Post by bones on Oct 28, 2023 16:08:19 GMT -6
#s://i~postimg~cc/ZnCWhqrC/Sable-POSTINGimg~png
sable
basic information
NAME: Sable
AGE: 46 moons
CLAN: The Kingdom - Riverwalker
→ formerly clanless
RANK: Medic
→ former loner
GENDER: Nonbinary [they/them]
INTERESTED IN: All and any [asexual, panromantic]
→ Cluelessly polyamorous
MATE: Open
MENTOR: None
APPRENTICE: Open
PREFIX: "Sable" = for their black, smoke tabby pelt
AGE: 46 moons
CLAN: The Kingdom - Riverwalker
→ formerly clanless
RANK: Medic
→ former loner
GENDER: Nonbinary [they/them]
INTERESTED IN: All and any [asexual, panromantic]
→ Cluelessly polyamorous
MATE: Open
MENTOR: None
APPRENTICE: Open
PREFIX: "Sable" = for their black, smoke tabby pelt
appearance
"a graceful, towering black smoke tabby with bright yellow eyes and one curious white whisker"
Similarly to their sister, Sable is a tall sort of cat, with a natural type of grace to their movements. Unlike Eve, however, Sable is a bit of leaner build and just a bit shorter than their littermate, not having spent as many moons cultivating their muscles and honing their skills in the physical realms of hunting and fighting. Their upturned yellow eyes are a bright flash of color against their smoky black pelt, and the only thing that stands out in similar fashion is one of their long whiskers, a pale, curious white. They have pseudo-spotting on their pelt, but reveals itself most readily when they pass through sunlight in just the right manner.
In typical reserved fashion, their face is a resting stony mask, always watching but never showing what they feel on the outside. They move with a delicateness that belays a careful mind and often misleads other cats to think of Sable themself as fragile and delicate - which is not the case.
description
[CW: allusions to poisoning of strangers and semi-detailed descriptions of violent ideation in the name of protecting a sibling]
"You cannot call yourself peaceful unless you, yourself, are also capable of great violence.
If you aren't, you're simply harmless...
And there is a distinction between the two."
[...]
"Careful, Sable."
You pause, blinking first because Mommy's paw ruffles your long whiskers and then in confusion; your eyes, a bright blue that is taking on a yellow hue as you grow older, drag up to her silhouette, overshadowed by the sun at her back.
"That's not an herb, dearie," even if you cannot see her smile, you can hear it, as she uses her white paw to gentle guide you away: "It could make someone very sick if you're grabbed that instead."
You cock your head, but, in spite of letting her lead you away, you glance back at the plant in question, curious. Your mom is really smart...
You like to follow Eve about, her shadow and partner in crime as the two of you play and explore the area around the den. She makes the best games, comes up with the coolest adventures - her imagination always amazes you.
If only Tommy didn't butt in all the time.
"Mind if I join?"
You eye the tom - so alike to your sister - from around her shoulder, sinking a bit lower in the face of his exuberant friendless. He's trying to join in on your game of dog and cats, suffocating you in his eager offer to be the dog and chase the two of you about.
That's not even how you play.
Eve is obviously eating up his attention, though, giggling childishly at his cheeky comment, but you just feel more smothered as he tries to lean over her to look at you better. He wants you to agree to let him play, like he knows you'll agree - like all those times before - because Eve said yes.
As Eve moves aside, bouncing a bit on her paws, eager to start, you mime her movements - trying to keep her between you and the barn cat.
"Got yourself a little shadow, huh?" He teases, splaying out in a play-bow; he's not even waiting now.
A pout screws up your face and, without further ado, take off from the safety of Mommy's paws. Eve calls after you, but you don't look back.
You'll make it up to her later.
"They need to learn to hunt, Lydie."
"Mal," Mommy sighs and you peer subtly over Eve's head as she sleeps, ears perked, "Don't push it - please."
"Sable will get over themself eventually - hunting is an essential part of life and that means getting blood on your paws." Mother comes off as stern for a moment, before sighing softly and butting her head to the other molly's. "We can't coddle them forever, honey."
You ears pull back - Mal had brought back a tiny, live squirrel for you and Eve to practice on earlier today. Eve had helped you catch it-
But the warm blood on your tongue and the feeling of one your claws slicing through fur and flesh...
