W a k i n g . u p {again}

[Wither]

Here's the day you hoped would never come
Don’t feed me violence, just run with me
Through rows of speeding cars
The paper cuts, the cheating lovers
The coffee’s never strong enough
I know you think it’s more than just bad luck

Amber hues gazed around, blinking a few times as if the feline they belonged to had just woken up. Perhaps maybe she had, it might explain her disappearance. It was almost as if she had died, and was just now returning to life. However, Wither had merely gotten separated from her sister and became lost without her. She had wandered, avoiding most other felines out of fear, attempting to stay alive. She'd been feeling so alone in the world, so insignificant. Like a single star in the sky, but no where near as beautiful.

Now Wither stood upon the peak of the grassy slope, watching with sad, thoughtful eyes as the sun peered over the horizon, casting it's golden light across the land. Soon things would start to wake up, and Wither might have to go back into hiding, ever so fearful of the world around her. She lacked the sense of security she experienced while around her sister, the feeling that brought her a peaceful state of mind... Even though she didn't like the fact her sister always got into fights.

The grey feline sighed, swishing her crooked tail around her paws.
She missed Wicked.

Where oh where could her sister have gotten to? The female paused, inhaling sharply at the sudden thought. What if Wicked was dead? Wither hung her head, staring with hollow eyes at the ground below her paws. No.. No, she couldn't be dead. Wither would find her again some day, yes. It was her reason to be trying to hard to keep safe, to be reunited with her sister.

She gave her head a shake, then looked to wards the bright star that shone life onto the world. She gave a slight smile, feeling a spark of hope as she thought positive thoughts. She must look odd upon this hill, a grey blotch against the pastel colors that were painted across the sky. Wither rose to her paws, shook the bits of grass off of her pelt, then placed one paw in front of the other as she made her way down the other side of the slope.

Sleeping pills, no sleeping dogs lie never
Far enough away
Glistening in the cold sweat of guilt
I’ve watched you slowly winding down for years
You can’t keep on like this
Now is as bad of time as any

[Wicked]

The past few moons seemed to drag on and on more and more these days. Sure, that battle had been a sight to remember, and the rogue female had taken the time to actually enjoy that show that had been provided for her to witness, but things no longer were the same. Wicked, already a vicious and intolerable she-cat, was all but completely and utterly antisocial now. She kept away from other felines except when they drew too close to her, which proved in several cases to be fatal mistakes. The she-cat still took no sh*t from anyone; she was just quicker when it came to it now to attack someone and make them learn the truth behind all that.

She missed Wither.

It was a delicate, forlorn little hope that her sister was alive and well – but in truth, a reality that Wicked had already faced, the likelihood that her sister lived was not at all likely at all.

The beautiful cloud-soft looking she-cat carried herself completely unafraid through the rogue lands. Her soft coat marred by scars, both new and old; her jewel-green eyes spiteful and perpetually pissed off. It was then, on this dawn of another new day, when a scent came to her attention. No…no, it was nothing; just her mind playing tricks and bringing it all back; but she could just ignore it. The feline cleared up a small hill easily, but the sight that awaited her at the top was enough to make her stop.

Wither.

It was Wither.

But instead of cheery greeting, a happy meow to get her sister’s attention, Wicked instead growled low and deep in the back of her throat; her tail lashing to and fro for a few minutes as anger nearly assaulted all her senses. The bitch! After all this time and she was still alive! The pretty sister stayed shock still, her stance stiff as she weighed the options between remaining where she stood or tearing her sister’s damned face off.

[Wither]

Wither paused.
The scent. She knew that scent. She hesitated a moment, trying to figure out if she was imagining it or not, but then heard the hiss and almost jumped out of her skin.

She whipped around to face the other, eyes wide and fur standing on end in fear. Then her eyes got wider still at the sight of who it was. She stared for a moment, unsure if this was real or not, and confused about why her sister would be growling at her.
She looked really angry.

"W-Wicked...?" Wither squeaked, so badly wanting to hurry over to her sister and be close to her, but she feared getting ripped to shreds.
But Wicked wouldn't do that...
Would she?

The female pressed around the ground below her, not really noticing the coolness of the dirt that sapped the warmth from her belly as she was already feeling cold. Her ears were pressed against her skull, and her amber eyes reflected her fear and nervousness.

"I... I w-was looking for y-y-you.." She stammered, rather quietly.

She hoped her sister wouldn't murder her..

[Wicked]

She would.

Wicked was never a happy cat. She hated the company of most other cats, absolutely loathed the presence of other females. She was too crude, too mean, too cruel to really give a damn about most other cats – she was by far more interested in keeping herself alive. So what if she fought and killed along the way? Only the strongest survived in this merry little game of blood and hate, and she had proven, at least to herself, that she was worthy of living.

Wither on the other paw, was so sweet and nice. Not a mean bone in her body. Not one. How was it she even lived while away from Wicked’s presence? It was almost mind boggling to think of that concept. Maybe her original thoughts had been correct, and her pure sister had found herself someone else to latch onto to in order to protect herself.

A f**kin’ user.

The bubbling cry of pure, unrelenting anger shot up a bit the very moment her sister spoke; but then pressed flat against the ground submissively. For a moment, this did nothing to cause Wicked’s cold stare to let up, for her to calm down.

But this was Wither.

“I doubt it.”

It was just as mean, that low hissing voice – still rough and uncaring. But her low rumble of displeasure finally faded and then died; her tail stopping in its erratic motion as she chose to, instead, just wait.

[Wither]

Wither had really only survived the harsh world by avoiding others, and tending to only come out at night. Being a feline, she was naturally a hunter and was capable of feeding herself, but she wasn't much of a fighter.
But that wasn't much of a life. Why had she continued to try to live each day if she didn't have much to live for? Wouldn't it have been easier to let nature take its course and pick off the weaker animals? The small feline wouldn't really be able to put up much of a fight.
This grey female did have a reason to keep going, ever the hopeful one. She continued her struggle to simply be able to be with her sister again, the one feline she cared about the most.

... But her sister didn't seem happy to see her.
Wither felt the rejection begin to crush her spirit.

Wide, round eyes stared at Wicked, hints of sadness beginning to grow in them.
And for Wither, that was a flower that needed to be nipped at the bud.

"I was!" She protested, voice quivering. "I looked and looked.." She cast her gaze down for a moment. "But you're so hard to find..."