Post by owl on Apr 16, 2024 15:43:32 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/LRTmpfb/ophelia~png
ophelia
basic information
NAME: Ophelia
→ Lily is a nickname given to her by Samson, but she has not been called by it in many moons.
AGE: 58 moons
CLAN: The Kingdom (Nightwalker)
→ loner, house cat
RANK: Hunter
GENDER: Molly (she/her)
INTERESTED IN: All (?)
→ Closeted bisexual
MATE: Closed
→ Previously Samson (npc)
MENTOR: None
APPRENTICE: Open to plotting
NAME MEANING: Ophelia is the name her humans gave her. She does not know its meaning.
→ Lily is a nickname given to her by Samson, but she has not been called by it in many moons.
AGE: 58 moons
CLAN: The Kingdom (Nightwalker)
→ loner, house cat
RANK: Hunter
GENDER: Molly (she/her)
INTERESTED IN: All (?)
→ Closeted bisexual
MATE: Closed
→ Previously Samson (npc)
MENTOR: None
APPRENTICE: Open to plotting
NAME MEANING: Ophelia is the name her humans gave her. She does not know its meaning.
appearance
A tall, shorthaired charcoal marbled tabby with wide, pale green eyes.
One look at Ophelia and you can tell it's her because of her distinct pattern. She bears a short brown tabby coat like many cats in the valley, but the difference is in her stripes. The banding is dark and thick, covering most of her body in a near-black color with only patches of tan and brown peeking through. Her face is darker than most tabbies, and her nose and paw pads are black. It's striking on her even, fine fur that doesn't obfuscate any of the swirls. Of course, it is thanks to her Bengal heritage.
Otherwise, you might be surprised to hear that she was once a kittypet. The molly isn't overly large but built lean and long-legged like a hunter, and she's adapted to the wild cat life like a fish to water. Her eyes are round and a light, cucumber green in color. Due to the harsh winter, her hips and ribs show through her pelt and her coat is not as glossy as it used to be. She has next to no scars, only small ones from hunting mistakes, as she has never been in a fight. Cats will notice that she doesn't tend to get sick as often as her peers, which solidifies her as a reliable hunter in any season.
One look at Ophelia and you can tell it's her because of her distinct pattern. She bears a short brown tabby coat like many cats in the valley, but the difference is in her stripes. The banding is dark and thick, covering most of her body in a near-black color with only patches of tan and brown peeking through. Her face is darker than most tabbies, and her nose and paw pads are black. It's striking on her even, fine fur that doesn't obfuscate any of the swirls. Of course, it is thanks to her Bengal heritage.
Otherwise, you might be surprised to hear that she was once a kittypet. The molly isn't overly large but built lean and long-legged like a hunter, and she's adapted to the wild cat life like a fish to water. Her eyes are round and a light, cucumber green in color. Due to the harsh winter, her hips and ribs show through her pelt and her coat is not as glossy as it used to be. She has next to no scars, only small ones from hunting mistakes, as she has never been in a fight. Cats will notice that she doesn't tend to get sick as often as her peers, which solidifies her as a reliable hunter in any season.
description
Kithood & Adolescence Ophelia really doesn't remember much of her kithood. She knows she had siblings and a mother, but she never met her father. Really, a father having any role in raising the kits was alien to her until she joined the Kingdom, far into her adulthood. She remembers the lullabies her mother used to sing, and the games she played with her siblings. She remembers the name her mother used to call her—Bug—though she called all her kits that, a term of endearment. They didn't have any individual names, perhaps because her mother knew she was going to be taken from her eventually.
She remembers the humans who had her were kind, they petted her and played with her, and she purred and purred. They were also the ones who took her from all she knew, scooped her up and took her to a new house with strange cats and new people. These new people were the ones who named her Ophelia, and so her real life begins at about three moons old.
The kitten is taken under the wing of a kindly older molly named Evelyn, who shows her the house and explains to her the life she will be living. She tells her that sometimes they are taken to great big places with lots of other cats and are poked and inspected by strange humans. That's fairly uncommon, though, usually they stay at home and nap in the windows.
Evelyn also explains that when she has kittens, the humans will take them away, so don't be surprised. Just like how Ophelia was taken away from her mother and brought to a new place—her children will find a new place to live too. It's just the way of life, she explains, but can be a shock for new queens. Ophelia asks when she'll be having kittens, and Evelyn laughs, "Not for a while, dear."
There are other cats Ophelia lives with, all with bright eyes and rosetted pelts, but none make an effort to befriend her like Evelyn. One queen seems to take an immediate dislike to her, hissing and swatting at her whenever she comes near. Evelyn explains that that's Alma, and she never really likes any of the newcomers. She tells Ophelia not to take it personally. She has plenty of other cats to befriend.
Adulthood As the moons pass Ophelia settles into her home. She is comfortable and safe, always well fed, she has cats to talk to and to play with. It is not long before she is taken to her very first "cat show," and she brings home a brightly colored ribbon which her humans are happy about. She likes making them happy, but she cannot help but feel like she is missing something.
The molly asks Evelyn about it one day, when the two are sunbathing by the windows. The older cat blinks at her sleepily. "When you get older, you'll understand," she mewed, "Be grateful for this life. There are many cats without kind people to take care of them, who have to live outside and catch their own prey." Ophelia didn't respond. Mainly because that didn't seem... so bad to her? It sounded exciting, actually. Maybe she was foolish.