You'd been ill; the memory of killing the little creature, it squealing in it's death throes, still make your pelt crawl and itch. Eve had comforted you and so had Mommy, but Mother...
She'd looked so disappointed.
"They won't survive if they all they know how to do is pick plants, Lydie."
Eve shifts under you and you tense, worried you woke her; if you did, she doesn't speak, just kneads her paws into your flank. The gesture is soothing.
"Yes they will, Mal," your mommy beams, turning to peer at the pair of you, curled up in the dark safety of your shared nest, "They have each other."
"...Yeah." You're falling back to sleep, "I guess they do."
The clans are dangerous. They're territorial and violent, and they hate trespassers.
That's what Mother always warned you, echoed by Mommy whenever you wandered off too far.
So you really wish you'd listened to them now, because your blind following of Eve has led the two of you right into their claws.
Their outmatched and outnumbered; your hackles raise as one of them paces like a rabid beast in the back of the group, claws already out and tail lashing.
Eve is between you and them, but she's smart enough to try and deescalate the situation - which is good, because your tongue feels like it's grown roots into the bottom of your mouth and your voice has climbed down your throat to hide in your chest.
Let us go, you plead with your eyes: we'll never come back, we'll stay away - just let us go home.
"We can't just let them go!" The molly in the back howls; you want your mothers. "We need to teach them a lesson they won't forget! Make sure they never dare cross over again!"
One or two of the older cats look like they disagree, but some of the other cats - one that looks your age - are eagerly agreeing. You tense, heart drumming against your chest like a frightened bird, trying to escape; you press into Eve, though, instead of running like you want to.
You were in this together.
The scent of blood hits your nose first, before you process that someone has attacked the instigator in the back of the group, red ticked pelt a blur of hissing and spitting. There's a stunned moment, for both the pair of you and the clan cats, before all hell breaks loose.
"Run!" It's Tommy, he's-
He's distracting them - one of the bigger toms blocking your exit moves to save the other clan cat, the other cats turn too; he's saving you. Eve murmurs his name, but you're there, encouraging her to go, to run, to do what your sire says.
"He'll catch up." You promise as the two of you flee, partially worried your sister might turn around at some point - she loved Tommy, after all.
Unfortunately, you're wrong.
You make a little spot where he and Eve liked to play and show your sister as you plant some flowers. Mommy watches over the two of you from afar as you hold your own kind of little vigil for the tom, for the friend he was to Eve and the kindly soul he'd been...
And you just have this bad feeling in your gut, that things are going to get worse before they get better.
You didn't think it was possible to be this hungry.
In spite of that, though, you hang back - you don't like the Twolegplace. It smells not only of them, but death, dogs and trash. The rest of your family is bold - or desperate - enough to take the lead, because this is the only place with food now.
Lurking behind your sister, you watch as Mommy and Mother have a hush, but quick argument over who will go over to investigate the food at the end of the alley; Mother's strained, and so your mommy wins.
She gives you a reassuring smile before she creeps over; as she eats a bit, her purrs call you all closer. The food is good, it's safe-
It's a trap.
You jump out of your skin and scramble back as the cage slams shut, locking your mommy inside. There's an immediate panic as Eve and Mother descend on it, kicking, biting, and clawing to break it open to no avail.
A shadow falls over you quickly, the stench of twoleg slithering into the alley, and you bolt for cover. They chitter and coo as Eve joins you under a dumpster, ignoring Mother as she hisses and swipes, trying to keep them as bay.
They steps echo, brining an inevitable sort of horror with them, as they easily keep Mother - weakened and starving - at bay in order to snatch up the cage...
And your mommy.
Her blue eyes meet yours and that's all you see - her wide, terrified eyes, quickly filling with tears as she presses her face against the cage. Her mouth moves - she's probably calling out for help, for you and Eve and Mother - but your ears have fallen deaf as an odd kind of cold climbs up your spine.
The human rounds the corner and the world comes rushing back in like a slap to the face.
"LYDIE!" Mother slips and collapses at the alley entrance, shrieking and sobbing, "LYDIE! COME BACK- COME, COme back... Lydie..."
Eve huddles close as you start to cry quietly.
"Mother, you must eat."
She is silent in her rebuff, pushing the prey away; it flops and slides, crushing not only a few invigorating herbs you painstakingly gathered, but also some pretty red and white flowers you brought her. Your heart tightens, shrinking in on itself and running down to hide in your gut.
