dull turned to light - hay balloons

[fulzanin]

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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"There is helium in them," Feza's first response was. Her first verbal one, at least. As she had been the past few times that she had come into contact with the lion, she recoiled back. Her movement was attempted to be hidden by grabbing one of the balloons behind her, and to begin stuffing it with hay. "I have, I, I've improved on the purpose of them though." She continued. Her blue eyes lifted from her task, trying to gauge the other's expression. Was he in the mood to lash out at her again with his sharp words? Something about the exhausted expression reminded her of when they had met at her kazoo class. It reminded her that she was going to be doing another one of those sometime soon. When? She hadn't solidified that yet. For a moment the vibrant feline seemed absent, then twitching and bringing herself back to attention. Her sporadic thoughts truly did get the best of her, setting the balloon aside and then snagging another. "A mobile confetti unit to, to, to- to go and spread happiness and pep to everyone."

Her blue eyes then turned to look at where one of the balloons had exploded and remained stuck to Wormwood's pelt. That had to be why he was here. It'd popped on him and he was angry about the festive joy that she was trying to spread. For a moment there was a flicker of anger. What was his problem with her attempts to spread colorful joy to the other Tanglers? She knew her activity was why he was here: it was always why he came around! He didn't even like parties! Why did he keep showing up to degrade on her attempts if he, himself, didn't like them? Wasn't that biased? Did he hate her that much? To go beyond his hatred for parties to his further hatred for the partymaker? A small twitch moved her tail to the side. "Hay is a very good, it's a good replacement for confetti." Feza's head then tipped. "I don't have a, a name coined for these yet. I'm thinking 'better party balloons'." She batted gently at one of the finished balloons, bringing it closer. She grabbed the string to begin tying more of the balloons together, fetching the needle she was using to tie them together. Needles and balloons, the worst combination, but so far it seemed that she hadn't had major catastrophes with her method. Her anger dissipated as swiftly as it came, her blue gaze lowering back to her work.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY