private WHITE-FLAMED BUTTERFLIES — DITTO

[KENOBI]

He doesn't know what to call the strange creatures which seem to pounce and leap without needing to land on the ground. They fly as birds do, and yet completely different— their wings, if that is what they are, move much more often, and they make no chirps that Obi can hear. They are very colorful, though, and beautifully so. They're more than enough to distract Obi from searching his den for any weaknesses in the strange, airy walls; despite Mojito's assertion, he remains unconvinced that he's meant to somehow fit through one of the many tiny, tiny holes.

One of the creatures lands on the mesh and he holds so, so very still, his body gone paralytic with interest. The light skates over yellow wings and, he thinks, through them. Their wings are so thin and delicate.

He twitches slightly, temptation getting the better of his control, and it flees in a flurry. "Wait!" Obi lunges, straining against the mesh, but it's already gone, and he doubts that it would have understood him, anyway.

//@ditto

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[ditto]

Flora has left them. She's gone to visit her friends in the forest again, reluctantly leaving to spend time with her new friends as Ditto implores her sister to have fun. Instead of joining her, Ditto searches the streets for his sister. Pyrrha must be around here somewhere; even if it's been six whole moon-cycles since they'd seen her last, they haven't lost hope that they'll catch sight of fiery fur disappearing around a corner. A sign, anything.

He perches on a fence he hasn't been to before, ears flicking and scenting the air periodically for any passing scent. Still nothing. They should keep moving; they only have until sunset before their upwalker starts to get worried. Flora is allowed to be back slightly later, but Ditto definitely isn't-

"Wait!"

Ditto flinches back, heart pounding in their chest, and they nearly fall off the fence from the shock of it all. Scrabbling frantically at the wood they right themself, short fur fluffed out and green eyes wide. Their head swings around to face a stranger, sat under the shade of a porch, and the short-furred feline pivots in place. Is that voice addressing him? It's a youthful meow, definitely a kitten of some description, but Ditto can't make out much detail around the mesh this stranger is pressed up against.

"You scared me." They say simply, ears folding back. He stays there then, waiting for the tawny shadow close by the house to say something else.

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[KENOBI]

Obi misses his siblings somedays, when the den is cold and he remembers how they would sleep in a tangled pile of limbs, indistinguishable and inseparable. He doesn't miss the chaos they brought, greatly preferring his quiet, but every now and then, it would be nice to bicker with them again over the most mundane things. He misses his mother, too, though he's seen her more than his siblings since she lives in the nearby den, and her twolegs will visit with her in tow.

Kenobi wonders if they get to sit outside like he does, if they know what to call the small, fluttering not-birds.

Maybe this unexpected stranger can help, though he quickly grows apologetic when slightly admonished. "I do apologize, I shouldn't have shouted," he says sincerely, all while attempting to see them better. Green eyes and not quite as densely-furred as Obi. "I didn't realize you were there." He clears his throat and tries not to fidget. The urge is short-lived; curiosity quickly overcomes whatever shame he felt. "What do you call those winged things? Not birds, mind you; I know what those are."

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[ditto]

One of Ditto's ears flicks at the apology, surprised that such a young cat is so polite. They hop down from the fence and into the yard proper, disappearing briefly from view and then streaking across the grass towards the kitten. Far enough that they could make a break for it should an unhappy upwalker make an appearance, but close enough that they can see him better.

"The butterflies?" Ditto suggests, features creasing into a small frown of contemplation. They stand politely in the grass, leaning forward in place to sniff at the weird structure surrounding this stranger. Weird. His assurance that he knows what birds are brings something akin to a smirk to the feline's maw, nose wrinkling in a muted expression of amusement.

"Describe them." Maybe it's a different thing with wings that he's describing.

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[KENOBI]

The stranger isn't so offended that they leave, for which Kenobi is grateful; as much as he appreciates Mojito's company, his knowledge isn't the most trustworthy (though he supposes he still hasn't confirmed whether or not the wild cats eat kittens). Such thoughts are quick to fall to the side as the other cat says a word Obi has never heard before: butterflies. His eyes widen, even rounder with a glinting fascination, and when he's asked to describe the creatures —perhaps they are not actually butterflies, but something outside of his den must be— he nods firmly, as though tasked with a great responsibility.

"Well! They are quite small, no larger than my paw— or even the tip of my tail, for that matter. One landed on my den here, and I counted six legs, isn't that wonderful? I thought our four must be quite a lot if twolegs only have...two, of course." He pauses, concentrating on the memory. "Its wings were very thin and colorful — I've never seen a yellow like it."

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