Elril
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Posts: 5
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Post by Elril on Jun 21, 2008 1:00:29 GMT -5
Walking through the area, a Gatomon looked around at the slums she was in. She didn't know why she was here...or what she was doing here. She just knew that she felt a certain kinship to this place. If only someone, something could tell her why she was feeling this.
...she didn't even know her name.
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Elril
New Member
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Post by Elril on Jun 25, 2008 4:39:14 GMT -5
<Bump>
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Vanga
Junior Member
Let darkness take you...
Posts: 99
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Post by Vanga on Jun 25, 2008 20:28:03 GMT -5
As the twilight of evening was setting down on Tokyo’s Shibuya ward, the slums were met with a deep quiet embrace, the streets virtually empty with all the inhabitants living on that block already safe and sound within their homes, sitting down to meals and enjoying the company of their families. Through that quietness, the Gatomon would likely hear the sound of whistling approaching from behind. A light-hearted ditty that was surprisingly nonabrasive. Rounding the sidewalk onto the street she now strolled was a rather strange looking man, considering where he was at present.
Looking to have stepped out of some old American western, the young man certainly didn’t seem appropriately dressed for a life in Japan, unless his destination that night was some form of anime convention. His wide brimmed hat covered long brown locks tied back in a ponytail and looked that of a cowboy’s wear. The dusty, tan long coat and leather boots complimented the appearance of a sheriff straight out of the old west, out to round up some modern day crime. However, the grocery bags under each arm and the cheery whistling sort of killed the image.
Oliver Darnell was just returning from shopping at the local grocery store, this particular slum happening to be the fastest route between there and the low-rent hotel where he had bought out a shabby room for a couple of nights. The pair of bags weren’t weighed down all that heavily at all, just enough to get him by for a few days. The truth was that the money he had managed to get from his last bounty was starting to run dry. He was lucky to have any left for living with all the debt still on his head, but what he did have wasn’t going to last him until the end of the week. That was fine with him, though, he was currently on the tail of another target that his intel pegged as currently living somewhere in Tokyo. He’d find the guy soon enough and if it wasn’t before his money ran out, then he’d just have to tighten his belt for a little while. He was used to the life style by now.
As he was walking down the street, his sapphire blue gaze caught sight of the white-furred feline underfoot and came to a stop, crouching down to better level his eyes with the cat and tipping his wide-brimmed hat back so as to keep his face unobscured, he stared it down sympathetically from just a couple yards away.
“Poor thing,” he thought aloud to himself as he noticed a lack of tags or collar, “looks like the little feller’s living it out on the streets.”
Though he had a future in the Digital World, he knew nothing of the place yet or its strange inhabitants called digimon. For all he knew, he was looking at a normal, everyday stray cat.
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Elril
New Member
Posts: 5
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Post by Elril on Jun 25, 2008 21:09:02 GMT -5
The Gatomon turned to look at Oliver, azure eyes flashing a fierce yellow for a moment. She was wary of him since she didn't know who he was, where did he come from and so on. Her defence mechanisms kicked in as she took a small step backwards, long tail lashing in the air as she continued to Train her gaze upon him. Strangely, what he spoke seemed to make sense, but...
She winced slightly as she felt a sharp pain down her Flank. Wondering what caused it, the kitty turned her head, finding a wound there. What had caused that...? The Gatomon continued to look at Oliver, not moving...maybe out of fear or pain...
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Vanga
Junior Member
Let darkness take you...
Posts: 99
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Post by Vanga on Jun 25, 2008 23:48:18 GMT -5
The feline’s cautionary step back and careful gaze didn’t escape Oliver‘s attention, but that was why he had kept his distance in the first place. A stray cat wasn’t going to be friendly to every person who walks by, who knew what it had been through having no home. What was more noteworthy was the wound, it looked quite uncomfortable. There wasn’t much that he could do for the cat there, though, at least not right now. He could certainly treat it, one had to learn how to take care of injuries in his line of work and he always kept a travel-sized first aid kit on him incase of emergencies, but working on a cat was much more difficult than working on a person. With a person you could at least reason with them that you were trying to help, with an animal they might as well be thinking your intentions are to harm rather than help. He certainly didn’t have this cat’s trust, which meant he’d probably do more harm than good trying to treat the wound, the only thing he could do was try to show it a little kindness.
“A stray has enough problems,” Oliver commented offhandedly, as if the white-haired feline could understand his words, “you should try to avoid collecting any more and keep away from fights.”
As he spoke, the cowboy-impersonator set his groceries on the pavement and started fishing inside of one of them. A moment later the distinct sound of tearing plastic could be heard and out came a disposable bowl that he let clatter softly on the ground as he went hunting for more. Since he was never in the same place for long and was often in a hurry to get to his next destination, he didn’t keep a lot of long lasting possessions. Even his dishes were things he bought at a grocery store and that he could throw away when he was done with them. When he was chasing someone, he didn’t have enough time to worry about packing plates and silverware for the trip.
“Something tells me you could use some nourishment." Oliver said, continuing to talk as if the animal spoke the same language he did with a smile on his face as he continued to look through the bag, "Strays don't exactly dine on the finest cuisine. Then again, neither do I.” He chuckled privately at this as he wrapped up his search.
Finally he withdrew his hand and out came a bottle of milk, recently plucked from the grocery’s fridge and still refreshingly cool. Shaking the bottle slightly so that the soft sloshing of the beverage inside would catch the cat’s attention, he popped off the top and poured the contents into the bowl on the ground until it was about halfway full. Setting the milk bottle aside for the moment, he took the bowl and sent it sliding along the sidewalk in an expert fashion so that not one drop escaped the container as it closed the distance between the two and came to a rest but a couple feet from the cat.
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Elril
New Member
Posts: 5
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Post by Elril on Jun 26, 2008 0:33:38 GMT -5
The Gatomon continued to gaze at Oliver, then her ears perked up when she heard the milk being poured into the disposable Bowl. She took a small step towards the young man but stopped once again. Did he...really mean for her to have it? Her narrowed Eyes trained on Oliver as she slowly lowered her head to the drink.
Well, on the subject of fine cuisine, Milk was definitely on the kitty's list. She let out a satisfied purr as the Gatomon continued to lap up the milk.
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Vanga
Junior Member
Let darkness take you...
Posts: 99
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Post by Vanga on Jun 26, 2008 2:09:55 GMT -5
As the cautious cat lapped away at his gesture of a bowl of milk, Oliver the bounty hunter moved up to one of the buildings lining the street next to him and sat down close by with his back against the wall, waiting for it to finish. He wasn’t one for littering so now that he’d made the gesture he had to wait until the milk was gone so that he could throw the bowl away. He didn’t mind, the twilight of the setting sun made for a pleasant sight and the fast approaching night should be clear of clouds and open to the stars above. He could enjoy the scenery for a long time if need be, so it wasn’t a problem that he would have to outwait a stray cat’s stomach.
Sitting comfortably as one can with their back against a brick wall and their rears resting on a cement slab of sidewalk, the youth watched the cat consume its meal while wondering with curiosity what it’s story might be. Was it born a stray and never knew the love of a real home, or did it have an owner once? If so, did that person pass on, or was the cat abandoned out of lack of interest or love? Maybe it was a runaway. As he was considering the feline, something unusual caught his attention.
“Strange gloves,” he muttered to himself, before chuckling privately, “whoever this cat’s owner used to be must have really enjoyed dress up.”
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