear - for he does look afraid. He is pale and dark around the eyes and his clothing which consists of a t-shirt and sweat pants but no jacket and shoes looks like he was simply rolled off the couch in the middle of a nap and dumped in these woods. He is blond and fair, almost sweetly innocent looking and can't hardly be more than just into his twenties. "H-hey, you!" he calls out to Morgan from where he stops to lean against a tree, blinking at her through some raindrop covered lashes. He switches then from scared deer in the woods to being something more sensual. Leaning and preening against the tree like he might be a trap of a snack. It might almost be comical given his disheveled state and the circumstances of their meeting. Or maybe it's just the only way he knows how to communicate to get what he wants. "You wanna come over here? Help me out a little?" he coos these words, but switches in expression from confident to hopeful and back again.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
As the Russian begins to slumber beneath the covers, safe from the vicious clawing of Rachel(domestic cat), the feline aggressor begins to drift shortly thereafter, curled up on the bed beside him. The marble-floored chamber carries the sounds of his light snoring well, the lack of much decoration or furniture allowing every sound to echo throughout, soon joined by the soft breaths of Rachel(domestic cat) as the shifted feline settles down for a catnap. Shifting slowly in his sleep, the man's stirring causes the mound beneath the covers to creep this way and that, occasionally jarring Rachel(domestic cat) from her sleep before she can slumber to her deepest extent. This too, however, passes, and all is still in the bedroom besides the distant roaring of traffic down on the street below. The glass dome overhead casts light down within the chamber normally but a shutter, normally scrolled away within recesses below the room, is closed shut.
Fitful sleep takes Rachel(domestic cat) fully and soon she drifts away to dreams as much influenced by her feline form's nature as her own human mind's. A chase begins, her breaths light and quick as she barrels along a gutter after some rodent in an alley scene without real detail of substance. The feeling of gritty ground underfoot as she skitters along, her claws provided much needed traction as she rounds corners, ducks beneath obstacles, skirts puddles, and hops grids in pursuit. Joyously, as a paw finds its mark and jaws snap shut about the mouse, a dull roar sounds out from behind. A larger feline looms forth from the dark. Featureless but for a few dappled rosettes here and there, the beast eyes Rachel(domestic cat) as the prey-rodent evaporates out of her consciousness and the roles change. Rachel(domestic cat) becomes the pursued and this newcomer her pursuer, the same zigs and zags she took in chase of the mouse becoming her salvation as she uses these distractions to build much needed distance between her and the predator at her heels.
A deafening bellow from the right comes with the blinding lights of a car's headlamps. All seems to slow as Rachel(domestic cat) takes in the moment. The light rain beading on the asphalt kicks up about the wheels of the incoming vehicle like the wake of a stone skimming across the surface of a lake. The booming alert of the horn takes on a reverberating quality that warbles high and low. The clicking of Rachel(domestic cat)'s clawstips against the road's surface are individually perceptible as her paws beat down and press back in sequence to launch her forwards at desperate pace from the impending threat behind. The draft of the traffic in the opposing lane washes across Rachel(domestic cat) and ruffles her dark fur, spattering her with the lightest shower of rainwater from the ground below while giving her a just-too-late warning of the danger ahead (a danger she disregarded in her haste to flee). The yawning maw of the beast behind, its neck stretching almost impossibly out towards Rachel(domestic cat) to bring to bear teeth seemingly as long as kitchen knives that snap closed just short of her tail (praise be its shortened length). The glint of streetlights on the bumper of the incoming vehicle as it collides with her.
Darkness.
Silence.