She had tasted fresh air before, smelled the scents of squirrels and birds that danced outside just out of reach. She didn't know you could catch them. She wondered what they tasted like. Once she asked Evelyn about that, if she'd ever tasted any of the wild prey from outside. That was the first time her friend looked at her with some level of disgust. "Of course not, dear. We have plenty of food inside." Ophelia never talked to her about her longing for the outside again.
Her mind is taken up by other things, and she decides to enjoy the life she knows and that Evelyn tells her is good for her. That she is lucky to have. Sometimes she stays up late at night to watch out the window and catches glimpses of a cat passing through... a cat on the other side. They never give any indication of seeing her, and sometimes she wonders if she's imagining it. Maybe no cat lives outside, and it was just a tale Evelyn told her to keep her from wanting to meet them.
Soon comes her first litter, which she is scared about, though Evelyn tells her it is natural. She is worried about the little bodies that latch to her belly—four of them, dark and marbled like her. Slowly, gradually, she warms to them. She learns their personalities and their favorite games. She cares for them and laughs with them. She never gives them names, always calling them Bug, like her own mother did. Evelyn tells her not giving them names makes it easier.
Too soon, the first of her kittens is taken from her. She doesn't expect to be upset, but when her humans take him and he does not come back, she doesn't feel relieved as she thought she would at the start. She feels... sad. Another pair are taken at the same time, and finally her last child leaves her. Ophelia almost wishes she had given them names, for so many moons later, their faces blend together. She wishes she remembered them as individuals, and not as a whole. She hopes they are happy.
Evelyn is her comfort in the coming moons, and all the moons after. She busies herself with other things, for when her paws still, her mind wanders to what her children might be doing. She is told her second litter will be easier, but it isn't. There are more of them, and Ophelia gives them little nicknames, makes sure they know she loves them. They don't understand when she tells them she won't always be there for them. She hopes that when they leave, they have someone like Evelyn that will be there for them.
But as it turns out, Evelyn won't always be there for her either. The molly is getting older, is sleeping more, she hasn't been feeling so well as of late. She often leaves and comes back smelling of the vet, and is made to take nasty-smelling medicines. She doesn't eat as much, always asking Ophelia to help her finish her meals. One day she wakes up beside her friend to find her still and cold, despite the warm morning sunshine they lie in.
She wakes up her humans and they take her body away, petting and cooing to her. They are a comfort, but do not understand her like Evelyn does. Like Evelyn did. And now she's... gone. Ophelia had never experienced death before. But she found she hated it. Her life becomes lonely and colorless without her closest friend. Her humans have to coax her to eat, and all she wants to do is sleep or stare at the world out the window.
Her humans leave the window cracked open one warm summer night, and she is enjoying the breeze through her whiskers and the sound of crickets in the bushes. A meow startles her out of her growing slumber. But not one from inside, it was coming from outside. She opens her eyes, and friendly amber ones peer back at her. A cat has hopped up onto the windowsill on the other side, and has his face pressed against the mesh.
"What're you doing in there?" he asks, voice rumbling and warm. She blinks at him.
"What're you doing out there?" she responds, to which the tom laughs. He tells her he's gotta patrol his territory, and didn't know any cats lived in this house before. She asks him to tell her what it's like outside, what his territory is, what it feels like to try to catch prey. He complies, and in turn asks her what she does cooped up inside all day. The pair exchange stories until dawn starts to break. When he sees the sunlight, he apologizes and says he'd better get home. Ophelia calls out to him before he can leave, realizing she never told him her name.
He introduces himself as Samson. "See ya tomorrow, Ophelia," and then he vanishes over the top of the fence. Samson is true to his word, though, and she sees him again the next evening. And the next, and the next. She confides in him that she's always wanted to go outside, but her friend always said it was silly. "I don't think you're silly, Lily," he responds, and then goes quiet in thought. "I'll find a way to get you out, hm? And then I can show you around."
It takes them a few days of brainstorming, but eventually, they forge a plan that lets Ophelia escape. Samson had climbed all around the house outside and one of the mesh window covers on an upstairs window was loose. Enough that she could probably squeeze through so long as her humans had the glass part open. They didn't usually open that one, but with Ophelia incessantly meowing and leaping up to the window, they eventually appease her.
At dusk, their plan comes to fruition. It's scary to leave all she's known, but Samson is right there with her, guiding her down off the roof like he's done it hundreds of times. Knowing him, he probably had. He shows her his favorite spots, and never gets upset at her when they have to slow their pace to get her over an unfamiliar obstacle. It was hard to gauge how large he was through a window, but he truly was a magnificent cat. His fur was long and soft, and his eyes glimmered with mirth.
It was then that Ophelia realized she was... in love. Something she'd never felt, but that had been described to her by Evelyn and whispered about by the other cats in the house. She is unnaturally silent the rest of the night, which Samson interprets as her being uncomfortable, and offers to take her home. Ophelia accepts and he accompanies her right back to the window she left from. After she is safe inside, he smiles sheepishly at her. "Did you like tonight? It's okay if you didn't, but I'd like to still talk, if you don't mind."
"Oh, absolutely!" she replies, "I just... it gave me a lot of things to think about." Samson nods sagely, and they sit in silence for a few more moments. Then he bids her goodnight, and disappears into the darkness. Ophelia cannot get to sleep, worrying about her feelings and what they meant, worrying about if she hurt things with her only friend and favorite cat, if he was disappointed that they hadn't gone everywhere he'd wanted.
