We are the potato chip boys!

[sfont=Libre Baskerville]the autumn air was pleasant, but it was a warning of things to come. the hind moved cautiously through the mountain roots, smelling wolves — faint as it was — on the breeze at almost every step.

they didn't fancy being caught out alone with winter at the world's heels, especially not in a foreign land.

their skin itches under their now rapidly growing winter coat. they shake, shuddering slightly as their entire body seems to twinge in irritation.[/sfont]

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 He would not talk to wolves on the same level. No siree, not until he knew they weren't going to rip his throat out. That was what caused the massive tomcat to shriek in quite a feminine fashion, drop his scrawny mouse, and run up the nearest tree. He'd had the scent of mouse cascading into his nostrils so he hadn't scented the wolf. You know, that one wolf among the THOUSANDS of wolf scents that pervaded this place every single day. It was impossible to tell if a wolf was right up on you --like now-- or if they were still a ways away.

 His nerves were going to go bad at this rate. 

 He glared down at the dark, purple-eyed wolf. Miffed that his food was likely going to be stolen when winter was here and made things difficult enough as it was to survive. He had no clan, no home, and he was going to be shit-out-of-luck when the snows started to come. Fucking awesome. "So, are you taking my dinner then?" He asked from the safety of his branch, voice a smidge annoyed.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]a cat yowling in surprise was certainly the last thing they expected to encounter. it was incredibly mundane, the hilarity enough to make them laugh abruptly, more a bark than a giggle. looking up at the cat, they cocked their head. if they were surprised that the feline spoke, they showed little of it. instead, the hind scoffed, their merriment translating easily into a gentle smile. “i've no reason to steal a mouse,” they murmured. making a show of stepping away from the rodent, they sat back on their haunches. “by all means. it's yours, isn't it?”[/sfont]

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 Oh yeah, it was fucking so hilarious. He glared at the wolf tittering away down there, quite amused that they had managed to scare a defenseless kitty. He-lair-ee-ous. Moosebellow was just annoyed that there wasn't really anything he could do about it. The wolf could walk away with his catch and Moose would just be SOL. He'd have to find something else to eat while the wolf could laugh all the way back home. Granted, that scrawny mouse was barely enough for him let alone the wolf, so he'd get some satisfaction out of that... but it would be very little. 

 Except, the other spoke that they didn't want the mouse. "I mean, yeah, you've got no use for it. Fucking look at it. It's a sorry piece of shit, ain't it?" Okay, he should probably be thanking StarClan for the catch and all that jazz but look at it. It was likely a weanling or something that had a very bad day to run into him. "But you could steal it anyway to be a fucking piece of shit. For all I know you get off to screwing people over." Abrasive as always, he meant no real offense, was just speaking what he thought. Whether it got him into trouble or not. 

 The dark wolf stepped back away from the mouse, in a noticeable way and the hungry tomcat peered down at the mouse. Clearly, he wanted it pretty badly. "So, if I come down there you ain't gonna try to take a piece out of my ass? I know it's nice but I'd rather keep it attached." He wasn't in the mood for tricks or someone trying to eat him. The being had no use for a mouse but a tomcat of his size would provide much more nourishment.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]they looked down at the mouse once more and...

the cat was right. it was very small. “you could do worst. better than no kill at all.” they had starved sometime in the youth. it was a blessing to have anything, though the blessing was perhaps hard to see with another predator lording over one's kill.

a sympathetic look over took the hind's face as the cat spoke, defensive and pre-emptive. they frowned, for even as the cat approached he seemed convinced that they would steal or attack him regardless of their words. “have many of my kind harmed you so?” they spoke gently. “i won't harm you...”[/sfont]

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 Better than no kill at all, eh? "Damn straight!" The tomcat laughed, seemingly amused for a moment. It was true that things could always be worse, he could have nothing at all. Which was what he was initially convinced was going to happen but this fellow seemed more chatty than they were bitey. He appreciated that very much. 

 The wolf seemed almost sympathetic with him. What a softie... He could very much get behind a wolf that was a softie. Better than one that wanted his guts for dinner. "Well, not me in particular but I've known a few cats that got too fuckin' careless around a wolf. Wasn't enough of them left to bury afterwards." Yeah, wolves were one of those things cats were taught to be wary of in their clans. Dogs too but wolves were said to be worse. Roaming together in their own clans they were far more vicious than dogs... except this guy. And a couple of others he'd met that would rather talk than eat him. Still, he couldn't be too careful. "Of course, that was from where I came from. Wolves around here seem... different." Not so much mindless bloodthirsty killers but civil... ish. 

