- May 5, 2023
- 541
- 228
- 43
❝ SUNFLOWER, CAN'T LET YOU GO ✿°.✦ ————————————
Bobbie is doing the only thing it feels like she does lately—lying about camp. Granted, the others queens are also confined to the perfectly pleasant camp, but they've also generally dedicated moons of service to the Clan, such as Orangeblossom. Although she has Yukio's company often, and if Bobbie's remembering correctly (which is never a guarantee), she spied another new queen amongst the unknown shelter escapees. The queen dips her head to lap at where her chest fur ruffles beneath her neatly kempt red leather collar. Seeing the prized accessory sends a mixed ripple of nostalgia and melancholy through her, as it nearly always does. While the collar, and by extension the little pins stuck on it, are a pleasant reminder of better times past and her old Twoleg, it also pushes a pang of wistful sadness through her, reminding her of him; the softly indented dog-bite mark in its very edge doesn't exactly help.
The lilac queen allows herself the moment, just this once, not to push the memory away; the romance, the pregnancy. Running away. The dog attack. The memories are a touch fragmented, as all of her recollections seem to be these days, but they're definitely there; just as soon as Bobbie lets herself dwell on them, she shoves them away again. The nostalgic mood hangs over her, though, nudging her towards a direction perhaps a touch less guarded than she is on a daily basis. The sharp scent of the nursery holly-bush pulls her from her thoughts, and the shecat glances about the camp, hoping for someone to talk to. Maybe it'll help pull her thoughts from the deeply worn groove of old memories—after all, she has to look ahead. For her kits to come, if nothing else.
Bobbie is doing the only thing it feels like she does lately—lying about camp. Granted, the others queens are also confined to the perfectly pleasant camp, but they've also generally dedicated moons of service to the Clan, such as Orangeblossom. Although she has Yukio's company often, and if Bobbie's remembering correctly (which is never a guarantee), she spied another new queen amongst the unknown shelter escapees. The queen dips her head to lap at where her chest fur ruffles beneath her neatly kempt red leather collar. Seeing the prized accessory sends a mixed ripple of nostalgia and melancholy through her, as it nearly always does. While the collar, and by extension the little pins stuck on it, are a pleasant reminder of better times past and her old Twoleg, it also pushes a pang of wistful sadness through her, reminding her of him; the softly indented dog-bite mark in its very edge doesn't exactly help.
The lilac queen allows herself the moment, just this once, not to push the memory away; the romance, the pregnancy. Running away. The dog attack. The memories are a touch fragmented, as all of her recollections seem to be these days, but they're definitely there; just as soon as Bobbie lets herself dwell on them, she shoves them away again. The nostalgic mood hangs over her, though, nudging her towards a direction perhaps a touch less guarded than she is on a daily basis. The sharp scent of the nursery holly-bush pulls her from her thoughts, and the shecat glances about the camp, hoping for someone to talk to. Maybe it'll help pull her thoughts from the deeply worn groove of old memories—after all, she has to look ahead. For her kits to come, if nothing else.
// @Mottledove. !!