But when Samson finds her the following evening, he is just as warm as ever. They explore more, and he even shows her how to hunt. He is patient and kind, laughing with her and encouraging her through her mistakes. She doesn't catch her first prey that night, but she does the next. All the while, she finds herself falling harder and harder for him. Eventually, as the summer nights begin to cool into autumn, she builds up the confidence to tell him.
He loves her too. She's never heard such a beautiful thing. Ophelia told him life has never felt so colorful before as this little time she's had with him, and he expresses that he feels the same. That night he walks her to her window same as always, but it feels so different. They say goodnight, and he gives her a lick on the forehead. She sleeps soundly for the first time in a while. Unfortunately, the lovers' bliss is short-lived.
Alma knows that she has been sneaking out. She confronts Ophelia and tells her she has seen her with that strange tom, and she smells the outside air on her fur every night. And she says she is going to put a stop to it. Ophelia begs for her not to do this, but Alma's mind cannot be changed. The other cat makes a fuss about "sneaking" out in eyesight of their humans, who fix the broken mesh and check all the other windows to make sure no cat can escape.
All the windows stay closed that night, and Ophelia is distraught. The cats are kept to a room or their crates at night for the next few days, and by the time Ophelia is free to wait by the window for him again, Samson does not come. By that time, though, she has something else to worry about. One she's felt before, a change in her smell, a hunger for more than she usually eats—she is expecting.
Ophelia knows they are Samson's. She knows she does not want them taken from her, like her other children were. She has to leave. She has to find Samson, and he can help her. She is antsy and irritable towards the other cats, most of whom have clocked her pregnancy, though only Alma speaks to her about it. Just to tell her that as soon as their humans find out, they are not going to be happy.
All that does is worry her more, and make her more determined to escape. She lingers by the doors whenever she hears her humans going in and out, waiting for her chance. And as soon as she sees it, she takes it. A gap in the door just large enough for her. She is out quicker than they can realize, and they are calling to her, but she already knows how to jump the fence. She is gone.
New Life It's scary without Samson there to guide her. She didn't realize how hard it was, because he navigated the outdoors with such ease. Ophelia does her best to follow his route, but all his scents are faded, and she does not know where he goes during the day. She is afraid to wait for him anywhere near her house, worried that her humans will see her and take her back. And every day, the kits grow in her belly.
She catches enough to feed herself, but knows when the kits are born, she will need to catch enough to feed them too. She remembers a place Samson told her about—if you followed the direction of the rising sun, you'd come to a barn that had lots of mice to eat. He'd been raised there but it'd been too boring for him, so he'd left for greener pastures. But... maybe, he would go looking there again? At the very least, it seemed like a good place to raise her kits. Better than the city, at least.
Following his instructions, she makes it to what she thinks is Samson's barn after days and days of travel. She is heavy with her kits, so she moves slower than she'd like to, especially as she has to stop and hunt for herself. It's a relief when she sees the big red building he described to her. And even more of a relief when a friendly tom comes out of it to greet her, happy to help her up into the loft and let her stay and raise her kits.
The tomcat introduces himself as Hogan. Ophelia asks him if he'd ever met a cat named Samson, to which he thinks on for a while, gaze cloudy. He said he'd met a lot of cats in his time, a lot of cats came to and fro from this barn, and he'd only been there a few seasons himself. He can't say he'd never met a Samson, but if he did, he didn't remember. He also remarks that he'd never seen a cat quite like her, which makes Ophelia smile. "You aren't an ordinary cat," Samson always told her.
(cw kit death) Hogan helps feed her as she grows closer to giving birth, and even helps after the kits are born. There are five of them, but two don't make it past the first night. Hogan digs graves for them, and helps her bury them. He tells her it's so foxes and coyotes don't take their bodies. It lets them rest in peace, return to the earth. Ophelia wonders how many times he's done this, from the practiced way he moves the dirt.
"What're ya gonna name them?" he asks when they return to the barn, the three remaining kits at her belly. Ophelia startles. She hadn't even thought of that. She'd always been told not to name her kits, but now... now she was going to get to keep them. This was the entire reason she left her old life. When she is silent, he nods at her. "Let me know if y'want help. I'm sure yer Samson would like any names you picked."
And so she names them. Vulture for the biggest one, with the dark tabby coat. Samson always said he'd liked those kinds of birds, though some thought they were scary because they scavenged. He thought they were just misunderstood. She was stumped on the others for a little while, but finally settled on two names she liked. Magpie for the mostly black one, and Wren for the smallest brown one. Both for birds she enjoyed watching out the window back at home.
Hogan comes to her a half-moon or so after the kits are born, and tells her it's time for him to move on. He'd told her before he never stayed in a place for long—he always got an itch when it's time to go. He asks her to take care of the barn for him, and that he wishes he could see her kits grow up but knows she'll do a good job raising them. He says if he ever meets a cat named Samson, he'll tell him where she is. She is sad to see another friend go, but it feels rude to ask him to stay. If he wants to leave, who is she to stop him?
It's harder without the extra help, but Ophelia manages. She stays with the kits most of the day and hides them at dusk to go hunt. The colder weather is making the prey stay in their burrows, and her inexperience hinders her. She manages to catch just enough to feed herself and keep her kits bellies full of milk, but she grows thinner than she ever used to be. She finds herself dreaming of warm beds and easy meals back at home. But whenever she wakes up, she is reminded of her children—and how she could never have had them back at home. It is worth it.
