@
turtle
Here he was again, like he usually was, huddled in a corner of the clearing, a particularly
dark corner, appearing as if he was hiding from the cats of his clan, which, in a sense, he truly was. Ibisprowl truly did not like speaking to other cats, he just didn't. He found it exhausting and particularly annoying because the other cat would
always make a comment either about his tail, or about how quiet his voice was, or to speak up, or something along those lines. The very thought of it made his tail, which was no more than a stump, twitch with agitation. Other cats never understood him anyways. They didn't understand that he didn't like talking, they didn't understand he didn't like being around others, they didn't understand that it was exhausting and so he always ended up exploding at them, pushing at whatever chance of a friend he had, away.
Sighing out, the black and white warrior stared at his paws. He liked moments like these, when he could be alone; though lately, his thoughts have been a whirlwind. He missed it when his thoughts weren't conflicting and fighting with each other, when he could sit in silence and enjoy it, but no, now he had to listen to the constant bickering of his thoughts. His mind trying to tell him to get out more, to talk to others more, to be more like his father, while the other part arguing that he was just fine where he was now, that there was no need to talk to other cats when he had himself.
But for right now, his thoughts were quiet. Allowing him to finally have a moment of peace and quiet.