- Nov 10, 2022
- 25
- 6
- 3
GOT GUMMYWORMS STUCK IN MY TEETH
shoelace | 18 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally medium | attack in bold red
Shoe is not more than a flurry of nervous energy, a rambunctious cloud of mania that cannot, will not be stopped. Bouncing around like a rabbit fleeing from hounds, the molly is content to spend her days flitting about the strange gathering of cats that has formed - cats like herself. Sure, she misses the twolegplace, the streets that have been the only home she's ever known. But while she might be a bit naïve, she isn't stupid. Cats were being rounded up, snared by shiny sticks with unbreakable vines and in shiny metal boxes they could not chew through. Nothing was safe anymore - her friends, her allies, even her enemies were being rounded up like prey and taken to who knows where. Few ever returned - and those who did were no longer themselves, those cursed twoleg contraptions wrapped 'round their necks and the stench of blood and chemicals on their pelts. She didn't stick around long enough to become one of them.
Humming absently to herself as she darts about, chasing flies and moths and leaves and whatever else is stupid enough to catch her eye with its movement, the childlike molly only stops her frantic movements when she spins around dizzily only to slam face-first into the chest of another. With her diminutive stature the mink point has to tip her head back to peer at the other, amber eyes wide as sharp white teeth glint in an unsettling grin. "Hiya!" she doesn't even have the decency to apologize - to her, it is the other who stepped into her path, not the other way around. But - she is interested in making new friends here - or allies. whatever. To her it's all the same, but she knows this lot can be odd about labels like that.
// @Whiskey