A ringing, soft at first, growing louder as light reintroduces itself to her world. A soft warmth presses to the side of Rachel(domestic cat)'s face as she starts to come to, the painful ringing abates. Gone is the grit of the asphalt and the oily smoke stench of car exhausts, replaced by the fresh and crisp scent of arboreal bliss. A forest clearing, surrounded by pine trees, with soft ground matted in moss and shrubs. A warm breeze rustles through in intervals, bearing the scents of forest flora as well as the tantalising hints of edible fauna in the distance. The warm presence above Rachel(domestic cat) withdraws a little, slowly, as she comes to. Another feline stands beside her sprawled-out form, thankfully entirely unlike the last she saw. This new companion is of more similar size to herself but still on the larger side for a housecat. Ginger fur covers it, with faint suggestions of narrow striping in a lighter colour. Canting its head, the stranger considers her before turning and prowling away, its tail snaking out to run down her side affectionally as he progresses.
This new feline figure winds its way along past fallen branches and mossy mounds, effortlessly wending slightly downhill towards a pool of shimmering water in the near distance. With a glance back once a few metres away, the ginger cat bobs a nod towards Rachel(domestic cat) and then twists its head aside towards the water, beckoning her. Mossy forest ground turns to light, short grasses as he passes the threshold of the clearing surrounding the pond, its natural beauty unmarred by human influence. With a hop, the ginger mounts a rock that juts out from the edge of the pond and over its waters, stretching and lowering himself down across its sun-warmed top to bask in the rays piercing through the clearing's gap in the surrounding canopy. Its eyes follow a fish down below as it calls back to Rachel(domestic cat), voice deep and smooth; "You should watch where you're going, dear."
The ginger tom's eyes follow its quarry beneath the surface.
Rachel(domestic cat) lets out a tiny 'meow' as she wakes and flops over, stretching. Her paws flex. As she rolls the other way, she comes eye-to-eye with the other cat.
No telling what he wants - and if it's something unfavorable, he's larger. She rights herself, tail swishing, ears pressed against her head. That's when he walks away. A less reckless Rachel(domestic cat) would take the opportunity to bolt, but Rachel(domestic cat) is, if nothing else, a magnet for trouble. Across the moss she pads and through the field, her ear flicking when blades of grass get in her way. Eventually, she comes to the pond where, unluckily, her companion has decided to take the best basking rock in the area.
She considers him - and presumably what he's saying. There's no speech on her end, but for another quiet, pipped 'meow.' No, he should watch where *he's* going. That's her spot.
Ginger appears unbothered. A lazily returned 'Mrrrlll' of acknowledgement is all Rachel(domestic cat) recieves from him before he goes back to eyeing the fish. As it nears him, he draws himself a little further forwards onto the rock and draws up a paw..
Closer..
Closer...
Splash!
The tom's paw draws up shakily, struggling with the weight of its catch briefly, before his head dips down over the rock beyond Rachel(domestic cat)'s view and secures the poor fish. Lifting its head and turning, the ginger deposits his prize down on the rock behind him.
Giving it a good sniff over, he lays a tentative lick on the slimy surface of its scales before opening wide and chomping down just as the fish starts to wriggle. A quiet crunch.. and fishy stops wiggling. Ginger tucks in, the fish lifting slightly as it sinks its teeth deep into the meaty flank of the iridescently scaled catch.
The scent of blood and fresh piscine flesh wafts over and catches in Rachel(domestic cat)'s nose as the tom feasts, impossibly appetising to her feline palate. The moss underfoot feels soft enough for her to just collapse into and nap with every step. The grasses each bring a refreshing hint of earthy olfactory freshness to them as she brushes by.
A cat's paradise.
Still on the ground, Rachel(domestic cat) approaches the waters and dips her paw in. That's wet. Now, Rachel(domestic cat) doesn't mind wet as a human, but as a cat, it feels wrong. Too heavy. She shakes off droplets. You know, the best way to hunt, perhaps, is to scavenge. It's much less energy.
Rachel(domestic cat) leaps onto the rock alongside the other cat. Around the perimeter she prowls, looking for an opening. Her paw lifts. The windup's real, real slow, but as everyone knows, once she sinks claws in, she'll drag the fish away fast, and he'll never see it again.
Rachel(domestic cat) feels like sushi for dinner. Give it.
