pafp scruffy little guy — grooming session

[DOEBLAZE]

The lilac queen has just finished with her own fur when she spots that same troublesome, patchy pelt. Bobbie's thicker fur along her back and head can be a tough reach, and in a couple spots little cowlicks linger despite her effort; for some reason lately, she's felt the need to groom more often than normal. Back when she was a kittypet, her owner's strange tools kept her fur glossy; now, in the forest, Bobbie usually gives it once-overs every now and then and leaves it. Recently, though, she's had to correct every little tangle she spots; her now-massive stomach makes that a difficultt task.

The tabby gets to her paws and limps over to the scrawny kitten with no small effort; his pelt is a nest of tangles, spiked in every possible direction and with debris knotted in it. Bobbie's brow furrows and she moves as quickly as she's able in her current state; experience has given her knowledge of Las Plagas' rather ... feral ... nature. "My goodness, you're in a state, little guy," The queen mews softly, squinting at the web of knots that comprise the kit's unburnt fur. Bobbie will attempt to grasp Las Plagas in between her paws and begin to groom the kit's head should she succeed.
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// @Las Plagas !!

 

[Plaguepaw]

I've been trying not to

Las Plagas busied himself with chewing on the femur of some prey item. Concentration laced his brow as it knitted together with every nibble and crunch, desperately trying to reach the tantalizing marrow tucked delicately within ivory walls. Finally he manages to crack the side and his whiskers quiver with glee as his tongue stretches forth to claim its hard earned prize. But his victory is interrupted the moment he feels Bobbie's paws trap him on both sides and hold him close. Mortified from being separated from his bone, Las Plagas thrashes, forked tail lashing back and forth as he cries out. "No! No wait, I wasn't done!" He complains, paws flailing in an attempt to escape until the queen's tongue rasps over the spikey tufts upon his head. And, within an instant the previously feral kitten melts into a puddle between Bobbie's paws. What kind of sorcery was this? It caused him more happiness than, dare he say, food. "Never mind, it can wait for a little while." Taunt muscles relax while his pronged tail falls limp. ​

Go off the deep end​

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[DOEBLAZE]

As the lilac queen had expected, Las Plagas begins thrashing about the minute she gets ahold of him, his forked tail lashing about in her face and making Bobbie scrunch her muzzle initially, but she persists in her efforts. And, surprisingly, they yield a payload for once in her tenure of sorta-caring for Las Plagas; suddenly, the feral thing melts into a limp puddle of kitten between her small paws; her head tilts in confusion, but she's certainly not going to refuse this opportunity. The kit's fur is certainly in a state and she also seems to have finally hacked what will make him stop causing trouble for at least a moment.

Las Plagas' unusual behavior brings a smile to Bobbie's face as she pulls him a bit closer to her, even if this was likely to be pointless and he'd be all filthy again in a matter of minutes. The queen works over the scruffy kit's spiky head fur first, her pale green eyes gleaming with an unexpected joy. Joy is a rare bird for her these days and she holds it close; shifting a bit to try and make herself more comfortable, Bobbie licks one paw and scrubs gently at the kit's rumpled face once or twice, starting to wash his spiky shoulder fur next.
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[>Scorchedpaw]

— The flame-point had been tugging of a bright feather, his claws gripping it and his fangs pulling it. He knew he needed to do the apprentice-ly rounds of cleaning and such. It was expected for the youth to gain a sense of respect for the elderly and queens by aiding them with tasks they could not perform as well. It was tick baths and nest-making.. Scorchedpaw understood why they did them, he usually didn't mind them either, but today felt off. The feather he had been fidgeting with would slip from his claws and smack him in the face. "Erg." The apprentice would grumble, dropping the feather from its loosened grip in his jaws. It drifted delicately to the ground while his attention drifted to those in camp.

His functional eye would find the soft lilac tabby queen with her attention busy on a feral, now not so much, grey kit. He had bear witness to the young tom's antics, he was certainly wild but at this moment he was just a kit. There were burn marks that littered his form but Bobbie seemed indifferent to it. A small twing would pull at something around his chest region, Las Plagas wasn't her own and yet she treated him so fondly. That was something his own mother had neglected to do, even before he had been disfigured but the latter didn't open her heart to him. Scorchedpaw would drop his gaze to the feather that rested as uselessly as he was now. Maybe he should do his duties now.

The apprentice would rise up to his paws, before cautiously padding over to the two. His expression was neutral while he swallowed up his somber. "Bobbie.. Uhm.." The flame point would shift on his paws uncertainly. "Do you- Do you need anything? Like, um, to make you more comfortable?" He'd ask in his low tone. — tags​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

He’d been unsure about many of the shelter inhabitants acclimating to SkyClan, and the kits he’d given to the nursing queens had certainly been included in that group. Every one of the three tomkits is feral, fierce, and more than a little unruly. Bobbie is a first time queen and hasn’t even kitted herself yet, so Blazestar is pleasantly surprised to see the bond she’s developed with Plaguekit. The patchy gray kit is in repose between her paws, enjoying a thorough grooming session.

The Ragdoll smiles at Scorchedpaw perched nearby, offering to help. “Hello, Scorchedpaw. It’s nice of you to offer. Maybe the two of them would appreciate a bit of fresh-kill. Grooming is a lot of work.” He offers Bobbie a wink. “Looks like you’re getting to practice your mothering skills early.”
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​