Loose Ends: Cal & Howie

Chapter 1: Cal

Something about the tribe was different, and Cal didn't like it; he was always a reserved bunny, but he appreciated company if it were good company. Even more so in these trying times, he was unique in that he was no longer a part of an island tribe or the Capital City, not that there was a Capital. He tried to fit in with the local tribe... but he didn't like the mistreatment of the 'deserter.' He was reticent anyway, only speaking when needed, presenting him as shy. Cal was brilliant and very strategic... especially in moments like this. The year is 2102... just about two years after the tragedy of Omeocoon. The survivors on the surface dubbed this catastrophic event; "The Fracture," Cal whispered to himself, the words carrying the weight of the turbulent times. The aftermath of Omeocoon's tragedy had left its mark, and Cal found himself amidst a patch of land in the forest regions of the island; he just felt the dirt barely beneath his feet through his outer garments. But it still felt different, unsettling even.

He shielded his eyes as the suns of Omeocoon began to come to evening time in preparation for sunsset; on this plane, half of it was a luscious green, vibrant trees, and the other half nothing but dead, unfriendly sand. This was where the range of the bombs seemed to end after they encompassed the entirety of the Capital City and then some. The people on this island were fortunate. Cal inhaled a deep breath. He wanted to experience the air. He could see that the planet was already healing; the soil on his homeworld was among the most fertile in this quadrant. Cal was around 6'0 and densely muscular; his colors were green and orange, not common combinations, nor were green eyes. When he was younger, he served in the Omeocoon military, initially beginning his career as an enlisted member; he entered from a very young age before he'd officially reached the age of ascension(he lied on his application,) as a member of the ariel sub-branch, Cal knew his way around a starship decently. He struck a security rate; the ships he worked on never left the atmosphere; they were always just surface patrol because his people feared space. Cal didn't much care for it either. By the time he'd reached the age of 16, he was already a senior airman.

During his time, there was a long period of peace. But of course, like all good things, that eventually comes to an end; a minor conflict with Xalorians was the cause of his troubles. Cal stopped himself from thinking about his scars; he rubbed his sleeved arm; he could still feel the hardships and seldom talked about it, but he thought about it often. His ears drooped lowly, and as soon as he'd noticed this, he commanded them with forceful thought to stay up; he would not be depicted as 'sad.' He hated feeling sorry for himself. His stern demeanor stems from the hardships of war. Cal was always just a little odd. This is probably why he took a job as a bounty hunter full-time (unlike a particular pair of bunnies who did this gig part-time and were very uncomfortable with it). Despite his rough exterior, Cal's actions are guided by a sense of justice.

As he weaved through the forest, he was surrounded by vibrant forestry. He moved through the bushes, not exactly thrilled at what his planet had become but still proud that he was an Omeocoon. It's been about 129 days since he'd seen another one of his kind; he was keeping count. Where'd they all go? Sometimes Cal wondered this, but he didn't mind being alone sometimes. Most of his people never liked to be alone— they'd rather be with someone they hate, but Cal enjoyed the peace. As Cal moved through the dense forest, rustling leaves caught his attention; maybe it was some animal. He liked to birdwatch! That was one of his more interesting quirks. Whatever it was, it was interesting enough to take him off his exploration path. Cal turned toward the source; he crouched into some bush, moving his way carefully through it until he could get a good view; he saw another silhouette in the clearing of woods. But it was like no bird he'd ever seen; this person was an Omeocoon. He seemed to be fiddling with something and growling in frustration when the device refused to operate correctly. The newcomer's colors are white with a secondary gray.