Stella trotted up the border of TerraClan. She had just left her housefolk to adventure, and had no idea whether she may return or not. Her arrival here might just change her desiring, and if she were to join, most probably her whole life. She could just stay for a while, learn a little from Clan life, come back home, though it would make no difference. Nobody was home for the next three days, or at least by hearing from Darwin, the dog that lived next door. He'd been talking to some of his doggy friends, and Stella had just eavesdropped.
The cinnamon femme was much more of someone who would act rather than talk, as she was shy and hated her stuttering problem, but sometimes it was necessary, because you count act everything out so easily. Take asking so done to go and walk. It would be very odd for someone to bring wood just to ask someone to take a stroll round the border, now would it?
Actually, Stella did prefer to talk sometimes, but was thankful when she didn't have to. Sometimes, she had so much to say that she couldn't at all, but other times, she was just happy.
The feline sat down, tail curled over her paws as she mouthed a greeting to the air in front of her. Of course, nobody would hear her mouthing a "hello", nor would they hear her pawing at the ground with such a face that showed that she was cross with herself, and they wouldn't at all listen to a whistle without the soothing, birdlike sound.
the archangel had been taking an individual patrol or as he called it, 'freeness'. it sort of was, in a way. but, nonetheless he continued on, swerving to find a small she-cat. crookedly smiling and unaware she was mute(or had any disabilities at all), "hello! may i ask your name and business?" he asked gently, not wanting to frighten the young she-cat who perhaps might join and terraclan needed more members. /you gave me a muse burst that will last only 15 minutes..
With a frown, Stella looked up. She squinted, pointing at the sun. Stella could be "Sun" in Latin, as her parents frequently spoke the dead language. It was hard to understand, and only few times have they ever noticed her and talker to her in English, as they always were absorbed in their Latin conversations.
". . ." the femme opened her mouth to speak, but she refused to do a random act in front of a stranger. Goodness knows, there might be others watching her! She did not want that -- stage fright was her third weakness. Her muteness was her first, and pancakes were her twelfth. Rabbits were her second, and oh, custard was a close fourth.
The cinnamon femme mouthed her name. It was much easier than acting it out, though now it seemed very much like a game with a loner. "I'm here to join," she quickly mouthed afterwards. Stepping to the side a bit. Camp seemed okay.
with a grin, and another nod, this time of thanks, stella gazed around. she stepped to the side to continue to gaze at the camp, a nice place. It wasn't like her old home, with housefolk and the company of barking dogs, but a welcoming place at first sight, a place where you could just live in. It felt like home.
Starbucks flinched as a new scent wafted up her nostrils. As her green gaze landed on Stella she jumped up. "AHH!" she turned to look at her again. "Wh-who are you? AAGH, are you perhaps joINING?" she screwed her left eye shut and shuddered. Yep, that was the caffeine kicking in her system. "My..! My-my-my name is Starbucks, GAH, too much PRESSURE!" she nervously sheathed and unsheathed her claws. Her pupils began to go all over the place as she trembled.
Last Edit: May 26, 2014 16:09:12 GMT by ♠︎ banette: to add her name to the simple fancy dammit.
Stella frowned. What an odd little community they had here, 'specially with this one. What was she, anyway? The cinnamon femme had never seen a cat so very much as this one, even without the need of the same appearance. Had she taken in too much catnip, or perhaps, had some disorder? Surely nobody would act as insane or unable to control themselves. She would definitely be thrilled if she could just talk, at least for once.
It's just, odd. . . Stella thought. Perhaps she cared for Starbucks, maybe she didn't. Though, honestly, she couldn't think how the Clanborn -- if she was -- was able to obtain such a substance, and how she could have survived all the sugar ( if there was any ) and how she could handle it ( barely ).