Limits || Jet & Misto Private RP

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] The salty tang of the ocean rode on the breeze, making Jet’s whiskers twitch eagerly as it reached her small, pink nose. She was almost there, and oh, how she loved the smell of the ocean! The marbled Sokoke had been dancing in the streets all morning, and she had made a good amount of schillings in return for her efforts. Her bright blue gaze had shone at the dawning realization that she wouldn’t have to do some extra hours at the tavern tonight, and the cat’s first thoughts were immediately that this nice summery day should be spent well. After all, the leaves were slowly starting to turn golden, and no way Jet was going to let summer become fall before she got in one last nice long trip to the beach. Stepping out onto the sand, it shifted comfortingly beneath her paws, sliding her forwards with graceful ease. It was as if the shifting ground did half the job of walking for her, although not always in the direction she wanted to go. But the hot pale dirt below her, the cool blue waves ahead, and that calming breeze simply everywhere…who couldn’t smile? Purring quietly to herself, she lounged against a log of pale driftwood, and started humming a quiet tune to herself. It seemed she was alone for the time being, and she wasn’t all that sure what to do with herself. From the start, Jet was always a very social cat. She enjoyed chatting with others, gratefully taking compliments from the toms and occasionally slipping out a flirty line in return. It was her element, her job basically relied on her being able to catch a cat’s eye- and hold it. And there was more ways than one to do that. Of course, the marbled she-cat’s most preferred method was simply a display of raw talent, rather than shameless flirtation. But she seemed to have enough talent to get by, and this thought made her chest swell with pride for herself, which didn’t happen as often as it probably should’ve. Sitting up, she flicked her long, Elite ears. She felt compelled to go for a swim and cool off, but she couldn’t help but feel nervous, with a slight twinge of something else. Loneliness? No, no that couldn’t possibly have been it. But even Jet Marrow could see the logic behind having others around while out no the water. Cats got dragged away all the time, and even though her movements on land were quite graceful, the Dancer wasn’t as good a swimmer as she’d like to be. Sure, she could hold her head above the water, but she fatigued quickly with the paddling and kicking, and so she found it much more relaxing to just entertain herself in the shallows. Something that also grew a bit harder to do by yourself. She huffed, frowning slightly and glancing around. Wasn’t Jasper Beach usually supposed to be full of cats? Especially on such a nice day like this? It was just past noon, in fact, it was probably closer to mid-afternoon with all the time she’d already spent sitting around. But as hard as she was finding it to amuse herself, the sokoke couldn’t complain in the least. Even if it wasn’t fun, It was still so nice and so peaceful; a brilliant change from the bustling tavern. Yerck, the simple thought of it brought the smell of alcohol on the rank breath of drunken toms back to her nose, and she wrinkled it in distaste. Suddenly, the strong but salty smell of the ocean was all that much better. Getting up completely, she stretched her arms above her striped head, her belt tinkling quietly in protest to her stretch. Dropping her arms down to her sides, she decided why not go for a slight walk. It wasn’t all that often anyways that she got to explore Jasper Beach, and knowing your way around never hurt, right? The sun-warmed sand shifted beneath her darkly furred paws with every step, harmonizing with her faint belt. Jet’s jowls pulled back into a grin; she ruefully wished she could be this lazy more often!

[icyreflections]