The ginger tom clamps down as the paw comes in, perhaps having seen it coming. He eyes Rachel(domestic cat) along the length of his fishy, her claws making an effort to drag it from him.. and then lets go.
That's right, he relinquishes his catch, having had only a few mouthfuls. With a quiet 'Mrrrrrm', the tom sits back on his hind quarters with his lower legs tucked, front legs straight down infront of him. He watches Rachel(domestic cat), and waits.
Even the cats around here are great.. Comfortable surrounds, no predators, fresh fish on tap with a big ginger tom who's happy to share (give tribute). What more could Rachel(domestic cat) -possibly- desire.
Rachel(domestic cat) chows down. A purr starts from deep in her throat. She likes this. This is nice. She presses her paw to the tail of the fish and tears out chunk after chunk until, in the end, there's mostly just pin bones.
Rachel(domestic cat) lowers herself down onto her belly and tucks her legs in, sitting on her paws. Her eyes close slooooooowly. He's right. This is everything that a cat could want.
...except Rachel(domestic cat)'s not a cat. Not really.
She opens her eyes again.
What Rachel(domestic cat) wants isn't here. It never will be. It was, ironically, in a dark upstairs apartment - where she had been before she was called away. Rachel(domestic cat) opens her mouth to 'meow' again. It comes out like a hiss of air.
Mmm! Yum! Every little cat mouthful is tastier than the last. The fact that she finishes the fish truly is a shame.. but wait; there's a pond -full- of them. Just look down.. maybe bask on the stone and pluck one out at your leisure, Rachel(domestic cat). Why would you ever leave?
The ginger takes this as his opportunity to approach, slowly prowling over with his head lowered to sniff at Rachel(domestic cat)'s face for a few moments before winding around her side. The tom moves in at a gentle pace, moving to lay a small stroke of its tongue across Rachel(domestic cat)'s ear. As Rachel(domestic cat) remembers herself, the paradise remains unaltered; tailored to be everything a little cat might need.
The tom shifts back after a couple of licks, if not interrupted by Rachel(domestic cat) before it can finish that even, issuing a soft "meow.." and lowering its face. It supplicates to her, having shifted from its previous proud strut as Rachel(domestic cat) exhibits her desire to be top-cat, perhaps bending to what it believes she might desire, just as the world around her does.
Meanwhile, in a parallel narrative, Rachel finds herself ensnared in a dream world, embroiled in a dramatic chase that shifts from hunter to hunted. After an adrenaline-fueled pursuit, she awakens in an idyllic forest clearing beside a large ginger cat, a stark contrast to the urban perils she faced moments before. The dream constructs a seemingly perfect feline paradise, where Rachel indulges in the delights of hunting and sharing fish with the ginger tom, a realm where every desire of her feline form seems fulfilled. However, the tantalizing perfection of the dream serves as a poignant reminder of her reality and her true desires. Rachel's realization that the dream, however satisfying to her feline instincts, cannot replace the complexities and connections of her actual life prompts a profound reflection on identity and belonging. The story poignantly concludes as Rachel, despite being momentarily swayed by the utopian dream, acknowledges her deeper yearning for her true place in the world beyond the alluring yet ultimately unsatisfying fantasy.
(Morgan's odd encounter(SRCalista):SRCalista)
[Wed Aug 7 2024]
At the clearing beneath the treehouse cafe
This part of the park looks wilder and less cultivated, but closer examination of the carefully trimmed trees and bushes reveals that this impression is intended rather than from any lack of care. Several spruces, firs, and beeches create a small grove here, providing plenty of shade against the harsh sunlight during the day while still allowing enough light from the night sky to bathe the area in a a soft silvery-blue glow. A gigantic tree towers above the rest at one end of the clearing, branches reaching majestically skywards as if in benediction over its smaller cousins. Cradled in its arborian embrace is a large, beautifully constructed treehouse overlooking the spacious grove, further supported by thick wooden beams carved into simple but graceful arcs near the base of the platform. A vine-like rope ladder hangs from one end of the deck for the more adventurous visitors, and a steel fireman's pole stands boldly on the other side for people to slide back down. A safer, saner method of access has also been installed into the shape of two wooden ramps gently sloaping perpendicular to one another so as to elevate away from both pole and ladder, reducing the chance of reckless injury.
