i shall be a grave man (fen)

YOU DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE. I KNOW, { BUT I DID IT. }

the clans prided themselves in the small slices of so-called paradise they managed to claim through war and peace and treason and trust. borders were created to ensure their claim over their precious, land—an annoyingly obvious reminder to all that the plentiful resources were exclusive only to their members—but also to ward off any who might want to challenge that affirmation. they might as well put sentinels on every stretch of property, but oh, hold on a second, there already were. patrols sent to banish every approaching outsider. an oasis surrounded by an impenetrable wall.

and romeo was in the process of testing those walls. or, at the very least, coax out a clan cat and possibly bring them back to laughing jack. that’d get him in his boss’s good graces for.. yeah, maybe two days if he was lucky. besides, he had some time to himself before he’d have to find his way back to following at the heels of a cannibalistic group. the things he does to survive. gave him nightmares and ate at his struggling conscience more than a guy should ever go through, but what other options were there? once with lj, always with lj. and once a dirty, conniving scumbag, always a dirty, conniving scumbag. nobody else saw him as otherwise, anyway, and his dreams off eradicating his current identity and washing all that red from his ledger were just that—farfetched dreams.

the pungent smell of clan hit fast, and the stumbling tabby stopped just where the scent was strongest. most everyone not affiliated with the clans complained about how the smell of them was enough to warn them away, but pity the one who had the guts to say that to romeo. losing his sight meant the strengthening of other senses, and he was not pleased when others whined about how it made them dizzy. “get splittin’ headaches then come talk to me about how bad these dirtbags smell,” he muttered fiercely. he could go on forever, but right now, romeo had a job to do.

feigning a weakened state—which honestly wasn’t that hard considering he was about as thin as a twig and looked like he’d been half-mauled by a dog—he laid down just so that he was a whisker away from passing the border. he huffed, “the things i do for lj, i freakin’ swear.” he angled his ears forward, the tension in his body actually helping his facade and making him seem more pained and on edge. the grey cat rested a cheek on the ground and curved a little into himself. moons of acting as a lure for catching lj’s prey perfected romeo’s acting. what to say, what to do. the amount of thought he was subjected to was almost a relief to him because it made him numb and near-forgetting of the fact that he was pretty much a harbinger of death to the unlucky bastard who just happened to stumble upon him on the wrong day.

hopefully those weird noises mean there’s a patrol coming. i’m starting to get a damn cramp in my neck.