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[atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png] It was a beautiful afternoon- the sky was clear and blue; there weren’t any clouds visible to dot the horizon and blemish its wondrous beauty. Due to the fact that the Sun was unrivaled by any natural elements that also inhabited the sky, he shone bigger and brighter than usual- spreading his arms and legs into every which way and beaming in satisfaction as he proved to all the land dwellers beneath him just how expertly he could stretch. He was the most glorious being in the sea of blue- the king of his domain and he was more than happy to prove it. His crown shone majestically against the gradient blue comforting him, a white halo outlined his form and it was nearly impossible for one to look up at deny the King his rightful appreciation. It was at the time of day in which the King was perched upon his throne, which was located at the highest peak in his cycle. Although a certain black and white tom was usually interested in paying his respects for the sun and paid a good amount of attention to his surroundings, Misto was too fretful to really notice or care. He was trudging back home with his precious violin clamped tightly in his paw. He looked at his feet as he walked back to his home on the beach and his mind buzzed with alarming thoughts. It was much too early for him to decide to return home; he had a job to do (well, several jobs actually) and it was his responsibility to make sure he made at least some money that could feed his large family. The tuxedo tom felt sick with worry- what was he going to do now? His eyes dared to look back down at the paw that didn’t carry the violin and he winced painfully at the sight and his stomach twisted into a sickening knot. Before him, his right paw awkwardly held two broken sticks. When Misto left home that morning, the stick was in one whole piece and was eager to perform its job and dance across the strings of his violin like it did so many times before. Now the bow was clumped pathetically in his palm and it was emotionally and somewhat physically harmful for Misto to have his possession damaged in such a brutal way. He did not care about his paw, which still throbbed violently from being forcefully pulled away from the bow, he cared about his lively hood- his complete and utter passion. The love of his life was his music, his prized violin and now he feared it would never share its gentle songs with him again. It was too much to bear. The violin had been a gift from his grandfather and in a way, it symbolized and personified the old tomcat. When Misto touched the violin, he felt such a warm, comforting elation like he did when he used to practice playing the instrument with his grandfather. When he played, his spirit smiled down upon him from the heavens and Misto was sure he was an eternal audience member. No matter how lonely he thought he was, as long as he played in instrument, Misto knew that he was never really alone. But now he felt disorientated. He knew that he could fix the bow somehow but the love he had for the instrument- the way he hurt because he knew his violin did- was quite alarming. He never knew such loss could exist. He was deeply saddened by the loss of his grandfather but he knew his violin would connect them for as long as he could play the notes… Well, Misto couldn’t play the notes now and it was horrifying. Slowly the ground beneath him shifted to sand and he dared to look ahead of him. The caravan was situated a few feet inland of the beach and he could see its outline growing larger and larger with every step. His mother was certainly going to give him a mouthful- he had no money, he didn’t have a means to get more (his skill with the violin raked in the most gold), and his right paw was probably sprained or broken and she was just looking for a reason to explain to him again why going out into the city was dangerous for outcasts like them. ‘I’ll just slip into the caravan,’ Misto thought quickly, trying to avoid any unnecessary worry or lectures. ‘I’ll find a bandage and wrap my bow and hand with it and that will be that. They don’t need to know what happened.’ With that, he approached the caravan and instead of walking around to the other side and entering through the doorway, he flipped over the fabric covering the roof, tossed his instrument and broken bow inside and then painfully hoisted himself up into the wagon with both paws. He tumbled in like he used to do when he was a kit and spent all night exploring the woods without his mother’s approval and lay on the floor for a moment, panting and hugging his injured paw to his chest for a moment. As the pain began to ebb away, Misto sat up and looked around for something to use to wrap it and mend his bow. He found one of his sisters opaque shawls sprawled upon the floor and he snatched it up and folded it into a proper width for a bandage and tied it around his paw daintily. When he finished tying it off, his brown eyes busily scanned the room for something else to use but nothing was small enough for the bow. Misto’s heart fell at this realization and his mind started to scramble to think of something else to use. Would seaweed work? It was worth a try. Misto hid his violin under the single cot in the caravan and picked up the bow’s pieces. He concealed them in his vest and after taking a few moments to calm himself, he exited the caravan and briskly padded through the campsite towards the ocean. He felt a little offensive dodging the warm ‘good afternoons’ from his family members but he had to stay focused and avoid raising suspicion or concern… at least until his bow was mended. He padded to the sea side and knelt beside the waves. He reached a paw into the ebbing and flowing water and lifted a clump of seaweed. He put it beside him on the shore and began to measure the various strands and determine if they would hold or not. ‘Boy,’ Misto thought good-naturedly, ‘this would look weird if anyone passed by now.’

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] Alone on the beach, Jet found herself able to think very clearly. It was as if the gentle breeze had pushed away and foggy haze that had once dwelled between her fur-tipped ears. She could see what she wanted to be, and she was even starting to develop some ways on how she would get there. She didn’t want to be a nobody in the situations she was being forced to turn a blind eye too. The Empire was being challenged by the guilds, and they were so busy fighting with eachother, nobody payed heed to the lesser cats. The ones who needed kindness to look up to, and saw only more violence. The ones who started stealing and attacking others, since It was the only way they knew how to get to the top. But surely a single dancer couldn’t do anything, but she was busy mulling over the thought of the guilds. They were doing something, but a lot of times they seemed to have different intensions propelling them. As if all of this wasn’t to help, but to be in the face of the Empire. Contemplated her thoughts quietly, she found yet another road block. She had run out of ideas again, so back to square one she went, starting to think about other things as she walked slowly in the sand. She had nothing else to do, there was no need to rush. If Jet had been any more lost in her thoughts, she might have missed the figure by the shore that was starting to come into view. It was hard to miss the dark black fur streaked in white against the pale sand and blue ocean. And yet for the oddest reason she didn’t recognise the cat right off the bat, narrowing her blue eyes and wondering what on earth they were doing pawing at something beneath the waves. The sokoke slowed her walk a bit, wanting to go unnoticed as curiosity kept her staring. The tom rightened himself, holding…seaweed? It was then that Jet’s ears pricked. Misto, of course! Previous reluctance set aside, Jet walked over in slightly quicker strides, calling out with a wave. “Misto!” she chimed, her voice rimmed with genuine surprise that of all the cats she could run into out here, it was none other than one of her two best friends. Of course, never could Jet imagine seeing Zahara out here; that she-cat was too timid for her own good. Jet took a silent moment to vow to get that patch-pelted feline out more often, help her see the world from the brighter side. It was about time the two of them did something that didn’t put them in danger, too, she remarked with a smirk at the memory. That dusty mansion sure had been something! But right now she was eagerly smiling over at Misto as she padded closer, but staying far enough back not to get her paws wet. She didn’t want sand clinging to the chocolaty fur of her feet all day; sooo uncomfortable. Pausing a little ways away, she found herself frowning in bemusement again. “What….are you doing?” the dancer murred, her brain reeling to try to understand why he was eagerly sifting through different lengths of seaweed. The green strands looked slick and slimy, and although Jet wasn’t the most girly of girls, she couldn’t help but be happy she didn’t have to touch the stuff. She preferred the less… wet nature. Trees and forests, that was where she was happiest. It was only after this thought that Jet noticed the broken bow of the violin, and her heart sank. Her blue gaze guiltily flicked to Misto’s face, swiftly reading his expression; she didn’t want to prod at sensitive topics. That wasn’t what friends do.

