//for the cdc prompt: dark

Feza's home was supposed to be bright and vibrant. Despite the lack of lights and how usually dark her home was, it was vivid and screamed 'partying'. The walls were colorful and they stood out from the rest of the town. She'd even added on her own style of paint to them. An entire wall was covered in drawings, of lists that never were finished because of her sporadic mind. The colors fit her mind well. They conflicted and splashed against the walls, creating a disorderly melody of color for her eyes alone. No one else ever entered her home, no one came inside and was able to see her mess of a home or her colorful walls. She had spent an entire day trying to paint one wall, but flying and holding a paintbrush had proven far too difficult. The snow leopard had sat down and pouted for a good couple hours, paws messing with her kazoo in an absent way to distract her from her failure. Feza didn't like failure. It didn't fit with the happy and vibrant hues of her home. It was not for her, being upset or unnerved. She had to have vibrancy around her in order to reassure her of what truly mattered in life. Joy and fun and parties. Nothing else mattered.

She was fixing up her home from the absolute chaos that had been her finding the costumes a few days ago. It was still a wreck, and Feza was not sure where to put anything. The snow leopard briefly considered stopping her crazed sorting in order to find a label maker. Feza was not even sure that she had such an item, or if she found one if it would even work. Could her paws properly push down on the buttons? She had a label maker before, in her youth in the time where she had gotten her kazoo, where she had slammed her paws against the keys and slung random papers onto any item she could find. The only object that was not labeled crazily was one tree somewhere that she had fondly elected to call 'Glubble'. Did Feza know where Glubble was anymore? Not really. She should try to find him sometime. Her fluffy head shook in order to disperse her sporadic thought and the sudden need to launch herself out the door and find that one tree. She would fly, of course. She still had little faith in the ground after her last nightmare.

Those nightmares were absolutely ruining everything. She had spilled the beans all over the group. She had stated her concerns, her fears, her terrors, and was called delusional and twisted in return. She had hurt someone's feelings severely. That was the opposite of what her purpose was. Instead of creating joy and a party setting, she had instead created a fearful situation where she had been deemed a liar. She had claimed to know things that he claimed to be false, and had made him leave. He often stormed away, Feza noted. At the time, Feza's mind had swiftly supplied her with the notion that he had left to prepare to actually kill her. Two sleepless nights of watching and jumping at every little noise had followed. It had left her distorted, and exhaustion was flooding her body as she tried to distract her mind with sorting through her festive supplies. Feza couldn't fully banish those thoughts. Never again. She would keep them nice and compact and buried and tucked deep within her mind so that she wouldn't cause the entire group to descend upon her and tell her how awful and inconsiderate and wrong she was. If she played it off like it never happened, then everyone else surely would follow suit.

Feza fought the exhaustion as she packed up a bunch of small, portable microwaves. They were intended for human children, but the snow leopard had other plans. A baking competition, for spooky looking cookies. That would be an amazing party idea. She, of course, would need to get all the other materials required for such a contest before it could happen. She struggled to get the boxes that contained the microwaves into the bigger box that would keep them neatly contained. It felt strange, using the cardboard boxes in such a way. They were her gods, but she had no other means to keep everything neatly contained and sorted. Perhaps she could use the canister of silly string if she truly wanted to, but such wasn't firm enough to keep them from bumping into each other. Another idea came to her mind: a silly string fight. That would be so fun, and it would be so vivid! A happy bounce was in her step as she grappled with one of the last boxes. She madly flapped her wings, lifting her body while her paws were wrapped around the small box. It was big in comparison to her, and incredibly heavy. With a grunt she got the microwave inside the box, and collapsed on her side. This was absolutely exhausting, taxing, and it did not help that she had two nights of no sleep aching in her fluffy form.

She wasn't done with this task yet. She still had to get all the microwaves in their box up onto their shelf. She was thinking about putting them with all the other cooking supplies, or all the food. It was a tough decision, and she rolled onto her back to let out a deep breath. Organizing was hard, and tiring. Feza mumbled incoherently for the sake of some noise. She could go get her kazoo if she wanted some musical noise, but getting up right now seemed to be even less of a desire that a little bit of noise. Feza shuffled and got back onto her feet. Alright. She would take a break after she got this box up onto it's shelf. Grunting and huffing, the snow leopard wedged herself underneath the box. Then she sprung her legs upwards, unable to use her wings due to the box being on her back. Feza barely got such onto the shelf before she fell back onto the tile floor with a soft thud. Her fur dampened the fall, and she breathed heavily. Her eyes turned to look at the box.

It teetered, and then it came crashing back down on top of her. Her vision went dark from the weight crashing down on top of her.

Now the vibrant feline was laying outside her home. Not doing anything in particular, which was an oddity as Feza never left the confines of her home less she was beginning an elaborate party plan. She was resting on her belly, wings and tail loosely resting by her sides. The end of her tail was flicking back and forth, and her gaze was trained on her paws. Eventually the snow leopard raised her head, huffing from the burning of her muscles. What had caused such a thing? Feza couldn't remember. Her mind was relapsing hard - if such a term could even be used. Her colors were so vibrant against the ground and tiles, and it led her to believe that maybe somehow she had gotten paint on herself. She spoke up when she noticed someone walking past. "Hey, hey, I think I have paint like.. all over me. Can, do you know where some paint remover is?" The snow leopard shouted. Her voice was not the same as usual. It was odd, her tone neither frightened nor absurdly joyful. It was lower than usual, suggesting that her high pitched voice was the result of something purposeful. Feza didn't have any paint on her, it was her usual pink and blue colors that was leaving her relapsed mind in a state of confusion. Her fluffy head tipped to the side as she awaited for the answer. Genuine curiosity, no fear nor absurd plot intwined with her request. Still exhausted, but such failed to deter her even with her memory being broken and tossed to the side.

