S
.SUNNYMASK.
Guest
— A WICKED LULLABYE MAKES YOU CRY IN YOUR SLEEP, BURYING YOUR HEAD IN A PILLOW
THEY'RE GONNA COME FROM EVERY CORNER OF YOUR DREAM FILLED MIND
On the outskirts of camp, long, lanky body coiled into itself in the shadows, Sunnymask's mismatched paws of neat clean ginger and long-tufted shadow were pushed close to her chest, propping her upon their thin points as she crouched and stared, unblinking, wide turquoise eyes watching her clanmates, as though trying to pick through them. She had a joke in mind, a wonderful joke and she needed the perfect set-up, along with an unfortunate victim to her antics. Her form was unmoving, perhaps a statue in the shadows of the few foliage the camp had if not for the rythmic ticking of her tail-tip. It was like a metronome, following a constant beat only she could hear, waving right by her haunches.
A shuffle by the prey pile made her hunch down, eyes snapping suddenly to the poor sod who dared pick their meal at this time, already her lips curling into her grin as her comically large, mismatched ears perked. Without a word, she seemed to bounce over, light upon her thin, bony legs as she dipped and bobbed. The movement would be graceful, perhaps even beautiful, if not for that large smile and those wide, unblinking eyes, boring into her target. Once upon her casualty, she dips low, head twisting to the side, making her ears flop and drape toward the ground, as she coos, barely able to contain that bubbly giggle that threatened to leave her, "Do you know why nobody ever wants to share prey with a Riverclanner?" She waits, expectantly, for them to respond, eyes never leaving their face as she sits there, silent, giggling to herself.
A shuffle by the prey pile made her hunch down, eyes snapping suddenly to the poor sod who dared pick their meal at this time, already her lips curling into her grin as her comically large, mismatched ears perked. Without a word, she seemed to bounce over, light upon her thin, bony legs as she dipped and bobbed. The movement would be graceful, perhaps even beautiful, if not for that large smile and those wide, unblinking eyes, boring into her target. Once upon her casualty, she dips low, head twisting to the side, making her ears flop and drape toward the ground, as she coos, barely able to contain that bubbly giggle that threatened to leave her, "Do you know why nobody ever wants to share prey with a Riverclanner?" She waits, expectantly, for them to respond, eyes never leaving their face as she sits there, silent, giggling to herself.