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This is probably again being posted while I sleep, so don't expect immediate replies!

When I do rise, I'll probably post a pole about possible names for this story so... You know.. Fun! Otherwise just note that this is a continuation of this post and the story told there, A continuation? Tw, for a little bit of blood

I worked on this all week when ever I felt I deserved a break from doing owed art! That being said this looks... Not great. I'm really trying to figure out a good comic style for shadeing and such... And it's a process. That being said it is fully finished and I got to show off more of Gerald's design so that's nice.

Now let's get into the prewritten-I started drawing after I wrote all this-far too long story bit. Cw's for, suggested parental abuse, also the idea that this is not the first time that happened, a tinie bit of anxiety, being watched, and injury treatment.-Don't know if I need to warn against all that but I'd rather be safe than sorry.- 'cause Kenneth is going through it.

Kenneth slows to a jog as he gets close to the wall, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Even though he knows it’s just his nerves.
They never have sentries out on the Creator’s worship days.
Never.
However, the walls chill doesn’t help.
So, it’s a relief when the grass climbs high enough to play shield, allowing him to crouch and shake out his wings. Nerves falling away like waves, eyes catching on a few bright orange flowers, spotted lighted by the moon and it’s companions.
He plucks them before starting back on his path.
…
Sometimes-very rarely-he likes how short he is. Like, when he’s sneaking through the community walls and able to avoid unnecessary interaction, back when he would play hide-in-seek and his competitor’s stature made hiding a challenge, or when he’s chasing a pest through the storage rooms.
Or now, when the tall grasses completely shield him from view. Allowing him the opportunity to see his distracted boyfriend long before the cat can notice him.
He keeps his paw steps light, breathing at a minimal. Wondering how long he stay out of the cat’s world-
A loud ‘caw’ sounds from above him, sending him six feet into the air,-wings never leaving his side-fur puffed. Luckily he keeps a grip on the flowers held in his maw.
This annoying scare also catches the attention of a certain orange tom, causing him to spin, pupils pin pricked.-The braggon settles onto his head, curling into a braty ball- “Kenneth,” he says, incredibly relieved, “It just yo-What happened to your face?!”
Before the fluffy blue tom can respond an orange blur is bounding towards him. Taking the space in just two strides. And a paw aims toward his face, bringing back sparks of pain-
Kenneth flinches, and the world freezes.
Worried green eyes meet his, swimming with a resigned sadness.
It’s the braggon that moves next, chittering angerly about the disturbance. Breaking the unease with a single tail flick.
Once again the question is asked, “What happened to your face?”
Kenneth shrugs, careful not to drop his flowers. Surprised that he still has them.. Fighting past the thick gunk in his throat, brought on by the look Gerry gives him. He knows.
They both know.
And Kenneth refusing to say isn’t a new thing. So they move on. “Did you at least stop to clean that?” Gerald asks, gesturing vaguely at the open wound.
Instead of an answer Kenneth places the flowers down saying, “I got you these.”
“Right.” Gerry sighs,-fighting the smallest of fond smiles-tucking the flowers into his shoulder bag and drags out a small, sticker covered, herbalist pouch. Kenneth, acting on experience, takes this as the opportunity to sit, careful to keep his little friend in place.
When the orange tom settles across from him, laying his long tail across his paws, he barely warns, “This is gonna sting.” Before he’s leaning forward, focused intently on the wound.
Only to grow more focused, purposefully so, at his love’s flinch.
It gives Kenneth a moment to regain his bearings. Finally in the presence of his favorite cat it’s easy to feel his exhaustion, previously content to lap at his mind, flood his senses. It’s been an awful day. That much at least is clear.
He can’t trust anyone back at the community.
He’s not even sure he can trust himself.
At least… he can’t when he’s there. Here, with Gerald, he feels right.
With Gerry, he feels real, like a person, like someone worth being around-
“I want to leave.” Is what his thoughts come out like, surprisingly comprehensive compared to their usual jumbled mess. It wasn’t necessarily what he meant to say… Gerald pauses, blinking away his surprise, face caught in his periphery.
“Oh.” Is the tom’s eloquent response, paws moving again, head ducking as he grabs a plaster from his bag. He works on arranging it just right, unable to meet Kenneth's eyes in a way that almost seems convincing. “Are you sure?”
And he-
Kenneth isn’t sure. Not completely. But- well as he looks at Gerry’s tail held so perfectly still to keep it from vibrating from hopeful excitement- The soft, almost purr like, grumbling from the warm braggon still sitting in his fur- and he thinks back on his brief spurts outside the walls- He thinks on his time with this tom.
He thinks he wants to.
He knows that he wants more nights with Gerry. He wants to be able to see his boyfriend more than once a week. He wants to go on cute starwatching dates, eat ‘fruit’, and meet this amazing tom’s family. He wants that life. So he says, absolutely certain, “Yea-“
“So this is where you’ve been prancing off to-”

Done.

...

I'll write the next part at some point.
I'm sure.

...

