Profile
The muscle of their little trio, Brownie Mix isn’t much of a conversationalist, quite literally. The young cat does not speak with words, preferring to communicate with their siblings through body language and a crude form of sign language, and seems to not care about being understood by anyone else. Traumatized from a young age, Brownie hides behind a mask of apathetic stoicism. Their eyes are like blazing chips of ice staring back at you; cold and devoid of feeling. They haven’t smiled since the death of their beloved baker and don’t plan to start now, stone-faced as they come.
The oddly patterned tabby isn’t afraid to shed blood and if provoked to violence can prove deadly. Brownie Mix never learned restraint, only an impulsive and fervent need to protect themself and their siblings. Their actions are born from fear and desperation. They never learned to fight any other way. Survival demands sacrifice, and in Brownie’s sake, they forfeited their morality for the sake of keeping them all alive, and they would do it again despite what it has cost them. Cake Batter and Cookie Dough are all they have left in this world, and so long as they live nothing will ever hurt them.
This isn’t to say that Brownie Mix is cruel or sets out to inflict harm upon others, however. Unprovoked, they tend to keep to themself, a watchful eye trained on those around them as if in expectation of aggression, but they will never be the first to start a fight unless it involves protecting their siblings. Brownie Mix is far more patient when it comes to what they’ll tolerate from others, but dare to lift a paw against Cake or Cookie? It’s on sight. Beneath the surface is someone that struggles daily with insecurities and a distinct lack of identity. Brownie isn’t all that sure who they are beyond their siblings personal bodyguard, and while uncomfortable with this notion, isn’t in any hurry to amend it.
---------------------------------
TW: murder, trauma
Introductions to life are not always easy. Others are gifted with plush beds and a food that follows the path of the sun. Safe and secure. Brownie and their siblings never got that. A cold alley behind a dumpster was their birthing place. It was there where their senses unfurled, opening like a spring bloom. The scent of rot was enough to imprint on the mind. It was there they stayed. Until their mom went missing.
Days later, they sat mewling for any sort of sustenance. It was there, behind that dumpster, that an aspiring new baker arrived to look into an empty building to start their bakery. Bitchin’ Bakery, to be exact. And the young baker heard the cries of the three fluffy nuggets of despair and rushed to their aid. It didn’t take much for the trio to be tucked in her arms, especially after an offering of milk that fattened them up and made them drowsy.
It was the start of something beautiful. The security that they never knew of became a reality; a home built around them. A cradle to house them. And soon that cradle stretched out into the world, and back to that cozy little bakery. Enough money was spent getting it up and running, and even more was spent making it cat friendly. But the young bakery knew what she was doing. For the most part, anyway.
A glass viewing area for the trio was installed. A place where they would hang out while their new mother worked. It had enough room to move, climb, play, and even play with the people that opened the door to their little alcove. They were living the dream. Being close to the baker, and receiving endless attention from the street and in the building. And the baker received more and more business, courtesy of the cute little advertisements.
The amount of attention was good at first. It got the young baker the money they needed to keep going with their dream, and keep their little bundles of fluff happy and healthy. But all things fruitful sour eventually. The rot grew fast and everything changed in a night. A large shadow loomed near the window after hours. The young baker was cleaning up and setting things up for a new day, and within moments there was the sound of glass shattering and an ungodly amount of screaming.
It became clear that it was a new day they’d never see.
The glass to the cat’s room shattered and they went to go see what the commotion was. They rushed, but not quick enough. Just enough for Cake to see the light leave the eyes of their favorite. With her died their comfort, and a part of them.
Cake was frozen. Blood touched their paws. It soaked into their fur, between their toes, and while a bit of them died, another part fled before their body could catch up, and they never saw it again.
Brownie bit the man with tiny teeth made for violence. If they had been born a dog, that man wouldn’t have stood a chance. Alas, Brownie’s act of violence wasn’t as traumatizing as they hoped, and left an injury in the wake of it as the assailant flung them into a wall. Their vision went black, and they remember nothing after that before waking again out on the street.
Cookie, wishing so dearly to bolt but unwilling to leave their beloved siblings behind, moved like a whip: grabbing Brownie’s limp form and dragging them away, urging Cake to follow before they made their way back to the streets, far, far away from their owner’s too-still body. Brownie has not spoken a word since they woke.
With their love and security gone, they were back out on the streets with not a damn clue of how to survive its challenges. They struggled every step of the way, with no idea where to get their food or water. It was here they all grew into their own, though they matched each other every step of the way.
Months went by.
Cake became the mastermind. What they saw, they could replicate and teach to the other two. They knew how to pick things apart with their mind, and they knew how to follow the subtle signs to get what they wanted.
Brownie was the brawn. The strong brooding type, truly. They worked to keep their siblings alive and well in a physical way. Cookie and Cake kept them alive with food, after all. They needed Brownie to barrel into those that dare come close. The warrior of the trio.
Cookie, to tie it all together, was the thief: quick and nimble and with jaws too sticky for anyone else's good. And that was all they really needed. The provider, who did it for them, because who else would? Who else could?
Things get complicated when you’re trying to survive, and it was only a matter of time before their luck ran out. on the streets, Cake orchestrated while Brownie protected and Cookie stole. Cake's sharp eyes and keen mind kept the wheels of this tricycle on the move. Brownie helped keep everyone safe in the moment, and Cookie helped keep them afloat with their tricky ways. Eventually, though, those tricky ways got them in deep water.
Amid the trio’s long list of enemies was a rival faction, far bigger than they could ever hope to dispute yet dumb enough to make them a convenient target for whenever prey ran thin. Tensions were high but their desire for a full stomach was higher. Cookie was operating as usual, darting between territories in a flash, before everything went south. Spotted by an entire patrol in the midst of a damning act, they dropped the prey and ran for it, but the group was tenacious. Vicious. Cookie, winding between alleyways and ducking beneath cars, doing everything they could to abandon their aggressors amid the twists and turns of the city, managed to lose all but one.
Screaming to the winds as the trio’s tiny territory came into view, Cookie’s savior came in the form of the cherished guardian that had defended them countless of times before: Brownie. Though never a defense so permanent -- so brutal. Brownie stared down at their deadly work and realized they felt nothing, numb to their core.
Soon, the triplets were hiding their first body, with Cake leading the charge. Stone-faced and analytical, they stashed the body somewhere no one would find it and quickly got the hell out of there. They knew they couldn’t stay, because even though the body was unreachable, the cat had a group that knew exactly where they were going. Those eyes followed them all the way out of the city and into the thicket. A new life was beginning.
