Being a cat, there aren't too many tasks that Tonia is built to do. Nor does she feel she necessarily needs to, given her superior ability to evade whoever might want to make her work. (You don't see humans so easily slipping behind barrels, do you?) But she's not opposed to being helpful, and given the confusing and threatening circumstances she's found herself in, she'd rather comply than risk being rounded up and used as shark bait.
As such, you might catch a flash of white fur as she chases yet another seagull from a perch on the deck. "Go on, shoo!" She calls after it as it flies off, probably to just find another place to land about a minute from now. Or another one will. They seem to be endless.
She sighs, taking a brief moment to rest, only for a fine spray of salt water to mist over her. Making a face, she shudders in a vague attempt at fluffing her newly dampened fur. The ship is sturdy, and this is nothing compared to the flimsy raft she'd started out on, but still-
"Ugh, why does this place have to be so wet?"
Crossing
Wherever they are now, she doesn't like it. The sea is calmer, but it's not peaceful so much as creepy, and she'd happily trade the thick fog for the occasional sprays of sea water. Not to mention the fish. That felt like a particular form of personal torture, considering fish were supposed to be both silent and tasty. These were definitely neither.
She makes a slight scoffing sound when she spots someone struggling to avoid one of the irritating talking carp. "Don't bother. The only way I've found to get rid of them is to eat them, and that doesn't even last for long." As if on cue, one flings itself onto the deck next to her and asks her yet again if she wants her fortune told. Her long-suffering gaze flicks to the fish and then back at the person she's talking to as if to say, "You see?"
Her features twist in mild disgust. "They really don't taste good, either."
Tonia | In Sound Mind | Tourist
Being a cat, there aren't too many tasks that Tonia is built to do. Nor does she feel she necessarily needs to, given her superior ability to evade whoever might want to make her work. (You don't see humans so easily slipping behind barrels, do you?) But she's not opposed to being helpful, and given the confusing and threatening circumstances she's found herself in, she'd rather comply than risk being rounded up and used as shark bait.
As such, you might catch a flash of white fur as she chases yet another seagull from a perch on the deck. "Go on, shoo!" She calls after it as it flies off, probably to just find another place to land about a minute from now. Or another one will. They seem to be endless.
She sighs, taking a brief moment to rest, only for a fine spray of salt water to mist over her. Making a face, she shudders in a vague attempt at fluffing her newly dampened fur. The ship is sturdy, and this is nothing compared to the flimsy raft she'd started out on, but still-
"Ugh, why does this place have to be so wet?"
Crossing
Wherever they are now, she doesn't like it. The sea is calmer, but it's not peaceful so much as creepy, and she'd happily trade the thick fog for the occasional sprays of sea water. Not to mention the fish. That felt like a particular form of personal torture, considering fish were supposed to be both silent and tasty. These were definitely neither.
She makes a slight scoffing sound when she spots someone struggling to avoid one of the irritating talking carp. "Don't bother. The only way I've found to get rid of them is to eat them, and that doesn't even last for long." As if on cue, one flings itself onto the deck next to her and asks her yet again if she wants her fortune told. Her long-suffering gaze flicks to the fish and then back at the person she's talking to as if to say, "You see?"
Her features twist in mild disgust. "They really don't taste good, either."