The Cold

[Breeze--Gone13-25--]

Hot air rises and cold air sinks, and into the basin it did. The wraith-like mist moved slowly passed the hollow that made the tom's den. It moved like a dance played in slow motion. The way it twirled and sashayed from side to side, up and down, bobbing blank, innocent faces to the rhythm of the slight wind. To him, they were real. He could see himself walking with them, gliding through the atmosphere like silent guests that could only chill your bones no matter how graceful and beautiful they were.

Shroud took steps out onto the soft ground. It had rained that night and his paw prints trailed after him, indented into the ground until erosion whisked them away or until the sky opened up and cried once more. Finally, he entered the parade. The moisture they carried latched onto his fur and slowly sank down and ebbed into his bones. It made him shiver, yet he welcomed it. He knew he would wish again for this morning when the sun began to rise. The day would be hot, as all green-leaf days were. The fog could be his guest now.

Carefully, so that he wouldn't bump into any rocks or logs in the blinding opaque as he padded deeper and deeper into it, he found his way to a lush patch of grass. Shroud carefully laid down, tucking his paws under his chest and laid his head down on the dewy greenery. The sky was a silver navy, as was the mist, and as was his pelt. Sometimes it seemed that the light would never come, and the void could only open and open. But sometimes, wasn't it better that way?

[Mav]

As destiny intended, the patch of lush greenery had long since been occupied on this early and damp morning. Atop a boulder that had been warmed the day before and was long since cold, crouched a monotone she cat. She was laying on her stomach, her back legs held tightly to her side, and her forepaws tucked neatly beneath her drooping skull. A pathetic excuse for a tail wrapped around her like an anaconda around prey, though not quite with matching lengths.

The settling dew of the early morning had woken the feline from her night's slumber, and an annoyed glint was already in her partly opened eyes today. The greenish gold contrasted sharply with her otherwise average appearance, as did many of her various qualities. She'd been perched there, waiting either for the sun to warm her world or for her world to ruin her snug perch. And, as expected, her world did not leave her hanging.

She heard the tom before she smelt him, and smelt him before she spotted him. It would've been much more difficult to see the fog colored tom, if he hadn't crept right past her boulder and into the lush grass beyond. Silently, yet swiftly, she rose from her position to stand on all fours, ears back and eyes shining with alertness as she watched him; barely managing to stifle the rumbling growl welling up in her throat.

[Breeze--Gone13-25--]

The tom's head tilted upwards, his ears swiveling from side to side. He didn't think he had heard anything, yet, he did. He could almost have believed he had heard a growl, yet the land was still quiet. There was only the sense of watchful eyes upon him. Shroud got sucked into things sometimes. It was as if everything around him was a black hole, and he was but a portion of the giant vacuum of space. He hadn't even noticed the she-cat as he had walked passed her.

He did remember a boulder that he'd avoided, walking around it rather than through it. As out of it as he could get, he still was sane enough to know that running into boulders really was rough on the temples and crown of the cranium. He had avoided it, watched his paws, and never glanced up to see the angry she-cat glaring down at him. Even now he was oblivious, his ears and eyes moving back and forth, yet his mind somewhere far away, still traveling with the procession.

Eventually it was his nose that caught the scent. He was upwind of the other cat and lifting his head, had caught hold of the smell of wet fur against angry feelings on the worn and hardened shell of the she-cat. As soon as he realized he was truly being watched his body snapped up into a sitting position and his cool grey eyes found Maverick with certainty. He stepped closer so that she could better make him out and inclined hid head. It never hurt to be polite, right?

"A cold morning it is, aye, lass?" his voice sounded rough compared to the sleek landscape before them. It was a tad appealing, yet patchy; rough sometimes, and tuned like a violin the next.

[Mav]

The first sound to escape Mav was a low, eerie hiss- if that tells you anything about her. It crept through the air like a serpent up a tree, though instead of the target being an oblivioius bird; it was the ghostly tom. She felt her claws taunt their sheaths, her broad, dark paws exposing ever so slightly the sharp tips of her forepaws and then withdrawing them; once, twice, thrice.

Her ears were instantly pulled tight against her wide skull, eyes flashing a warning to the seemingly calm feline before her. His behavior seemed foreign to her, almost as foreign as the land she now found herself in. "Lass?" she hissed, offering an empty chuckle and a smirk to follow. "hardly.."

Yet, Mav did not leave her perch atop the boulder. Posted up on all fours, she felt her muscles continue to tense themselves out of pure instinct more than out of actual defense. The somber tom seemed quite content to gaze at her with his empty eyes, however, and seemed quite unlikely to attack. Though she did not place an ounce of trust on his act, and her eyes continued to flash.

"Who are you, tom?" she spat, her tone rather rude.

[Breeze--Gone13-25--]

The tom was baffled by the she-cat's hostility. He couldn't seem to understand why she'd be so angry. Surely there was some reason. Yet, whatever it was, he didn't know, and he might never find out, for he certainly wouldn't ask. Instead he tried to ignore her aggression and stay the same. In the couple seconds in which his decision had lasted, he remained motionless and blank.