 With that out of the way, Moosebellow gave the dark wolf one last skeptical look but ultimately decided to come down. He whispered a silent prayer to StarClan as he climbed down the tree and then ended up on the ground. He sat close to the tree for a little while before taking a breath and walked over to the mouse, which he crouched in front of and began to eat. "Name's Moosebellow, by the way." Whelp, if he was down here eating and having pleasantries then he might as well get a proper introduction in. Wolves were so much freaking bigger when you were on their level, it was a bit startling, if he was being honest.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]the wolf smiled as the cat jumped from the tree. they seemed to be amused by the little bundle of spitfire, especially as it cursed up a storm and prattled on about what it'd seen and heard.

at the mention of other wolves, moir cocked their head. “i wouldn't know, i'm afraid,” they clicked their tongue. “i've only just arrived.” there had been scant others since they seemingly emerged into existence in this strange plane. “moir,” the hind returned, dipping into something like a bow or curtsy. “what brings you here? besides the meager prey.”[/sfont]

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 Well, that was interesting fucking news. Not that it was wholly unexpected. "Did you fucking die too?" At least, that's what Moose figured happened to him. He remembered being on the battlefield. Locked in combat with two other cats and then he felt something on his back, then a wound on his neck and then... nothing. Yeah, that sounded like fucking death to him. He'd woken up here with no idea what the fuck was going on. 

 The wolf made some sort of elegant bowing motion, to which the cat cocked a brow at them. He'd never seen someone do such a thing before, save for maybe a Twoleg or two. "Moir, then. Thanks for not eatin' me and being a good sport." Putting up with his obscenities and all that shit. StarClan knew he wasn't about to curb his tongue for anyone and the fellow seemed not to mind. 

 "What am I doing here? That's a good fucking question, ain't it?" He laughed out loud, full of humor and then it trailed off as he realized. He really had no idea... He shredded more meat from the mouse, depleting it fairly quickly. He ran his tongue around his mouth and sighed, "I really don't know. StarClan brought me here for some fucking reason but I've got no fucking idea why. I can now talk to wolves which no other clan cat has ever been able to do..." So maybe he was supposed to do something with them. Who knew? "What about you, then? You got any special reason for bein' out here?" How funny, a full conversation... with a wolf. If he ever got to see his old clanmates --unlikely-- they'd never believe him.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]moir's face turned into a mask of horror. “lòmthèz!” — no! they exclaimed. “i did not die! i simply woke here.” death...they had spent so long with it, but never relished it as their relatives did. the void may embrace them, but not for a long time yet. “i'm so sorry for you.” they wondered how the cat died, but could only imagine something painful. it fit the jaded exterior he had.

of all the deities they had heard of, starclan was foreign to them. their confusion was made clear, though they didn't pry at first, instead choosing to answer the cat's question. “no purpose as of yet, though...” they thought for a moment. “i'd like to start a brothel.” the word came out casually, simple as saying that they'd like to take a walk.[/sfont]

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Whoa-ho, seems like he was in the minority here. The wolf seemed horrified by the notion of having died. "Sounds like a fucking peaceful way to get here. I'm jealous!" Another laugh, clearly he wasn't too bothered by how he'd managed to get here ... Or if he was, he certainly wasn't showing it. That's how he did most things in life. Make a joke out of it. It was easier to swallow that way. As for the apology he waved a paw dismissively, "Is what it is. They just better have had a good few words to say over my body. I went out with a fucking bang!" Hopefully his clan has won the battle... But there was no way for him to know the outcome. Stressing over it would just give him gray hairs and like he'd said, he was here for a reason.

It was clear that the wolf was confused by his words but they didn't pursue an answer. Instead moving onto why they were here. When they shared it was Moose's turn to be confused. "The fuck's a brothel?" He'd never heard the term used before as it was far outside of the clan cats' vocabulary.
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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]they thought for a moment that perhaps they did die, in a way. it may have just been peaceful, in their sleep. that thought...discomforted them. not necessarily the dying part, but the how of it. they, to their knowledge, were not sick, nor were there any signs of inclement weather that could have killed them in their sleep. so then how?

questions for later. or preferably, never. they simply nodded and hummed in quiet acknowledgement of the cat's declaration. they were never much for fighting or the glory of it, but they knew how those types got.

“mm, how do i put it,” they had never had to explain the concept to others. “it is an organization that provides pleasure to paying customers. some are more explicit about said pleasure being sex, but i disagree. there are many ways someone can be satisfied.”[/sfont]

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The concept of such places that the wolf explained were never even conceptualized in the clan cats world. Sure, Moosebellow wasn't a 0ride but such things as "pleasure" and having a dedicated job to that was hardly on anyone's mind. There were always more important things to focus on, like not dying or getting eaten or starving. Was this fellow so well off that they could focus efforts elsewhere. More importantly where could he sign up for such a life?

