private BLUE VELVET 𓆩♡𓆪 BUDKIT

Unbecoming presence, the patter of kittish paws against his floors once again. Dawnglare feels it more than he hears it, some whisper in his soul that goads the slow turn of his head... He dreads it, prays that it's not so in that moment between inkling and discovery. What bad omen it was, for snot - nosed youth to be worming their way into his den so often... Could it be mere curiosity? Mere kit foolishness? Each instance is another chance for evil to hitch a ride beneath her pad. Another opportunity for her to nose her way into places that she did not belong. Of course, most obviously... more questions to be hounded with. The childish stutter of her speech slides betwixt his ears, even now. Ah, was it his imagination, or the reality of her encroachment...?

For there she is, toddling in the same way she had the last few times, eyes wide with wonder, but certainly lacking any spark of thought... Dawnglare surges forward. Before she can dredge unseen sickness across his things, he makes himself a barrier. Lowering his head to witness her fully, twin blue moons beg for a what, a why. Thoroughly scrutinized, is what she was. A small part of him hopes to find a speck of sense wedged between the folds of her skin. Obviously, of course, he finds none. The tom blinks, slow. " Little miss, " thickly drawled. His gaze buzzes stringent upon her. " Why is it that I keep finding you where you do not belong? "

 

It is all too easy to slip away from the queen who was to be watching her while her mother was out for a walk. Budkit cannot remember who the lucky escort was (Florabreeze? Twitchbolt? Doeblaze?), she only remembers pouting that she could not go too. An adventure is just what the child craved; an adventure denied for the sheer fact she was a child.

Poor Budkit could find no companionship in the nursery and just beyond its protective walls. Oleanderkit was resting. She couldn’t see Copia or Fang or Doeblaze milling around camp. The seal point kitten’s older siblings were out training. Was there no one to entertain the three moon old? (She would have been well entertained had she stayed with the queen who was minding her). That’s when brilliant blue eyes befall the den of mystery. The cavern of potions protected by a fearsome crimson dragon.

She is not a child driven by intellect's self preservation, she is a child driven by uninhibited curiosity. An unwitting sacrificial lamb to the stalking lion of the medicine den.

Budkit does not make it more than a few pawsteps into the wondrous lair before she is absconded by the very creature she seeks. Sapphire blues meet bright blue moons and the excitable kit beams at Dawnglare. Little miss, he calls her and Budkit giggles with joy. “Hewwo big mister,” she mews in return (quite clever actually) and bounces lightly on her paws. She tilts her head at his following words, the simple brain cell ping ponging around her skull until it crashes into a synapse of logic. “A’Cause you don’t come find me where I do belong -“ Budkit replies nonchalantly, peeling her gaze from his hypnotic stare to try and see over his shoulder. “Sw-Slate is gone now, yeah? Did da mice living in his skin eat all your seeds? I hope not…” That would be very rude of those Slate mice to eat all of the seeds. It would make a bunch more work for Dawnglare and Fireflyglow. And that just wasn’t acceptable.
[ penned by kerms ]
 
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Dawnglare may not even begin to ponder whatever dung - beetle dredged up such a reply from the wasteland that is her mind. Dawnglare replies with a snuffle. One that is not... repulsed, he supposes, though it is quite a few steps removed from any sort of compliment, still. Her head lops sideward, and he is quite surprised that the rest of her does not tumble to the ground right along with it.

Already, a reply like this spells an unbecoming future for the dear... Very suddenly, he is swept up in the desire to rescue her from it. Pointlessness. Worthlessness. He ought to know better, himself. " Now, what in the world would I ever come find you for? " And with his inflection, he begs that little miss Budkit put a mind to the matter. Oh, it is so very much that asks... Selfish of him, is it not? Budkit does not afford him the time to look scornfully to the sky.

He finds her gaze trailing elsewhere, and his eyes narrow just so. How dare she waste his time with her nonsense, and not even afford him her meagre attention? Unbecoming, another tick off the box. What was it the wild cats were teaching their youth? With the shift of her head, Dawnglare would mirror her in turn, ideally keeping watery sapphires on him and him alone... the whelp. Slate is not gone for good, no... but he would be, soon enough. " Mind your own self, first of all, " he rumbles. " I could have you disappear just as easily. "

Confusion twists a pale maw further for a moment. " The mice—? Oh. No. " Memory surfaces with a quickness. The tom blinks, and then cants his head consideringly at the fact that this kit remembered his lies better than even he did. " What a dreadful Medicine Cat that would make me, hm? " And he looks her over closely. watches for any perk of the ears or curve of the spine. Could she possibly detest him already, tainted by drivel poured into her ears at an early age? An unsteady gaze flickers elsewhere, before landing on her once again. " I'm afraid I had to swallow a portion of him before he could do the same to something of mine. "
 