Her kittens are only just learning to walk when the stranger arrives. He is old and grizzled, limping heavily on one of his legs, and he smells awfully bitter—she realizes later it must be some kind of herb. He scares her a little, but she thinks of how welcoming Hogan was to her—shouldn't she do the same? And besides, he was old and injured. The least she could do was let him stay.
He does stay for longer than she'd like. He never introduces himself, but thanks her whenever she catches something extra to share with him. Something about his eyes are unsettling. She makes sure Magpie, Vulture, and Wren know not to talk to the strange tom. It worries her to let him stay so close to them, even if he's across the barn—but what can she do? She has to continue to hunt, to feed them.
One time when she is coming home from a failed hunt she finds Vulture sitting near the tom. She immediately picks him up and takes him back to their nest, tutting that he should be asleep by now. She can feel the stranger's eyes on her, but he doesn't say a word. Ophelia curls tightly around her children that night. She decides tomorrow that she is going to ask the stranger to leave.
But first... she has to hunt. Her kits are beginning to wean off of milk, and grow hungrier by the day. She wakes up with her stomach rumbling, and decides to head out before the kids wake up. Maybe if she can catch something extra to give to the stranger, he'll be more likely to leave when she asks him? She hopes. He is still sleeping when she leaves the barn, venturing out into the nearby fields to look for prey.
When she comes back that afternoon, twin mice hanging from her mouth, the stranger is gone from his usual spot in the barn. He'd been with them for a while now, and rarely ever left his nest. She hurries back to her den in the hay, stomach sinking as she finds only two of her children napping there. Magpie and Wren—Vulture was nowhere to be found. When she wakes them and asks them where their brother is, they shrug and say he was talking about going on an adventure. Ophelia asks them to stay here, to be good and eat their mouse, and she runs.
She knows the stranger took her son. She'd seen how he looked at Vulture, and she knew there was something off about him. She finds their scent trails tangled together, out through the field, but loses it in the dying stalks. Ophelia retraces her steps again and again until she is aching and exhausted, and remembers her kits at home. She returns to them, and they ask her about Vulture. She doesn't have the heart to tell them yet.
The distraught mother continues to search for days after, wandering far from the barn and neglecting her hunting. It is only when she returns to Magpie and Wren and they mewl to her in hunger that she realizes she can't continue like this. Vulture is.... gone. And she has his siblings to care for. She returns out and catches a mouse for her remaining children to share. She sleeps restlessly, dreaming of cats coming in the night with wild eyes and hobbling gaits.
And it was a good thing she gave up on looking, as snow falls that night, covering the stale scents and making it harder to hunt. Ophelia manages to catch enough to stave off her children's hunger, but often goes without herself. She also realizes how big her children have gotten, that they stay awake more and practice pouncing on each other's tails. She decides to teach them to hunt, starting on the mice that have found a home in the barn for the winter.
It's a little easier once she realizes that the prey find the barn as much of a safe haven as she and her kits, especially with the cold winds and snow outside. The winter passes in peace, and she takes her kits out to enjoy the snow when it's not too cold. She tells them stories about their father, and she finds time to play games with them. Ophelia is so happy to watch them grow up, they are older than she got to see any of her other kits grow and they are with her.
Nearing the end of winter as the sun comes out a little more and snow turns to mud, a new stranger comes to the barn. A molly named Lavender, just beginning to show her pregnancy, asking for a place to stay for a little while. She is far less imposing than the last, and even makes an effort to help hunt and take care of her kits. In fact, Ophelia finds herself liking her, considering her a friend even.
Lavender soon tells her that she doesn't plan to stay much longer, as she's traveling looking for a group of cats a clan that live in a valley nearby. She'd heard that they all live in harmony and hunt for each other and take care of each other when they're sick or hurt. She wants to raise her kits with them. Ophelia finds it a little hard to believe, but she'd never known cats really lived outside until she met Samson, so why wouldn't they form groups?
Her kits also learn about the clans, and Magpie asks Lavender everything she knows about them. Wren is a little less interested, Ophelia can tell—she's always been content being safe in the barn. She doesn't have the longing for adventure that her sibling does. She sees a little bit of herself in both of them, which warms her to think about.
Eventually, Lavender asks them if they would like to accompany her to the clans. Ophelia is hesitant, but Magpie loves the idea. He wants to meet new cats, and make friends, and explore new places! They discuss it for a while, and her friend brings up good points—Ophelia would never have struggled through the winter if she lived in a clan, because they would help her with her kits. They would have protected Vulture from being stolen.
Really, that is what makes up her mind. That, and her son's enthusiasm, and her liking of Lavender. She promises Wren that if she doesn't like it, they can always return to the barn. And so, as the ground thaws, the party of four sets out. They travel far, further than Ophelia did to get to the barn, eventually coming to a place where rocks reach high into the sky. Mountains. Lavender said they must be just past these, in the valley they make.
They make their way slowly up the cliffs, as Lavender is growing closer to kitting and has more trouble climbing. Ophelia worries about her friend, but the other molly is determined and convinced that they will make it before her kits come. WIP
-> make it to the mountains where the kingdom lives, and meet them first. they're told about how the clans can be trouble, and they should join the kingdom instead. lavender seems convinced, but ophelia asks for a few days to consider.