Part of him wondered if this sort of life would be too close to that of a kittypet's but why would StarClan grant him this ability to speak? And why then lead him to this particular wolf?

"Let me get this straight. You want to start some fucking clan that focuses on 'pleasure'? Where others come and get that through whatever means they want?" There was a pause as he held a rather incredulous look... That slowly morphed into a smile and then a full throated laugh as the cat bellowed out his amusement. Finally, he said, "Well, friend, you certainly seem to have your shit figured out. I like it! Maybe I've fucking died and gone to heaven or some shit but a fucking place where you can get whatever fucking pleasure you want sounds wonderful!" What a fucking genius! An absolute legend! **"You got any friends to help you out with it? Or are you just out here trying to figure your shit out?"* Maybe if they were desperate enough they might take him. He didn't know what he'd do but he felt like a nice place like this guy was talking about sounded wonderful.
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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]moir waited patiently as the cat worked through their description, amusement playing on the edge of their lips. “yes,” they replied matter-of-factly. moir couldn't help but grin. “oh, i'd make sure that no one got away without paying.” they were, despite their grace and levity, still a melonii.

“there's many wolves here, as you know. i'm sure that there are those who'd assist me.” they said, more to convince themself than the cat.[/sfont]

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 "Paying", eh? That must be where the prey came in. Fuuuccck, offering services and then getting others to "pay" for it seemed like an amazing setup. Sounded relaxing as shit. He grinned right back at the wolf, "Oh yeah? You gonna wrestle down some dung-eaters that try to skirt payment?" The wolf before him wasn't the biggest specimen he'd ever seen nor did they look particularly athletic and yet here they were quite confident that they could stop any bad eggs. He liked this guy! All full of brand-new ideas and all sorts of spunk! "Sounds like a good fuckin' time!" Ah, if only he was bigger. He'd go toe-to-toe with any wolf that would try to get past payment. However, with his tiny little body he was no good to any wolf as a guard. His fighting skills excelled in his own world but not here. 

 "Oh sure, suuuuure." The tomcat said, getting up from the mouse carcass --which was little more than bones at this point-- and pacing closer to the wolf. "But wouldn't you want someone with a little more finesse? Something only a cat can offer?" Probably not but he could try to finagle his way into this thing. Besides, maybe the wolf would like his stunning fucking personality, he didn't know. 

 He would walk right up to the dark wolf and look up at them, a half-grin on his feline face. Well, he was right here, this would either go poorly or be just fine. "I mean, I have to be here understanding you fucking wolves for a reason, right? Surely, it's to help one of you guys with something." Unless StarClan just had a sense of humor and thought it'd be hilarious to reincarnate him here, give him this gift, and just watch him fumble around trying to find meaning in his life.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]they scoffed. it was ridiculous to think, wasn't it? they were all legs, with only muscle enough to propel them forward at generous — but not marvelous — speeds. moir knew better though. “oh, i can manage. there's more ways than wrestling.” they grinned as if they were keeping a secret. their words were their weapons, but poison was always a quick second.

“cats...knead, don't they?” they were only vaguely familiar with the strange movement from hearsay, not experience.“i am sure you could provide something that way if we don't get any female felines coming through.” they wondered if cats even liked intercourse — was that why moosebellow didn't know about brothels?

moir again found themself in the position of having to explain themself, something that had been natural and understood by those she known. “there are many packs that restrict breeding rights for their members. it is a necessity, especially in such a crowded area.” they mused. “there are religious reasons — even those i was raised to worship: rrif-lez-riebayt is the prince of hedonism. he enjoys a good place of debauchery.” moir swore that they had met him once. a man smelling of roses with a wry, handsome grin. they hoped to be in the prince's favor. kuùz hàdosh, too considered sex in their realm, though it was much more malicious in intent.[/sfont]

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Knead? Well, yeah, every cat could and would do it. Usually when feeling very intense feelings of contentment. It wasn't anything he'd particularly thought about before... He looked down at his paws, subconsciously doing the motion. "Uh, yeeaahh?" He said, not exactly following at first. Although when Moir mentioned that he could use that he was sort of following. He fiwned at Moir, looked down at his paws again, and then tried over all the way to the wolf. "You mean like this?" He would stand on his rear legs and then attempt to knead his paws on the wolf's side, giving a demonstration. He tried to be aware of his claws and keep those in. And he had to admit, doing this sort of thing did make him feel happy by proxy. Something with emotions and memories of kithood and yada yada.

