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 Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2011 7:58 am
[Solo] The Long Way Home
The cat looked small on the open road. A little ragged presence, short orange fur burred and tangled, trudging steadily along the asphalt - a straight line only broken when he darted through limp summer grass into the ditch at the side of the highway, while the traffic thundered by no more than a few feet away.
He’d risked three cars since the initial one that had brought him into his present precarious situation. The first two had been easy enough to get onto, tray backed, parked at the side of the road. No-one had noticed him, and he’d cut miles off his journey, curled up comfortably and riding in style. But the third had taken off in an entirely unexpected direction, leaving him stranded a good hundred miles, he guessed, from where he’d hoped to be. So it was his own four paws from here on. It was exhausting to stay properly alert with the cars so close, but safer ground was further from the road, and if he lost the road again, he’d be screwed. He needed a compass, or a roadmap or something. Or food. Something to eat would be really good right about now. But hey, it would be all right. He was free now. All he had to do was keep walking.
Bad luck had seen him caught with the other stray cats when the animal control people came by. He’d just picked the wrong alley to walk down, and he could have outrun them, probably. But there’d been kittens, squeaky little cries as they were rounded up into boxes, the mother cat hissing helplessly from another cage. While the rest of the feral colony scattered, he’s stepped forward to chase the intruders off – he was a tough tomcat, he could take them! He hadn’t realised there were another two in the truck. If he had it to do over, he’d... well. He’d still have done the same thing. Fought harder, maybe.
It was embarrassing how easily the man had picked him up, gloved hand unscratchable, firm pressure at the scruff of his neck that made his whole body want to fold up like kitty origami. He’d been boxed up with the rest. There were scraps of cloth in the darkness, token comforts, but it didn’t make it less of a cage.
His claws had worn short on the metal door. They were growing again now, scratched back to sharpness against a tree at the side of the road, a wooden signpost, the rubber tyre of a parked car. It could have been worse, he thought, leaping a ditch in the field, his armbands weighting his landing. It could have been the Negaverse. At least, that would have been a threat he could have been proud of escaping. Animal control was far too mundane a terror.
The shelter had been light and bright, full of the smells and sounds of distressed animals – some sick, some lost, some frightened. Had he been a little less distressed himself, he might have noticed that the tone from the collected cages got happier when the group of humans entered, not more fearful, but he’d been far too preoccupied with trying to get at the lock that held his own door shut. It was such a simple mechanism, but just out of reach. He didn’t have time for this, he’d thought, and it was the clearest thing he’d ever known. He had somewhere else to be. It rang like bells in his head.
His cage was set halfway down a line of identical cat-sized cages, table-height off the ground, but with larger cages beneath them. Another bank of them took up a second wall, and benches ran along the third. There was a glazed-over window, a sink the size of a Labrador, a colourful chart about cat breeds – on which ginger-and-white moggies did not figure, let alone ones with stars on their foreheads. There was a vase of happy flowers off to one side, and a child’s picture pinned nearby. It didn’t cheer him up.
He had time to get to know the rest of the facility. Besides the jail block, he had a good view through glass-fronted doors of the other areas, and the animals coming and going. A waiting-room, more posters and merchandise. An examination room for weighing and worming. The third room back was some kind of surgery, though not all the animals that went in were injured. The guardian knew that there was no malice in what the humans were doing, but it still set his whole body shaking to think about it.
It was his star, apparently, that had kept him out of that back room, but his star too that was most responsible for his current exile. One of the ‘rescue’ workers (and he couldn’t help but paint the word with sarcasm – he’d been perfectly happy without their rescuing) had an aunt that bred cats – a perfect star, they thought, would be a marking worth breeding for, a whole new pedigree. Unless the woman already had a star-pointed talking cat, though, she was out of luck, Tomlin thought sourly. And he would bet his bracers that no Mauvian had ever been near that woman before. Bleached hair and blowfish lips, he thought uncharitably, though she’d scratched his ears and fed him gobs of meat with apparent kindness. But it all just meant they swapped one cage for another, and bundled him into a hot car. As the city lights faded out behind them, he’d become more and more desperate. It wasn’t right, he wasn’t meant to leave.
