Broken Boulder vaguely uncomfortable post-fart silence

forward dated a couple days for Reasons
maybe a @Delight ? but aw!

he doesn't feel that great, and he's pretty sure it's the dogs' fault. of course, no one will actually listen to him, even though several other members of the colony are even more sick than he is. not that he cares anyway. he's tired and his face feels too hot, but he's shivering and stiff like it's cold — it's really weird and stupid and he wishes @Shoegaze was around. not for anything dumb like comfort, but it'd be nice to have someone to yell at.
despite his apparent dog-induced illness, he wants to see what the group is getting up to today. he arrives late and a little nauseous to what seems like a semi-organized cache raid — nice. well, except that there isn't anything left. oh well. he sighs and curls up in the now-empty cache, shivering hard.

the cats keeps stealing their food -- delight has made some attempts to reinforce or to move things over but his paws are full and his cold is lingering. not badly. he's just kind of tired and he can't be tired right now, so. 

he's very tired.

and -- aw fuck the food. again. only there's one cat still lingering in the aftermath. it looks about as well as he feels. well -- war does make strange bedfellows. sighing, he lowers himself, making a lazy chuff to announce his presence if the cat hasn't noticed him yet. "you probably shouldn't stay here," delight tells him mildly.

it's not long before one of the dogs comes to bother him — dark and smaller than many, but still big and clumsy as far as kerosene is concerned. he's too tired and irritated to be scared, and even more irritating is the dog's warning. "what're you gonna do, eat me," he mumbles sullenly, glaring at him; he tries to look intimidating but he probably just looks miserable and defensive.

oh, right: he always forgets they can understand each other. delight snorts and arranges himself at the lip of the cache, the fatigue too heavy on him to enable him to stand much longer. just a little rest. a nice little.. cat nap. ha, ha. "i'm not going to eat you," the chancellor says, raising an eyebrow, "but if someone else shows up and tries, i'm not gonna stop them, either." 

actually he probably would. the little guy just looks so pathetic, delight kind of feels bad for him. "if you keep stealing our food, eventually we'll both run out, you know," he tells him, his tail swishing against the ground to punctuate his statement. they aren't equipped to hunt for themselves and a whole colony of cats. he gives him a look: what are you gonna say to that, huh?

he rolls his eyes, tail tip flicking every couple beats as if to emphasize his annoyance. dogs are so dumb. he doesn't even have any food! "well, i didn't steal any," he tells him, stomach rumbling right then as if to prove his point. he hasn't felt up to darting around trying to avoid the dogs or hunting something himself, so in a way it's not a lie — conveniently forgetting all the food he'd stolen before getting sick, of course.
"and even if i wanted to, i can't stop anyone," he adds, pouting a little now. "if it were up to me, we wouldn't even be here." the thought increases his misery; he's sick now, and he didn't even want to be here! he shivers and huffs, looking at the dark dog like it's all his fault.

he snorts, letting it go unremarked that even if the cat has not stolen at this very moment, surely he has stolen at some moment. more interesting is the pouting admission. delight has not paid close enough attention to the cats to try and parse any sense of hierarchy they might carry -- are they smart enough for that even, he's not sure. they aren't prey animals and they can talk, but birds can also talk sometimes and they don't have like, leaders. he crosses his paws and sneezes. ugh. 

"why are you here then?" he asks plainly, "you and your weird cat-pack. did someone decide that for you?" since neither are feeling well enough to behave, well, like cats and dogs, he might as well have some conversation.

he jumps when the dog sneezes, hissing faintly but settling quickly when he realizes it's not actually a lunge to eat him. embarrassed, he starts grooming his foreleg and paw. his only answer to the question is a shrug at first, but after several moments he pauses to give a slightly better response.
"dunno, just happened. it's always like that," he returns to his grooming, speaking between licks now. "some idiot eventually gets bored of one place and runs off looking for another, his dumbass friends follow, then their dumbass friends follow..." he pauses to chew at some pieces of foliage matted into the fur between his toes. "you get the point."
"i'm sick of it, but nowhere's safe without other cats so i'm stuck moving with 'em." his last sentence is a touch resentful — well, maybe more than a touch.