-> ophelia and her kits join the nightwalker camp as she thinks they have the safest camp, and ophelia likes their leader best. (lavender may be in another group but she and ophelia stay friends, and ophelia promises to help with her kits when they are born)
She remembers the humans who had her were kind, they petted her and played with her, and she purred and purred. They were also the ones who took her from all she knew, scooped her up and took her to a new house with strange cats and new people. These new people were the ones who named her Ophelia, and so her real life begins at about three moons old.
The kitten is taken under the wing of a kindly older molly named Evelyn, who shows her the house and explains to her the life she will be living. She tells her that sometimes they are taken to great big places with lots of other cats and are poked and inspected by strange humans. That's fairly uncommon, though, usually they stay at home and nap in the windows.
Evelyn also explains that when she has kittens, the humans will take them away, so don't be surprised. Just like how Ophelia was taken away from her mother and brought to a new place—her children will find a new place to live too. It's just the way of life, she explains, but can be a shock for new queens. Ophelia asks when she'll be having kittens, and Evelyn laughs, "Not for a while, dear."
There are other cats Ophelia lives with, all with bright eyes and rosetted pelts, but none make an effort to befriend her like Evelyn. One queen seems to take an immediate dislike to her, hissing and swatting at her whenever she comes near. Evelyn explains that that's Alma, and she never really likes any of the newcomers. She tells Ophelia not to take it personally. She has plenty of other cats to befriend.
Adulthood As the moons pass Ophelia settles into her home. She is comfortable and safe, always well fed, she has cats to talk to and to play with. It is not long before she is taken to her very first "cat show," and she brings home a brightly colored ribbon which her humans are happy about. She likes making them happy, but she cannot help but feel like she is missing something.
The molly asks Evelyn about it one day, when the two are sunbathing by the windows. The older cat blinks at her sleepily. "When you get older, you'll understand," she mewed, "Be grateful for this life. There are many cats without kind people to take care of them, who have to live outside and catch their own prey." Ophelia didn't respond. Mainly because that didn't seem... so bad to her? It sounded exciting, actually. Maybe she was foolish.
She had tasted fresh air before, smelled the scents of squirrels and birds that danced outside just out of reach. She didn't know you could catch them. She wondered what they tasted like. Once she asked Evelyn about that, if she'd ever tasted any of the wild prey from outside. That was the first time her friend looked at her with some level of disgust. "Of course not, dear. We have plenty of food inside." Ophelia never talked to her about her longing for the outside again.
Her mind is taken up by other things, and she decides to enjoy the life she knows and that Evelyn tells her is good for her. That she is lucky to have. Sometimes she stays up late at night to watch out the window and catches glimpses of a cat passing through... a cat on the other side. They never give any indication of seeing her, and sometimes she wonders if she's imagining it. Maybe no cat lives outside, and it was just a tale Evelyn told her to keep her from wanting to meet them.
Soon comes her first litter, which she is scared about, though Evelyn tells her it is natural. She is worried about the little bodies that latch to her belly—four of them, dark and marbled like her. Slowly, gradually, she warms to them. She learns their personalities and their favorite games. She cares for them and laughs with them. She never gives them names, always calling them Bug, like her own mother did. Evelyn tells her not giving them names makes it easier.
Too soon, the first of her kittens is taken from her. She doesn't expect to be upset, but when her humans take him and he does not come back, she doesn't feel relieved as she thought she would at the start. She feels... sad. Another pair are taken at the same time, and finally her last child leaves her. Ophelia almost wishes she had given them names, for so many moons later, their faces blend together. She wishes she remembered them as individuals, and not as a whole. She hopes they are happy.
Evelyn is her comfort in the coming moons, and all the moons after. She busies herself with other things, for when her paws still, her mind wanders to what her children might be doing. She is told her second litter will be easier, but it isn't. There are more of them, and Ophelia gives them little nicknames, makes sure they know she loves them. They don't understand when she tells them she won't always be there for them. She hopes that when they leave, they have someone like Evelyn that will be there for them.
But as it turns out, Evelyn won't always be there for her either. The molly is getting older, is sleeping more, she hasn't been feeling so well as of late. She often leaves and comes back smelling of the vet, and is made to take nasty-smelling medicines. She doesn't eat as much, always asking Ophelia to help her finish her meals. One day she wakes up beside her friend to find her still and cold, despite the warm morning sunshine they lie in.
She wakes up her humans and they take her body away, petting and cooing to her. They are a comfort, but do not understand her like Evelyn does. Like Evelyn did. And now she's... gone. Ophelia had never experienced death before. But she found she hated it. Her life becomes lonely and colorless without her closest friend. Her humans have to coax her to eat, and all she wants to do is sleep or stare at the world out the window.
Her humans leave the window cracked open one warm summer night, and she is enjoying the breeze through her whiskers and the sound of crickets in the bushes. A meow startles her out of her growing slumber. But not one from inside, it was coming from outside. She opens her eyes, and friendly amber ones peer back at her. A cat has hopped up onto the windowsill on the other side, and has his face pressed against the mesh.
"What're you doing in there?" he asks, voice rumbling and warm. She blinks at him.
"What're you doing out there?" she responds, to which the tom laughs. He tells her he's gotta patrol his territory, and didn't know any cats lived in this house before. She asks him to tell her what it's like outside, what his territory is, what it feels like to try to catch prey. He complies, and in turn asks her what she does cooped up inside all day. The pair exchange stories until dawn starts to break. When he sees the sunlight, he apologizes and says he'd better get home. Ophelia calls out to him before he can leave, realizing she never told him her name.