He’d wailed till his voice was ragged, biting his lip against the temptation to just start swearing. Eventually, and it felt like an inhumanly long time – hours, days – the car pulled over, and the woman opened the travel carrier, set a bowl of water in front of him, watched him lap up the cool, clear liquid. Turned her back on him, just for a moment.
Tomlin had been off in a shower of droplets before she realised her mistake. He hadn’t headed for trees, not fancying being trapped again, but sped out into the long grass. They’d chased. But Tomlin had desperation on his side. By the time he’d stopped running, they were long gone, and so was the road. It had taken him days to find it again.
The road stretched out forever now, framed by a monotony of fieldscape. All he could do was follow the horizon.
It was probably a good thing he’d let them give him flea treatments while he was in the shelter – hopefully it would be enough to keep the nasty grass bugs away. Who knew what was in the country grass? It was strange to be so far from the noise of city life, people and other animals. There were little things in the bushes that ran from him, but he ignored them – he couldn’t even name what they were. Squirrels or something. No humans - no potential senshi. Even a dog to chase him would be welcome, just to pass the time. It was nice to have the whole length of a field to run, but it was getting old fast. It wasn’t that he was an indoor cat, but the city was calling him, high walls and scalable fences and people throwing shoes. There were things he had to do, though the knowledge was slow in coming, instincts rusty as his faded orange fur. Somewhere, somewhere, there were senshi waiting for him.
(1254 words)
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Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2011 8:04 am
[Solo] Five Hundred Miles
The promising lights on the horizon had turned out to be just another roadhouse, stinking of car fumes, overheated tyres and greasy cheap food. It was the last that had him slinking through the parked vehicles to crouch in the shade by the automatic doors, tail swishing back and forth in slow, calculating motions. He watched the door for some time, counting seconds like a movie spy. Door open... pause... door close. Too short. Too exposed. He held his breath with every repetition, but he’d only get one shot at this, and he was already dizzy with heat and hunger. The hiss of the air conditioning inside, and the puff of cool, meat-scented air that wafted out with every opening of the doors had him all but hypnotised as he waited for the break he needed.
He couldn’t have said how long he lurked there, the door had been closed to him for some time, when the sound of a larger car diverted his attention. The sleepy truck stop was suddenly filled with noise as tired, fidgety children piled out, bickering and demanding treats and drinks and bathrooms. Tomlin stilled to the very tip of his tail, unblinking as the large family straggled towards him. Through the doors they went, in no hurry at all. The last two children dawdled at the entrance, pushing and shoving each other in some kind of game. Then a parental call turned both little heads. That was as good an invite as he was ever going to get. Tomlin launched himself from his hiding place, skidding in behind the children as they moved into the shop. Neither child noticed their little feline shadow. The door slid closed, and he was on the food-ward side of it.
The smell was overwhelming, coming from a kitchen area somewhere further in. Burgers, he thought. Maybe hot dogs. He set off towards the aroma, lying low under drink machines and shelves of trail mix and candy, creeping cautiously past racks of magazines and papers. And maps. The cat paused, staring up as the words ‘Destiny City’ caught his eye. It took two swipes to bat a copy out of its place and onto the floor, a thick wad of folded paper, difficult to carry. He pushed it to the side, half-under the shelves. Food first, he thought, then he could grab it on the way out.
Beyond the shelves was a little diner area, plastic tables and bolted-down chairs. The big family was milling around at one end, scattering hot chips as the children tangled over their meal. There were a few others, too, but all seemed intent on their own business. Maybe it was desperation, or a certain blind spot in his psyche that said all unattended food was fair game, but when one of the diners pushed back their chair, abandoning half a hamburger, he didn’t hesitate to leap up onto the vacated chair, then straight onto the table, uncaring that he was in plain view of anyone who cared to look. Minced meat had never tasted so good.
He didn’t notice the waitress, not until hands reached down and lifted him up. “The hell did you come from?” said the voice above him.
He yowled, an undignified, desperate sound. Tired as he was, all he could think of was the cage, and he twisted and struggled furiously, rocketing his way out of the startled waitress’s arms.
“Hey, no pets!” came an angry voice behind him as he dove back under the store displays, scattering packets of chips in his hurry to get away.
“It’s not ours, pal, check your security.”
