I can move mountains / joining

[Elon]

You spoke of roses- all I feel are thorns ・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]info

Her tummy sounds like distant thunder, rumbling loud and gurgling in a choir cry of need. It's been a long time since she's been starving, 100s of years really, and she certainly doesn't miss the novelty of the feeling. It just makes her bitter that she currently doesn't have the means to just appear some food, just make it so, because it's what she desires (and she's so used to getting what she wants). And oh what foods she desires right now! Pancakes, meat pie, porridge, beer! Elon sighs and squints at nothing in particular as she pauses in her wanderings. [b]"Well this sucks."

So she plops down in an effort to conserve energy and in vain, tries to sap some from the environment. It only frustrates her further, making her curse this stupid form (but not literally, she needs it, even if it is weak). Aren't cats, the familiars of her ilk, meant to be more mystical than others? So why is she dead in the water magically now? She could try to force sustenance out of this forest the animal way, hunting, but Elon doesn't have the coordination in this form just yet. Besides, the thought of gobbling down rodent guts is just as repulsive as starving right now because she's not that desparate. She's had to do it before when she had her normal form that wasn't made for that and she's still in that mindset. Cats eat rats, but not this cat. She'll hold out hope for something, anything else.

To do that, she must keep moving. She stands up strong, puts a slender white paw forward-- then immediately collapses onto the ground. Rolling around in the field  she holds her stomach. "I hate this! I don't want to die and be little field rat food! That's too ironic for me! Help! Helppp!" She finally gets to a universe that seems like her old one and now she's going to die in the wilderness like she was meant to many moons ago? Bummer.