04-02-2018, 01:26 PM
It had not been his choice to depart from his family and home way back in the bitter tundras. He could just feel those harsh, coarse hands yanking at his pelt and ears and paws and tail, haphazardly tossing him from place to place. Everything seemed like a blur, and then, somehow, he would end up in confinement, trapped in a cell no greater in dimension than he was, leaving little room to breathe. And for the longest time he was forced to withstand those dreadful shouts for help, those stifled sobs from the cells near him, the hushed whispers rising into deafening screams. When there was silence, he could, hear the water. Yes, it was a ship he was on, a massive freight ship.
He knew better than to dwell on a past he could not return to. It was urgent that he made the most of his current situation, and that was just what he did. His strife for survival, his ambition to carve his name into history instead of living as a hermit, eventually led him to the Typhoon, along that expansive strip of train track that made way to the island. It was there that the looming feline stood, carefully watching over for any figures in the distance that dared to follow the tracks and make their way onto their isle of vegetation and bounty. It was the only way in, and the only way out. Or so he thought.
He spotted a figure, yes, but nowhere near the tracks. No, it was out in the sea, bobbing up and down as the waves and wind carried it over to the island. His muscles tensed at the thought of some enemy war party finding a goddamned boat and sailing all the way to the Typhoon. Then again, who the hell has the time for that? Looking closely, he realized that the boat's inhabitants didn't seem that hostile at all. One of them was a gentle-looking domestic feline, and the other was a child, nowhere near apprenticeship. Iosef could let himself relax, cool blue eyes intently spectating the two cats as the much older male carried the young kitten out of the boat, and the kitten taking off to feel the soft island sand. It was...cute. Yes, cute. He had a hidden weakness for little children, and he couldn't harm a child even if he wanted to. Discipline them, sure, but not harm them. No, he'd only play with adults and some juveniles.
The Siberian tiger inquisitively made his way over, his muscles rippling under his snow-white pelt, adorned by obsidian black stripes. His gaze remained firmly on the male, who he assumed was the kit's father. After all, they looked alike and came on the same little vessel. "What is your business on Typhoon land?" he demanded, his voice firm but not exactly bitter. He could assume that they were looking for a home, but it was tradition everywhere, it seemed, to go through that old-fashioned "name and business" procedure. This was a warbound group, after all, and not the best place for a loving father to settle down and hope his child won't be influenced by the rough, reckless behavior of these literal pirates. Little did he know that the other cat was a pirate himself, a captain, even.
He knew better than to dwell on a past he could not return to. It was urgent that he made the most of his current situation, and that was just what he did. His strife for survival, his ambition to carve his name into history instead of living as a hermit, eventually led him to the Typhoon, along that expansive strip of train track that made way to the island. It was there that the looming feline stood, carefully watching over for any figures in the distance that dared to follow the tracks and make their way onto their isle of vegetation and bounty. It was the only way in, and the only way out. Or so he thought.
He spotted a figure, yes, but nowhere near the tracks. No, it was out in the sea, bobbing up and down as the waves and wind carried it over to the island. His muscles tensed at the thought of some enemy war party finding a goddamned boat and sailing all the way to the Typhoon. Then again, who the hell has the time for that? Looking closely, he realized that the boat's inhabitants didn't seem that hostile at all. One of them was a gentle-looking domestic feline, and the other was a child, nowhere near apprenticeship. Iosef could let himself relax, cool blue eyes intently spectating the two cats as the much older male carried the young kitten out of the boat, and the kitten taking off to feel the soft island sand. It was...cute. Yes, cute. He had a hidden weakness for little children, and he couldn't harm a child even if he wanted to. Discipline them, sure, but not harm them. No, he'd only play with adults and some juveniles.
The Siberian tiger inquisitively made his way over, his muscles rippling under his snow-white pelt, adorned by obsidian black stripes. His gaze remained firmly on the male, who he assumed was the kit's father. After all, they looked alike and came on the same little vessel. "What is your business on Typhoon land?" he demanded, his voice firm but not exactly bitter. He could assume that they were looking for a home, but it was tradition everywhere, it seemed, to go through that old-fashioned "name and business" procedure. This was a warbound group, after all, and not the best place for a loving father to settle down and hope his child won't be influenced by the rough, reckless behavior of these literal pirates. Little did he know that the other cat was a pirate himself, a captain, even.
tags :: updated 3/19:
haha rip these goofs