Description
This is probably again being posted while I sleep, so don't expect immediate replies!

When I do rise, I'll probably post a pole about possible names for this story so... You know.. Fun! Otherwise just note that this is a continuation of this post and the story told there, A continuation? Tw, for a little bit of blood

I worked on this all week when ever I felt I deserved a break from doing owed art! That being said this looks... Not great. I'm really trying to figure out a good comic style for shadeing and such... And it's a process. That being said it is fully finished and I got to show off more of Gerald's design so that's nice.

Now let's get into the prewritten-I started drawing after I wrote all this-far too long story bit. Cw's for, suggested parental abuse, also the idea that this is not the first time that happened, a tinie bit of anxiety, being watched, and injury treatment.-Don't know if I need to warn against all that but I'd rather be safe than sorry.- 'cause Kenneth is going through it.

Kenneth slows to a jog as he gets close to the wall, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Even though he knows it’s just his nerves.
They never have sentries out on the Creator’s worship days.
Never.
However, the walls chill doesn’t help.
So, it’s a relief when the grass climbs high enough to play shield, allowing him to crouch and shake out his wings. Nerves falling away like waves, eyes catching on a few bright orange flowers, spotted lighted by the moon and it’s companions.
He plucks them before starting back on his path.
…
Sometimes-very rarely-he likes how short he is. Like, when he’s sneaking through the community walls and able to avoid unnecessary interaction, back when he would play hide-in-seek and his competitor’s stature made hiding a challenge, or when he’s chasing a pest through the storage rooms.
Or now, when the tall grasses completely shield him from view. Allowing him the opportunity to see his distracted boyfriend long before the cat can notice him.
He keeps his paw steps light, breathing at a minimal. Wondering how long he stay out of the cat’s world-
A loud ‘caw’ sounds from above him, sending him six feet into the air,-wings never leaving his side-fur puffed. Luckily he keeps a grip on the flowers held in his maw.
This annoying scare also catches the attention of a certain orange tom, causing him to spin, pupils pin pricked.-The braggon settles onto his head, curling into a braty ball- “Kenneth,” he says, incredibly relieved, “It just yo-What happened to your face?!”
Before the fluffy blue tom can respond an orange blur is bounding towards him. Taking the space in just two strides. And a paw aims toward his face, bringing back sparks of pain-
Kenneth flinches, and the world freezes.
Worried green eyes meet his, swimming with a resigned sadness.
It’s the braggon that moves next, chittering angerly about the disturbance. Breaking the unease with a single tail flick.
Once again the question is asked, “What happened to your face?”
Kenneth shrugs, careful not to drop his flowers. Surprised that he still has them.. Fighting past the thick gunk in his throat, brought on by the look Gerry gives him. He knows.
They both know.
And Kenneth refusing to say isn’t a new thing. So they move on. “Did you at least stop to clean that?” Gerald asks, gesturing vaguely at the open wound.
Instead of an answer Kenneth places the flowers down saying, “I got you these.”
“Right.” Gerry sighs,-fighting the smallest of fond smiles-tucking the flowers into his shoulder bag and drags out a small, sticker covered, herbalist pouch. Kenneth, acting on experience, takes this as the opportunity to sit, careful to keep his little friend in place.
When the orange tom settles across from him, laying his long tail across his paws, he barely warns, “This is gonna sting.” Before he’s leaning forward, focused intently on the wound.
Only to grow more focused, purposefully so, at his love’s flinch.
It gives Kenneth a moment to regain his bearings. Finally in the presence of his favorite cat it’s easy to feel his exhaustion, previously content to lap at his mind, flood his senses. It’s been an awful day. That much at least is clear.
He can’t trust anyone back at the community.
He’s not even sure he can trust himself.
At least… he can’t when he’s there. Here, with Gerald, he feels right.
With Gerry, he feels real, like a person, like someone worth being around-
“I want to leave.” Is what his thoughts come out like, surprisingly comprehensive compared to their usual jumbled mess. It wasn’t necessarily what he meant to say… Gerald pauses, blinking away his surprise, face caught in his periphery.
“Oh.” Is the tom’s eloquent response, paws moving again, head ducking as he grabs a plaster from his bag. He works on arranging it just right, unable to meet Kenneth's eyes in a way that almost seems convincing. “Are you sure?”
And he-
Kenneth isn’t sure. Not completely. But- well as he looks at Gerry’s tail held so perfectly still to keep it from vibrating from hopeful excitement- The soft, almost purr like, grumbling from the warm braggon still sitting in his fur- and he thinks back on his brief spurts outside the walls- He thinks on his time with this tom.
He thinks he wants to.
He knows that he wants more nights with Gerry. He wants to be able to see his boyfriend more than once a week. He wants to go on cute starwatching dates, eat ‘fruit’, and meet this amazing tom’s family. He wants that life. So he says, absolutely certain, “Yea-“
“So this is where you’ve been prancing off to-”

Done.

...

I'll write the next part at some point.
I'm sure.

...