He skittered past the stashed map, grabbing it awkwardly in his mouth, and kept going.
“Daddy, can we get a kitty? Heeeere kitty!”
Damn the stupid automatic doors. Just a different kind of cage. He scratched at the faint line that should have been an opening, a crack to slide through, but magical cat powers didn’t include the one for triggering the door mechanism.
There were several people chasing him now, and no chance of any more food as they closed in. He turned to face them, cornered, but a slight hiss of air sounded behind him. He might be too small to open the door, but the approaching humans had walked right into the line of the scanner. He squished through the opening, triumphant, and ran hell for leather out amongst the parked cars and away, back to the main road.
He ran until heat and exertion took its toll, and finally dropped into a little hollow off the side of the road, out of direct view, before he tried to read the map. It took a bit to open the thing, awkwardly accordion-folded and stiff, not ideal for handling by paw. He persevered, though, and it didn’t take long to find Destiny City, a big blaze of crossroads and connections, something like a star. It took considerably longer to find the name of the road he’d picked up from the signs as he followed it, longer still to trace far enough out to find the roadhouse.
He was still so far away.
The half-unfolded map crumpled and crackled as he spread it out in the hollow and trod it down into a cat-shaped cup, the edges of the paper curving around and over him. He didn’t need the warmth, but the thick paper would soak up some of the morning dew, and hide him from anything that came in the night. He settled into the little nest, tail curling around his aching paws, nose resting on Destiny City.
He’d been away far too long, and what was happening to his senshi while he was gone?
But at least he had a little something in his belly now, and a better idea of where he was. So he’d walked, what, a couple of hundred miles? He could damn well walk another five-hundred. No problem. At least, out here, the stars seemed very bright.
How far could it be?
(1004 words)
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Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2011 8:06 am
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Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2011 8:24 am
[Regular] E Pluribus, Unum The first meeting of the Jovian Court is not smiles and sparkles. sad
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Posted: Mon Dec 05, 2011 4:30 am
Deliberate Deliberation (Large Order meeting ORP) [ORP BATTLE] ORDER VS CHAOS: AMBUSH!MOON CITY [Solo] The Restless Sky Will Come Alive(backdated to July 2012)It took a long time to process what had happened. Had their dampening fields failed, or were there simply not enough of them to protect all the senshi gathered? Tomlin couldn’t help but try to analyse, even if the tragedy couldn’t be undone. He’d witnessed only a fraction of the battle in the meeting hall, and that had been too much. How could he draw more senshi into their birthrights when the enemy could snuff them out so easily? He couldn’t even do this small thing, keep the darkness out of their business for a few hours, give them a little breathing space to talk it out. They had the moon now, of course, but small consolation for the ones who hadn’t made it to that sanctuary. He tried not to think of the starseeds laid bare, crushed or consumed. Some things were more than even his sturdy heart could bear. He felt no bitterness - only loss, and a helplessness that paralysed. He had to walk, just to remind himself that he could. He left a text message over the senshi system, and a scratched-out note on a windowsill for the one who might worry before checking her phone, and then he was gone into the night, his braced armbands adding a faint extra clatter to the busy streets. He walked a long way. Any injury could be walked off, eventually, even an injury of the heart. It just took a long time. He ached. The world seemed very dark now to the thin ginger tabby guardian. The lengths between streetlights were filled with so many little ordinary evils that he couldn’t possibly right them all. He was small, and for once he felt it. He could not stand and fight beside the ones he guarded. It was neither his place nor within his power. But how he wanted to. The city stretched on forever, walls upon walls, and usually that was all right, they were his domain, but now he felt them like a box, another trap. He went up, away from the gutters and the traffic, the noise and the darkness. The roof tiles were slippery and uncertain under his soft paws, and the direction wasn’t any clearer, but the wind was comforting, whipping clouds into shapes like dreams and he could almost forget the smoke. Eventually, he found a spot where the clouds didn’t reach and only the clear sky greeted him, the myriad celestial bodies shining as bright as he had ever seen them, as if distance couldn’t hold them back. Close enough to touch with an outstretched paw. They seemed very fragile. How long, he thought, before the enemy stole their shining hearts, leaving him alone in the dark. They had lost so many already, and not just the dead. Each drop of blood returned to the cauldron, and would return to them in the proper time. But the lost ones, the tainted, taken ones - they could be returned, had to be returned. Could anything come of their discussions now? Did the lost ones know, in their darkness, that they were loved and forgiven and fought for, that there were people who would only fight harder until chaos was expelled and they could all be brought home? The sun