- Aug 1, 2022
- 262
- 104
- 43
It doesn't hurt to breathe anymore. Doesn't hurt to think. She can be less of a shell lingering within her uncle's walls and more like herself— a better version of herself, she'd even dare to think. It's not something that anyone but her would understand really. This— she knows. Of course, of course. She had never been a mind reader, and her standards weren't double. Cats flit toward her on their own, just fine. She likes the company, she'd only wish they'd stand to be a bit less like sad sacks. She wasn't like that— gloomy like a Leaf-fall morning. She wouldn't let anyone else be, on her account.
It pains her more to be still at this point. She had one saving grace— a mossball that had been offered to her. She doesn't think she's toyed around with one of these since she was a marsh cat, but now, she takes it up eagerly, rolling it from paw to paw. Imagine her surprise, initially, when the game had been so much harder than she'd ever remembered it being. That's when she'd felt the webs clinging like a second skin to her face, and her mind suddenly clued her into something very, very acutely, well, missing.
Perhaps her quick recovery had been shocking. She would have told them, if she could've. She would've told them that it doesn't matter.
She's reminded of such when she glimpses golden fur trailing across the snowy wastes. " Emberpaw! " she calls, in as excited a trill as she could manage. Her jaw still caught on some words, at times, as if the muscle that made her face had to recall what it had suffered. Skin N' bone would like to fashion her a weakling, but that wasn't her. Isn't that a funny thought, as if it had a mind like that?
And— isn't there a bunch of sappy shit she could say to that face? So much like Sunfreckle's, smiling and warm and stupid. A certain fondness blazes upon her features, and so too does— other things, other feelings; but they're unimportant, scuffed away as she tries not to rub at the webbing on her arms. She's alive. Well, she's glad! Gladder than glad, even. Her smile grins wide. " How are you? Good? I bet you're itching – " Itching, itching. She rubs her wrists together, and it's all fine. " – itching to get back out there, yeah? "
It pains her more to be still at this point. She had one saving grace— a mossball that had been offered to her. She doesn't think she's toyed around with one of these since she was a marsh cat, but now, she takes it up eagerly, rolling it from paw to paw. Imagine her surprise, initially, when the game had been so much harder than she'd ever remembered it being. That's when she'd felt the webs clinging like a second skin to her face, and her mind suddenly clued her into something very, very acutely, well, missing.
Perhaps her quick recovery had been shocking. She would have told them, if she could've. She would've told them that it doesn't matter.
She's reminded of such when she glimpses golden fur trailing across the snowy wastes. " Emberpaw! " she calls, in as excited a trill as she could manage. Her jaw still caught on some words, at times, as if the muscle that made her face had to recall what it had suffered. Skin N' bone would like to fashion her a weakling, but that wasn't her. Isn't that a funny thought, as if it had a mind like that?
And— isn't there a bunch of sappy shit she could say to that face? So much like Sunfreckle's, smiling and warm and stupid. A certain fondness blazes upon her features, and so too does— other things, other feelings; but they're unimportant, scuffed away as she tries not to rub at the webbing on her arms. She's alive. Well, she's glad! Gladder than glad, even. Her smile grins wide. " How are you? Good? I bet you're itching – " Itching, itching. She rubs her wrists together, and it's all fine. " – itching to get back out there, yeah? "
