Daffodil woke up from a dreamy haze, standing up on groggy paws; the world outside was already brimming with light, spilling into his shadowy shelter. He stuck his nose outside after a few seconds, feeling the noon's rays tickle him. As his eyes adjusted, he felt a tiny bit dizzy, resorting to looking at the ground instead. Greenleaf sun was all he knew, but it still burnt his whiskers with its heat. It felt nicer to remain in the shade, rolling around from time to time with nothing to do but nap. He didn't know why all the adults would choose to go outside instead.
It wasn't only the adults, though, there was something drawing out the other kittens as well. He knew if he sunbathed, it'd just make him sleepy anyways; did it matter where he was if he was comfortable? Why not just be closer to mom? Pushing those thoughts aside, Daffodil turned over one of the stones besides the nursery's entrance. He pushed it along through the warm dirt, before getting tired of the rock. Looking up at last, he scuttered forwards a few tail-lengths into camp. There was a lot of noise, a lot of colors, and he found himself smiling (though it made him look quite silly). "Whoah! So p- so a lot! S- so pretty!" The words were followed by a light chuckle. How was he only now realising how much there was for him to discover?
The heat sinks into Petal's skin. Before, ae might have relished in it, taken a well-deserved nap on some lofty branch after the effort it took to get there. All it does now is add to aer fatigue, prickles of itchiness spreading beneath the fur. Strange how another would prefer to nap in the shade throughout a greenleaf day—then again, cats who are not Petal have every choice to do so. The next morning, they may just as easily decide to take a patrol into the wider territory. While ae sits in camp, limited in the way of exercising autonomy.
Ae sits down and draws in a deep breath, almost accustomed now to the tightness in aer chest. If ae were a braver cat, they might have taken the initiative to ask if any of the dens were in need of repair. But words get stuck in aer throat and come out wrong more often than not, and even the thought of having to struggle through a conversation stresses and exhausts aer where ae sits. So here ae is again, nothing to do and without the strength to change that.
Daffodil's approach startles aer. Petal glances around, first in search of his mother, then in confusion. Camp looks the same as always. Perhaps a little less neat than it was the day before, but otherwise stagnant. What caught Daffodil's attention? "What's pretty?" ae asks before ae can think about it.
Petal is a dilute calico tabby shorthair with pale-green eyes. Once a brash and athletic adolescent capable of climbing to the tops of the pines, inactivity has softened aer figure into gentle curves. Ae is a wallflower and has withdrawn further into aerself since aer sickness, timid toward all but the closest of loved ones. Though easily fatigued and taken ill, ae tries to divert from feelings of deficiency by completing random tasks for others, small as they may be. Those who remember aer as a self-willed daredevil may find the transformation into a spiritless waif, desperately clinging to hope, disquieting.
Daffodil glances up at Petal, eyes widening even further, pastel green enveloping black pupils. "I-it's all!" he responded. He would like to think his speaking was pretty good, however his feelings came out in a much more raw form with nothing in between. He didn't even think about the fact that someone wouldn't understand his thoughts, wrapped up in his own view he believed he shared with the world. There was no tint or shadow between him and the sensations around him. That was what made him so excited; nothing more, nothing less.
Perhaps the adult (or maybe an older kit?) thought he was thinking about something specific, though; wanted to know what exactly caught his eye. Relishing the sunlight sinking in between his fur, still ruffled from standing up from his nest, Daffodil looked around. Before answering, one had to know, and all he had to find was the words to translate his happiness. After a second, he turned his eyes back to Petal.
"There is... the leaves are making sounds as they move. And we make sounds too. I want to know what - why - I don't know, I just want to know everything!" A thought suddenly struck him that he sounded dumb, and he looked down at the ground, flustered. In a much more quiet tone of voice, he continued: "I think... everything out here is pretty. You're pretty too." A much more simple answer, but still genuine. Daffodil found the different fur colors of the cats around him mesmerizing; it made him think, why couldn't he have them all?
All? Petal turns aer gaze once more to the world around them, trying to wring beauty out of the same surroundings ae has not been able to escape for the past moon. Is this the first time Daffodil has left his mother's nest? A frisson of anxiety crawls up aer spine. Ae doesn't know how to take care of a kit—what if ae messes up and makes him cry or, worse, gets him hurt? Ae doesn't think ae has the energy to keep up with him, far less after a morning already spent.
Daffodil speaks again, and ae refocuses aer attention onto him, though as always ae stares at the ground beneath aer paws instead of making eye contact. There's something wrong with aer, ae knows. That's what aer mother told aer. Can't make eye contact, can't express aerself properly, can't look before ae leaps, can't do anything right. But it feels worse, somehow, to be the strange and unnatural thing ae is in front of a kit. Like maybe his own mother will sweep him away at any second and tell him not to talk to aer. It was okay, before, when ae spent most of aer time outside of camp, when ae could provide for the group and be useful in other ways. Talking to others...ae didn't need to do that, didn't need to make a fool of aerself. And now ae has nothing left to give.
Petal blinks, then strains aer ears, catching the wind rustling through the trees almost like a lullaby. The sound of their voices: the childish pitch of Daffodil's voice, sweet and high, in contrast to aer deeper tones. A furrow carves deep into aer brow. It's all pretty, he said. Maybe he's right. Then—"Me? But I'm—I don't—I'm not much, really." Petal ducks aer head, then offers, "You're probably prettier. And—and you're right. The leaves sound pretty, too."
HE'S SO CUTE I'M DEVASTATED
Petal is a dilute calico tabby shorthair with pale-green eyes. Once a brash and athletic adolescent capable of climbing to the tops of the pines, inactivity has softened aer figure into gentle curves. Ae is a wallflower and has withdrawn further into aerself since aer sickness, timid toward all but the closest of loved ones. Though easily fatigued and taken ill, ae tries to divert from feelings of deficiency by completing random tasks for others, small as they may be. Those who remember aer as a self-willed daredevil may find the transformation into a spiritless waif, desperately clinging to hope, disquieting.
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