He did take the precaution to step back a little and kept his muscles tense in case she thought to attack. Shroud raised an eyebrow at Maverick's indignation to being called "lass". In his mind saying 'lass' or 'sir' were just the ordinary terms in his speech. The she-cat obviously wasn't from the highlands, he though to himself.

"I call myself by the name Shroud." the tom mewed casually, "May ya tell yars as well...lass?"

His ears, doing the opposite of Maverick's, perked forward so that he could more clearly hear what the she-cat had to say next. Now that he was getting used to her attitude, he was beginning to find it amusing. In a way, he almost wanted to do something to make her angry, even if it resulted in getting his ears clawed off. A smirk twitched at his lips, yet only barely, and it faded away as soon as it appeared.

((Ugh. No muse whatsoever.))

[Mav]

Quite frankly, Mav was finding the tom to be quite.. odd. Not only did he seem emotionless, but he looked just as empty. His silvery grey pelt seemed to distort his image- so that instead of seeing his outline in the thin fog, he seemed to fade away into it. Even his eyes matched the dreary surroundings that she now found herself in. Were the cats here all like this? She hoped to the contrary; Mav wasn't tolerate of monotony, or anything in its favor.

As he backed up she leapt down, she seemed more like an confused and arrogant kit as she purposefully invaded what little space he had put between them, hoping to get a rise out of her new dreary aquaintance. She drew her ears to the side as he reluctantly threw in the term 'lass' once more, obviously annoyed but otherwise unresponsive. "Shroud, eh?" she murmured, brow raised as she continued to take in his appearance. "How appropriate, if I do say so."

Reclining tensley to her haunches, she gazed at him with an unblinking stare, much like cat to a friendly canine. It was rather shocking to her how the could-be threatening tom had the air about him of a wounded and dieing elder. "Maverick" she replied, bluntly, not at all trying to hide the perplexed look in her golden green eyes. "Is this your home?" she added, brow raised as a smirk crept across her maw. "Because you seem to fit it so well.. yet at the same time you appear much younger than you act. Why so.. so.. lifeless?"

Yes, Mav's words grew more and more blunt as she became more intrigued than defensive. "Either you've kept up your appearances in your age, or you've been the scapegoat of life, eh tom? Which one is it?" she continued, poking and prodding like an innocent kit. Though, the smirk on her maw proved her intentions to be quite different.

[Breeze--Gone13-25--]

Maverick jumped down and took purposeful steps forward, which only resulted in Shroud tilting his head a little at her. He wasn't going to step back even if she slashed him across the face. The truth was, although he was as emotionless as a boulder, he was also just as sturdy and unmovable as a boulder. He didn't even flinch as she tried to pester him over the brink of his personality. He did answer her comment, though. "Aye, but don't all mums try to name their kits correctly?" He asked lightly, "Mine just happened to be ah good chooser."

The fog was beginning to thin now the sun was rising fast, but it was still enough for him to be concealed. He watched as it began to disappear with longing for it to stay. Shroud wished he too could go like the mist, yet he was solid, and sometimes that was a disadvantage as much as it was the opposite. He missed the mountains of his past where it would stay this way, sometimes, the whole day. Without glancing at the she-cat, his ears swiveled toward her. "Maverick, aye?" He checked before continuing.

"This has been my home for some time now, but, is it really my home? Just as much of a home any place can be." Again, his mind traveled to the mountains. The highlands were his home, yet lurking there there was a terrible secret. Oh, if only, yet no. He couldn't bare to return there. Not in a million moons he would. Anyways, he didn't even know if he still remembered the way back.

"Even the elder may be a fool. Is it odd that the fates wizen the young? There is an end for everyone." strange look crossed his face. Weariness and sorrow mixed into one blank expression. It was in his eyes and it was the first emotion he had displayed, yet it was still a dry emotion. It was just a reflection of the emotion he once had, yet it was obvious that the locked away cupboard in which it came from was nearly empty.

[Mav]

Mav chuckled, brow still on the rise. "Yes, bless the queen that burdened the world." she said, with both a mocking and sarcastic tone. Though not overly rude toward the tom, simply in blatant disrespect toward mothers in general. She'd yet to meet one that had actually helped the world, seeing as how majority of she cats she'd met chose rather to carry on the bloodlines of pompous toms than fight.

With his comment on his mother being a good chooser, the back of her mind was trying to determine if her own name had been properly chosen. Maverick. "One who chooses not to abide by the rules of a group, one with unorthodox views." she said aloud, chuckling at her words as if she had an inside joke with herself. "Thanks, mom." she added, with a smirk and a shake of her large head.

As he spoke again, she merely listened. Though, she was more watching than she was listening. And thanks to her observant habits, she caught on to the only emotion to stray across the tom's face so far this morning. It was sadness, and with a confused glint to Mav's eyes she listened to his last words with slight annoyance. "And you talk like a prophet, dear Shroud." she added, a laugh in her voice and a sarcastic emphasis on the word 'dear'. "And it seems the majority of our ancestors chose to listen to the fools. Why d'you think cats are where they are today?"