[redshiftreign]

what do you want from my world?
[ @Estelle [sleepypaw]]

her silence hung in the air for too long. grouse felt himself shift ever so imperceptibly uncomfortably, head tilting in thoughtful quiet. quiet people always threw him for a loop, and he loved it. adored it. everyone else was so easy, this was a challenge. grousepaw liked challenges. from battle with claws to battle with clever. he thrived off it- every little intricacy. fight apathy with empathy. hatred with love. staidness with rage. He would fight tooth and nail for what he wanted. that was just the kind of cat he was.

bonus points for being a loyalist. he was always open to hear their perspectives. gave him more to use against them. to pick apart.

"miss grandmama?" he asked rhetorically, quirking a brow as he smirked. "that's a nickname in of itself, little lady. you're being hypocritical." the mottled tom pointed out, ear flicking in amusement. picking her words apart like a vulture, he seized it. pounced on it like he might a mouse, but with much more proficiency- he had yet to learn how to hunt, really. but he could probably figure it out with a bit of time and elbow grease. whatever.

grouse smiled at the slight nod- it was something. almost imperceptible and ever so slight. but it was something. it indicated diplomacy. he liked that. leading by example, grouse took a bite of his prey. he ate a lot, he had to admit. being such a large apprentice and still growing lended itself to a fast metabolism and a high caloric need. plus, training with good ol' mistle had made him ravenous. a clan is built on the connections forged by its cats, and to control connections is to control everyone. he knew that, he'd seen it. people are a pillar of power. like transportation and news and knowledge. like the battle force and system of leadership. all of those were methods of control, things that can be regulated to sway an outcome. he saw that. he criticized it. and he learnt to tear barriers down and push just enough on the rules to make them quake, bend, and sway. but nary break. he was too smart to go haphazardly breaking rules, except the little ones.

"y'know, little miss, you could get away with a whole hell'uv'a lot thanks to your kin. tha's privileged, yeah. you do the things i do, 'n you'd get right away with it. i'd be in a pit by sundown." grouse mentioned with an air of casuality. he was just pointing it out, not inherently judgmental or annoyed. in fact, he was grinning again, licking scraps of the bird from his muzzle. so casual, so relaxed. like he was in love with the act of living. of thinking. of being here or there, or merely breathing and speaking and talking.

grouse was a critic, sure, but he was happy. because if they made him miserable- if he let them make him miserable -they'd have won. and grouse refuses to let tyrants win.