pafp And I am a material girl ❧ Fake mouse

[Florabreeze]

There had been a toy on the edge of being cast aside by her Twolegs, it was in the shape of a mouse. Wrapped in some kind of pink flesh, soft to the touch and had a smooth texture against her paw pads. She would bat at it for many moons but over time age had started to reach it, the flesh growing tattered and the pink hue slowly becoming muddy. She judged that by the way her Twolegs looked at it that it might be the last day for it and thought that maybe SkyClan could get better use of it. Well, maybe temporary use of it, one last hurrah before she accepted the fate that would soon be facing an old beloved toy. She kept it in her maw as she travelled through the pine forest and past the partition of bramble, while she was fairly certain that such an item couldn’t stay in camp she was pretty confident that she could at least show it off.

There was the thought that for today this could be used in favour of kit training, or even young apprentices? She’s aware that they can’t practise on actual prey from the fresh-kill pile so maybe this could be a good alternative to leaves or twigs for a day. There could be supervision from Florabreeze, that would save any mishaps involving someone thinking this was an actual edible piece of prey, though she hoped that everyone would be aware enough to know that this was a fake. Even with the pink flesh the toy didn’t look appetising at all, not to the lead warrior anyways.

The black tabby had a chipper edge to her, something that had slowly been coming back after her break up with Honeysplash. She still had hard days, days where she couldn’t look at the nursery but she knew that their paths would be crossing more now that their kits were apprentices. So with that in mind she tried to return back to some semblance of normalcy, miscellaneous tasks like this were a way to help. As she trotted in camp she felt a pair of eyes on her, glancing around the clearing she spotted a ticked torbie in shades of blue and silver. Oleanderkit, she’s fairly certain that’s her name, she had seen the kit in the nursery when she used to visit it often.

“Oleanderkit! Would you want to try hunting with this mouse?” She places it down and gingerly pushes it towards the she-kit. “This isn’t real, so you won’t be in trouble for playing with it or anything like that” she recalls back when Hollypaw, Candorpaw and Lionpaw were reprimanded for playing with the prey. Hopefully she would find some kind of joy or interest with this Twolegplace item “I’ll be taking it back with me when I leave for Twolegplace tonight” she didn’t want to give her any hope that this was something she could keep.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Somethings coming ﻬ𖧧ﻬ So out of breath ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  Please wait for @Oleanderkit
  

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  FLORABREEZE 𖧧 She/her || Daylight Lead Warrior of SkyClan || 36 moons
  ❥ A large black tabby maine coon with low white and bright green eyes, always wearing her mushroom print collar if she can.
  ❥ Mentored by Sorrelsong ／Mentoring Jellypaw & Sfogliatella
  ❥ “Speech”, thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}
  

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[Oleanderkit]

The daylight warrior's world is not one Oleanderkit understands. She knows they disappear at night and come back in the morning, and she knows that they wear collars and have Twolegs to tend to, but why? Why put a paw in both worlds? She doesn't think ill of them by any means — her curiosity is far too clinical to impose feelings like hate or disgust — but it seems like an awful lot of work. It had taken so much out of her to travel from her rogue colony to SkyClan, and maybe it's a shorter jog to twolegplace, but wow! She could never. She's grown into a thin and willowy thing, but her lungs have not seemed to grow well with her. She is fairly certain it would knock her out just to scale the fence.

When Florabreeze comes carrying a gift, though, Oleanderkit thinks she may have an inkling as to why daylight warriors chose their path.

She stirs from her sunbeam-slumber, tall, wilting ears twitching with interest. The mouse is a deliciously enticing shade of muddy mauve. She lifts her gaze from it to the warrior that has brought it to her, plumed tail curling around mismatched paws as she sits up. "It's a fake mouse?" she mews, head tilting like a marionette's. It certainly looks fake, but usually she makes fake mice and fake cats and fake foxes out of pinecones and mud. This thing looks almost like a pawpad. Is there a cat that can weave flesh together? A twoleg? The thought makes her shudder.

She becomes transfixed by the thing, though she has held on to the initial request in dim pieces: she wants me to hunt it. Oleander does not want to hunt it. She doesn't care about hunting, really, because the warriors do it for her, and she still has quite some time to languish in her kitten freedoms. What Oleander is interested in is the layer beneath the toy's flesh. Does it have bones? A heart? How extensive is its construction? If it wanted to, would it dart about and squeak and fear for its life? Or maybe it has been dead a long time already.

