Get Off My Lawn || RP

Storm ||

With a large yawn, the older tom rolled his shoulders, giving himself a good stretch after a long nap. The wooden crate that Storm had decided to be his sleeping spot for the day had been pleasantly good for sunbathing without being disturbed.

Golden eyes scanned his surroundings before honing in on the nearby chicken coop. An easy meal was always a good meal, but he’d learned that the barn wasn’t as easy as he thought. Storm had yet to try his paw at catching a chicken, and the thought of why none of the barn cats bothered with them had briefly crossed his mind, but perhaps it was best to ask fewer questions around here.

Leaping down from the crate with ease, the black and white tom moseyed his way on over to the fence-line. The area seemed still and quiet enough, save for the usual ambience sounds of the farm. With a twitch of an ear, he crouched low to crawl his way under the fence post, the weathered wood snagging on a few tufts of his fur.

Rusty ||

His usual strolls about the farm were always uneventful. Even if a mouse happened to stumble along the same path as him, the days always repeated themselves. Oftentimes, he'd believe that he had slept days, because nothing would have changed over the course of time. The only hint of progression and how time bent the ways of life was the overwhelming heat that had taken over the land.

The tom slunk further from the farmhouse, not wishing to encounter the twolegs up close if they happened to try their shot at being close to him again. At least they'd never pulled that stunt since... Well, come to think of the occasion, the fencing stood not too far away, containing something - someone - new. Rusty's ears flattened for a moment as he grumbled to himself. It wasn't his business, and the occasional wandering stranger wasn't unheard of, but did he feel like witnessing an injury today? Not particularly...

"I'd get outta there if I were you."

He hollered from a distance away, refusing to approach the pasture too close. "Wouldn't test my limits in there," the barn cat continued, his voice a little muffled as a result of his crooked jaw. He seemed entirely serious, stood still safe for a flick of his ear as he squinted at the loner.

Storm ||

The muffled holler was not completely lost on Storm’s ears. He had barely finished squeezing himself under the fence before craning his neck to look to where the voice come from. He squinted, trying to make out the figure from further away. He could roughly make out that it was another cat, a tom, like himself. ”And why would that be?” He called back, raising his voice so that the other could hear him.

A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat as he sat down, using a hind leg to scratch at the side of his face lazily. He wasn’t in a hurry. ”Are ya afraid I’d eat too many of your chickens? If that’s the case, then not to worry, one ‘ill do just fine. I’d even share with ya if you’d like.”

Storm assumed the other was one of the other loners, or perhaps a kittypet. It was doubtful it was a clan cat, as it was rare that they ever traveled out this far and close to the twolegs.

Rusty ||

Rusty's ears perked then flattened back at the call from the other tom. His gestured with a paw in a down-motion, "keep it down." The off-brown tom glanced both sides, one paw coming closer to the paddock before he took another step back. He was never a coward, but this location specifically made his skin crawl.

"Ain't looking to share, genius." He squinted as he observed, the chickens being the last thing on his mind. Great, he's sittin' now. "Look, I don't give a damn about no chicken. I give a damn about seein' your body out there dead 'n' cold." Helping a stranger wasn't something he did often, but these loners knew no diffferent. They wandered about, taking things whenever they wanted. Rusty was aware that Sanya didn't appreciate such acts. She'd told him about those occurrences.

He took a couple strides closer, his paws on the fence. The tom's ears perked and swivelled as he listened out. "If yer willing to risk yer life for some bird yer insane.." He furrowed his brows as he looked at the stranger. "C'mere and I'll help ya get somethin' else, alright."

Storm ||

The other tom was sure making quite the fuss over the whole thing. Storm felt it’d be ignorant, or at the very least rude, to not do as suggested if a stranger was going so far out of his way to disrupt his plan on earning a meal. He figured it had to be for an important enough reason.

”Alright, alright, just take it easy.” He said, rising to his paws once more after feeling satisfied with his scratching to uncomfortably shuffle back underneath the fence post. ”I don’t see what the fuss is all about, ‘specially if you’ve got no interest in chickens, as you say.”

Storm shook out his fur again, white strands of fur flying off and making a nice decorating addition to the grass beneath their paws. Which wasn’t unwelcome, he could stand to loose a bit of fur to aid in the warmer weather lately. ”But if you’ve got a better way about goin’ and gettin’ a better meal around here, I won’t turn it down. You one of them other loners that stay around here, or are you about to lead me to some food the twolegs put out.” His tone came out with a lighthearted chuckle, but he wasn’t looking to take hand outs from twolegs if that’s what the other tom had in mind.

”And what should I call you?”

Rusty ||

As a sound rustled from a distance, the tom's lip twitched. Rusty let out a rather loud huff, his shoulder relaxing a little as the stranger finally budged. "Donkey - fucker's a menace. Wouldn't touch it - shit, wouldn't even look at it." His tail twitched as he squinted his eyes, the fur upon his neck that had bristled finally loosening itself to lie flat once more. He wasn't exactly jumpy in nature, but the barn cat was far from fond of the vile creature. "'Sides, shouldn't let ya near the chickens anyway," he rolled his eyes before his gaze shifted to the farmhouse. Surely they'd come out to leave their little offering for his hard work soon. What was worse, he had to share with Sanya. She wasn't the most desirable company at all times, but at least she was tolerable and understood the concept of sharing.