He introduces himself as Samson. "See ya tomorrow, Ophelia," and then he vanishes over the top of the fence. Samson is true to his word, though, and she sees him again the next evening. And the next, and the next. She confides in him that she's always wanted to go outside, but her friend always said it was silly. "I don't think you're silly, Lily," he responds, and then goes quiet in thought. "I'll find a way to get you out, hm? And then I can show you around."
It takes them a few days of brainstorming, but eventually, they forge a plan that lets Ophelia escape. Samson had climbed all around the house outside and one of the mesh window covers on an upstairs window was loose. Enough that she could probably squeeze through so long as her humans had the glass part open. They didn't usually open that one, but with Ophelia incessantly meowing and leaping up to the window, they eventually appease her.
At dusk, their plan comes to fruition. It's scary to leave all she's known, but Samson is right there with her, guiding her down off the roof like he's done it hundreds of times. Knowing him, he probably had. He shows her his favorite spots, and never gets upset at her when they have to slow their pace to get her over an unfamiliar obstacle. It was hard to gauge how large he was through a window, but he truly was a magnificent cat. His fur was long and soft, and his eyes glimmered with mirth.
It was then that Ophelia realized she was... in love. Something she'd never felt, but that had been described to her by Evelyn and whispered about by the other cats in the house. She is unnaturally silent the rest of the night, which Samson interprets as her being uncomfortable, and offers to take her home. Ophelia accepts and he accompanies her right back to the window she left from. After she is safe inside, he smiles sheepishly at her. "Did you like tonight? It's okay if you didn't, but I'd like to still talk, if you don't mind."
"Oh, absolutely!" she replies, "I just... it gave me a lot of things to think about." Samson nods sagely, and they sit in silence for a few more moments. Then he bids her goodnight, and disappears into the darkness. Ophelia cannot get to sleep, worrying about her feelings and what they meant, worrying about if she hurt things with her only friend and favorite cat, if he was disappointed that they hadn't gone everywhere he'd wanted.
But when Samson finds her the following evening, he is just as warm as ever. They explore more, and he even shows her how to hunt. He is patient and kind, laughing with her and encouraging her through her mistakes. She doesn't catch her first prey that night, but she does the next. All the while, she finds herself falling harder and harder for him. Eventually, as the summer nights begin to cool into autumn, she builds up the confidence to tell him.
He loves her too. She's never heard such a beautiful thing. Ophelia told him life has never felt so colorful before as this little time she's had with him, and he expresses that he feels the same. That night he walks her to her window same as always, but it feels so different. They say goodnight, and he gives her a lick on the forehead. She sleeps soundly for the first time in a while. Unfortunately, the lovers' bliss is short-lived.
Alma knows that she has been sneaking out. She confronts Ophelia and tells her she has seen her with that strange tom, and she smells the outside air on her fur every night. And she says she is going to put a stop to it. Ophelia begs for her not to do this, but Alma's mind cannot be changed. The other cat makes a fuss about "sneaking" out in eyesight of their humans, who fix the broken mesh and check all the other windows to make sure no cat can escape.
All the windows stay closed that night, and Ophelia is distraught. The cats are kept to a room or their crates at night for the next few days, and by the time Ophelia is free to wait by the window for him again, Samson does not come. By that time, though, she has something else to worry about. One she's felt before, a change in her smell, a hunger for more than she usually eats—she is expecting.
Ophelia knows they are Samson's. She knows she does not want them taken from her, like her other children were. She has to leave. She has to find Samson, and he can help her. She is antsy and irritable towards the other cats, most of whom have clocked her pregnancy, though only Alma speaks to her about it. Just to tell her that as soon as their humans find out, they are not going to be happy.
All that does is worry her more, and make her more determined to escape. She lingers by the doors whenever she hears her humans going in and out, waiting for her chance. And as soon as she sees it, she takes it. A gap in the door just large enough for her. She is out quicker than they can realize, and they are calling to her, but she already knows how to jump the fence. She is gone.
New Life It's scary without Samson there to guide her. She didn't realize how hard it was, because he navigated the outdoors with such ease. Ophelia does her best to follow his route, but all his scents are faded, and she does not know where he goes during the day. She is afraid to wait for him anywhere near her house, worried that her humans will see her and take her back. And every day, the kits grow in her belly.
She catches enough to feed herself, but knows when the kits are born, she will need to catch enough to feed them too. She remembers a place Samson told her about—if you followed the direction of the rising sun, you'd come to a barn that had lots of mice to eat. He'd been raised there but it'd been too boring for him, so he'd left for greener pastures. But... maybe, he would go looking there again? At the very least, it seemed like a good place to raise her kits. Better than the city, at least.
Following his instructions, she makes it to what she thinks is Samson's barn after days and days of travel. She is heavy with her kits, so she moves slower than she'd like to, especially as she has to stop and hunt for herself. It's a relief when she sees the big red building he described to her. And even more of a relief when a friendly tom comes out of it to greet her, happy to help her up into the loft and let her stay and raise her kits.
