10-08-2020, 07:37 PM
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THERE’S VACANCY IN EVERY NIGHTMARE
Wind whistled in Rosemary’s ears as the thermals carried the slender ocelot to PalmClan’s shores. She veered to the Tiger’s Boardwalk, descending as she came closer to the rotting buildings. She’d heard of the group’s solitary and traditional ways, so she wished to touch down on a less populated area. Hopefully, nobody witnessed her wingless flight.
Her white paws touched down silently. The decrepit boards creaked under her weight, and the witch looked around nervously. But she spotted only deciduous vegetation, ferns and flowers struggling to break out of the cracked concrete. The plants looked less tropical than the Typhoon’s, but she recognized a little blackberry bush struggling in the human’s remains.
Forked tail-tips flicking, Rosemary sighed. She adjusted the satchel across her shoulder, readying herself for the inevitable onslaught of strangers. Reminding herself this was a personal choice and she could back out at any time helped steady her nerves. Even so, she took a deep inhale. For most Clan animals, this sort of thing would be trivial. But, for Rosemary, the whole thing required an exertion of almost incomprehensible magnitude. At least, when she’d visited the Tanglewoods, she’d recognized a face and knew beforehand the group was tiny.
Chin up, the ocelot cleared her throat. “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone from PalmClan out here? I got a little lost making my way to your borders.” Her emotionally muted manner made it impossible to tell when she was lying. Rosemary struggled to convey any tone of voice that wasn’t a straight up monotone, even when she was genuinely happy. Was it so strange she’d learned to use that handicap as an advantage?
“I am one of the Typhoon’s healers. I heard your group might need some assistance?”
[sub][W]isker[/sub]Her white paws touched down silently. The decrepit boards creaked under her weight, and the witch looked around nervously. But she spotted only deciduous vegetation, ferns and flowers struggling to break out of the cracked concrete. The plants looked less tropical than the Typhoon’s, but she recognized a little blackberry bush struggling in the human’s remains.
Forked tail-tips flicking, Rosemary sighed. She adjusted the satchel across her shoulder, readying herself for the inevitable onslaught of strangers. Reminding herself this was a personal choice and she could back out at any time helped steady her nerves. Even so, she took a deep inhale. For most Clan animals, this sort of thing would be trivial. But, for Rosemary, the whole thing required an exertion of almost incomprehensible magnitude. At least, when she’d visited the Tanglewoods, she’d recognized a face and knew beforehand the group was tiny.
Chin up, the ocelot cleared her throat. “Hello?” she called. “Is anyone from PalmClan out here? I got a little lost making my way to your borders.” Her emotionally muted manner made it impossible to tell when she was lying. Rosemary struggled to convey any tone of voice that wasn’t a straight up monotone, even when she was genuinely happy. Was it so strange she’d learned to use that handicap as an advantage?
“I am one of the Typhoon’s healers. I heard your group might need some assistance?”