"I'll tell ya there's better stuff out in the fields. Pheasants. Should be flyin' in. Get more outta one of 'em things than any small bird you'd find 'ere." His scoffs and complaints were matched with half-lidded eyes, as if he couldn't believe he had to explain such things to the tom. "Jus' stay outta the pasture. Ain't wise - yer lucky I've got an ounce've sympathy for ya."

He padded away from the pasture with long strides as the black and white tom shuffled his way out from under the fence. "Yea. Work for the twolegs 'n' they give me stuff back. Would be surprised if yer not acquainted with Sanya. Same job. Chats up anythin' with a pulse, she does." The fur by his tail prickled a little as he faced over his shoulder, leading the way towards the fields by the sea of crops. "Yer fuckin' with me? Nah, that's payment. Ya been touchin' that 'n' I'm sure Sanya would do the pleasure of givin' ya a wack." Perhaps something of a chuckle came from him, but it may have been a grunt.

"Rust'll be fine." He wasn't a fan of the softer sound his proper name gave off.

Storm ||

Storm’s eyes widened at the other tom’s colorful choice in language when explaining his reasoning. Surely, if the cat who spent most of his time around the barn was so adamant about steering clear of this ‘donkey’ due to being afraid of it, he had to be telling the truth. If that was the case, Storm was glad he had taken the time to warn him of the looming danger.

The older tom then hummed in thought. A wild caught bird always did taste better, though he hadn’t had many birds that the twolegs kept for themselves that often to be able to compare anyways. ”Well I appreciate ya telling me either way. I’m not lookin’ to lose my pelt over a few chickens, I’ve still got other things to do.”

He assumed he was meant to follow along as the other tom started trotting off, which he did, but his pace was much more relaxed in comparison. One might say his paw steps were almost calculated with how well his stride flowed with the rest of his body. Honestly the display was perfectly flawless if anyone paid any mind to watching how well he walked. It could only be described as majestic.

Even the comment about Sanya did nothing to falter his step, though his lip twitched in clear annoyance. ”Oh, she and I have been well acquainted…” He grumbled with a roll of his eyes. Not many cats got under his fur, but Sanya seemed to have managed to do just that. ”She did more than just a whack. Been coming around this place longer than most of the cats here have been breathin’, but she jumped me the other day and acted  like I was some rancid badger with fleas trying to steal a kit! Next time I see her, she better have learned some manners!” The nub that was his tail lashed comedically so as he spoke, clearly still not over the unpleasant exchange with the she-cat. 

He did acknowledge the tom’s introduction, and gave Rusty his own name in return but said nothing else. Storm needed to recompose himself a bit before speaking again, he wasn’t usually the type to get worked up over things often.

After a few minutes though, his nerves had calmed down and his fur had flattened. Clearing his throat, he spoke, ”So you know of a good spot around here then? Like I’ve said I have been ‘round here many-a-times, but I don’t stick around long to get too familiar with the hunting spots other than the rats in the barn”

Rusty ||

"Yea - 's fine," was all the tom slurred out in response to the thanks he was given. Honestly, watching over the chickens was all part of his "job," but if all came to he wouldn't be opposed to letting one go. Hell, even Rusty may have helped himself to a few of the dumb birds in the past, but whatever wandered this land was to be under his watch. He'd say under Sanya's too if she wasn't probably lazing about elsewhere. Some days he felt like he was the only one who took this business seriously... Not that he minded working solo.

'Got things to do?' If he was anymore inquisitive than he was, perhaps the grouchy feline would have questioned that, but instead took to sticking to himself and not prying. 

Rusty trod onwards, drawing closer to the fields about the farm, shoulders tense as he carried himself. He was quite the stocky tom, but he was ever to uptight in movement and vocals. But something that the older feline had said made one of his rounded ears flick with the faintest amount of curiosity. "Ya are, aye?" Raising a brow, the barn cat stopped in his tracks and watched the loner over his shoulder. "Don't mean ya own it - but yea, she's a feisty thing... Ain't always been my favourite workin' partner." Rusty shrugged at his piece. "Been sleepin' in my spot for moons; fat change, bud."

With a sneer, he watched the newly introduced Storm throw himself into the aftermath of a fit, small tail swinging back and forth, back and forth. Again, the barn cat raised his brows and huffed. Silver eyes watched the fields with an unfazed expression. It was all same old to him by now, having lived here for - what - 50-ish moons by now? Maybe even more. He had certainly lost the exact count but didn't ponder on it. His estimation was close enough. "Pheasants 'n' the like spend their time dilly-dallyin' 'round out 'ere somewhere. Keep yer voice low 'n' they won't scurry off. Thick-headed as they are, they know a threat when they see one - most the time." The tom indicated into the wheat with a gesture of his tail, shifting his mouth as if his jaw was uncomfortable, even after so long of it being an issue for him. With a click of his tongue, Rusty cleared his throat with a single harsh cough. "C'mon then. Can smell 'em already - ain't far. Wanna get back 'fore Sanya starts stealin' my shit again."