It was an uncomfortably crisp morning, despite the faint fever coming from the eastern horizon. The day's far-away heat hadn't neared enough to fully awaken its coalition of rock and sand from slumber, the shore only just beginning to emit soft movements of light and warmth. It had been a quiet dawn along the outskirts of the Eastern Caves, though the heavy breathing of the ocean and the overpowering zest of the cat's leafy, tangled prey made cognizance more difficult. He could distinctly taste each of the bittersweet flavors cradled delicately in his jaws, and where some would hardly wish to identify, he reaped the benefits.

His trek had been filled with many short stops. This one was no different: a moment to take in his surroundings after setting down his stemmy wad of herbs. He licked his lips to wash the enticing tangs from his pallette. A deep breath yielded soggy and suffocating air, an emulsification of rock, sealife, and dirty water. He could only imagine what it looked like, the beach. He had been stepping over its dirty laundry whenever he ventured close to the verge of sand and water. Sometimes there was some washed up seaweed he collected, but the past thousand strides he opted to stay well on the land's side of the fronteir with open senses between steps. It probably would have been prudent to have lingered by the cliffsides, especially considering the day's company. It always seemed to have visitors.

Though he never really did follow the “don’t talk to strangers” rule.

The tomcat bent down to retrieve his savory bundle, but before grasping it, he hesitated. A soft breath responded to the shushing of the waters. The bird's cry. The soft scraping of shells and shelly creatures. Even though he had approached from well behind, he knew from many experiences that sand, snow, and daylight exposed him far quicker than mist, rock, and shadow did. Whoever he just approached had likely noticed him far before he noticed them. He rest a paw on his harvest. They didn't have to know that though.

"Enjoying the view?" Announced the blind cat, tail twitching slightly.

How lucky was he, to stumble upon company?

Frecklebee

Just as the stranger finished their invite, he snagged his bundle of herbs and trotted over gleefully, sitting back on his haunches perhaps a bit too close for an unfamiliar. His tail lightly tapped the foreigner, before retreating swiftly back to it's owner. Yeah, he's real. The tom mused before he unlade his flavors onto the powdery sand, a paw gingerly finding its way atop the aromatics' crown. Not that it would matter that much. I have interesting conversations with myself all the time! Of course, because I'm an interesting cat.

After a few moments, he began sorting through his stash, words from his company adding more glow to the world than the empty, resounding noises of life in which the stranger added so much weight and value. Sure, sound added substance and dimension, but hardly was there a sound he could catch or embrace. There were times he seemed to think sound to be something akin to a taunt, as if he could never get close enough to grasp true, full presence.

Maybe he was just too slow? His ear flicked over towards his neighbor. He didn't like the sound of that.

"I know those feelings quite well." The eyeless tom relinquished as the unfamiliar's last words fell, pulling his attention from his greens to face the stranger. "But I'm no pilot. My visual acuity isn't up to par. I really did have a chance at it though, funny story. Regardless, I do like to stay pads planted if I can, for obvious reasons."

He paused, snagging a little piece of one of his plants and ingesting it as discreetly as he could. He pat the top of his pile with a paw and a cheeky smile. Maybe the other would catch his pun, but if he didn't, no harm in a friendly grin!

"If you really wanted something to think about, I could ask you to describe to me what a color is." The tom alluded with a simper, regathering his pile together into a neat stack. "Or perhaps it would make more sense for you to tell me a little bit about who you are and why you are here?"

It was a vague and open-ended question, to be answered as lightly or heavily as his new comrade desired. He would enjoy the companionship either way. The tom felt a faint flicker of happy warmth.
He loved making new friends, and oh how easy it was!

Frecklebee

Words, and a lot of them. He felt loneliness dissipate like morning mist on a hottening day. From inquiring about his herby hobbies to describing color and a tactful introduction, he could only help but give a respectful nod.

”I see. It is like character. A body has character as shape has color. A shade of meaning to be felt, tasted, scented, seen, or heard.” He noted, a faint grin creasing his lips. “That must be the most clarifying response I’ve heard so far. There is no eyesight in my dreams or in my wake, but this does not inhibit my understanding of the world: it radicalizes it!”

His tail twitched, brushing his paw slightly. He did not remember the moments in how he got so proficient with plants, but he remembered the names. So many have helped him reach his current state, and although he was talkative, he preferred lighter conversation. He faced the ocean and gave his chest a few licks.

”As for remedies,” He piped up, tapping his bundle of leaf and stem. “A long time with the right cats I suppose! As an old friend used to say, always surround yourself with good company.”

He shifted his weight, feeling the sun grow stronger by the moment. The ocean seemed to have faded away for a few minutes, memory quenching reality and sending him to a darker place. A cold breeze cut through his fur and released him from his past with an involuntary shiver. He took a deep breath and grinned.

”Nice to meet you Corne! Where did you get that name?” He investigated, ear flicking slightly.

Did he know there was a plant named corn? What fun!

Frecklebee