[[ note: Bluestar has never spoken to a human before, so she calls them Twolegs. She is prone to coming up with her own words for concepts that are too far outside of her wheelhouse. ]]
i. Arrival
Water. She hates water - why does it always have to come back to water?
The distress is almost enough to temper the fresh new terror, when she's lifted off the beach in the arms of a Twoleg! And that, on its own, is enough to encourage her back into her cat form. Bluestar is still half-slimy and half-furred with wobbly excuses for legs, when she bolts out of her Waker's arms and stumbles back toward the foam.
But she can't go back in the water, can she? No, she needs to find somewhere to hide... as soon as her legs feel well enough she takes off, but the best spot she can find is behind someone's backpack. Whoever lifts it will get the surprise of a very angry, very puffed-up russian blue hissing and swatting at their hand with fully extended claws.
ii. Arrival, part 2
It takes a while for Bluestar to calm down, after waking up. There's a lot to get used to. The Twolegplace, the squids, the complete lack of cats... curling up in front of a 'bowl' of 'soup' feels like the least confusing part thus far, but she still struggles with the concept of it. Food that's basically a liquid, meant to be drunk while warm... she wrinkles her nose at the smell, but the taste is warm and salty like prey. She supposes she can't complain.
She hasn't tried looking in her bag yet - it's about the size of a coinpurse, slung around her neck. The robes would be too confusing and uncomfortable, anyway. Instead, she steels herself before addressing one of the Twolegs sheltering near her.
"Are you new, as well?"
Her accent is English, if they're familiar. Calm, carefully measured, even while she's far out of her depth.
iii. Dogs!
She's still getting used to the Twolegplace - it's hard, even knowing full well that she's better off here than in the forest. So far she hasn't spoken to a single cat, let alone smelled anyone familiar, and every hair on her body tingles with dread whenever she has to speak to a Twoleg. So she's been spending most of her time alone - exploring, trying to gain some familiarity or at least map out her basic needs. Fresh water, prey, a warm-enough spot to sleep.
That's all she's focused on, when she hears howling. Howling, nearby - she doesn't need to know they're monstrous, dogs by themselves are too much danger for a lone cat, and she hears at least three distinct voices. Her ears pin back, and she glances around for- someone. Anyone. A Twoleg will have to do, they know their territories better than she could ever fathom. So she'll be running up to the nearest one she finds, and trying her best to cut off their path without getting kicked.
"Dogs! I need you to control them, or- find a den! You can do that, can't you?"
Bluestar | Warrior Cats | Paleblood
i. Arrival
Water. She hates water - why does it always have to come back to water?
The distress is almost enough to temper the fresh new terror, when she's lifted off the beach in the arms of a Twoleg! And that, on its own, is enough to encourage her back into her cat form. Bluestar is still half-slimy and half-furred with wobbly excuses for legs, when she bolts out of her Waker's arms and stumbles back toward the foam.
But she can't go back in the water, can she? No, she needs to find somewhere to hide... as soon as her legs feel well enough she takes off, but the best spot she can find is behind someone's backpack. Whoever lifts it will get the surprise of a very angry, very puffed-up russian blue hissing and swatting at their hand with fully extended claws.
ii. Arrival, part 2
It takes a while for Bluestar to calm down, after waking up. There's a lot to get used to. The Twolegplace, the squids, the complete lack of cats... curling up in front of a 'bowl' of 'soup' feels like the least confusing part thus far, but she still struggles with the concept of it. Food that's basically a liquid, meant to be drunk while warm... she wrinkles her nose at the smell, but the taste is warm and salty like prey. She supposes she can't complain.
She hasn't tried looking in her bag yet - it's about the size of a coinpurse, slung around her neck. The robes would be too confusing and uncomfortable, anyway. Instead, she steels herself before addressing one of the Twolegs sheltering near her.
"Are you new, as well?"
Her accent is English, if they're familiar. Calm, carefully measured, even while she's far out of her depth.
iii. Dogs!
She's still getting used to the Twolegplace - it's hard, even knowing full well that she's better off here than in the forest. So far she hasn't spoken to a single cat, let alone smelled anyone familiar, and every hair on her body tingles with dread whenever she has to speak to a Twoleg. So she's been spending most of her time alone - exploring, trying to gain some familiarity or at least map out her basic needs. Fresh water, prey, a warm-enough spot to sleep.
That's all she's focused on, when she hears howling. Howling, nearby - she doesn't need to know they're monstrous, dogs by themselves are too much danger for a lone cat, and she hears at least three distinct voices. Her ears pin back, and she glances around for- someone. Anyone. A Twoleg will have to do, they know their territories better than she could ever fathom. So she'll be running up to the nearest one she finds, and trying her best to cut off their path without getting kicked.
"Dogs! I need you to control them, or- find a den! You can do that, can't you?"