[crumbl]

Elias ran his tongue lazily over his thick-furred shoulder, white pelt soft in the weak leaf-bare sunshine. His keen eyes roamed the clearing, observing the many cats that had gathered here. He had never really been one for large groups-- that was why he had never joined the Clans, though he had many friends there. But he would stay for a while and see how this fledgling community was broken in. Besides, it never hurt to have another friend or two. Great cats walked by the allies they made in life.

Twitching one tufted ear, he stood and stretched. Wasn't there anyone willing to talk to him? He yawned, pink mouth gaping. "Too frigid to hunt, I say," he addressed the general clearing. "Snow would shiver and shy away." He glanced dramatically over his shoulder, eyeing the clear blue sky. It wasn't actually that cold, but he lived for exaggeration. Then delight spawned in his eyes as he realized he had made a rhyme. Oh, the joys of language!

Eyes bright and expression wistful, he spewed forth a stream of awful poetry, aiming it in the general direction of any she-cats that might be nearby. "Though the air bites with terrible ice, cats that huddle may bear warmth, and always welcome is the curve of my nest." He twirled his tail romantically. "Leaf-bare may come and go, but felines will last much longer and hearts may beat truer if closer in rest." He dipped his head in recognition of nonexistant admiration. Maybe groups weren't so bad after all if it meant an outlet for his performances. She-cats could never resist a gentleman, could they? Much less a poet!


// open, make him fight for his life