was rising, a thin slice at the rim of the world. For a moment, it took away the stars. The cat blinked, wondering how sun and shadow could seem so much the same. But his eyes adjusted quickly to the gold-edged grey, and by that glimmer, the stars could still be seen, faint and proud in the blue sky as they were in the black. He understood, and the full light of the dawn sun swathed across his face, unimpeded by the buildings that so often hemmed him in. The stars were never gone, they couldn’t go out. They were so bright and so many that they filled the whole sky, day as well as night, planets and moons, asteroids, comets, constellations, everything, and it was never truly dark, not even just before dawn. And the melancholy slid off him, sloughed away, like mists burnt out by the morning sun. It was as the Moon Queen had said, but he had to see it for himself, write it on his soul so he couldn’t forget, whatever else chaos threw at them. He needed to go home. He had things to do, and day and night didn’t matter. Only the sky mattered. They had that whole wide sky, and the darkness couldn’t take it because it was built out of lights. He should be out finding them, till the whole city sparkled with their pure energy to match that sky. (785 words)
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Posted: Sat Aug 10, 2013 8:48 am
Guardian Cat Prompt Planet Mau, the home planet of the Guardian Cats, has been so far yet just out of reach for the Mauvians of Earth for too long. Sure, inventions and attempts to return to the planet have been made with failures, but perhaps your next invention may do the trick! …But most likely, things will go awry. What do you create? How disastrous – or should we say, how catastrophic – are the results, and what do you do to resolve them? A busy truck-stop was no place for a cat. On the plus side, that meant no-one was expecting him. Lurking beneath a dumpster on the edge of the parking area, Tomlin watched the truckies coming and going from their vehicles. The smell of greasy fried potato permeated the stop, but food wasn’t the ginger guardian’s objective today. He watched the trucks, tail twitching each time a door slammed shut, and stilling when a driver left one invitingly open. He wanted components, and liberating them from unattended vehicles was considerably more feasible than going shopping. Somewhere between the failed attempt to travel to Mau, and the way the Negaverse had seen through their defensive shielding to ambush them, Tomlin had come to the conclusion that another attempt to reach Mau was required - if not physically, then at least an effort to make contact. There were so many senshi, and just not enough cats (at least, not cats that he’d met). They couldn’t do everything on the Moon. Maybe the transport device had been too ambitious, even with all the others involved. Though he would dearly love to travel all that distance and see for himself, it was out of his league. His aim was a little less grand. How hard could it be to build an intergalactic ham radio? He was not the most technologically-minded of the cats, but he felt it was worth trying. The senshi-phone technology already existed, and could help the senshi reach their homeworlds. It made sense to him that they should be able to contact Mau in the same way. They just needed something to bridge the extra distance. Tomlin tensed, whiskers pitching forward with excitement as a new truck pulled up. He watched the driver, an older man, get out and leave the front door ajar as he moved down the vehicle to the gas pump. The angle was tricky. Tomlin crept out from his hiding place, skirting the lines of wheels, shadow to shadow, until he had a clear view into the truck cab. Bingo – he could see a radio handset behind the empty coke bottles littering the dash. This was his target, then. He’d have to be careful, and quick. The driver was busy with the pump, and the truck itself gave him some cover, but other people were moving around. And after all, he was orange. Sometimes the guardian wondered if his life would be easier if he’d been a black cat, or grey. Ginger didn’t blend in with his urban environment. He crouched low, backside wiggling as he positioned himself, checked his timing, and finally launched himself across the carpark, full-throttle. Claws caught on the large front wheel as he used it for a stepping-stone to land himself on the driver’s seat. He froze there, listening intently, but there was no immediate outcry. He was in. Relaxing slightly, Tomlin took his time to survey the raw materials for his project. He wouldn’t need the handset, he planned to use senshi-phone tech for that – it was the guts of the actual radio that he required. Using the handbrake as a balance, he propped himself up on his back legs and examined the connections. Unlike the last one he’d tried, this radio wasn’t built into the car – it was a proper ham-radio, bulky and accessible. It wouldn’t take long to take apart. Tomlin climbed the steering wheel onto the dashboard, leaning over and setting to work with tooth and claw. Absorbed in his work, he didn’t notice the seconds slipping by, but he did hear the heavy footsteps as they started to thunder towards him, and the sudden swearing as the truck’s owner got within earshot. He hissed softly, feverishly prying out the components he wanted, with less care for the state they were in. The wires came loose with a snap as the truck door was thrown fully open, and the driver stared in at him, the broken radio, the clawmarks in the seat cover, the unbraked handbrake. Fur bristling, Tomlin grasped his components between his teeth and dived back onto the seat, straight down between the drivers