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#Post#: 125--------------------------------------------------
Northwinds (solo)
By: Chance Date: December 3, 2024, 8:46 am
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Jonesy (Treads-on-Thin-Ice)
HTML https://anywhere.infinimata.com/ooc-information/room-host-and-staff/chance/jasper-jonesy-jones/
Been such a long time on the black-ribbon road
Takin’ it easy, living from day to day...
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[hr]
November 2024
It's a long way from California to upstate New York. Riding solo
on a motorcycle, with nobody but the wind and the occasional
diner waitress to talk to, a cat could get to feeling lonesome,
especially as the trip north shows the trees stripped of leaves
by the season and the ground dusted with snow like baker's
sugar.
Somewhere in the Midwest he gives in, finds a second-hand
clothing store, and scores a leather jacket. It takes a ritual
to clean it, but once that's done, he finds himself a lot
warmer. A jaunty red scarf and a hoodie with a sleeping cat
pictured on it in peeling details complete the warmer complement
of clothing. This form needs fur, damnit, but all the monkeys
would freak out if he chose to ride his motorcycle in Sokto.
Well, maybe if he could find a helmet... nah, that would squish
his perky Sokto ears.
Time and miles pass. The road is both boring and interesting in
turns. When it gets too boring, he finds a good spot to pull
over into a truck stop, park his bike, and take a nap in a
one-man tent alongside it. Hotels cost money, and he's very
conscious of how much money he spends. Sometimes he manages to
sneak into a motel with a false face and sleep on an unoccupied
bed, but mostly, they don't seem much cleaner than the parking
lots. Warmer, though.
A bit further on, Jonesy eventually also stops into a big-box
store and gets some warmer socks. His boots are still holding
up, so he keeps those. Word reaches him of an incoming
snowstorm, so he groans, picks up some simple food that doesn't
require cooking, and adjourns to a motel that smells clean-ish.
This time, he actually pays, knowing that even a little hole in
the wall like this place might fill up with the coming storm.
With that, he nibbles on jerky, drinks some bottled water, and
settles in to read in comfort, nestled in his own sleeping bag
on the bed. This book is from a thrift store, as are most of the
books he's read. He turns them back for the most part once he's
done. Why re-read a story you've committed to heart?
He finds himself putting aside the book and instead pacing
around the room with the question he's been avoiding for weeks:
Now what?
He'd been traveling, exploring, alongside friends, Garou friends
of all things... exploring the Aetherial, the Umbra, and all
manner of amazing things. He'd matured from a callow kitten to a
more mature Bastet of a respectable rank, thanks to all the
whispers of lore and discovery he'd shared with spirits. He'd
learned to fight, to heal, to work many, many sorts of rites.
Then, of course, it came to a halt when the other Garou of the
sept had objected to a Bastet learning their sacred secrets and
using their sacred place. His traveling packmates had gotten him
out safely, but they weren't likely to challenge to become Sept
Alpha, so it came down to Jonesy needing to leave.
Just after I found a Den-Realm, too. He could always relocate
the entrance once he re-settled somewhere else, but it was a
chore, and he was irked that he'd been okay for so long until
suddenly, he wasn't. He'd liked San Diego, too. Warm, beautiful
ocean, mountains within a day's travel. But that was typical of
the Garou, wasn't it? So many of them distrusted the ones their
ancestors had slaughtered.
He still held care for his packmates... well, former packmates
now. That bond shattered when he was forced out. Meros, their
totem, had walked away in disgust.
He was totemless right now, packless. Alone, in a way he hadn't
been alone in a very long time. It was growing on time to find a
new Jamak, but he wasn't sure which one. His anger ill-suited
Butterfly any longer, much as he had adored her.
Selene herself, perhaps, but that's a very big Jamak for one
smallish cat, no?
He considered the King of Cats as he paced, and the idea
appealed. To live, to experience, to never let the past weigh
him down... those seemed like good ideals for a future.
Adventure and travel, life with experiences and bright colors
and sounds and so much yet to discover?
