- Jul 13, 2024
- 27
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ᯓ⚘ Oakrumble has felt something stirring within herself, a loneliness she has not felt in ages it seems. There's something twinging within herself-- a yearning for a deeper companionship that is not found in the posse of felines she protects fiercely. This despondence keeps her awake at night, frightfully aware that of the fact that at fifty-six moons, Oakrumble has still not settled. In fact, the brutish she-cat seems to push away all advancements. Almost thirty moons ago... Oakrumble had been betrayed, her heart casted aside by Sonia... No, Oakrumble has erased all memories of her, overwritten them with the dedication she has shown Skyclan since her first breath inside this camp. This yearning she feels pulls at her frail heart like a puppeteer, urging her to make those connections Oakrumble has denied herself of for all these moons.
A champagne flash, that was Sfogliatella's first impression on Oakrumble. She was a complete opposite of Oakrumble... pretty, well-spoken... Sfogliatella! That name! So odd... but it echoed in Oakrumble's ears like morning birdsong. The torbie wanted to know so much about Sfogliatella, where she came from and why of all places she came to live with the wild cats. But for the first time in her life, Oakrumble is dumbfounded by somebody and nervousness has prevented her from approaching the gorgeous molly. For why would Sfogliatella want to be spoken to by such a flippant, harsh voice?
It is not as if Oakrumble woke up with a plan set in stone to speak to Sfogliatella, but her attempts at hopscotching around them for the past 5 odd moons have been proven to be exhausting and frankly embarrassing for Oakrumble. The orange hued feline is kneading feathers into her nest-- her fourth this moon as she battles insomnia-- when there, in the the corner of her vision, the champagne flash. Oakrumble pauses immediately and raises her lofty head, her deep amber eyes flitting to catch sight of Sfogliatella. Sfogliatella! She smiles subduedly and her feathery tail swishes in the moss beneath it. "Sfogliatella," she drawls softly (well, the best soft voice she can manage) in an attempt to grab the femme's attention. "An odd name. But I can't help but admire the way it sounds." Oakrumble means well, saying their name is odd-- frankly, it is not the oddest in this clan, Oakrumble would reckon. It was odd, in an endearing sense. "Hey, you look like you'd be good at making nests. I have been uh, not sleeping well. Care to help? You could... tell me about yourself while I do this? You also seem like good company."
A champagne flash, that was Sfogliatella's first impression on Oakrumble. She was a complete opposite of Oakrumble... pretty, well-spoken... Sfogliatella! That name! So odd... but it echoed in Oakrumble's ears like morning birdsong. The torbie wanted to know so much about Sfogliatella, where she came from and why of all places she came to live with the wild cats. But for the first time in her life, Oakrumble is dumbfounded by somebody and nervousness has prevented her from approaching the gorgeous molly. For why would Sfogliatella want to be spoken to by such a flippant, harsh voice?
It is not as if Oakrumble woke up with a plan set in stone to speak to Sfogliatella, but her attempts at hopscotching around them for the past 5 odd moons have been proven to be exhausting and frankly embarrassing for Oakrumble. The orange hued feline is kneading feathers into her nest-- her fourth this moon as she battles insomnia-- when there, in the the corner of her vision, the champagne flash. Oakrumble pauses immediately and raises her lofty head, her deep amber eyes flitting to catch sight of Sfogliatella. Sfogliatella! She smiles subduedly and her feathery tail swishes in the moss beneath it. "Sfogliatella," she drawls softly (well, the best soft voice she can manage) in an attempt to grab the femme's attention. "An odd name. But I can't help but admire the way it sounds." Oakrumble means well, saying their name is odd-- frankly, it is not the oddest in this clan, Oakrumble would reckon. It was odd, in an endearing sense. "Hey, you look like you'd be good at making nests. I have been uh, not sleeping well. Care to help? You could... tell me about yourself while I do this? You also seem like good company."
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ooc– @SFOGLIATELLA
- OAKRUMBLE —— windclan warrior, she/them, 56 moons