The tomcat introduces himself as Hogan. Ophelia asks him if he'd ever met a cat named Samson, to which he thinks on for a while, gaze cloudy. He said he'd met a lot of cats in his time, a lot of cats came to and fro from this barn, and he'd only been there a few seasons himself. He can't say he'd never met a Samson, but if he did, he didn't remember. He also remarks that he'd never seen a cat quite like her, which makes Ophelia smile. "You aren't an ordinary cat," Samson always told her.
(cw kit death) Hogan helps feed her as she grows closer to giving birth, and even helps after the kits are born. There are five of them, but two don't make it past the first night. Hogan digs graves for them, and helps her bury them. He tells her it's so foxes and coyotes don't take their bodies. It lets them rest in peace, return to the earth. Ophelia wonders how many times he's done this, from the practiced way he moves the dirt.
"What're ya gonna name them?" he asks when they return to the barn, the three remaining kits at her belly. Ophelia startles. She hadn't even thought of that. She'd always been told not to name her kits, but now... now she was going to get to keep them. This was the entire reason she left her old life. When she is silent, he nods at her. "Let me know if y'want help. I'm sure yer Samson would like any names you picked."
And so she names them. Vulture for the biggest one, with the dark tabby coat. Samson always said he'd liked those kinds of birds, though some thought they were scary because they scavenged. He thought they were just misunderstood. She was stumped on the others for a little while, but finally settled on two names she liked. Magpie for the mostly black one, and Wren for the smallest brown one. Both for birds she enjoyed watching out the window back at home.
Hogan comes to her a half-moon or so after the kits are born, and tells her it's time for him to move on. He'd told her before he never stayed in a place for long—he always got an itch when it's time to go. He asks her to take care of the barn for him, and that he wishes he could see her kits grow up but knows she'll do a good job raising them. He says if he ever meets a cat named Samson, he'll tell him where she is. She is sad to see another friend go, but it feels rude to ask him to stay. If he wants to leave, who is she to stop him?
It's harder without the extra help, but Ophelia manages. She stays with the kits most of the day and hides them at dusk to go hunt. The colder weather is making the prey stay in their burrows, and her inexperience hinders her. She manages to catch just enough to feed herself and keep her kits bellies full of milk, but she grows thinner than she ever used to be. She finds herself dreaming of warm beds and easy meals back at home. But whenever she wakes up, she is reminded of her children—and how she could never have had them back at home. It is worth it.
Her kittens are only just learning to walk when the stranger arrives. He is old and grizzled, limping heavily on one of his legs, and he smells awfully bitter—she realizes later it must be some kind of herb. He scares her a little, but she thinks of how welcoming Hogan was to her—shouldn't she do the same? And besides, he was old and injured. The least she could do was let him stay.
He does stay for longer than she'd like. He never introduces himself, but thanks her whenever she catches something extra to share with him. Something about his eyes are unsettling. She makes sure Magpie, Vulture, and Wren know not to talk to the strange tom. It worries her to let him stay so close to them, even if he's across the barn—but what can she do? She has to continue to hunt, to feed them.
One time when she is coming home from a failed hunt she finds Vulture sitting near the tom. She immediately picks him up and takes him back to their nest, tutting that he should be asleep by now. She can feel the stranger's eyes on her, but he doesn't say a word. Ophelia curls tightly around her children that night. She decides tomorrow that she is going to ask the stranger to leave.
But first... she has to hunt. Her kits are beginning to wean off of milk, and grow hungrier by the day. She wakes up with her stomach rumbling, and decides to head out before the kids wake up. Maybe if she can catch something extra to give to the stranger, he'll be more likely to leave when she asks him? She hopes. He is still sleeping when she leaves the barn, venturing out into the nearby fields to look for prey.
When she comes back that afternoon, twin mice hanging from her mouth, the stranger is gone from his usual spot in the barn. He'd been with them for a while now, and rarely ever left his nest. She hurries back to her den in the hay, stomach sinking as she finds only two of her children napping there. Magpie and Wren—Vulture was nowhere to be found. When she wakes them and asks them where their brother is, they shrug and say he was talking about going on an adventure. Ophelia asks them to stay here, to be good and eat their mouse, and she runs.
She knows the stranger took her son. She'd seen how he looked at Vulture, and she knew there was something off about him. She finds their scent trails tangled together, out through the field, but loses it in the dying stalks. Ophelia retraces her steps again and again until she is aching and exhausted, and remembers her kits at home. She returns to them, and they ask her about Vulture. She doesn't have the heart to tell them yet.
The distraught mother continues to search for days after, wandering far from the barn and neglecting her hunting. It is only when she returns to Magpie and Wren and they mewl to her in hunger that she realizes she can't continue like this. Vulture is.... gone. And she has his siblings to care for. She returns out and catches a mouse for her remaining children to share. She sleeps restlessly, dreaming of cats coming in the night with wild eyes and hobbling gaits.
And it was a good thing she gave up on looking, as snow falls that night, covering the stale scents and making it harder to hunt. Ophelia manages to catch enough to stave off her children's hunger, but often goes without herself. She also realizes how big her children have gotten, that they stay awake more and practice pouncing on each other's tails. She decides to teach them to hunt, starting on the mice that have found a home in the barn for the winter.
It's a little easier once she realizes that the prey find the barn as much of a safe haven as she and her kits, especially with the cold winds and snow outside. The winter passes in peace, and she takes her kits out to enjoy the snow when it's not too cold. She tells them stories about their father, and she finds time to play games with them. Ophelia is so happy to watch them grow up, they are older than she got to see any of her other kits grow and they are with her.