Sighing, you simply dust aside the ruined foliage and push the prey back over; her bones jut out of her ebony pelt and her eyes are not only sunken, but seem to stare right through you. None of it is a good sign, but she seems to ignore it.
Her pupils thin and her eyes narrow in agitation. Part of you is glad Eve is out, so she doesn't see the way your mother treats you in her broken-heartedness.
"Why can't you just go away?" She hisses, limp tail twitching angrily as she weakly flexes her claws, slashing into the bird's feathery hide and ripping it open, "Go pick some damn weeds, like-like her, and leave me in peace!"
The bird is ruined. Your herb pile is dwindling.
But you can't leave her alone: you aren't good for much, but if you can save your mother...
It's what Mommy Lydie would have wanted.
Eve's voice rings in your ears and you stare tiredly at Mal as she sleeps that night.
'I have nothing to live for.' She'd claimed, bemoaning the loss of her mate.
You have us! But she's deaf to it all.
Her grief has soured your love for her.
Had Mal ever loved you two? Really, truly? Or had the pair of you been a price to pay to keep your mommy happy? You feel doubt in your heart; if she did, then why was it truly much too ask, that she get better for you and Eve? Why was she making you two watch her waste away, if not to punish you for something or if she did not simply give a fuck about your feelings?
Its a moonless night and, when you finally fall asleep, you dream of slipping poppy seeds and nightshade into Mal's next meal and her happily eating for once.
When Mal dies, you feel nothing but relief. You cannot find the tears to offer at her passing and neither can your sister; it's a shame, part of you knows, and Mommy Lydie, if she was hear, would be heart-broken as the lack of mourning, but she's not - so that's simply how it is.
It's over. You and Eve are... free, in a sense.
You take her body from the den so Eve doesn't have to tire herself out, and leave her out deep in the woods for some predator to have. You think, idly, the body may smell too much for a predator to eat, so some scavengers might make use of the corpse. Either way, though, if something does not eat her, then you know the plants and earth would simply take over, that nothing truly goes to waste in nature; and maybe, in the rottenness of her death, you mother would help grow something useful...
The pair of you move dens without a second thought, and you are eager to turn over a new leaf.
Your hotheaded sister makes quite the name for herself amongst the other rouges and loners: "you don't cross Eve, if you like your pelt intact." The protection such a reputation grants extends to you to a degree, too, which is nice.
But she can't be there all the time - not when she has to trek out, having to provide and hunt for you because the sight and taste of blood makes your fur crawl.
And so there's some ugly mug eyeing the den - your den; they're careful, whoever they are, and you only encounter them when you trek out to get pick plants (herbs or otherwise) and never when Eve is about. It irks you more than you will ever admit, how blatantly they disregard you as a threat...
You don't tell Eve - you don't want to bother her, when she has so much to do; you've never been a physical fighter, always better apt at turning your tongue on others, like Mal, when its called for but you can manage... You will take care of this, so Eve doesn't have to fret, and because you love her; you will protect her home and her. So you brood and plan, unhappily, and reassure Eve of being fine while seeing your sister off each day... only to watch that rogue come about, loitering on the fringes of your senses.
Silently, you begin biding your time, because you can be dangerous too.
You slowly spread out your roaming, moving further and further away from the den you and Eve call home; you let the trespasser foil a few hunting attempts, as the days pass, and even steal a few catches out from under your nose later. So far away, there's little chance for Eve to appear - they get visibly cocky...
And that's how you kill them.
You take a mouse - its old, dying: an easy catch (though the feeling of its warm blood on your tongue is not a pleasant one) - and you laden it accordingly, then cover it in your scent. The ugly stranger sees you carry it back homewards, but then pause to put it down. Acting none the wiser, you go to drink from a puddle and pick some pretty flowers a few tail-lengths away; they're overly confident and, frankly, a moron - it's obviously a trap...
But they take the bait anyway. The mouse has - to your satisfaction - vanished when you turn around, the idiot leaving a trial of rustling leaves in their wake...
And that night, you sleep soundly - you head on Eve's back as the two of you snooze, curled up in a shared nest, just like as kits - knowing that they will never be a problem again.
You might not like to get your paws bloodied... but sometimes dirt is just a part of life.
When Eve told you about the flirty stranger she ran into, warning you to be careful, you'd thought he'd do as most other cats did: heed her threats and vanish.
