pafp DO I LIKE HER? NO, DEFINITELY ✦ decorating

[DOEBLAZE]

DOEBLAZE

SHE/HER ✦ SKYCLAN LEAD WARRIOR

Late afternoon beckons a hint of plummy indigo into the tips of the sky, ticking the hems of the horizon with fig-blue like a faded tabby pelt. Ribbons of cloud intrude on the clear sky that had marked Orangestar's explosive announcement; Doeblaze has held fast to her mission to watch over camp in her superiors' absence. She'd fielded questions from one of the daylight apprentices, watched the kits gambol about, and finally resolved to distract them from the tension lingering in the air like ashes blown downwind of a wildfire.

" Are y'all done? " The twang in her mrrow pops a little as she feels a final press of small paws about the crown of her head. A tiny voice mews assent, and Doeblaze gets gingerly to her paws, hoping not to dislodge the kits' careful work. Her verdant eye flutters open, and the high bridge of her nose scrunches, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight dusted across her freckled pelt.

Budding crocuses and snowdrops dot her pelt, clustering attentively around the spots where her fur typically lies shaggiest. Given her strict marching orders, she'd neatened her fur a little, so it sits a touch closer to the silky waves she'd boasted in her younger days than the dense shag she typically bears. Doeblaze sneezes quietly as the shimmery dust lifts off fragile butterfly wings nudged into her dense pelt.

The general result is one of a much greater neatness than she's shown in seasons, and it sits odd across skin unused to it. Tiny blooms, poking their fragile heads into leaf-bare's last phase, nod sleepily in her pelt, bright swathes of white and violet turning her eye nearly emerald. Iridescent butterfly wings, the attentive collection of one of the kits, shed their velvety cracklings as she shifts awkwardly on her paws.

" Anyone interested in being the next style victim? " She chuffs a soft steam-plume of amusement. She feels far too gussied up, like a badger in a flower crown—she has no idea how Cherryblossom walks around in a similar state at all times. " I think the kits've still got a small mountain 'f stuff to use. "

ooc:

Please wait for @Florabreeze :3

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Doeblaze is a small, scruffy lilac tabby she-cat spotted with white. She has one jade-green eye, the other blotted out by a prominent scar.

thomas x champagne / sister to bloomfur / mother to many
shadowed blazestar / mentoring n/a
57 moons old as of 2/2/2025

penned by dejavu

 

[Florabreeze]

It's incredible that for a cat so burdened with conflict and fighting she has such a knack for easing tensions. It's an art, one that Florabreeze respects immensely. She was so sure the camp would somehow manage to devolve into chaos after the departure of Orangestar and Twitchbolt, especially given the manner in how she left... To think that she won't return as a leader, it's troubling, a choice she doesn't understand but one she won't pretend to know. Instead she is given a peaceful day, StarClan knows this clan of the pines has sorely needed one in these recent moons. She returns from a hunting patrol, a sparrow deposited amongst the slowly returning prey pile. Even she knows it will be dwindled down to barely anything come tomorrow morning there is a spark of pride knowing she can at least somewhat help keep it growing.

It's the chatter of kits that draw her attention, it's the visage of Doeblaze that keeps it. Scars and the worn down pelt of stress melts with blooming life, a rarity for sure in such dreary times. Isn't that so fitting? One marred by the death and injury of those around her, blessed to carry small fragile plant life in her pelt. It suits her, as much as Florabreeze is convinced that it might feel foreign to her. Where she is normally shaggy she is wavy, once again that traitorous sunlight catches her fur. Not only that, it highlights the defrosting dew on the flower petals, catches and refractures within the wings of a butterfly. A hint of jade seemingly becomes a meadow to her.

The sunlight almost turns her lone eye hazel in hue, or is that her mind playing tricks? She blinks in shock, scared that in that fraction of a second she would see and simultaneously lose the vision of a black tabby in her place. There's a pang in her chest as it hammers, her heart aches both in pain and for yearning... For which cat she isn't sure of and she refuses to uncover that rock to see the answer. So instead she breathes, loosens tense muscles and her tail fixes itself from its frozen state. Like a siren Doeblaze calls out, not to her... she knows that and yet it feels like it. Like a fool, she follows the call, relaxing into a calm facade as she tries (and fails) to not stare.

"I haven't had a makeover in moons" she chitters with a chuckle. Not an explicit invitation but she looks at whichever kit she assumes to be in charge and bobs her head awkwardly as a resignation to be left at the mercy of their def and hopefully stylish paws. There's a contemplative pause before she glances at Doeblaze again "you look pretty" it's a genuine compliment, though she ignores the hammering of her own heart. "Ever considered being a show cat?" she teases with a grin, finding comfort falling back into a light hearted jest.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A PARENT FORCED TO EAT ITS YOUNG BEFORE IT GROWS ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  FLORABREEZE 𖧧 She/her || Daylight Lead Warrior of SkyClan || 39 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 Daffodilpaw
  ❥ "Speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}

​

 

[DROWSYNOSE]

AND I'M ON MY OWN​

---

that was... interesting, to say the least. he guesses he just doesn't expect for florebreeze to call his mother pretty. that's not saying that she isn't– stars know that she's very pretty– but he just doesn't expect it, he guesses. his ears twitch as he walks over, hesitating for a moment as if he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation being had. he doesn't wish to dull anything with his presence. but he decides that he just had to do. taking a breath in and out, he takes a few more steps and sits near the two mollies, head tilting slightly as he hums in agreement.

"fl-florabreeze that's not f-fair. she'd win e-everytime and then my mom would be d-disqualified."

he can't help his small laugh, before he blinks.

"not that i'm m-much of a looker m-myself but a m-make over d-does seem fun."

​

 

[CHALK]

⭒✧ Chalk had caught the tail end of Doeblaze's transformation, settling to rest before a border patrol. Sat compactly, fur ruffled slightly against the coming chill, he watched as the final blooms were planted in the mollie's pelt. The patience and skill required for the task was impressive for any cat, let alone a group of kits. Whether on four legs or two, the warrior knew that the attention of all kits was fickle.

Her invitation invoked a shake of the head- he'd allow it, but had more interest in watching. Young minds puzzling out a novel task often brought about unexpected solutions. "With dexterity like that, Skyclan's next generation will rival Riverclan's weavers." An echo of a smile looped the quiet declaration. Others soon approached to look at their handiwork, and the tom offered a blink of greeting.

The mellow chiming of Florabreeze's comments went silent, before ringing out again with a compliment. Tracked politely, head askew, the interaction prompted his gaze elsewhere. Why, the warrior wasn't entirely certain. Compliments didn't necessitate a private moment, and an objective statement was well, objective. Tail curling to rest atop his paws, Chalk chose instead to ponder which flowers would be easiest to weave into fur- dandelions were a no, due to the undesirable sap. Dry petals were preserved, but fragile, while fresh flowers had the benefit of vibrancy and required little preparation...

Drowsynose's laughter pulled him back. The graphite warrior's assertion of not being a 'looker' knocked a snowy ear at an angle. "The flowers would contrast nicely with your pelt," he offered with measured sincerity. Flowers likely suited any pelt, if chosen smartly.​

⭒ ———————————— ✧⭒​