ALL THAT YOU KNOW ♡ honeybee

( ) His paws tread feather-light across the ground. He glides with a graceful rhythm, not allowing any twigs or bugs the chance to worm themselves beneath his perfectly groomed fur. A travesty, wouldn't that be, to waste such a meticulous groming on the great outdoors. Who would relish in such a thing? Strange, unkempt pelt and worn, cracked pawpads. Lunatics He thinks. A lunatic like Blaise, it seems.

The irate thought quickly washes away, pushed to the back of his head in leiu of the forest's medley. Mixture of strange scents and sounds. Chirping bird, persistent chittering. Light bends strange here, continuously interrupted by pines with no right being as tall as they were. Sudden shifts have him staggering, caught off-guard. Light was fickle. Never to be trusted.

A honey-sweet melody broils in his throat and slips from his tongue; musical genius that could be provided by only him. "One who sleeps outside has ticks living beneath their hide ♪" he rounds a tree trunk. Not too close, too close. "A cat not warm in bed has empty space inside their head..."

He huffs. Truly he did not grasp the appeal. The appeal for so many, even Blase to suddenly give up all they had for this life. Enough for that strange one to stay around them, where his insides were sure to mold and rot from the fallacies they fed him. A name, a name... he'd never gotten one.

But luck is on his side, it seems. A divine light shines favor onto him. And there they are. Tawny, ticked, wretched. Poor thing, rotting inside and out. Valentine tilts his head. Were they so foul looking upon their first meeting? He could not remember. "Enlightened bug, we meet again!" the tom greets, pupils blown wide and glassy. "You still sleep among these bugs? Persist where the blight lies?"

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( ) Honeybee does not mind the grime of this wild lifestyle, evident in his scruffy fur and dirtied paws; he could never fathom how one could remain in one place long enough to meticulously groom their fur, anyhow. Did they not grow antsy? Why expend all of that effort only for their coat to be in the same disheveled state within an hour or so? It seems like a waste of time.

Bug-hunting is a favorite pastime of theirs. Watching insects go about their tiny, rather insignificant lives... Entirely unaffected by the rising tensions between the two colonies, unaware of the blood being shed over fickle matters. They envy the bugs. They wish that they could live as carefree as the invertebrates do.

And while Honeybee prefers to bug-hunt with a partner, today they are alone. Not by choice, but by chance. Everyone had been either too tired or too busy to venture out with them. But they feared that if they remained in camp for any longer, they might go crazy. They needed to get out and do something. So they did. Bobbed tail twitching, Honeybee noses their way through the undergrowth, crystalline eyes scanning the earth for any hint of an insect scuttling by.

A nearby voice sing-songs. Honeybee's head snaps up, retreating from the ground. He recognizes this melodic siren's sound, but he could not place a face nor a name to the owner. He tiptoes towards the humming, gleaming gaze searching until he finds it. The funny kittypet guy has returned. Honeybee's lips quirk, eyeing the funny guy with curiosity brimming in blue pools as he pauses. He is referred to as an enlightened bug, and Honeybee laughs. He doesn't consider himself enlightened, except for perhaps in comedy, but he'll graciously take the compliment. At least, he presumes it is a compliment. "The great bell-whisperer! How lovely it is to be in your presence once more." His whiskers twitch.

Honeybee is taken aback by the sudden questions. Sleep among these bugs? Persist where the blight lies? Is he talking about my group? They blink, but they are quick to recover their composure. "Metaphorically and literally. Sometimes I invite the fleas and ticks over for a sleepover." Although they remain deadpan, there is a glimmer in their eyes.

There's a pause, and then... "It's better to sleep with bugs than to sleep alone, after all." They don't lie, not this time. Where would they be without Rain's group? Dead in a ditch somewhere, probably.
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( ) Never before has his expression dropped… quite so swiftly.

He’d stare at him for a few moments too long, blank-faced. Crystalline eyes turn dull, pink lips are pulled taught, a thin line. He regards him now with fresh eyes. No longer the expectant gaze of a friend, but rather, scum beneath his paws. Yes, now he’s been enlightened. His lips purse together. Blue luminaries narrow at the stranger. "It appears… something has happened here." A mistake, he dares not say.

And he utters some parable he’s never heard of. Better to sleep with bugs than sleep alone. Valentine snorts at that, nose wrinkled in disbelief. "I fail to see the appeal. Alone sounds nice if your nest is laced with feathers. These things housefolk made— have you seen them?" he suddenly asks, abruptly leaning into the others space. And his face falls into a frown, suddenly sympathetic. "Oh, you poor thing, you— you’ve never—?"

The tom blinks, holds his breath. His eyes are blown wide in shock and his ears press down against his skull. The thought is unbelievable, unfathomable, un—

He sneezes.

And then he sniffs, eyes drawn up as he does so. "Explain to me the… the— what is so… en-enciting about this place, then." He makes himself comfortable, tail tucked neatly around his paws, before he’s reminded of the filth he’s resting on. Abruptly, he startles, reverting back to a binary standing position.