Uhm, Meow?
Dec 15, 2017 3:33:51 GMT -5
Post by The Legion on Dec 15, 2017 3:33:51 GMT -5
OOC - This takes place BEFORE the firelizard bonding.
The day had started out perfectly normal. Alabaster got up with his humans long enough for a leisurely drink from the faucet and a bite of food before returning to napping on the bed. Tinker had coerced the female human into petting her before leaving for the day, and the male human to open the blinds, letting her watch the stupid dog next door bark at squirrels. Mumford had his kitten food from the female human, drinks from both, and a good cuddle session with the male human. All in all, the cats were content and all was at is should be. It was evening now, and the humans had stepped out, probably to spend time with the other humans who had the young female in their care. They did that, a lot. It gave the cats plenty of time to do cat things uninterrupted - like groom each other, throw up on the rug, and chase pellets out of the litter box. Oh, and nap. Napping was, of course, the quintessential cat thing best done without an audience. Unless said audience was also the bed, that is, but we digress.
Evening, and the house empty of humans. It should have been a peaceful time, for all that one of the cats was still young and thus disgustingly energetic. As it happened, however, peaceful was not to be. It started with a sharp yowl of distress from Mumford as some force suddenly sprung up around the mostly white cat, a whirling vortex of pressure that started to drag him from his perch on the cat tree in the living room. For all his effort digging claws into the carpet, the vortex was steadily extracting him out of its fluffy clutches.
Tinker, being closer, was the first to respond. The marmalade-colored tabby hissed at the air, glaring around in search of something she could bite to show her displeasure. Lacking any visible target, she settled her attention on Mumford. With a hack of anger, the tubby little cat launched herself at her younger yet larger housemate - only to find herself promptly also caught in the vortex, hanging awkwardly in the air. She, too, yowled in distress.
Alabaster, being a stately fifteen years of age and suffering from some illness, was not as quick or deft as he had been in his youth. Still, he could move quickly when the situation demanded it - such as when the humans opened cans, or were doing anything where his presence would cause trouble. Or in this case, when his housemates were kicking up a ruckus. He descended from the upstairs bedroom with speed, hardly glancing into the living room before vaulting after the others, determined to knock Tinker free of whatever had her in its clutches - and as soon as he touched her, he too was caught. With a wrench, all three vanished.
Darkness, so complete that even their feline eyes could make out nothing. A terrible sense of tumbling through space, though there was no movement of air - only a horrible twisting sensation. An incredible pressure, just shy of crushing - all in utter silence. No matter how each mewed, yowled, hissed, spat, or snarled, they could not hear themselves or each other.
Not with their ears, at any rate.
After an indeterminate time in the isolation, Alabaster became aware of Tinker and Mumford once more, though not with his physical senses. Instead, he could feel them within his mind - and feel them indeed. Tinker's distress roiled against him; he could feel her twitch and jerk against the pressures bearing down upon them all, and sense the vibration the rumbling purr she produced in an effort to reassure herself, though he could still not hear it. Mumford, his presence sour with fear and sharp with anger at having been taken, lashing out at the nothingness as if he could capture it and kill it. And then there was a startled sense of awareness of each other as well, as all three noticed their fellow feline presences.
It was at that moment, as they identified each other, that the world exploded back into existence with a final, joint-popping wrench. Except the world was very much NOT as they had left it. Before, they were in a cozy house full of their scents and things, maintained by their humans. This... was not that place.
Cold was the first thing they noticed, a presence nearly as physically repressing as the pressure they had borne on the way to wherever this was. And windy, the cold air combing through fur with icy fingers. Brightness - a vivid sky of clouds and space, hosting a bright sun, distinctly different from the dark evening they had left. And they were, of course, no longer indoors. In fact, they stood (huddled, really) on a vast tundra, with a mountain just over yonder and a whole lot of nothing else notable going on.
What?