[Kitsani]

[ Just posting something so this will come up in the New threads box XD It isn't dead, but it's been a while since Icy replied, probably busy with the mansion rp LOL <33 ]

[icyreflections]

[[Thanks Kit XD I'm working on a post now while also working on homework. Sorry for the wait! I should be more active tomorrow after class and through the weekend <3 ]]

[Kitsani]

[[ Not a problem at all C: ]]

[icyreflections]

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[atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png] Misto shifted through the pile of seaweed at his side- absent-mindedly at this point. He had just thrown back one particularly slimy strand when he began to wonder, ‘What am I doing?’ He looked at the seaweed. It was cold, damp, smelt awful, and was a horrid shade of green. Why was he wasting his time with this stuff? Was this really the best he could come up with? His shifting motions ceased momentarily as he looked down at his haul and then shifted his gaze upon the shards that used to be his bow. Without warning, a deep sense of loss and frustration came over the normally calm and level-headed tomcat and his throat ached. Before him lay his the key to his fortune- to his salvation. Day in and day out he went about his day with a smile and a song, never complaining about how hard it was to take care of seventeen full grown cats who were too afraid of ignorance and hate to roam the city themselves. The musician’s sprained paw throbbed violently at this thought and he held it to his chest with his other, uninjured paw. Here was his reward for being kind and helpful. Here was what he got for helping his family. He could almost hear the irony of the situation laughing at him. He was always such a curious and happy cat- he wasn’t afraid of thieves, witches, or the elite… He knew how to take care of himself and how to talk his way out of trouble. If he couldn’t make friends with someone, he knew how to cope with the situation and turn it to his favor… or at least… that is what he always thought. Misto didn’t know what to think at the moment. He was so conflicted with thoughts that he just wanted to stick his head into the ocean and scream. He was not blind to the hatred his kind was subjected to and had been in scuffles before. It was a fact of life that Misto didn’t agree with but didn’t outright ignore. He learned ways to cope with things like this and kept a friendly and adventurous demeanor despite the hatred he knew because it made him a stronger and more mature cat. As long as he kept his head held high and didn’t give in to the taunts and hate, he was a better tom. He wanted to forgive and forget, like he always did. He wanted to respect everyone he met and carry on with his life. But it was much harder than Misto could have ever imagined. Although he loved his family and did his best to keep them fed and tried to treat others with respect even when it wasn’t returned, Misto was unsure if he’d be able to shrug off the crime that had been committed today. He didn’t really care that he was injured- sure his paw hurt- he was mortified that someone would forcibly take the property… no… the livelihood of another cat and break it before their eyes to make a point. What sort of point, Misto didn’t know. He didn’t really care what was being proven- the act just symbolized the hate and ignorance that his family members feared. It was obvious Misto wasn’t a wealthy cat. It was obvious that he needed to work the streets to make a few coins. Why did they have to mock him… why did they have to handicap him? Why did they need to make him less than he already was? His money was made through his music and his soul was poured into each song. He made such beautiful sounds with his violin and his grandfather had taught him how to do so with the same bow that was now snapped in half. Misto’s heart ached as he thought of the defiled gift his grandfather gave him; how disrespectful it was to snap it like a twig… like it was nothing special. Misto always thought that although he was dead, he could still feel his presence by playing his violin. Somehow, the black and white tom thought that they were both linked together by that marvelous instrument. The bow produced the melodies that brought him to an unearthly place where he could hear, see, smell, and experience anything… He could be more than what the public thought. He could play with his grandfather once more… He could smile and light up the world with his presence. But what should he think now? He knew that the officials that approached him were most likely arrogant brutes that didn’t really take into account how awful their act truly was… They just had the means of asserting themselves and they jumped at the chance. Misto knew that it was really just an issue of dominance and yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how it was that everything he loved and looked up to in life could just be snapped in half like that for no good reason? He spent a lifetime learning the violin, appreciating the sounds it made, creating beautiful worlds out of its notes… He obtained his violin from his grandfather- who never gave up on him, and promised that he’d cherish the instrument and guide others like he did with him. How could all that end like this? Was it ending? Misto looked at the broken bow and held back the hurt that was clawing at his heart and the tears that were bursting to roll down his cheeks. There sat the broken bow and for a moment, Misto could have sworn that he saw a song bird laying before him with a broken neck. Never again would the delicate little creature sing. Was this true of his violin? Or did something better wait for him? Misto was tempted to give himself a reading- he knew that it was ill advised to do so but he didn’t want to talk to his mother and ask her to read his fortune. He didn’t want to worry her with his paw and broken instrument. He didn’t know what he was going to do and the cards seemed like the only option he had. As moved his paws from the seaweed to the belt tied around his waist, he heard a familiar voice call his name. Misto looked over his shoulder and saw Jet rushing towards him from across the beach. Despite the horrors of the morning, Misto managed a dull purr and a weak smile at the sight of the tabby she-cat. Jet was his best friend after all and perhaps her company was for the best. Maybe she was what ‘waited’ for him… maybe he could talk to her and feel less pessimistic. He didn’t realize that in the presence of his friend, his mood shifted to a slightly more upbeat personality- though it seemed a little forced and was obvious that he was still pained by the fact that his prized possessions was broken and he had less means of making money now. He looked up at Jet and chuckled halfheartedly, “Oh well, you see my dear…” He glanced at the seaweed, then the bow, then back to the seaweed. “I was doing a little investigating. Apparently, the only good seaweed is, is making your paws smell.” He stood up as he rubbed his paws on his vest, slightly embarrassed that they indeed smelled funny and didn’t want to offend Jet’s nose. He winced slightly as he rubbed his injured paw against the fabric but he quickly put on a smile and politely asked, “how have you been since we last met, love?”

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] She could tell there was an off-tone sound do the tom’s voice. The effortless cheery grin seemed to be lacking in its usual enthusiasm, and she couldn’t blame him after already having seen the broken instrument. She wanted to say something, but felt awkward; she didn’t know how to consol others. Not that she had any business getting involved. Maybe it was better of her as a friend simply to help get his mind off it, rather than dwell on a dark realization Misto must’ve come to ages ago? That the bow was, well, broken? She guiltily realized the one usually being eased out of frustration and ill-feelings was her. She was babied by her family, and she shifted her weight but kept quiet, thankful that Misto still hadn’t given up on a conversation. Offering a laugh, she mewed, “I never would’ve guessed,” glancing down at the seaweed. She didn’t really have much against it…she just didn’t see it’s purpose in this world. Why did it exist? To make her squeal when she went swimming. Yes. That must’ve been it. Reverting her blue gaze from the slimy plant, she blinked over at Misto as he asked what was new with her. “Oh,” she mewed, trying to think at what’s happened since then. Not much, she realized pathetically. “The usual,” she declared after a pause, shrugging slightly. “Dancing, climbing, a bit more dancing,” Also, she recalled mentally, she had been cooking random things for the new pastry week. It was a small event, but already the main streets smelled sweeter than usual, and the marbled cat wanted to try her hand at making something. She didn’t really know who she intended on giving any of the stuff too… if any of it ever ended up becoming edible. Pushing the thought of how burnt her oven was beginning to smell from her mind, she cocked her head to the side with a smile. “And you? Sorry if I showed up at a bad time, or if you have any plans or anything, I was just walking along the beach and noticed you there and figured I’d say…hi?” she smiled, embarrassed at the slight ramble. Well that was smooth. But Jet didn’t really know how to explain her presence, she didn’t want to come off as the sort to…well, show up everywhere! Because the chocolate-furred she-cat knew first hand how annoying it was when she was trying to get things done and others materialized and demanded her focus. [ short post is late and short, LOL sorry ;n; ]

[icyreflections]

(Hold that thought until after midterms)

[icyreflections]