So when he shows up at the den, a freshly caught hare in tow, you're on alert - Eve is out and there's only you to defend the den.
He greets you happily, dropping the prey just at the entrance and laying the flattery on a bit thick as he comments on "how a pretty thing like you needs some meat on your bones"; you eye him over carefully, hissing as he tries to peek in, wondering aloud where your sister is.
After more hissing and stony glowering, he turns tail and trots off, promising to come again.
You toss the prey out into the forest - it smells too much like him for you to be confident it isn't laced with something.
The tom - Chico - keeps coming about; a few times more while Eve is gone, bringing more food, and surprisingly respectful of the boundaries you drew in your first meeting. He's chatty, bold, and - despite being an incorrigible flirt - he reminds you a lot of Eve.
Maybe that's why you warm up to him, albeit slowly and at least enough for him to start coming about when your littermate is home. She's suspicious, but relents when he offers to go hunting with her.
He always shares his food and he doesn't see you as a different for not enjoying hunting - if anything, he winks cheekily and promises to always provide for you (and Eve). When you occasionally let Eve try to drill more battle practices into you - she does only it because she worries about you, at the den on your own, and so you still let her teach you when she can - he lurks about, always quick to not let you get discouraged. He shrugs off your distaste for fighting good-naturedly, telling you (and Eve) that with him around you'll both be perfectly safe.
You like him; and, if Eve spending so many evenings deep in conversation with him means anything, your sister most certainly does too.
Eve's news of her pregnancy fill you with a surprising amount of excitement. Chico is practically buzzing, but that's to be expected, given he's the father.
But you?
You hadn't really thought of yourself as a kit-type of cat - that is, the type of cat who liked kits. Indifferent? Yes. But... eager? Happy for your sister? Hopeful for the future, in that things may be taking a turn for the better?
No, you didn't think that's how you'd feel... But as the days pass and you and Eve talk (sometimes with Chico, though he is noticeably more absent as of late) about the future you now have before you, you are both as happy for your sister as you are enlivened at the prospect.
Eve is going to be a wonderful mother.
Bad things come in threes.
First, Tommy sacrifices himself for you and Eve, likely murdered by some overzealous, self-righteous clan cats. Then, Mommy is taken from you all by humans. And now?
Chico is a lying rat.
You spent days consoling Eve: the two of you don't need Chico; he doesn't deserve her or her kits, if he's a cheat. The two of you can raise the litter on your own, together.
Inside, you're hurting. You trusted him, Eve trusted him...
Obviously, you were foolish. Once more, you're lack of experience with others has led you astray...
And your trust led Eve astray too.
You watch with some satisfaction as Eve's argument with the tom escalates to blows, proud beyond measure when your pregnant sister manages to hand the older cat his tail. You tend to her in the aftermath, checking on her unborn little ones as best you can with your inexperience in such affairs and the newest of her condition.
After she's well asleep, you settle in the nest to face the den entrance - it's the closest you get to standing guard. You don't think the two-faced shit would come back, but he was stupid enough to think he could live a double-life, so you stay up the whole night anyway.
He, thankfully, steers clear of the two of you in the days to follow. You watch for him as often as Eve does, lurking in her shadow and going out with her more often to gather herbs while she hunts - you don't want to leave her alone, now that it's just the pair of you again.
If he shows his pretty mug around again, you'll stuff some lilies down his throat yourself....
He's just proven you that can only trust each other.
You peer into the den, fur prickling in discomfit - though you cannot tell if it's because your in the Skywalker camp, surrounded by more cats than you've ever seen in your life, or because you are having to watch some stranger comfort your grieving sister.
Laurelfern. A former clan cat.
Your claws threaten to slip out as your aggravation mounts, but the understanding that a visibly angry cat outside the nursery will cause a stir keeps them from doing so.
I should be in there, comforting her, not some oversized boulder-eater...
Eve is your sister, after all.
You clamp down on your outrage and hide your sulking - it's only because Eve likes Laurelfern that you let the pretentious, nosy molly send you away. Like she had any more right than you to be in there, offering counsel to your littermate over the stillbirth of her son; like she has a right to be tending to your niece in your place.
Eve wants to join, you know it in your heart; and, because you love your sister more than anyone else in the world, you'll follow her anywhere. You'll join this whole Kingdom affair, with her and for her.
