Quote:
Originally Posted by Empress Of Evil
Tundra's amberish and greenish coloured hues concentrated hard on the dusty ground in front of her. Feeling a gaze, once again, upon her. Frozen and not daring to look up, terrified of the fact she might catch Hannibal observing her. She had always thought that when Hannibal observed cats it looked as if they would be a worthy piece of prey for him to kill. She gulped at the thought and kept her gaze on the ground. It was liked she was trying to dig a hole into the ground with her eyes. Tundra's concentration was snapped as she heard a low rumble from her belly. Her ears flattened and she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She lifted her eyes slightly, just enough so that she could at least look around, and not at the ground. Her eyes scanned the clearing. No one was near her, hopefully no one had heard her belly make that embarrassing noise. She hated being embarrassed. The attention would all be on her and cats laughed at her, not with her. Tundra thought for a moment. She realised she was fussing about being embarrassed over a rumble in her belly. It's not anyone would care. Would they? Everyone's belly would rumble at some point in their life. Tundra sighed and shook her head slightly and slowly. Remembering her rumbling belly she gulped. She didn't exactly want to walk up to the fresh kill pile. Afterall, what if a cat talked to her? She would probably stuff up and say something awkward....just like she always did. Oh come on Tundra! It's just walking to the prey pile and picking up a piece of prey! How hard can that be?, Tundra thought, scolding herself for her fears. But then what if Hannibal is observing me while I walk up and get a piece of prey? Then I'd probably slip and fall over. How embarrassing! Then he'd laugh at me and get others to join in. Wait, does Hannibal even laugh?, Tundra thought, many thoughts of how simply walking up to the prey pile could lead to public humiliation. Feeling annoyed with herself she finally got the guts to rise to her paws and started to pad reluctantly towards that pile of prey that lay in the middle of the clearing.
Tundra's eyes raked through the pile quickly while she used her paws to dig in deeper. Her gaze landed on a plump squirrel that lay on the very bottom. She bent down to pick it up, her head accidentally knocking the rest of the prey over and tumbling down. She grasped the squirrel in her mouth and straightened up. She looked down and say the toppled pile laying in front of her. Had anyone seen that? Her eyes nervously looking from one side of the clearing to the other. There was this small thing nagging at her, a thing that made her want to wail. She couldn't even get a piece of prey without knocking anything over! Why did Tundra have to be....well, Tundra? An awkward cat who was clumsy and couldn't even take a single piece of prey from the pile without humiliating herself. She really hated herself sometimes. She blinked away small droplets that started to form in her eyes and trotted off quickly to the spot she was previously in before, tail drooping and head down. |
Just as her eyes bore into the ground, his eyes bore into her as he finished up eating the bird in front of him, the soft crunching and snapping of bones, the quiet ripping of flesh as he devoured the raven could be heard from where she sat, almost painstakingly certain that it was some sort of warning from the tom for his plans for her. But of course she wouldn't know that he doesn't kill random cats, no he kills very particular cats because he has only one rule and that one rule, whether you break it or not, can determine whether he'll end your life or not. There has only been one cat to escape his clutches and they were only able to because another cat just barely intervened. Perhaps he was planning his second and final ploy to kill that cat, perhaps not, perhaps he had settled for something that would end with a much more interesting result and that was causing her to slip into insanity. Or perhaps he would simply let her go. Hannibal was a very complicated cat as many cats would come to know. You could never tell what his next move would be, unless you knew that you had broken his rule.. But some cats had no clue about his rule, and that's a very bad mistake if you ever wish to speak to this tom. One slip up and you'll end up squirming in your own blood as he tears into you. Or perhaps he simply slits your throat and stands back to watch you bleed out. No one has lived to tell the tail of how Hannibal kills, except for that one cat, Illusion, his former trainee, but it would be doubtful she would tell you anyways. She was deceptive and you wouldn't be able to tell if she was telling the truth or not so really, she would be no use.
All of the bird except for the beak and part of the skull was now gone and the dark grey tom simply pushed that aside with a paw before turning to the innards, silently devouring them, taking his time, enjoying the flavor as they seeped into his maw, gaze still boring into Tundra as she got up and seemed to be padding towards the fresh kill pile and when she made it back to her original resting place (after causing the rest of the prey to go tumbling down, causing the pile to be scattered now, quite embarrassing for her), he had finished the rest of the bird that he had set aside and was washing his paws, his orange gaze not even seeming to blink, he had focused on her the entire time. What was going through his head? No cat would know.
After washing his paws and making sure his pelt was in check, he slowly rose to his paws and began to pad towards the white she-cat, his expression as blank and as emotionless as usual. "Greetings Tundra, mind if I join you for a little.. Chit-chat?" Inquired the tom, standing a foot or two away from her, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth slowly as he waited for her to answer. In all truth, he had nothing better to do and so he had decided why not.. Poke at her a bit? Probe her? See what her mind was made of. She looked weak, weak of mind and weak of spirit and could be an easy target should he ever want to.. Pick and push at that brain.. Send it tottering over. But he wouldn't do that now. No, he would simply observe her through conversation, as he did with some cats when he didn't quite feel like going for a stroll.