It is morning, about 71F(21C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining.
(Your target and their allies encounter the former thrall of a vampire who has been discarded by their previous owner, likely mind controlled into complete devotion the thrall wants nothing more than to return. It is up to the characters to either help them return, or stop them from doing so.
)
Morgan is currently struck by a curse! One which forces her every inner thought out. It's been a difficult day for Morgan, her arm got bitten off by rats last month and now, fully restored, she finds herself just recently surfacing after a difficult recovery. Now, she feels a bit lost, and finds herself wandering just at the edges of the woods in the rain, thoughtful.
It's pouring rain and the smell of loam is headier here where Morgan walks, the leaves and earth being turned and beaten from the heavy pattering rains. The ground squelches under her footsteps from water levels so great that the ground simply cannot drink enough to keep up. From within the woods at the corner of her eye, there would be the slip of a shadow between trees. As her acute senses focus in, two things would become apparent of this figure: it is a tall and all together too skinny young male, and that he is humming. The humming sound is melancholy and unsettling, having the serene features of a lullaby but with a desperate sounding almost fear to the tune.
And it's apparent he's about to make Morgan's morning either shittier or better as he comes toward her like a buoy in his sea of fear - for he does look afraid. He is pale and dark around the eyes and his clothing which consists of a t-shirt and sweat pants but no jacket and shoes looks like he was simply rolled off the couch in the middle of a nap and dumped in these woods. He is blond and fair, almost sweetly innocent looking and can't hardly be more than just into his twenties. "H-hey, you!" he calls out to Morgan from where he stops to lean against a tree, blinking at her through some raindrop covered lashes. He switches then from scared deer in the woods to being something more sensual. Leaning and preening against the tree like he might be a trap of a snack. It might almost be comical given his disheveled state and the circumstances of their meeting. Or maybe it's just the only way he knows how to communicate to get what he wants. "You wanna come over here? Help me out a little?" he coos these words, but switches in expression from confident to hopeful and back again.
(Your target is attacked by a dream stalker who subjects them to their greatest fantasies in the dream world in order to keep their body passive while it's energies are fed upon. They need to, possibly with the help of allies entering their dreams, resist the temptation long enough for other allies to find them or for them to wake up.
)
As the Russian begins to slumber beneath the covers, safe from the vicious clawing of Rachel(domestic cat), the feline aggressor begins to drift shortly thereafter, curled up on the bed beside him. The marble-floored chamber carries the sounds of his light snoring well, the lack of much decoration or furniture allowing every sound to echo throughout, soon joined by the soft breaths of Rachel(domestic cat) as the shifted feline settles down for a catnap. Shifting slowly in his sleep, the man's stirring causes the mound beneath the covers to creep this way and that, occasionally jarring Rachel(domestic cat) from her sleep before she can slumber to her deepest extent. This too, however, passes, and all is still in the bedroom besides the distant roaring of traffic down on the street below. The glass dome overhead casts light down within the chamber normally but a shutter, normally scrolled away within recesses below the room, is closed shut.
Fitful sleep takes Rachel(domestic cat) fully and soon she drifts away to dreams as much influenced by her feline form's nature as her own human mind's. A chase begins, her breaths light and quick as she barrels along a gutter after some rodent in an alley scene without real detail of substance. The feeling of gritty ground underfoot as she skitters along, her claws provided much needed traction as she rounds corners, ducks beneath obstacles, skirts puddles, and hops grids in pursuit. Joyously, as a paw finds its mark and jaws snap shut about the mouse, a dull roar sounds out from behind. A larger feline looms forth from the dark. Featureless but for a few dappled rosettes here and there, the beast eyes Rachel(domestic cat) as the prey-rodent evaporates out of her consciousness and the roles change. Rachel(domestic cat) becomes the pursued and this newcomer her pursuer, the same zigs and zags she took in chase of the mouse becoming her salvation as she uses these distractions to build much needed distance between her and the predator at her heels.
