OH, BOTHER - intro




Baby Bear had gotten into something sticky again. His little cheek fluff stuck to his face in large, messy clumps. The remnants of his ooey-gooey snack dribbled down his chin, giving his dark tabby front a blueish-purple tint. Berries, most likely. As voracious as his and his father's namesake, Baby Bear was shaping up to be quite the little scavenger. He adored all manner of sweet treats and sticky fruits and with his voracious appetite and sweet tooth, he had found himself going further and further out of the way to grab the delicacies he craved.

But now he was back in camp, stained to all heavens, with sticky-icky paws, now looking to play instead of eat. And so, large amber eyes narrowed on his next unwitting target, Baby Bear gave a little butt wiggle before pouncing right on some poor cat's tail, his icky-icky paw-pads still covered in mud and berry juices from his messy meal.

The small feline was settled gracefully in their little section of camp, surrounded by various pebbles and stones that they had managed to pick up over the moons. Swept away into their own world, tail flickering back and forth in contentment, the blue-caped feline hadn’t even noticed someone approaching behind them. Then there were paws on their tail, and they nearly jumped out of their skin. "Oh-" Their head snapped around to face the threat; pale blue eyes widened for a brief moment before their expression returned to their signature subdued smile.

"You gave me quite the fright there. What is that in your fur?" Their tone was one of even, controlled placidity as they lifted a paw to lick away the colorful mess that had been splattered into the white fur there. The other child was practically drenched in—what was that? Berry insides? It will probably stain, they thought with a frown. They had finished up their daily wash already, so cleaning up may just have to wait until tomorrow.

Baby Bear blinked his large, sunny eyes at the other child with a grin. "Hi, Plover! Wanna play?" He babbled out before even considering the question the gave him first. He tumbled to the side and rolled over onto his back and then paused - the question had clicked in his head. He surveyed his sticky-sticky paws with a narrowed-eye glare before taking any experimental lick of one thorn-sharp claw.

"Oh! That was my breakfast. I had wild-berries." Another snaggle-toothed smile graced his face. "They were super-duper yummy and I would've shared but I don't think I left none so maybe we gotta wait til they grow back on the bush but Mama says that takes a long time so instead, maybe we can ask some-a the olders to get some honey if ya wanna share?" He blinked at his companion expectantly, as if he hadn't just thrown a conversation's worth of words into a single breath.

Funnily enough, Berry himself had never tried berries. Though he endeavoured to devour every sole edible thing that lived upon the earth, he cared not to do any research into which berries were safe and which would kill you in minutes. As much as he liked his food, he also liked being alive, and would rather not sacrifice his breath for a taste. Perhaps one day the art of deciphering poison from sweetness would enrapture him, and he would spend many nights figuring it out.

Today his mind was languid and unmotivated, reflected in his lounging pose. Mind captured by half-sleep, it was sprinting chattering that caught his attention and yanked him from that pleasant darkness, eyes settling into their asymmetrical normality. Wild-berries and honey... the combination sounded delicious, and from where he lay- because of course he did not get up- Berry murmured, "Oh, you have good taste." How well-educated this child was! Though they did talk a lot...

At Baby Bear’s response, Plover would blink once. Twice. A blank look settled over their face, ears shifting to angle forward as they attempted to untangle the very long string of words that the other child had uttered. "I…" A pause. "Berries are tasty, so long as you eat the right ones." As for eating the wrong berries… Plover didn’t even want to think about such a fate, but still felt it was worth mentioning.

Icy eyes would flick to Berry, hoping that the older cat wouldn’t be offended at the idea of eating his namesake. The multicolored feline didn’t seem to be too bothered, though, and Plover offered him a nod of their head. "I do enjoy honey. But how would anyone get it away from the bees?" That sounded dangerous, and perhaps it was not worth the trouble of any of the adults just for some honey.
She can't help but notice the boisterous voice of a younger one, pitched high above the general bustle of camp. Honey-yellow eyes shine bright, oh-so out of place within this gloomy bog. This one seems keen on pestering those around him, and instinctively, the queen shies away. Eyes narrow at the prospect of being bothered by this one. Six curious things were enough. Could she possibly handle another, older one? A pitying glance is offered to Plover. She would not know them well enough to know this stance was typical of them. To her, it was a familiar look, entertaining a kit. It was funny, how maturity could differ so vastly from physical age. It was something she knew well.

And this one... where were his parents? Caretakers? Not content with their child running around, gulping down just anything they found in the wild, surely? Though, if toads and crowfood are common delicacies here, what are a few berries to these swamp cats, she supposes.

She eyes the tom ruefully, half-expecting him to drop dead at any moment. Clouded hues flicker to another subject, disinclined to stare for too long. "Honey..." she murmurs, and her fur bristles at her own intrusion, silly, if she didn't wish to be spoken to. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. It was something she's never quite experienced herself. She clears her throat, supposing she is... in this conversation now. "It has always been... much too dangerous of an affair for me to be thinking of for too long."

She glances to Berry for only a moment, blinking at how... genuinely interested he seemed, in contrast to Plover's even tone. "Perhaps you should wait for the berries to grow... more fun than getting stung, I'd think."