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[atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png] Despite the horrible situation the tuxedo tom found was thrown into this morning, his heart lifted a little as he looked up to his friend. Misto looked to Jet with a gentle gaze and managed to crack a small smile at her flustered explanation. He did feel slightly guilty for making her feel uncomfortable, his bow was slit in half and he was stupidly trying to put it back together with seaweed- how did he ever conclude that would work? “You certainly know how to live life on the edge, my dear,” he jokingly purred and winked at her. “Of course, I am happy to hear that you haven’t invaded any more taverns without me.” This thought, though it made him laugh at first, suddenly struck him with great sorrow. As he slowly regained the drunken whirl of the night he and Jet danced in the tavern and taunted the tavern keeper, he realized that he may never have the opportunity to express his love and joy through music again… He may never be able to play for Jet and watch her dance, like he promised… Nor would he be able to see the mystified excitement in the sparkling eyes of his audience as they felt the music bubble from within the talented musician and slip out through his paws and drift into the air to embrace them in sweet melodies…. His purpose in life- his need to produce sound to feel emotions was gone and with his blessed instrument to help guide him, Misto felt lost and confused. He could no longer hold the smile he normally wore despite the troubles at home, he could no longer drown his sorrows in a rhythmic tide of notes, he couldn’t cheer up a crowd with his astounding talent nor could he share with others his favorite songs and stories… He was trapped. Trapped in a forest, dark and dreary and without sound… Well, there was sound… His own pitiful wails echoed throughout the empty world. His dark pelt melted into the shadows and the environment engulfed him, making him invisible and oblivious to the rest of the world. No one could see him, no one could hear him, and no one could save him… If only he had his violin- he could use a shaft of sunlight in a world of sobs and nothingness. Misto hadn’t realized that he was acting differently. He sincerely did his best to cover up his feelings and pretend that he was always upbeat and ready for anything that life had to offer- and normally this WAS his philosophy. Misto loved nothing more than padding out into the world and blindly plunging into the day’s surprises. He lived to learn new experiences and find new people and places to relate to and love… but this experience, though arguable special in its own demented way, was something Misto wasn’t prepared for and certainly couldn’t cope with on his own. No only did he lose his sense of identity but he lost his ability to fend for himself and his family. He commonly overworked himself to bring in a few schillings to his mother, siblings, and relatives- how could he look them in the eye after a long day’s work and tell them there wasn’t anything left- and that there probably wouldn’t be for some time? For the first time ever in his life, Misto was genuinely frustrated with his family. He was so tired and angry that they were so completely dependent on him. Why was it right for them to hide on the beach and make no effort to get to know the cats in the town? Why couldn’t they see how dangerous it was for one cat to hold up a family as large as theirs? He was a thread in a sweater, a stone at the base of a rock formation.. If he fell, the larger latter came with him. He loved his family. They raised him. They loved him. They were all he had. …And yet. All he could think about were the times that they pushed him away when he was too small to be useful but then used him relentlessly when he was older. What kind of a family was that? Would they even understand how important the violin was to him? Would they even care that he couldn’t play for a spiritual and recreational purpose? The forest that Misto had pictured in his head was suddenly getter colder, so cold in fact that a sparkling frost clung to every dead leaf that carpeted the floor. Misto shivered in the shadows, hugging and rocking himself quietly as the cold swept over him. There was no fire. No light. No chance for salvation. Misto would die here in his mind- his cold, dark, dead mind…. “I’m so happy to see you, Jet.” Misto said, smiling softly but with a nervous gleam in his eye. He really didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and sincerely wanted her company. He needed a friend, he needed someone to talk to- he needed to believe in something again- something that would shatter the illusion he created in his head. ‘I need the Queen of Clubs~’ Misto thought as his alter ego looked up from his bleak existence and tried to focus on the sky beyond the canopy’s threatening claws. “Where is my queen of fire?”