Feza's expression scrunched up a little when Wormwood turned and came closer. She felt as if she was supposed to be feeling.. something. What that something was, she couldn't fully grasp. It wasn't as if her memory allowed for her to remember such a thing - lots had been blocked out and she was not able to access them. Her face was scrunched up in confusion rather nerves, confusion rather anger, dazed and confused. The snow leopard lifted a paw. "I'm supposed to be grey and silver and black, though. Not.. whatever these colors are. I don't feel sticky but I know there's gotta be paint on me, because I can't normally look like this." Maybe it had been those boxes that she had woken up from being under. Her tail flicked sharply behind her, bringing it closer so she could use her paw to point. "I haven't tried getting it off yet. That's, that's why I asked for the paint cleaner. To get it off." Yet the other had said that she normally looked like this. It was odd, that she couldn't remember. Feza decided to pin that under her small and winged structure rather than her colors.

Her head turned when Crowley approached. Of course, she was no owl, and when circled her head couldn't follow suit entirely. "Er.. maybe? Since it's not sticky. I, yea, I don't know. Solid maybe." An ear flicked, then a paw raising to rub her head. "A little sore, yea, yea, but I don't think I've hit my head on anything. Well, no, I do have to kinda headbut and shoulder my door to get it open. It's very heavy." Her small stature didn't allow her to open doors with ease. It was in addition to her weaker than normal physical strength, where she could be overpowered in an instance's notice and easily taken care of in a battle. Her wings shifted a little, in a way that certainly seemed uncomfortable - with the limbs, as if she had not had them for the extended period of time that she claimed to. "It is a little sore though. I'm feeling okay otherwise. Maybe tired? That's probably it." Feza then admitted, wincing and lowering her paw away from her head.

Feza continued slowly moving her wings, rolling them as one did a sore shoulder. They felt odd and out of place. Their plumage was thick, just as the fur of her coat was. It was hot outside - hotter than what a snow leopard would usually take resident in. Inside her home had been a little cooler, and she gave herself a shake as if it would release the air her thick pelt trapped. Her mouth hung open a little, her mind not able to fully grasp the concept that here, in this heated environment, was where she lived. It didn't feel right in the slightest. "But I'm a snow leopard. And we're supposed to, to be all dull colored. I can't hunt if I'm all this." Her tone briefly stammered, not sure what colors she should be using. Her concept of colors had deteriorated - such things she sadly did not remember. Her vibrant colors deterred her from hunting. The snow leopard usually didn't even leave her home to eat. She feasted on old and stale candies, which only contributed further to her small stature. Candy could not create such a vivid color pallet such as Feza, but the dyes were honestly as likely a guess as possible.

Her tail slowly flicked behind her, eyes looking up when Wormwood's paw touched her head. She didn't recoil back and continued to stand there. Feza could not shake the feeling that there was something strange about this interaction. It was not important enough for her to fully feel the need to address it. She shuffled on her feet, and then winced when the lion's paw touched where the box had crashed down on her. "Yea, see, sore." She mumbled, head remained ducked down for a few moments before raising such again. Her tail sharply flicked behind her. She couldn't remember the faces of the names that were said, and a frown appeared on her face. "I'm fine, I don't need a, a 'medic'. Whoever they are."

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Feza’s icy blue eyes squinted when the other kept their distance. That was a little odd. Maybe the colors that had taken away her totally usually dull ones were an infection of some kind? Not even amnesia could take away a sporadic train of thought - it was deeply ingrained into her personality and person and therefore blasted on through. She wouldn’t want to make anyone else sick, of course. “Um. Thursday.” Feza answered after a moment of thought. Her age was another question, and her fluffy ears lowered a little. “Er. I never kept up with that. I’m pretty sure I’m an adult though.” For as much as Feza loved parties, it was birthdays that were a loss to her. No one had ever celebrated her birthday before, and so she didn’t know that it was even cause for a celebration.

Her wings shuffled a little. Seeing as someone else was sitting, Feza decided to follow suit. She settled a little more, wings falling into a smidge of an awkward position by her sides. “The bump is probably because of me opening the door with my head. I can’t shoulder it open, it’s way too heavy.” She continued to insist against a medic being called over. It wasn’t worth the trouble, right? “If anything, I think the medic should only be worried about my weird colors being contagious.” Such was something Feza did seem concerned about. Her mind kept looping right back to the colors, refusing to let the topic fully leave her mind. Her face scrunched a little at Wormwood’s question. It was a little harder, digging back in her memories. “Er.. Looking for someone? Yes, yes, the leader went missing and so me and Vadje have to go and look for her. She gets lost all the time, doesn’t she?” The snow leopard rambled a little, a paw raising to wave. She herself wasn’t even certain about the credibility of what she had said. “That probably explains why I’m so tired. Does tiredness cause color changes?” Instead of raising in pitch, her voice actually dropped when she proposed her own question. “Oh! And then there’s that battle prepping, the, the one with the training dummies! And the.. the, what’s it called, what is it called? Straw! Hay! Plants! Yea!”