Silverheart watched the camp with little interest, his faded green eyes not really focused on anything. He sat there, half present in the real world and half in dreamland. He noticed the comings and goings of others but did not bother to utter anything to them; he was much too tired for that. He'd hunted earlier on, and now was Silverheart time, where he lounged about. The tom assumed he would be moved off soon enough to do something productive, but for the time being he was content to lay where he was and just let his mind wander. Nothing of real significance popped into his head, and to others it might appear that the tom was half dead, breathing in a shallow way; eyes partly glazed over but yet faintly present; and the utter stillness and plain expression on his blank face. Every now and then his tail twitched, but other than that and his breaths, he really made no movement at all. He didn't really have any friends, and with no apprentice or responsibility otherwise to the Clan he had no-one to talk to or tend to. He didn't mind this fact at all, though he sometimes wondered what it was like to have friends that stayed around for you. His one and only friend Minkwhisker had left the Clan long ago and just never returned. He'd watched her leave, in fact. But no-one believed him, they all said she was dead and gone. He didn't know which voice to believe, so he'd shrunk back into his little, shy but serious shell and remained there. He seemed quite a boring cat, but could be a lot of fun if given the chance, which he more often than not wasn't. Nothing to do, nothing to see. That was what his life consisted of. Was there more to life than this?
((Magical invitation for someone to annoy/talk/poke/yell/smile at him?))