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] Jet, playing with the sand with her hind paws, paused as she suddenly felt cold, and behind her eyelids flashed the scene. It tightened her heart, this gray and dying forest, the leaves held in a ghostly suspension with an air of despair. It was in a way, the art of visions. Misto couldn’t control emotions, but with the scene that filled the dancer’s eyes in that heartbeat, he may as well have. Like any true portrait, art existed to make you feel, so in a way, art was the only way the marbled feline could make sense of it all in her mind. But it was the art of sadness, and she tried to suppress a shiver without much luck, and quickly covered it. Misto had seemed so…sad, the dancer was unsure she had meant to see that of not. Maybe this is his way of opening up, even if he didn’t intend to…? she wondered, but scrapped the thought. No, she doubted it. She felt a twinge of certainty, even if ever so slight, that perhaps this was just one of those weaker moments, where whether you want to open up or not, somebody should be there. “Maybe there’s more ways than one to make some kind of music?” Jet mused, her bells giving their chime in agreement as she moved forwards to hold out a paw to Misto, who stood there still not seeming like himself. “Your violin will be fixed before you know it, I’m sure there’s someone in Gweillian with the skill,” the feline smiled softly. “For now, maybe you should just take your mind off of it. Come on, we can go hang out for a while or something,” The black and white tom seemed to really need a break of some kind. Hoping a walk or chat or something just…fun might help, Jet’s offer hung with her upbeat grin. She wasn’t used to this, this picking others up. She was so used to being alone, denying the friendship of others since she was so busy practicing to be great at something that she knew would never change. She wouldn’t have to worry about her dancing ever getting upset at her, and whenever she made the wrong moves, she knew she could go back and fix it silently so that the dance and her pride would remain perfectly intact. Friendship itself seemed so much more difficult and fragile within itself. But Jet figured…maybe talking with a good friend was just as great. She could be herself, talk without thought just like she moved and know that a friend would share their wholehearted opinion in return. It was an odd analogy, that was for sure, but it seemed a bit fitting for the marbled dancer. And she definatly considered Misto a friend worth keeping and talking too. The ocean lapped quietly in the background, the waves against the sandy shore glistened slightly with amber bead of light as the sun sunk lower. Not low enough yet that twilight bathed the beach, but just enough the everything was rimmed in a faint glow. This would’ve probably had to be the dancer’s favourite time of day. It was gorgeous, but yet she still had a good hour or so of daylight before the stars came out to twinkle in the background and silently usher her to bed for a night’s sleep. Or – occasionally – beckon her out to dance or lay in a tree somewhere. It seemed easier to think in the dark. Jet was never afraid of shadows gripping at her heels and at the back of her neck when walking through the forest at night; she wasn’t the skittish type. And with so little visible to her icy gaze, it made everything less distracting and more at peace. Helped bring about a bit of balance to the torment that often went on in her head. Currently bouncing around in her skull at this moment though, was still that image. She decided to keep quiet about it, and the chill she got from the darkened sight. If Misto wasn’t feeling all that well – which she couldn’t blame him for – she would do her best to be a good friend. Well, as good a friend as she knew how to be. In the end all she could do was try, but a kind smile and an slight tilt of her head, surely there was something she could do to mend what was broken with something other than seaweed.

[icyreflections]

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[atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png] The winds continued to howl fiercely in the dark forest. They buffeted against the black and white tom, who sat on the ground and quietly took Nature’s beating. It was so cold and dark; he hugged himself tighter but was too numb to feel the warm sensation of his paws against his cold pelt. “This must be what death feels like,” he observed bluntly as his amber eyes tried to scan his murky black surroundings to no avail. “Well,” he sighed trying desperately to make the best out of the situation, “at least I’ll be warmer when I’m dead. Hopefully Grandfather can find me and take me somewhere else. That’d be most unfortunate if my soul was trapped here forever.” He closed his eyes, which made no real difference because the rest of the world was plunged in darkness, and rested his head against the tree behind him. He groaned inwardly and prayed in a wispy tone, “Grandfather, forgive me. I did not mean for this to happen to your prized possession. Please don’t let that keep you from taking me quickly.” He opened his eyes momentarily to look in the direction he assumed was ‘up’ and it took a moment for him to register what was going on. He could SEE the trees again. How was that possible? It was so dark before… And he wasn’t as chilled, either. The trees were outlined in a faint, flickering glow that startled the gypsy at first but then a tender smile parted his lips. “Heavens be praised,” he uttered as he looked over his shoulder to see the dancer’s firelight reflecting boldly in his reawakened brown eyes. “It’s her.” ---- Misto hadn’t realized that he lost control over the illusions hatching in his thoughts and thus, Jet’s sudden proposal to find other means to fix the bow surprised him. For a moment he lingered in the darkness and was jealous that her talent required no props- everything she knew could be expressed through the rhythmic movement of her body and feet. Unless Jet forgot how to walk- or couldn’t stand- she wouldn’t be able to understand how painful it was to be stripped of everything that she held dear. But he couldn’t think like this. He swatted the branches away, resisted their hold over him and broke free. He couldn’t live in the darkness and cynically assess everyone that mattered most to him. He already lost something precious today- losing his friendship with Jet and his love for his family would surely kill him. Although he was more used to being the one to pick up others when they were broken, Misto forced himself to live in the present and listen to what Jet was saying without hostility and be grateful for her kindness and sensibility. “Yes, my dear,” he said, clearing his throat and stretching before taking her paw in his and accepting her suggestion for a walk. “I’m sure there are other means to fix this. I don’t know where my head has been today.” His paw slipped from hers as he motioned with a nod of his head at the expanse of beach before them. His usually charming smile parted his lips at the sight of nature’s bounty and he playfully turned to Jet and dipped his torso in a deep bow, “shall we walk along the sea side, m’lady? Shall we venture as far as the eye can see until the stars dot the sky?” In an exaggerated swoop, he snatched her paw again and held it to his chest, “oh, my dear, I beg you- walk with me so we can get an early start. We can count the stars, one by one- only when we are done will we have reached our final destination.” He chuckled, “I could have been a poet!” He kissed her paw before letting it fall and said in a less dramatic tone, “so Jet, would you like to walk along the beach with me? Forgive me but…” He slowly stood up straighter and looked off in the distance over her head in the direction of his family’s caravan and the path to town. “I just don’t think I need the company of others right now.” His eyes drifted back to the violin bow entwined in seaweed at his feet. “…It’s been a very trying day.” He paused momentarily and picked up his tone, “and besides, you’re right. There is music all around us.” He smiled as he gestured with his paw the magnificent span of ocean in front of them. The rippling tide crashed against the shore in the distance while the under toe bubbled beneath their feet and was swallowed up by the horizon in a tranquil rush. Misto lacked his violin, his means of producing music, but as Jet pointed out, there was music everywhere. He took comfort in this thought and sent his bad vibes into the melodies surrounding him.

