ELEVEN

"i've got nothing left to prove, 'cause i've got nothing left to lose"

// please no more than three people in this thread! she still gets intimidated by crowds

This place was... strange. Not that she was frightened by all of the island's inhabitants — where she had come from, mutants were quite common. The humans liked sticking horns on turtles and three tails on dogs. However, she had not seen so much... freedom. There were no cages. They could all walk around to their leisure, chatting amongst themselves and laughing and playing and enjoying. These concepts were stranger to Eleven, a kitten who had spent her whole life behind cold, metallic bars. She liked to watch from a distance, observe their behaviors and tilt her head at how strange they all looked.

Today, Eleven had crawled out from the little secluded shelter she called home and padded onto the beach. The grainy sensation was foreign, but she also enjoyed it. It was better than a table or a stony ground. She squished the sand in between her toes and looked downward. She brushed some sand away to the side, and did it again and again. Was there a ground below this, she wondered. And, so, the curious kitten began to dig down into the sand with her small, dainty paws.

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EXP: 14%

Grainy, gritty texture slides, the smallest grains once gemstones or great volcanic rock shattered and spread like dust along the edges of water, banks made of sand by the tons. These rocks could be ancient, older than any fossil in the ground. Old broken things given a new purpose. The bones of his ancestors before him lay deep in rock. Suffocated by time but never truly lost. Ament instinctively knows this, knows in his bones that once was plentiful now remains a trickle of them. Ament and his sister's are the only ones true-born. Unlike the captive-genetic breeds that owen claims at his- raised in a cage and know little of the outside- ament and his sister's know nothing else but the breath of freedom.

They are spoiled, in that regard he knows. He is inexplicably young to the eons that branch between his kind in the ground. But already he is almost a year, and he feels every night that the moon has passed by, his muscles contract and relax in tandem, along the jungle he is a shadow amidst the outcropping of darker woods, small flecks of white brilliant like a beacon every time he passes by a small enough gap to let light through. The jungle is his, the island is his, and these odd little mammals wrapped in fur or scales with small claws and teeth like him- are his. He feels nothing but possessive of them all, greedy with every glance every passing mammal that he spots along his journey, each hushed conversation with words- with a language he cannot decipher. Puzzling, wondrous, magnificent- but his.

Ament is reaching the sands, the border of his jungle when he hears the rustle of the grains that is different from the sound of the waves crashing against the beach. Ament does not come closer, black muzzle nosing through the underbrush to get a clear sight of the bay. While the group is his- and he loves them all the same way a benevolent god would- at a distance. he does not like crowds. When he spots only two he is delighted and pushes between the green. Strides long and purposeful. The large raptor takes pleasure in announcing himself. A low tone as he warps his tongue around the sounds, a babble as he makes his way towards eleven and the other kitten he has seen before. Stopping short two feet and leaning down to greet them. Another one of his typhoon-ers. One he has not met yet- has not investigated. 

She is small, smaller than his smaller claws on his feet and he feels a small tremble- a want to not break it- break her. She is a young one, and the younger they are the more curious and daring they usually are. Ament appreciates the mutual curiosity and wonders if the other will follow the trend. Bowing his head the large raptor pushes sand closer to the kitten, not attempting to bury them but to play along in the sands. He is not interested in the sands, but he is interested in her, and will play along. He lets out a pleasant rumble at the other kit- raising his head only to bob his head in the other's direction. They too are at a distance, but they are both enough for him- for his interest for now, and maybe if there are more he will leave. But for now he is content with two.