ฝhen the full moon turns ฝhite

the jungle had become oppressive in its heady humidity. he didn't ever remember being so uncomfortable there - as though his largely idyllic childhood had sheltered him from all weather, both emotional and literal. still, he had no desire to leave it forever, to find a pride to commit themselves to - wandering through the woodland, beetle sneered and kicked a rock unhappily at the thought, aqueous silver eyes glaring as it skittered away into the shadows. he wanted his family to stay with him, in aniadar, where they belonged. not bound to the whims of kings and politics. hadn't they been subjected to enough?

the dusk cast its half-light through the trees, illuminating his bright figure in dim orange, stark black markings vanishing into the dark haze that draped itself readily over every semi-obscured surface. experimentally, he sank his claws into the web of roots below, feeling how they plunged freely through the tangle of moss and earth and felt resistance at the subterranian world of the plants that dominated this place, much the same as the ground felt at home. he whipped his inky tail, restless. knowing now that he could not rely on anything or anyone, only that the lands were constant, as was he - beetle felt something like tension snap in his mind, and suddenly took the easiest breath he had taken in months.

@Sorrel

Sorrel kills time the best way they know how - by entertaining themself. There’s nothing better than that, really, besides scoring a really good meal or having a wicked story to tell the others. However, it’s rather hot and humid today, and Sorrel’s thick fur does nothing to help them feel less overheated. Summer sucks in the jungle for the good looking, if you asked them. But such was their burden.

They’re comfortably sprawled on a thick, low-hanging branch to nap away the hottest part of the day when something disturbs them. An ear flicks, and then eyelids slowly peel open. They look down -

Ohoho, look who it is.

"What did that poor tree ever do to you, kid?" Sorrel asks as they stretch, dangling large paws over the edge of the branch as they lean forward, a bright grin across inky lips. "Did it make you cry?"

@Beetle

art © ale-tie | code © hinter

ฝhen the full moon turns ฝhite

his attention had not been directed upward at all - maybe a jungle inhabitant should've known better. maybe. but the unexpected and disembodied voice of a stranger floated around, and ears swiveled, silver eyes suddenly snapping wide open as he searched for the source-- and-- "oh," a breath let out when he realised it was coming from above, from someone he had seen before, who did not seem particularly inclined to move from where they lounged in the branches.

delicate chin tilted upward, soft waves cascaded away from his doll-like features, framing the flash of his pale neck as he studied @Sorrel with an air of indignance. "they don't tend to." a pause. "why, are you in love with it? should i apologise?"

Sorrel utterly lights up when they get an answer - one full of indignant cheek. It’s always boring when their targets don’t fight back, or play. And this kid, he could’ve gone either way, considering last time they’d bullied him. They had definitely been crying then.

"Nah," they grin. "It’s not my type."

An ear flicks in their locks of mohawk-ish mane. They study @Beetle just as he regards them, but they’re not bothering to hide the inspection. Silver eyes scan across his lanky frame, pretty fur, delicate face.

"Where’d all your pride go?" They ask suddenly, leaning ever more precariously over the branch. "I couldn’t smell ‘em when I came to visit." Visit, nab a quick meal… same same.

art © ale-tie | code © hinter

ฝhen the full moon turns ฝhite

not my type. beetle's glassy stare did not betray him, though his adolescent mind wanted to reel wildly - what was @Sorrel's type? a soft flush kissed his cheeks and he looked down for a moment, letting gossamer waves readily obscure his face. his childish crushes, so easily won. at least beetle found them all fleeting and inconsequential - he had seen his mother's heartache, after all.

the questioning almost takes beetle by surprise. he stares for a second, lips slightly parted, processing. when i came to visit. the jungle wasn't private, but he still hadn't really expected anyone he had met before to be there without him knowing. a silly notion. the jungle was enormous.

"it- it wasn't a pride," and it felt like a confession, somehow. "we- uh, well. some of us... still live there. just... less, now." a frown, his pretty features knitting together, freckles scrunching on the bridge of his nose. a lot less, it felt like.

Oh, there’s a nerve there. Raw, exposed - fresh. Sorrel regards the yearling quietly, letting him explain that it wasn’t a pride - and there’s a slight note of indignation in that young voice, Sorrel thinks.

"Well," they remark, "whatever it was, it’s gone now." Their head tilts up, nose to the wind, as if checking to see if any scent marks had magically reappeared. Naturally, they hadn’t. "So is it just you living here in your not-pride?"

That would be… sucky, actually. Lonely. Even if Sorrel spends most of their time bothering the inhabitants of this place alone, they always have the others to go back to at night. They’re never lonely, but they couldn’t imagine what would happen if they woke up one day and everyone had just buggered off.

Good thing that won’t happen.

@Beetle.

art © ale-tie | code © hinter

ฝhen the full moon turns ฝhite

so is it just you? beetle's ears rang with a strange, high-pitched whine. just you. his neck was uncomfortable. sorrel still lounged lazily above him, an ease about them that beetle was honestly jealous of. no responsibility.

he huffed, irritated. "are you going to stay up there this whole time?" it came out of nowhere - snapped indirectly upward, met with an accompanying silver glare. and why was @Sorrel asking so many questions, anyway?

beetle sniffed, flicking hair from his face in a well-practiced motion. "my mother and sisters live there, too. i'm- i'm going to build a new group. i don't want them relying on any pride."

Are they going to stay up here all day? It sounds like a dare or a challenge. Sorrel's inky lips split wide, their expression turning sharp. But they don't move - not yet.

@Beetle goes on, explaining he'll make a group for his mother and sisters. So there are more of them. Interesting. It's information stored away, but the fact Sorrel even listened at all to the kid's bold announcement is hidden behind a wide yawn.

They stretch as they stand, bending at the front before suddenly, neatly leaping down to the ground. They try to land deliberately close to the other rogue, for no other reason than to startle him. Sorrel straightens quickly, jerking their head to shift the thick fringe that just loves falling in their eyes, craning their neck up to look up at Beetle with an arched brow. Waiting. Expectant.

Now what, kid?

art © ale-tie | code © hinter

ฝhen the full moon turns ฝhite

he hadn't expected his petulant demand to actually be met. @Sorrel leapt down, easily, their muscles evident as they landed and gazed up at beetle, challenging. it was clear now that he was taller, slighter, sharper in the body, much more clearly masculine - despite his girlish face, his pretty features. his head tilted ever so slightly and his breath caught.

he took a step back.

"i- i'm beetle," he tried, though his voice came in hushed tones, strangled by... something. silver eyes washed over the spotted cat, searching, intent. "do you live alone out here?" was that why they had been totally-not-scavenging when beetle had first found them, in secondstone?

If Sorrel was more of a dominant asshole, they'd probably delight in making the taller, lithe creature back off. It's amusing, sure, but there's no vindictive pleasure in the thin smirk that slides across their lips. Just humor, and maybe a little bit of mischief.

Beetle, the pink lion declares as their name.

Sorrel blinks.

Well. They've heard worse.

"Sor," they reply despite not being asked, a brow arching over a silver eye. With a shake of their Mohawk, Sorrel plonks down on their rear. Hopefully Beetle can chill out a bit more now. No threat here, see?

"I don't live here," they explain with a laugh. "I don't live anywhere." Sure, they have a camp of sorts - it'll last the gang a week, maybe two if they're feeling lazy, and then they'll move on. Sorrel grins, sharp teeth peeking out from their mouth. "S'more fun that way."

art © ale-tie | code © hinter