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] When Misto nodded and took her paw, Jet grinned happily. “S’okay,” she breathed a mew at the musician’s claim that he wasn’t all that sure where his head had been. In all honesty, the sokoke couldn’t claim she knew exactly where hers was, either. Usually she’d be too shy to ever work up the nerve to go talk to somebody, Talking wasn’t usually her thing, since communicating was easier with the soft tinkle of bells. All those times her mother would leave her feeling infuriated and confused, she’d just deal with it with her tinkling. Never would she ever work up the nerve to have spoke back to her mother; even with everything, she loved her. Perhaps Misto was like that too, as Jet noticed the caravan off in the distance. So that’s where his family is… she noted silently but was pulled swiftly from her thoughts when she noticed the black and white cat bowing. Bemused, she blinked down at him, laughing quietly at his words. “That sounds fantas-,” she replied, starting slightly as he took her paw again. Having it pressed to his chest, her ears burned slightly. Not that she’d admit that in this lifetime, though! She was used to contact with other cats; she was dancer, after all, but even so it came to her as a surprise. Swallowing back the flustered moment, she grinned again, overjoyed to see that Misto seemed to have cheered up a bit. “You don’t have to beg, silly,” she laughed as she seemed to have gotten her paw back after a kiss to it. “I’d love to go for a walk, count the stars, all of it”, the chuckles still edged her words, but she couldn’t deny being serious about wanting to go for a walk. Following his gaze back to the caravan in the slightly sun-set distance, she nodded quietly, her grin dampening but her mouth not relenting as the edges of her maw remained tickled into a small smile. Turning to walk down the shore in the opposite direction of the caravan, Jet considered the thought of getting her paws wet. This was quickly scrapped however, since the night chill would probably leave her shivering under her dark brown, marbled fur…and that would probably be utterly embarrassing. She wasn’t the type to go around biting her lip and getting all tongue-tied, but when she felt like something she was doing was weak or girly, it irked her. She was shy, but she was confident in herself as a cat and didn’t like looking like she needed taking care of in any way. She was perfectly contented as was. Giving a little hop, she grinned childishly at her paws sinking into the sand. Sandy beaches appealed to her so much more than the rocky ones, with their lithe golden sands that swirled around her paws with every step. Jet glanced over her shoulder to make sure Misto was going to follow along. “I have no idea where we’re headed, but I guess that’s part of the fun, right?” she smiled. She didn’t come to the beach very often, but she was pretty sure this shore lead somewhere towards the Eastern Quarter, which was very convenient since her house was down that way. But the dancer couldn’t bring herself to really care if that was the right way or not, because in her opinion, there was no wrong way.

[icyreflections]

