It is sometime after the setting sun that the cat finally moves, claws sliding from sheaths to scrap at concrete and broken glass, chips of worn wood falling away from the dilapidated beams above as he stretches in a way only a feline can, body arching in a bow of sorts as the large Leopard rises from his makeshift attempt at a bed within one of the lesser used warehouse that surround the district. Each muscle slides, each bone clicks back into place from so much of the day being slept away within the empty confines of the warehouse. Now however, it would seem the young male has finally decided to wake, jaws parting in a yawn that sees each deadly fanged exposed for merely a moment before lips peel back down to cover them and the gangly, underfed creature begins to move on the silent paws of his species. He prefers this form, has resided in such a coat far more then his true human form. The world is better this way, easier, his mind does not struggle so very much to understand, his fractured thoughts easier and his instincts more powerful. He prefers to be the animal and as such, perhaps, so much of his humanity has been lost along the way, whatever tentative hold still remains to connect him to other people continues to drift still further and further away, that single piece of his humanity lost with the single being whom provided him with it. So many years he has searched for his companion, so many years of walking and walking and walking, following the trail as only he can, a gift unique upon himself- the ability to find whatever he desires and yet each time he gets close, the person he seeks seems only to drift further away.



The obsessive nature of his mind however, will not allow him to rest, at least- not for long. His mind clings with dangerous determination to whatever fractured memories of his companion remain, the dishevelled cat looking much as he does in human form, scruffy and underfed, those same dark eyes remaining as the glow in the gloom and he lunges upwards with silent grace to land atop the rafters, heading for the single hole within the steel roof through which he has come the past few nights. He is relentless in his searching, the nature of his abilities affording the young man a skill in this regard unlike any other. He is a hunter of unmatched proportion and irrevocable persistence. He has tracked Tetradore for years, year after year after year since the day he went away, since the last time he saw the other boy. This single desire has eclipsed any other. He misses his only companion, desires whatever sense of....pack he achieved from the other boy, his childhood friend, seeks to have it returned and as such, seeks the only person whom has ever provided it. It would seem no one else had ever had time for the lonely, homeless child, no one else ever played with him or snuck cookies to him or brought him food and as such the connection was made.



He was homeless from his earliest days a child, he had found Tetradore by chance, made him his friend, his brother of sorts and since the day of his disappearance has relentless pursued what remains of him. The other boy had been his only family in any sense of the word. So he hunts for him still. He is close this time, closer then he has been in years he is sure. Large, heavy paws move silently atop the warehouse roof, leaping into the cool night air to land atop the next and the next, moving in a near shadow-like manner, gold and black spotted pelt hidden within the moon-shadow above. He pauses only once, tasting the air before managing something akin to a scowl in whatever manner it can be said a leopard can scowl, before abruptly adjusting his position, moving toward the harbour and the scent of food that lingers. Claws unsheathe once more, tapping against the steel of the roof as he looks down upon the men below, barrel after barrel of fish unloaded and stacked against the side of the building. He waits only long enough for the man to turn away before descending downward, landing atop the nearest barrel sending it colliding with the floor in a splintering of wood and steel that sees fish spill out onto the dock and the angry cry of more then one crewmen. He has done this before, each night a different boat, a different seafood company- the boy little more then an opportunist in this regard, the tale of the cat burglar spread across each fishing boat- though few men believed it. The flash of torchlight sees him turn, tail lashing at his sides as a savage snarl rips fear of his throat and sees the men scatter in every direction as the growl coils and rolls, dying within his throat as he returns to his feast on the now abandoned dock, content to eat and do so hurriedly before the police or animal control make their appearance. The shouting of the sailors sees the handsome leopard raise his head once more before a rumbling growl of sorts slithers between his teeth in something almost akin....to a laugh.

madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push