It will offer her daughter safety and stability you know, logically, that two of you alone could not provide all the time (especially not you, when you can barely hold your own against some particularly aggressive prey).
But that does not mean you have to like the clan cats (former, they always put in front, as if that alone proves they've changed for the better) you'll have to rub shoulders with...
You sit down and calm yourself by going through a mental catalog of herbs this group doesn't have yet, finding peace inside your own head as you lick a paw and swipe it across an ear; you can make this work. You will make this work... For your family.
personality
Positives
| Negatives
|
relations
PRE-PLOTTING
Dear Friend & Littermate: Sable is Eve's littermate and closest friend, from her ad Everything All at Once. They have followed their braver sister through life so far, relying on her steadfastness to survive, and will continue to follow her - and the rest of their family - to the ends of the world.The Spotted Ladybug: Though their littermate aligns more with the neutral Bumblebee, Sable - to the surprise of most, as the calm to their sister's storm - often finds themself leaning more towards a Ladybug state of mind about the clans. Though Eve was closer to Tommy than them, they see his murder by the clan cats as a sign of their true colors; if the clan cats could kill such a kindly, friendly soul as the two's surrogate sire, then who else would they willingly slaughter to "teach a lesson". No, they don't trust the clans and do not care for them at all, but they tend to keep such opinions to themself.
FAMILY
[family tree link here]Family is the only thing Sable has had for most of their life, and so it is the most important aspect of their life; of the two siblings, Sable was the more sheltered - something they can never forgive themself for. Maybe, if they'd been made of tougher stuff, not so naive, Eve wouldn't have been taken advantage of and Mal wouldn't have wasted to nothing and... Well, now Sable has new kin to worry about and they are not going to make the same mistakes again. Bood is thicker than water.
(?)Lydie & ✝ Mal [mothers, clanless] - while they did love both their mothers, Sable was far closer with Lydie than Mal; Mal's sterner parenting made them hesitant about her and her protectiveness, unfortunately, left Sable more sheltered than they'd care to admit. Lydie also babied them a bit, but they loved learning about herbs and the local flora with their mother. Lydie's loss hit Sable almost as horribly as Mal, but Mal's abandonment of them and Eve after Lydie's disappearance... it was more scarring to their sense of trust than they'd care to admit.
✝ Tommy [surrogate sire, barn cat] - though he was closer with Eve than themself, they liked Tommy - it was hard not too, when he was such a kind and vibrant spirit. And he never pressured them for being more quiet and reserved, following in Eve's shadow. His death, to Sable, seemed an ill omen, the beginning of the end of all good things for their family... if only one of them had realized it sooner.
Eve [sister] - everyone looks at the two littermates, they see hot-headed Eve and calm Sable; they see Eve, who hunts and fights, and Sable, with their herbs and helpfulness. The two are rarely apart, Sable being Eve's shadow. But what many underestimate is how far both siblings would go to protect each other: as surely as Eve would shred through anyone that hurt Sable, Sable is not a pacifist in any shape or form - and lots of cats forget that, with the right knowledge, someone can kill you without even being in the same place. Sable adores their sister and places their trust in her paws (and they will never sit back and let someone hurt her like that again).
Zinnia [niece] - Sable's perfect little niece, who perhaps they dote on a bit too much - they can't help it, though, because they (apparently) have quite the soft spot for kits in general. They can be a bit protective
FRIENDS
Most cats that Sable considers friends are more of the casual sort, the kind to spend the day with rather than share your deepest secrets amongst; this is largely, due to their trust issues. The last cat they called friend and trusted was... well, Chico. And the aftermath of that was, to put mildly, unpleasant.But though they are very mistrustful, Sable tends to be closer to other Medics, since they all share a love or great knowledge of herbs and flora; the smoke tabby has the potential to be a wonderful friend, but they're definitely the type that would take effort and time to chip past their taciturn exterior to get to their large, warm heart underneath.
ROMANCE
Sable has minor experience with love, what with preferring to follow in their sister's wake, loitering in her shadow. After watching her debacle with Chico, too, they're a bit leery of over-eager types; however, they are a bit of secret romantic. And, annoyingly enough, it is very easy to fluster them as well... (Their heart is a guarded, hidden affair draped in shadows, but... if given the right kind of attention, anything can bloom anywhere).optional images