But Oleanderkit is aware that her interests do not always align with her clanmates'. She has been scorned a good few times for inappropriate questions, and inappropriate play, and other things that she does not fully understand, like thieving or trespassing in the medicine cats' den. Would Florabreeze appreciate her methods of accruing the knowledge she truly desires? She wills herself not to squint at Florabreeze lest her suspicion be revealed. Maybe it would be better to play the warrior's game first.

"Okay! I'm gonna hunt it now," Oleanderkit declares. She backpedals a few paces from the thing, trying to remember how she's seen other kittens play-hunt. Her crouch is off-center, and her tail is nowhere near the ground like it should be, and she sort of clambers into her leap. It's like watching a fawn on ice skates. But she does succeed in her pounce, and her warm cream paw slaps the mouse into her grip.

I've got it! I've got it! Not that she ever doubted her ability in this. But now that she's got it, she can take it apart, can't she? The prospect buzzes pleasantly through her. Oleander grips the toy mouse fast between her claws, rolls onto her side, and attempts to kick the thing to ribbons, hoping to uncover whatever laid beneath its skin — and StarClan help any cat who tries to stop her.

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍, 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𓆱 . ݁˖ . ݁𓆸

• ooc. if anyone tries to take the toy from her, feel free to powerplay oleander biting / scratching y/c! she wouldn't do any serious harm though, nothing more than superficial scratches :- )
  
• OLEANDERKIT —— kit of skyclan . lovage x laurel . littermate to birchkit and mercurykit ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a willowy silver blue ticked torbie with low white and seafoam eyes. lonerborn, oleander struggles to learn the ropes of clan life while coping with anxiety and past trauma. may seem strange, and has unconventional hobbies.
  ✦ girl / she her pronouns / undiscovered sexuality / 04 moons & ages every 20th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will not start fights / will flee / will show mercy. a mere kitten, she cannot defend herself in battle.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

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[Ghostpaw!]

The young apprentice peers at the pair from a few feet away. Snooping has become Ghostpaw's game, a non-malicious but certainly intrusive curiousity possessing her being more often than not. Since her recent apprenticeship had cracked open the door of the wider world, Ghostpaw found there was so much she couldn't even conceive of. Fake mice were one of them. She eyed Florabreeze with surprise, and then confusion.
"What d'you mean it's not real?" Ghostpaw asked, padding closer. It certainly was the weirdest mouse she had ever seen. But as Oleanderkit pounced and grappled with the thing, it looked real enough.

"But, she got it. What d'you mean it's not real?" she repeated, tilting pale mossy eyes to blink at the daylight warrior. As Oleanderkit kicked out with her paws, pummeling the little scrap, Ghostpaw couldn't help but wince. We're not supposed to treat prey like that. Are we? Was that what Florabreeze meant by 'not real?' If prey looked weird enough, was it really not prey at all?​

 

[Howlfire]

It was not the first time Howlfire had seen a fake mouse. Daylight warriors had brought their toys back to camp before, to the mixed opinions of their fulltime clanmates. Personally, Howlfire had no problem with them bringing the items from their twoleg nests to camp, but had no desire to play with such herself.

Form her position nearby, she watches as Florabreeze offered the fake mouse to Oleanderkit, explaining that it wasn't real, therefore it was okay to play with without getting in trouble. Howlfire imagined that might have been a little confusing for kit to hear, having been raised not to play with their prey, but Oleanderkit takes it in stride for the most part, quickly hunting the toy and pummeling it to 'death' with her paws. It is Ghostpaw who seems more confused by the concept. "It's not alive like real mice. A lot of the daylight warriors have them in their nests with their twolegs," Howlfire explained to her apprentice. "They play with them and can pretend to hunt them."​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather’s nose wrinkles at the harsh scent of the twoleg toy Florabreeze brings into the camp. It reminds her of the heavy stink she use to smell when she visited inside of Fantastream’s twoleg nest. It had been those two that had shown to her that some twolegs were worth loving and being loyal to, still her prejudice on most twolegs remained sharp.

She watches as Oleanderkit pounces for the fake mouse, her claws scraping the unusual fabric and teeth tearing in. Figfeather fears for the real mice in the forest, even if Oleaderkit did need to work on her balance.

As Ghostpaw inquires her confusion on the mouse and Howlfire answers, Figfeather pads toward Florabreeze and looks down at Oleanderkit. ”That was good, but you need to be steady on your paws more. Try again-“ Figfeather attempts to swipe the mouse away to reposition it but it earns her nothing but a bite. ”Ow! Hey!” She waves her paw in the air as if to motion away the pain, in disbelief with how sharp kitten fangs were.

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