A deafening bellow from the right comes with the blinding lights of a car's headlamps. All seems to slow as Rachel(domestic cat) takes in the moment. The light rain beading on the asphalt kicks up about the wheels of the incoming vehicle like the wake of a stone skimming across the surface of a lake. The booming alert of the horn takes on a reverberating quality that warbles high and low. The clicking of Rachel(domestic cat)'s clawstips against the road's surface are individually perceptible as her paws beat down and press back in sequence to launch her forwards at desperate pace from the impending threat behind. The draft of the traffic in the opposing lane washes across Rachel(domestic cat) and ruffles her dark fur, spattering her with the lightest shower of rainwater from the ground below while giving her a just-too-late warning of the danger ahead (a danger she disregarded in her haste to flee). The yawning maw of the beast behind, its neck stretching almost impossibly out towards Rachel(domestic cat) to bring to bear teeth seemingly as long as kitchen knives that snap closed just short of her tail (praise be its shortened length). The glint of streetlights on the bumper of the incoming vehicle as it collides with her.
Darkness.
Silence.
A ringing, soft at first, growing louder as light reintroduces itself to her world. A soft warmth presses to the side of Rachel(domestic cat)'s face as she starts to come to, the painful ringing abates. Gone is the grit of the asphalt and the oily smoke stench of car exhausts, replaced by the fresh and crisp scent of arboreal bliss. A forest clearing, surrounded by pine trees, with soft ground matted in moss and shrubs. A warm breeze rustles through in intervals, bearing the scents of forest flora as well as the tantalising hints of edible fauna in the distance. The warm presence above Rachel(domestic cat) withdraws a little, slowly, as she comes to. Another feline stands beside her sprawled-out form, thankfully entirely unlike the last she saw. This new companion is of more similar size to herself but still on the larger side for a housecat. Ginger fur covers it, with faint suggestions of narrow striping in a lighter colour. Canting its head, the stranger considers her before turning and prowling away, its tail snaking out to run down her side affectionally as he progresses.
This new feline figure winds its way along past fallen branches and mossy mounds, effortlessly wending slightly downhill towards a pool of shimmering water in the near distance. With a glance back once a few metres away, the ginger cat bobs a nod towards Rachel(domestic cat) and then twists its head aside towards the water, beckoning her. Mossy forest ground turns to light, short grasses as he passes the threshold of the clearing surrounding the pond, its natural beauty unmarred by human influence. With a hop, the ginger mounts a rock that juts out from the edge of the pond and over its waters, stretching and lowering himself down across its sun-warmed top to bask in the rays piercing through the clearing's gap in the surrounding canopy. Its eyes follow a fish down below as it calls back to Rachel(domestic cat), voice deep and smooth; "You should watch where you're going, dear."
The ginger tom's eyes follow its quarry beneath the surface.
Rachel(domestic cat) lets out a tiny 'meow' as she wakes and flops over, stretching. Her paws flex. As she rolls the other way, she comes eye-to-eye with the other cat.
No telling what he wants - and if it's something unfavorable, he's larger. She rights herself, tail swishing, ears pressed against her head. That's when he walks away. A less reckless Rachel(domestic cat) would take the opportunity to bolt, but Rachel(domestic cat) is, if nothing else, a magnet for trouble. Across the moss she pads and through the field, her ear flicking when blades of grass get in her way. Eventually, she comes to the pond where, unluckily, her companion has decided to take the best basking rock in the area.
She considers him - and presumably what he's saying. There's no speech on her end, but for another quiet, pipped 'meow.' No, he should watch where *he's* going. That's her spot.
Ginger appears unbothered. A lazily returned 'Mrrrlll' of acknowledgement is all Rachel(domestic cat) recieves from him before he goes back to eyeing the fish. As it nears him, he draws himself a little further forwards onto the rock and draws up a paw..
