Skill: Orator 1/5

Jaxxon

It's embarrassing, to let herself get caught.

She did evade it, slipping out of the badger's claws and up a tree, but the cuts along her hind leg are likely to kill her. Starvation is the slow killer, infection the middle option, and devouring by a faster predator the most likely. Clumsy. Stupid. She should have let herself die there, made it quick and let her death go to use in the great cycle. She's only on her second life. She has seven left. What makes this one so special?

Ah, the fact that death hurts. She knew that being crushed beneath the wheels of a two-by-four, where the content of her guts had nowhere to go but up her throat. The memory of the taste has left her with a deep respect for cars-- though there are none here, are there? No, a different sort of threat. She sighs and takes her seat on the forest floor, looking down at the scabbing wounds and knowing this is going to be the last of her.

"Death, thou art my stalwart companion." She must say the words. She didn't have a chance last time. "Death, I welcome thee with open arms. Into the bastions I will come. Thou art the great equalizer, the reminder that even the mighty feline cannot resist. Three, three, and three shall be my lot, and three, three, and three I shall welcome thee."

There's someone approaching. She hears them, smells the scent of dog.

"This is thy mercy," she finishes, as she sees the dog through the gloom.

Wolf, rather, though the distinctions are minimal. And yet she recognizes this one. This time, she's in view of his jaws. He's much bigger here on the forest floor. His teeth could snap her spine in a single accurate motion, and she supposes that could be blessedly short. He had been friendly last time, but she can't account for a beast's hunger.

"If you have aspirations of ending my life," she comments, her eyes narrowing, "I ask that you do it with swiftness. I would like my second death to have some measure of dignity."

Her gaze remains alert, ears swiveling slightly. He's close, on his belly now, and if there were to be some predator moving from the mist, he would be vulnerable as well. She supposes it is a sign of trust, or desiring it, and she supposes she hasn't many options now. Her short tail twitches. "Jaxxon. The kind one, yes. Should your jaws deliver my final moments of this second life, I would not protest much. You seem a good sort."

She puts one tiny paw on his muzzle, measuring her strength against his. It would not be an even match in the slightest. "I have been deluded into believing myself the exception to the ancient laws. But fear not: death is evermore kind to the feline. Three times three I will live, and this is considerably better than taking the way out by car." That had been her last life, a black-coat. "The sable fur was unfortunate, but it had not been the cause of my demise. Alas! it is the risk that being alive takes."

Her paw draws back and she smiles, surprisingly calm in the imagined face of the reaper. "After all, it shall be misery to hunt upon this torn leg."

She gives him a curious look, her eyes gleaming softly. "What you ask is no small matter," she states. "There is a code among the feline: that such an offer is only made by the Chosen. Would you take on such a task?" She limps slightly closer. "As I am a feline of no parallel, I will take only full dedication from my Chosen. Trust that I do not consider this lightly."

Around his front now, then to the side. He's not so large that she cannot climb atop him, though her claws might dig into the skin slightly. She does not mean it, but simply needs to find a way to get her balance. "This is now your last moment to opt out, Jaxxon. This is a bond that will be forged for life. Know what you take on."

And truth be told, she's never had a Chosen herself. She has always been an outdoor cat, loved by a few but never given the grace of someone's true warmth. "Traditionally they are human... But I will make an exception for you, if you choose it."

His thick winter coat seems like it'd be a good place to sleep. It's been too long since she's had companions, frankly. A stray, she's lived a lone life on the campus streets, watching as her friends and family branch out or be claimed or die. Death has always surrounded her, and she fears it not. But, she admits, this is an honorable recourse. A Chosen is the alternative that isn't foolish.

"I suppose it counts for my purposes," she says with a wave of her paw, settling down for more comfort. "What I demand of a Chosen is protection, of course, and food, and then presence. I take it you would not be offended by my using you as a bed." Because honestly, he is very warm. She wouldn't mind hearing the sound of his heart beating, frankly. It is an intimacy she has been told of, but as a loner, has never felt.

It changes now, she supposes.

"Take me to your home. I would see this place that is to mine now."