Nearing the end of winter as the sun comes out a little more and snow turns to mud, a new stranger comes to the barn. A molly named Lavender, just beginning to show her pregnancy, asking for a place to stay for a little while. She is far less imposing than the last, and even makes an effort to help hunt and take care of her kits. In fact, Ophelia finds herself liking her, considering her a friend even.
Lavender soon tells her that she doesn't plan to stay much longer, as she's traveling looking for a group of cats a clan that live in a valley nearby. She'd heard that they all live in harmony and hunt for each other and take care of each other when they're sick or hurt. She wants to raise her kits with them. Ophelia finds it a little hard to believe, but she'd never known cats really lived outside until she met Samson, so why wouldn't they form groups?
Her kits also learn about the clans, and Magpie asks Lavender everything she knows about them. Wren is a little less interested, Ophelia can tell—she's always been content being safe in the barn. She doesn't have the longing for adventure that her sibling does. She sees a little bit of herself in both of them, which warms her to think about.
Eventually, Lavender asks them if they would like to accompany her to the clans. Ophelia is hesitant, but Magpie loves the idea. He wants to meet new cats, and make friends, and explore new places! They discuss it for a while, and her friend brings up good points—Ophelia would never have struggled through the winter if she lived in a clan, because they would help her with her kits. They would have protected Vulture from being stolen.
Really, that is what makes up her mind. That, and her son's enthusiasm, and her liking of Lavender. She promises Wren that if she doesn't like it, they can always return to the barn. And so, as the ground thaws, the party of four sets out. They travel far, further than Ophelia did to get to the barn, eventually coming to a place where rocks reach high into the sky. Mountains. Lavender said they must be just past these, in the valley they make.
They make their way slowly up the cliffs, as Lavender is growing closer to kitting and has more trouble climbing. Ophelia worries about her friend, but the other molly is determined and convinced that they will make it before her kits come. WIP
-> make it to the mountains where the kingdom lives, and meet them first. they're told about how the clans can be trouble, and they should join the kingdom instead. lavender seems convinced, but ophelia asks for a few days to consider.
-> ophelia and her kits join the nightwalker camp as she thinks they have the safest camp, and ophelia likes their leader best. (lavender may be in another group but she and ophelia stay friends, and ophelia promises to help with her kits when they are born)
personality
weeps and wails.
Positives
| Negatives
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relations
Pre-Plotting: Ophelia is Vulturepaw's biological mother as mentioned in his history. She does not know that her son is still alive, and it is fairly unlikely they will meet even as their paths veer ever so slightly closer. She falls into the Bumblebee role from the kingdom's adoptables, as she is unfamiliar with the clans aside from rumors and what she hears from the kingdom cats who came from them. It is likely she may veer more towards ladybug as she gains more knowledge of the clans and their history.
Family: Ophelia's children mean everything to her. After not having a close relationship with her mother, siblings, or litters before them she didn't realize what she was missing until she had Wren, Magpie, and Vulture. She is a little overprotective of her two remaining kits, warns them to be wary of strangers and not to stray too far from her. She is so excited to see them continue to grow, they are her light and her life.
Friends: Still being wary of unknown cats, Ophelia isn't one to immediately try to make friends. She is plenty polite and knows when she has a connection with a cat, but is happy to take things slow and rely on herself for most things. Cats who get through her walls will find her gentle and loving, with a spark of wonder at everything that cats who grew up outdoors don't usually have.
Romance: Romance is in no way Ophelia's priority right now. She is still mourning the absence of Samson, and is far more interested in focusing on her kits. But love isn't something you really plan for, and might catch her off guard. If it does come it will be slow and build over time, likely with a close friend that Ophelia already trusts and loves platonically.
Rivals: Though Ophelia can be a little aloof towards strange cats, she doesn't want to make enemies. She tried to give the benefit of the doubt to cats, but past experiences make her less and less likely to grant that. The molly will prioritize working together and through any feelings, but will not hide her dislike for someone. And she's not likely to forgive and forget anything that is done to her, especially if it is a severe breaking of her trust.
Family: Ophelia's children mean everything to her. After not having a close relationship with her mother, siblings, or litters before them she didn't realize what she was missing until she had Wren, Magpie, and Vulture. She is a little overprotective of her two remaining kits, warns them to be wary of strangers and not to stray too far from her. She is so excited to see them continue to grow, they are her light and her life.
Friends: Still being wary of unknown cats, Ophelia isn't one to immediately try to make friends. She is plenty polite and knows when she has a connection with a cat, but is happy to take things slow and rely on herself for most things. Cats who get through her walls will find her gentle and loving, with a spark of wonder at everything that cats who grew up outdoors don't usually have.
Romance: Romance is in no way Ophelia's priority right now. She is still mourning the absence of Samson, and is far more interested in focusing on her kits. But love isn't something you really plan for, and might catch her off guard. If it does come it will be slow and build over time, likely with a close friend that Ophelia already trusts and loves platonically.
Rivals: Though Ophelia can be a little aloof towards strange cats, she doesn't want to make enemies. She tried to give the benefit of the doubt to cats, but past experiences make her less and less likely to grant that. The molly will prioritize working together and through any feelings, but will not hide her dislike for someone. And she's not likely to forgive and forget anything that is done to her, especially if it is a severe breaking of her trust.
Family
| Friends
| Rivals
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