His words and inflection strike like a hammer upon glowing steel, sparks of inspiration flying from the anvil of her mind. In the vastness of synapses yet to be claimed, of connections yet to be made, Budkit must ponder what Dawnglare has asked of her. Why? Why would the very important medicine cat seek out the pointed kitten? “A’Cause…” she mumbles, suddenly shy at the idea of not knowing what to say immediately. It’s unlike her to be trapped in thought. Frozen in indecision. Sapphire blues blink once, twice… on the third she is bestowed the perfect response. A shining haloed thought crafted by the creepy crawlies of her mind. “A’Cause Budkit can be your fwend. Budkit sees how da others wook at you… but Budkit doesn’t wook-look- at you lll-kie dat,” innocence explains in half enunciated words, wholeheartedly believing that Dawnglare is lonely and has few friends.

As her gaze trails off it is eclipsed once more by the sharp visage of the cinnamon tom. Budkit does not mind so much, allowing her kittenish vision to focus back on Dawnglare. He warns her to mind herself, lest he make her disappear. Such a thought draws forth a wry smile. Oh how silly that would be! To make Budkit disappear! No, far too many would miss her (Dawnglare included, so is apt to think). “Okay. Budkit will mind Budkit… no disappew needed,” she affirms with a nod. Perhaps staying most agreeable in the vastness of Dawnglare’s bright blue eyes will earn her more of his favor.

Budkit finds joy in appeasing Butterflytuft and making her mother proud. She is learning she feels much the same around Dawnglare as well.

Her words twist his visage into one of confusion for a brief second. Long enough for the kitten to mimic such an expression. It is playful, not mockery, and as realization dawns upon the medicine cat Budkit’s expression has shifted back to a happy neutral. “You not dweadful, big mister! Budkit thinks you are da-the- best medicine cat hewe!” Does she mean to butter him up? No, no Budkit does not understand such manipulation. In her youthful heart she believes it to be true. In her blueberry round eyes the bicolored tom does no wrong (and neither does Fireflyglow but her mind is not quite as drawn to him). Her ears perk high and kinked tail sways with intrigue as the conversation continues. Dawnglare speaks of eating a portion of Slate. Of the voracious mice that threaten his seed supply. “Dats good,” she nods fervently. “Da mice eated part of your seeds so you eated some mice. Good job being fair… wike taking turns. Mama says it’s good to take turns.”
[ penned by kerms ]
 
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She has no answer for his question. Obviously... Young minds spoke before they could even comprehend the gravity of what they would say. Dawnglare addresses her with a pointed tilt of the head. A lift of the features expects that her uttering would peter off into naught... but oh, what a surprise, this. Is it... pity from a kitten? Dawnglare's answering blink is utterly taken aback. How is it that this little one, with all her mumbled speech and stumbling words, could see such a thing her ( supposedly ) full-grown peers could not? Dawnglare looks down his nose at her. With a beastly hunch, a rime-capped eyeball swallows her sapphires in full. He observes her as if for the first time. As if she were an herb no former Medicine Cat has ever come across. " What's beneath that skull of yours? " he wonders aloud; and it is genuine, marvelous curiosity. It's a long moment before he blinks. He just about goes cross-eyed. " ...I suppose you don't, " eventually, he says.

Could it be foolish, to put such faith in a kit of all things? For once, perhaps, its a thing of good-nature that has clung onto it; no grand spirit of evil... Dawnglare withdraws at last, his inspection not quite yielding the results he'd wanted, but... results, he supposes, nonetheless. Budkit's mimicry is... endearing in that strange way it had been before. The snap-back to her cheerfulness takes after his own self, he dares to think. And oh, she affirms him swiftly... The poor dear cannot even form the words correctly, but she tries nonetheless. His laugh is genuine, a punch through the hole of misery-heavy clouds. " Is that so? " he purrs, as if it wasn't undoubtedly the correct opinion to have. Fact, more like — and he would say so without remorse, if not for the fools they were both surrounded by... " You honor me, dear, " You honor me. ( What was this cruel twist of fate? )

He hesitates upon what he says next... " Your mother is... wise. " It shakes, the breath that he takes. What had she told him? Reflect on what does give you solace. Dawnglare looks upon Budkit, and he sees... ah, what exactly is it that he sees? Is it this uncertainty that'd be the death of him? With the breadth of his gaze, he reaches into those blue lagoons; claws up something he can hardly understand. There is an ease of the shoulders. " I'll allow you to be my... friend, Budkit. " He blinks at last, the motion slow and fondness-filled.

" My mother would have adored you. " He stops; catches himself. " In fact, I'm certain that She does. "
 
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