BOAT: THISTLE

[crittersheep]

[ You’re in a sleek, gilded reception room aboard a large and - aside from your team - empty ship. It’s full of fabulous kitchens (splattered with blood but still usable!) and ballrooms (full of instruments, all playable!) and glittering spires and stagnant-smelling but comfortable sleeping quarters. When nobody is using the intercoms to speak, a tune hums through.

Other than that, there’s thick mist surrounding everything, a path lit only by the ship’s signal light as it travels toward whatever it is you’re in search of and away from the home you can never return to. Waves crash gently against the hull, growing louder and fiercer as time goes on, and there’s faint wailing and howling in the distance…what is going on in this sea? Well, it’s not very important to you. What’s important is surviving.

You have a life to live. ]

Comments

[leonheartedly]

You say that now.

[survivaltricks]

Are you doubting my dedication to the feline species, Chef Tyr?

[leonheartedly]

[his lips twitch]

Remember this when you've gotta clean up cat shit all over the place, Mr. Maid.

[survivaltricks]

Cats are way cleaner than that. They're not going to make messes all over the place.

[the only cat reference he has is Morgana who is not a cat at all]

[leonheartedly]

Then you better get it a litter box and keep it clean, or else it'll smell like cat piss everywhere.

[survivaltricks]

I'm going to put it in your bedroom.

[leonheartedly]

[squint . . . ]

I'm the chef, you sure you want to do that?

[survivaltricks]

You don't cook in your bedroom, do you?

[leonheartedly]

No, but I can move the litter box from my bedroom.

[survivaltricks]

. . . to the kitchen?