Closer..
Closer...
Splash!
The tom's paw draws up shakily, struggling with the weight of its catch briefly, before his head dips down over the rock beyond Rachel(domestic cat)'s view and secures the poor fish. Lifting its head and turning, the ginger deposits his prize down on the rock behind him.
Giving it a good sniff over, he lays a tentative lick on the slimy surface of its scales before opening wide and chomping down just as the fish starts to wriggle. A quiet crunch.. and fishy stops wiggling. Ginger tucks in, the fish lifting slightly as it sinks its teeth deep into the meaty flank of the iridescently scaled catch.
The scent of blood and fresh piscine flesh wafts over and catches in Rachel(domestic cat)'s nose as the tom feasts, impossibly appetising to her feline palate. The moss underfoot feels soft enough for her to just collapse into and nap with every step. The grasses each bring a refreshing hint of earthy olfactory freshness to them as she brushes by.
A cat's paradise.
Still on the ground, Rachel(domestic cat) approaches the waters and dips her paw in. That's wet. Now, Rachel(domestic cat) doesn't mind wet as a human, but as a cat, it feels wrong. Too heavy. She shakes off droplets. You know, the best way to hunt, perhaps, is to scavenge. It's much less energy.
Rachel(domestic cat) leaps onto the rock alongside the other cat. Around the perimeter she prowls, looking for an opening. Her paw lifts. The windup's real, real slow, but as everyone knows, once she sinks claws in, she'll drag the fish away fast, and he'll never see it again.
Rachel(domestic cat) feels like sushi for dinner. Give it.
The ginger tom clamps down as the paw comes in, perhaps having seen it coming. He eyes Rachel(domestic cat) along the length of his fishy, her claws making an effort to drag it from him.. and then lets go.
That's right, he relinquishes his catch, having had only a few mouthfuls. With a quiet 'Mrrrrrm', the tom sits back on his hind quarters with his lower legs tucked, front legs straight down infront of him. He watches Rachel(domestic cat), and waits.
Even the cats around here are great.. Comfortable surrounds, no predators, fresh fish on tap with a big ginger tom who's happy to share (give tribute). What more could Rachel(domestic cat) -possibly- desire.
Rachel(domestic cat) chows down. A purr starts from deep in her throat. She likes this. This is nice. She presses her paw to the tail of the fish and tears out chunk after chunk until, in the end, there's mostly just pin bones.
Rachel(domestic cat) lowers herself down onto her belly and tucks her legs in, sitting on her paws. Her eyes close slooooooowly. He's right. This is everything that a cat could want.
...except Rachel(domestic cat)'s not a cat. Not really.
She opens her eyes again.
What Rachel(domestic cat) wants isn't here. It never will be. It was, ironically, in a dark upstairs apartment - where she had been before she was called away. Rachel(domestic cat) opens her mouth to 'meow' again. It comes out like a hiss of air.
Mmm! Yum! Every little cat mouthful is tastier than the last. The fact that she finishes the fish truly is a shame.. but wait; there's a pond -full- of them. Just look down.. maybe bask on the stone and pluck one out at your leisure, Rachel(domestic cat). Why would you ever leave?
The ginger takes this as his opportunity to approach, slowly prowling over with his head lowered to sniff at Rachel(domestic cat)'s face for a few moments before winding around her side. The tom moves in at a gentle pace, moving to lay a small stroke of its tongue across Rachel(domestic cat)'s ear. As Rachel(domestic cat) remembers herself, the paradise remains unaltered; tailored to be everything a little cat might need.
The tom shifts back after a couple of licks, if not interrupted by Rachel(domestic cat) before it can finish that even, issuing a soft "meow.." and lowering its face. It supplicates to her, having shifted from its previous proud strut as Rachel(domestic cat) exhibits her desire to be top-cat, perhaps bending to what it believes she might desire, just as the world around her does.