Yes, please.
His mind made up, he sincerely smiled for the first time in
weeks.
#Post#: 206--------------------------------------------------
Re: Northwinds (solo)
By: Chance Date: December 5, 2024, 2:11 pm
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December, 2024
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After a long jaunt into the Adirondacks on US 87, his motorcycle
was finally not the right way to travel. Jonesy stashed the bike
in a parking garage, and took off on foot through the trails
leading up into the mountains.
Once he was well out of the sight of human eyes, he found a
crevice to crawl into, then shifted to his birth form, emerging
as a largish lynx. The colors around him were fewer in number
and much paler with those eyes, but the distinct shading and
motions he could see were far greater.
As the sun crept down, he found familiar pathways, scents he
knew, landmarks that looked familiar. Some of his kin-kittens
were here, after all, and it was due time to check on the
now-yearlings and see if any of them had bred true. He could
tell, most likely, even if their First Change hadn't happened
yet, because feline-born Bastet were brighter and stronger than
their Kinfolk cohort.
He found the den where the kits had grown over the past year,
and he watched from silent shadow as they hunted, played, and
roamed. All seemed healthy and strong; even the smallest of the
kits wasn't a true runt, and seemed to have cunning to make up
for her lack of size. Somewhere in him, he was proud and pleased
that his little ones were healthy and well-fed.
The loud yowl of the mother-lynx reached his ears; she must have
smelled his familiar scent and decided to warn him away, as male
cats were generally not permitted near the young by the female.
He rose to his feet and began to retreat, allowing her the
comfort of her den and her family.
He couldn't tell if any had bred true.
He also found traps outside their range.
Jonesy shifted to his human form and began to disarm all of the
lynx-traps. His Rage flowed within him, small as it was, and
kept him warm as he worked to disarm all of the traps. He
collected them, taking the human scents off them, and decided
that some hunters really needed a valuable lesson in not
encroaching on what was not theirs to take.
[hr]
His clothes were filthy with blood, now. He'd left the campsite
a mess, and with a night's work, made it look as if the hunters
had turned on one another. He didn't rob their belongings,
didn't touch them at all... except for the knives. Those were
buried in the hunters' bodies in appropriate places, and after
he was done, the place was enough of a bloodbath that any
forensic assessment would be difficult at best.
The story would pass of the creeping madness that had returned
to lynx hunters in the Adirondacks. He'd done this the year
before as well, and has been pleased that the story grew in the
telling, talking about how some Native spirit had risen up on
the hunters and turned them on one another. His lips curved into
a smile as he donned a set of clean clothes and took the old
ones for disposal elsewhere.
He felt the approval of the King of Cats for his clever ruse,
and its continuation that would only reinforce the tale of a
year before.
He was going to do well with his new Jamak, he was certain.
[hr]
He finally found the perfect spot to relocate his Den-Realm's
entrance. It was within a quarter-day's walk from his kits, and
deep enough into the mountains to not attract attention, but
still close enough to the road to allow him to come and go
freely. Getting the motorcycle into the Den would be impossible,
though, unless he chose to shift into his Crinos form, and maybe
not even then.
He wasn't the beefiest of cats, after all. Jonesy relied on his
wits.
He crossed the boundary between the mundane world and the
Den-Realm, not thinking much of the tingling sensation he'd come
to regard as familiar.
It was weird, he thought, that there was something laying on the
ground as he stepped inside. It looked like a coin, but not like
any coin he'd seen before. It read 'Anywhere Café' on one side,
and on the flip, read 'Admit One.'
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He wasn't the sort of cat to look away from a mystery that
presents itself, but he was wary about how the coin wound up
here. It took him some time, but he covered the entire space of
his Realm, and discovered nobody else was there, or had been
there. Careful cat!
He tossed the coin up, caught it, and grinned, then decided he
would figure out the answer over dinner. The small river in his
demesne would provide him with fresh fish, a supper that his
feline self would find quite appetizing.
After that, who knew?
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