-ˋˏ Oakrumble tries her best to make diligent, predictable movements as she moves her heavy paws through Doeblaze's lilac fur. It was surprising, so shocking that her jaw hung open, when Doeblaze asked her to do this. The torbie immediately accepted (she understands the importance of this moment, but oh, Oakrumble couldn't hide the glee...) and trudged out of camp post haste to gather up supplies.
Oakrumble takes a stemless flower into her maw and parts fur on Doeblaze's shoulder to place it down softly, this process repeats with petals she rips from another flower, so that these petals surround the larger flower. She does not make conversation with the molly, who lays on their flank. The stout she-cat believes that conversation does not have to be constant (she does prefer it though) and would rather keep noise low. Oakrumble knows her counterpart's story, it's not unusual to... unless one lived under a rock, then wouldn't know of the tragedy of Doeblaze. Oakrumble cannot recall the last time anyone has touched the lilac tabby, not without a seething or vaguely threatening glare from her green eye. Suffice to say, Oakrumble feels a lot of pressure to decorate her fur perfectly, to show Doeblaze that being touched should not be tainted by the memories of Harrierstripe's claws upon her.
She continues to place flowers along Doeblaze's flank. Oakrumble does not comment on the scars beneath the lilac she-cat's long fur, there's no need to fret- Oakrumble wears her scars with pride but knows it is a task easier said than done. A shudder interrupts her work and Oakrumble immediately removes her paw, large head whipping to catch eye contact with Doeblaze. Had she overstepped some boundary? Did she underestimate her strength and hurt Doeblaze... was Oakrumble too monsterly to befriend Doeblaze? Her uneven maw lowers into a frown and she's ready to dismiss herself with some sort of humorous retort. I wouldn't have asked you if I did. That's right, Doeblaze asked Oakrumble- of all the cats in camp, of all the options with friendlier dispositions... to do this...
"If ya say so..." She retrieves smaller flowers and place them delicately along Doeblaze's neck, sprinkles some crushed petals here and there. Her unattractive face is scrunched in concentration and after several more heartbeats of semi-comfortable silence a rough, sand-rasp hum emerges from her, "Doeblaze... I'm honored to do this, y'know? You're quite the looker without your new get up... here..." Oakrumble pauses and surveys her dwindling pile of small flowers before choosing one and placing it atop Doeblaze's head, leaning against a tattered ear. "...and this just enhances that. I think this is the finishing touch!"
The torbie crouches down and observes art and canvas, plumy tail swishing with admiration of what she pulled of. Large flowers, circled by small ones or petals, connected with sprinkles of crushed flowers along Doeblaze's side. The finishing touch, a daisy on her head.