legs and back onto the ground behind him. And ran like hell, the mouthful of radio parts trailing wires beneath his pounding feet. He was back under the dumpster in moments, then out into the alleys and away before the driver had time to turn around. It didn’t take him long to get back to his safehouse. The place he’d picked for his experiment was the box-sized foundation of a small warehouse roughly midway between the truckstops he’d been raiding and the hidden Mauvian headquarters. It wasn’t especially conveniently placed or well-appointed, but there was a hell of a big satellite dish on the roof, and he planned to use it as an extra boost to his contraption. The cat homeworld was a long way away. The moon itself, however, would be his primary satellite. It was kind of a ‘moonbounce’ variation, a radio technique that had been used on Earth since the 40s. The theory was that the shining face of the moon became the satellite that would send his signal round the world – or, with a few careful calculations and a little feline know-how, reflect it straight on out into deep space. And with a little luck pasted on top, it would sail all the way to Mau. Assuming he’d got the right components this time. (905 words) [Solo] Phone HomeDecember 2013The moon was a bright crescent above as Tomlin made his way home from another raid, dragging a foil chip packet behind him filled with stolen radio pieces. The white light glinted off the silver foil and the cat’s coppery eyes, tired but triumphant. The pile represented the last few pieces his device required. It was nearly time to test out his hard work. By cover of darkness, he dragged his various finds down through a cat-sized gap in the brickwork into a little open area beneath the warehouse floor where he had space to work. Even with the Mauvian HQ so close, he’d decided to put his plan into action alone – partly not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up after the last time, and partly because he didn’t want to be embarrassed when more expert felines came to learn how many rubber bands were involved in his design specs. He would just see if he could get it to work first and then tell the other cats. Anyway, it wasn’t like his little workshop could really fit more than one. The device was not large, though a long trail of wires snaked a multi-coloured path up the wall and into the roof, joining up deep in the walls with the building’s wiring, to hook up to the satellite dish on the roof. Beyond that, it could almost have fit in a pocket. A tight conglomeration of radio parts was cocooned around a senshi phone - or the shell of one, really, un-attuned yet to any senshi. Tomlin had removed the outer casing and pried the slide-out keypad away from the screen, exposing a much more delicate set of wiring, the magical properties of which he was hoping his tinkering had not disturbed. With the mauvian tech, he removed the need for bulky tuning dials and speakers. All the programming would go through the keypad, all the audio through the phone’s internal microphone and speakers. The rest was just creating an interface that would send his signal where he wanted it to go. Tomlin upended the packet of components onto the warehouse floor, and with careful claws, began to slot his newest finds into place. He worked quickly and surely, though not without occasional swearing and tail-lashing when the pieces wouldn’t connect or he attached the wrong end of a wire. Paws were not an ideal tool for such fiddly work, but he persevered. Some of his techniques were unconventional – a drink can’s ring-pull to separate the wires, paperclip connections. He wasn’t worried about the look of the thing. Function over form. In surprisingly little time, he stepped back, final pieces securely in place. He made a quick check of the connections, calibrating. Adjusted his calculations for moon phase, date, time. The crescent moon should be perfect, angling his radio waves beyond earth and out into deep space. He turned it on. An electronic squealing filled the air of the small workshop space, rising into an almost feline yowl. The phone at the centre of the device began vibrating violently, tearing connections and setting off a string of tiny popping explosions that lit up his wiring like fireworks, singeing Tomlin’s whiskers and making his short fur stand on end. He cut the power quickly, watching the sparks play out in the basement darkness. That was not the ‘ready’ tone he’d hoped for. After a string of swearing and adjustments that replaced a dead circuit and rerouted much of the wiring to interface better with the mauvian tech, he gave it another try. This time the contraption gave a soft hum, resonating with the phone but not impacting it, and a slight reverb of the radio wave broadcast when he tentatively tapped on the mic. No explosion, no static… Better. “Earth to Mau,” he tried, his voice clear and serious over the mic, though the practiced phrases sounded foolish now. “This is Tomlin, can you hear me?” The signal appeared to send. And that was it. The quiet stretched on for a long time. How long would a signal take to reach his faraway homeworld? Tomlin repeated his message, once, twice. No response. Only the quiet hum. After a while he put his head down on his paws, ears still pricked to listen for the response. Maybe it hadn’t worked. A design flaw. A miscalculation. Or maybe no-one was listening. Hard to say. (732 words) ((OOC note: This was approved by GMs a couple of times (Jan 07, 2013 and Dec 20, 2013), but because I’ve taken so long getting it off the ground, I’m just going to squirrel it away here. The device didn’t work, but caused no major consequences in its failure.))