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[atrb=background,http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y77/libbyoc/forumblack.png] “Ah, was I begging?” Misto said with a cheeky grin as he awkwardly scratched at his ear. “Sorry about that,” he mewed, “I hope I didn’t sound like a total twit.” He trailed after Jet casually, watching the dancer prance a few paw steps ahead of him and chuckling at her playfulness. He gazed ahead dreamily, his eyes taking in the landscape and trying to visualize his position on his mental map of his seaside home. He didn’t really know if Jet wanted an answer to her wondering where they were headed but he chuckled all the same. He knew exactly where the expanse of trees that bordered this end of the beach led and he couldn’t help but savor the irony of the situation. He had taken this path many times before- but his most recent voyage brought him to the hot springs where he originally met Jet and Zahara. He recalled the evening he spent playing his violin for the two she-cats and how much fun they had dancing and telling stories together. He felt a painful longing for his instrument again, but did his best not to let the pain consume him again. Not now, anyway. He had to put on a smile and be strong for Jet’s sake. She was so kind to reach out to him, he knew how difficult it was for her to open up, and despite the fact that it was he who initially needed her company, he realized that Jet still needed him as well. She was getter stronger, just as he predicted she would that night in the tavern. That was what true friendship was- leaning on each other for support and gaining new experiences from trusting one another. They both had quite a few lessons to learn from all this. The sand beneath his feet stuck between his paw pads and Misto gritted his teeth. He hated the uncomfortable feeling of sand between his toes- he figured he’d eventually get used to it but he never did… which was actually sort of incredible, considering he spent the majority of his life on the beach. He grew fond of the sounds and smells of the sea, and the warmth of the sun on his pelt. He enjoyed watching the tide come in and out time and time again and watching the colors of the sky reflect in on the water’s surface. But he had to admit, he preferred the forest floor to the beach. Misto watched Jet play in the sand a moment more before he laughed and caught up to her. “So, I take it you like the feeling of sand between your toes?” He grinned and shook his head, “you’d think I’d eventually get used to it but NOPE!” He shook one of his back paws hastily and knocked the sand that was caught between his paw pads loose. “It’s just something I never got over- even as a kitten. I could swim before everyone else and explore the forest for witches but I just couldn’t get over the feeling of sand between my toes.” He continued to chuckle at his silliness, “I know, that was totally irrelevant but- I do admire the way you move so freely. I guess that is a talent acquired from so many years of dancing.” He paused, trying not to pry too much into her past but hopeful that she would share a nicer memory from her childhood so his comment didn’t seem too foolish. Thinking of the trees that dotted the landscape, Misto asked politely, “did you always have talent for climbing trees too, my dear?”

[Kitsani]

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[atrb=background,http://i1138.photobucket.com/albums/n533/KitsaniCat/JETPTMIDDLE.png] “Psh, you’re not a twit,” she scoffed, glancing over her shoulder and nearly tripping herself. Sand was fun, but it could be tricky sometimes. She recalled having danced in it with Marshall that time a while back; she hadn’t seen the soldier in a long time though. She wondered how he was, but didn’t know him well enough to go out of her way to find out. When it came down to it, her two best friends were still Misto and Zahara. Although Jet couldn’t help but get that nagging feeling that the gray she-cat was very secretive, it was starting to seem like their was a neutral, silent agreement between the two girls: I won’t pry if you don’t. Zahara never irked her about her past, and she never irked about hers. Not that Jet minded talking about her history; she just fretted that it could dampen the mood in a lot of ways. Her and Misto, however, seemed to talk about anything and everything, really. Misto was great at steering clear of awkward conversations with his light-hearted transitions, and the sokoke definatly had endless stories she didn’t mind sharing. And things didn’t stop their, either. With all crazy stuff they did, in a way they were just making more stories. Like that time in the tavern where they annoyed the keeper, and that time they all sat around and shared stories up near the hot springs, and now this here. Just walking along the beach, chatting casually and leaving careless paw prints in the dusty sand. At the thought of sand, Misto even brought it up. Glancing over at the black and white tom – now next to her – she nodded. “Gosh, I love sand. It’s so smooth, and warm in the daytime.” The dancer smiled. Laughing at Misto’s apparent dislike of the grains, she shrugged. “To each their own I guess! I’m not very fond of swimming, but I know tons of cats that love it. The second you get your paws wet, sand NEVER let’s go of your fur,” she wrinkled up her nose, “One time I made the mistake of swimming before I went on a beach walk; took me forever to dry off and then took even longer to be clean again,” The marbled she-cat explained, smiling at the compliment. “Thanks,” Jet purred, “Guess it kinda became a habit.” Continuing along, it was a little while until she flicked an ear, tilting her head at Misto’s next words as they broke the silence. Jet felt there was never an awkward silence between them; guess that’s when you know you’re best friends with someone, right? Where even silence are filled with words and ease. “Hm? Climbing trees?” She echoed, and then remembered hat they had first met when she had hopped out of the branches above. With a smile, she shook her head, “Gosh, nope! When I was little, I used to fall out of trees all the time. Truth be told, I was skittish of gripping the bark, because it scraped up my already… less than perfect paws,” she chimed cheerfully. Eventually though they just toughened up, and I’m thankful for it because trees must be one of the most amazing places to sit,” flicking her tail, she mused, “do you ever climb trees, Misto? If not you should try it; loads of fun, right in our backyards! And definatly a healthier place to rest than at some tavern,” she added with a cheeky grin.