Which of the trio had that thought - or if two or even all three did it - was never clear. But the sentiment was universal. Where on Earth were they now? And more importantly, who was going to feed them dinner?
The day had started out perfectly normal. Alabaster got up with his humans long enough for a leisurely drink from the faucet and a bite of food before returning to napping on the bed. Tinker had coerced the female human into petting her before leaving for the day, and the male human to open the blinds, letting her watch the stupid dog next door bark at squirrels. Mumford had his kitten food from the female human, drinks from both, and a good cuddle session with the male human. All in all, the cats were content and all was at is should be. It was evening now, and the humans had stepped out, probably to spend time with the other humans who had the young female in their care. They did that, a lot. It gave the cats plenty of time to do cat things uninterrupted - like groom each other, throw up on the rug, and chase pellets out of the litter box. Oh, and nap. Napping was, of course, the quintessential cat thing best done without an audience. Unless said audience was also the bed, that is, but we digress.
Evening, and the house empty of humans. It should have been a peaceful time, for all that one of the cats was still young and thus disgustingly energetic. As it happened, however, peaceful was not to be. It started with a sharp yowl of distress from Mumford as some force suddenly sprung up around the mostly white cat, a whirling vortex of pressure that started to drag him from his perch on the cat tree in the living room. For all his effort digging claws into the carpet, the vortex was steadily extracting him out of its fluffy clutches.
Tinker, being closer, was the first to respond. The marmalade-colored tabby hissed at the air, glaring around in search of something she could bite to show her displeasure. Lacking any visible target, she settled her attention on Mumford. With a hack of anger, the tubby little cat launched herself at her younger yet larger housemate - only to find herself promptly also caught in the vortex, hanging awkwardly in the air. She, too, yowled in distress.
Alabaster, being a stately fifteen years of age and suffering from some illness, was not as quick or deft as he had been in his youth. Still, he could move quickly when the situation demanded it - such as when the humans opened cans, or were doing anything where his presence would cause trouble. Or in this case, when his housemates were kicking up a ruckus. He descended from the upstairs bedroom with speed, hardly glancing into the living room before vaulting after the others, determined to knock Tinker free of whatever had her in its clutches - and as soon as he touched her, he too was caught. With a wrench, all three vanished.
Darkness, so complete that even their feline eyes could make out nothing. A terrible sense of tumbling through space, though there was no movement of air - only a horrible twisting sensation. An incredible pressure, just shy of crushing - all in utter silence. No matter how each mewed, yowled, hissed, spat, or snarled, they could not hear themselves or each other.
Not with their ears, at any rate.
After an indeterminate time in the isolation, Alabaster became aware of Tinker and Mumford once more, though not with his physical senses. Instead, he could feel them within his mind - and feel them indeed. Tinker's distress roiled against him; he could feel her twitch and jerk against the pressures bearing down upon them all, and sense the vibration the rumbling purr she produced in an effort to reassure herself, though he could still not hear it. Mumford, his presence sour with fear and sharp with anger at having been taken, lashing out at the nothingness as if he could capture it and kill it. And then there was a startled sense of awareness of each other as well, as all three noticed their fellow feline presences.
It was at that moment, as they identified each other, that the world exploded back into existence with a final, joint-popping wrench. Except the world was very much NOT as they had left it. Before, they were in a cozy house full of their scents and things, maintained by their humans. This... was not that place.
Cold was the first thing they noticed, a presence nearly as physically repressing as the pressure they had borne on the way to wherever this was. And windy, the cold air combing through fur with icy fingers. Brightness - a vivid sky of clouds and space, hosting a bright sun, distinctly different from the dark evening they had left. And they were, of course, no longer indoors. In fact, they stood (huddled, really) on a vast tundra, with a mountain just over yonder and a whole lot of nothing else notable going on.
What?
Which of the trio had that thought - or if two or even all three did it - was never clear. But the sentiment was universal. Where on Earth were they now? And more importantly, who was going to feed them dinner?