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Posted: Tue Nov 04, 2014 2:03 am
Dystopian Meta links go here: - [?] Stars are Black and Cold (Tomlin/Seraphinite) [Solo] It Won’t Hurt If You Don’t LookOctober 2014There are universes between waking and sleeping, nestled behind every blink of the eye. They lurk in the darkness between glittering stars. They are gone if you try to look at them, dark memories leaving dark holes, toothache in your mind. Tomlin feels it, like a dream he should be able to remember. It flaps about in his head in tattered pieces, fading every time he tries to get a closer look. The pieces don’t connect. He remembers a beleaguered base camp where Order gathered, struggling to survive. Perhaps ‘remember’ is too strong a word. He might have read about it, in a history book or a scrap of newspaper. He knows about it, at any rate, but he can’t remember the layout, the buildings, the exact location deep in a forest. He must have walked there, surely? He remembers fire, but not the fight. He remembers bodies, but never faces, their fukus unrecognisable, their spheres unknown. Death tolls but not the names on the list. Darkness with no hope of light. Most clearly, he remembers loss, a crippling, desperate devastation. He can’t remember why. And then nothing, a painful nothing that lasts an age, and for a moment past the point of waking. At first he pokes at it, trying to fill the gaps, looking for the meanings in the snippets and isolated facts as they come to him. They are… remote. Clinical. It takes time to realise what’s wrong with the picture: It’s like a movie he’s been watching – he isn’t *there*. Then where was he, he wonders, in this strange and broken future? There were other guardians about, dampening auras to keep them hidden, but that trick never quite lasts long enough. The camp was populous, but there’s no-one familiar there. Where are his senshi, his team, his friends? There is an obvious answer, and it sings nightmares to him if he lets himself believe… They are not dead. Can’t be. They’re just… not here. Callisto is out of town, he knows, with her brother. She deserves some good luck for once, and time away from the war can only be good for her, make her stronger. He hopes she’s happy there. Others went away, too, and he doesn’t know where to find them, or when they left. When was the last time the court met? When was the last time he saw one of the senshi from his team? He can’t really remember that, either, but it’s not the same black hole crush of the future, just time slipping past him, ordinary days piling on top of each other between him and them. Some, he’s sure, are still in town, still fighting. He could go out and find them. But he doesn’t. He stays in his back alleys, inert beneath the mostly-dry cardboard boxes, coiled in feline misery. The Jovians are untouchable, in his mind, as long as he doesn’t look for them. He’s afraid to find out what happens to them. And he feels it again, that he’s let them down, that all the shields they raise against the darkness are brittle, fragile. He can’t hide them or keep them safe. Only curl up and watch all the beautiful lights as they drift away. Let his eyes fall closed again. Pretend. As long as he doesn’t look, they’re *safe*. (554 words)
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Posted: Tue Nov 04, 2014 2:06 am
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Posted: Thu Apr 16, 2015 6:39 am
[ORP Battle] Communication is Key! (Order Kitties) This roleplay may count for a battle for anyone who attacked the youma, and does not count for your one-youma battle!
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