He would stop the motion a bit later when the wolf started speaking again. He felt like he was getting a crash course in wolven history. It was interesting, to say the least. "Well, you wolves seem to have a lotta fucking rules for everything. Never heard of literal 'fucking' restrictions." Although he wasn't one to talk. Clan life equally had a lot of restrictions. Speaking of, he wondered what his old clan would think of him now. The Wolf Whisperer

"Never heard of that prince before. Where I come from we have the Warrior Code and follow the will of StarClan... Our ancestors. With no fucking restrictions on who can fuck who." He grinned, and sat next to the wolf's foreleg, looking up at them. "Gotta admit, a Prince of Fucking sounds pretty nice." He licked a paw and began to groom himself as cats did. Drawing his paw across his face in long, slow swipes. "So am I in your Sensuality Club or nah?" Hedonism and sensuality, the more be listened, the more he wanted in. Although he wasn't sure if any she-cats would show up or not.
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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]the cat approached after a moment's hesitation, pressing his paws into their side and beginning that strange, foreign motion that they had heard of. “oh,” was all they managed, wincing slightly. the motion itself could be pleasant, but moir was too startled by the claws at first to enjoy it. “hm.. ”

there seemed to be a lot of cultural and theological contrast between cats and wolves, which...wasnt surprising. moir wasn't much for that line of social work, only learning what was necessary to complete their job efficiently, not to theorize or ponder. they weren't great at talking in such a way. “wolves, really, favor order by nature. it keeps a pack whole and stable. some take that too far.” the hind wondered what starclan comprised of. were they the literal stars, or just inhabitants? they had learned that the stars were holes in the fabric of reality. they had heard other explanations that were less...destructive? esoteric?

“oh, he's alright,” they said jokingly. “do you want to be? ” they looked over the cat. this wasn't what they were expecting.[/sfont]

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 Some take it too far, he let out a huff of laughter. "Ain't that true of anyone? I've heard of some rogues that have some fucked up ideas of 'order'." Some of them weren't kits' tales and had happened but a generation before he was born. Some cats loved power and disguised it as rules and laws to help everyone. In reality, they were only helping themselves stay on top and control everything around them. Pah! Fucking fox-hearts. "You always got someone somewhere thinkin' that they're the fuckin' end-all-be-all to rules and shit and wanting every cat--uh, person," He wasn't talking to another cat here, now, was he? "Bending to their every fucked-up command and rule." He rolled his eyes. Rules were needed, insane things to better a fragile ego were not. 

 "Fuck yeah!" He would answer in respone to the wolf's question. "I ain't got nothin' better to do. Since I woke up here all I've done is wander around pissing people off and wondering what on StarClan's green earth I'm supposed to be doing with my life. Then you show up here and start talking this awesome stuff and it just fuckin' hits me that maybe this is what I'm supposed to do!" Why else would it all fit into place. Besides, "Even if it's not what I'm supposed to do it sounds fucking fun as shit. So, count me in." He wasn't sure if his kneading was up to par or pleasureable but he could work on that, couldn't he?

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]moir shrugged. “i can't say i've met many cats or other animals to say.” from what moosebellow was saying, perhaps it was simply true of any creature that chose to live in a group. they had never fancied that cats lived in groups, with the stories that they were told describing cats' aloofness and lack of cooperation.

moir's grin was bright, despite it being small — their face rarely extended past a placid mask of serenity. of all things, they had never expected recruiting a cat to their side.

and what, really, were they to do with this brothel of theirs? the plan was shattered by the sudden change in scenery, and they truly did not know much about the creatures here to say anything for certain. moir knew better than to lie to their own followers, so they came clean. “i've not chosen a place to start it yet, but i am staying in the woods by the river for now.” they canted their head. “join me there? i can show you the way.”[/sfont]

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 If Moosebellow was concerned about Moir's lack of group residence then he certainly didn't show it. Instead, his own smile didn't waver and he waved a paw dismissively. "Ah, we'll find a spot at some point. We'll get some sort of sign or some shit." At least that was how all of the elders and medicine cats spoke of it. When you were doing good in the name of StarClan --or a god of debauchery-- things were supposed to work out, right? 

 "Sure! Lead on, wolf breath." He rose to his paws and gave a languid feline stretch before he would follow his companion to their --or as he liked to think both of their -- home.

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[sfont=Libre Baskerville]moir was impressed with just how much trust moosebellow put in them. one conversation and he was already on board, already certain that their goal would be achieved. they couldn't say if it was just his character, but...well,they would find out now, wouldn't they?

“follow me,” they said over their shoulder as they headed towards the bloody woods that they had called home. It would be more crowded now, but moir liked the present company very much.[/sfont]

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