private AND NOW THIS IS AWKWARD — blinding star


Jun 15, 2022
Whisker doesn't know the full details on what had happened between the two groups that the clans had split off from. Whether that's because they'd never bothered to learn or because they'd forgotten what had been told to them, they don't know. Either way, Whisker considers themselves lucky to not be burdened by that each night.

Others are not so fortunate.

One of which is a white tom, his face scarred over from the war and eyes unfocused, unseeing. As normal for the bicolor feline, they do not recall his name. But they sympathize with him no less. He seems to always be in a bad mood, an invisible storm cloud hanging over him. Whisker doesn't like seeing anyone upset. So it's with the resolve to brighten the white tom's mood that they scour the forest for something special...

By the time the sun begins to set, Whisker sidles into camp with an aromatic bouquet clasped gently between pearly teeth. They rove over the clearing until they spot him, huddled in a corner and moping as he usually does.

The bouquet is set delicately upon the ground, placed at the tom's snowy paws. Whisker smiles, although they soon remember that he could not see it, but they hope that he could hear it in their voice when they speak up, "I brought you some flowers. Uh, you could line your nest with them... Make it smell nice, y'know? Or, or weave them in your fur! Not that you smell bad or anything..." Whisker laughs awkwardly, shuffling their forepaws around. Stars, they couldn't believe they'd insinuated that he smells bad! They instantly try to backpedal. "You smell quite nice, actually." Oh, wait, was that creepy? "I mean- I haven't been smelling you! I can just... tell?"

Skunk's stripes, shut up!

Their mouth clamps shut with a snap.

@Blinding Star
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( ✧ ) He smells it before he feels it, the subtle wafting of a pleasant aroma, drawing closer with every patter atop the ground. For someone special, he figures. A love, a friend, someone in this camp deserving of such pleasantries, sickly sweet in his lungs. He could make a game out of it all— when your days were spent doing little but lazing, such opportunities weren't to be wasted. Howling Wind, hounded by that small army she calls kin, trouncing over with flowers in paw? Perhaps poor little Roe, stumbling forth with a gift for the ones who'd found her—

I brought you some flowers. Why are the words so close?

He jolts as they graze against his paws, to-be-expected, but still so very sudden. Soft petals and ripe stems at his feet. For him? They're for him. Oh.

The inklings of a question form on his lips, but he never makes a sound, gazing up at (what is hopefully) the bestowed of such a precious thing. They're babbling, strange speech blending together as they insinuate— and then leap to clarify. He doesn't mean to stay quiet for as long as he does. And suddenly, he's letting out a bark of laughter.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm not... making fun of you, you're just..." Sweet? Unfairly kind? He can't quite find the word he wants to use. His words trail off into silence. Warmer, this time. The hints of a dull smile show on his maw. Again, he starts, "Thank you." The words are sincere, and stars, do they sound so weird out of his mouth, soft and meek, he can't stand much more of it. And to think there was a time where he could accept such a thing with poise. "...You've been smelling me with your mind, huh? Careful, I might just share your secret."

[ Horribly late reply, won't happen again <3 ]
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