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fulzanin · 10-23-2019, 11:08 AM

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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//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.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY

wormwood. · 10-23-2019, 09:54 PM

After Feza's little rant claiming that he had plans to kill her, Worm had, for the most part, tried to avoid Feza. Not only because it had stung like a son of a bitch to be accused of such awful things – it also brought to mind awful memories of his youth, and when he had tried to kill Poetking – but also because he didn't want her to freak out any further. Sure, he had shown up to her little costume event, but that had only been because he had figured that was something very neutral that wouldn't stir up any trouble between the two of them. Other than that? He had completely avoided going near her brightly colored home, or reacting at all to any of her many plans that she announced to the whole group. He had just stayed away, focusing on his guardsman duties and anything else he needed to do, including preparing for the coming battle with the Pitt. He hadn't snapped at all at Feza, but neither had he been overwhelmingly friendly with her, and the few times when she had tried to interact with him had mostly just been met with a cold, apathetic stare, and a few brief words – they were both guardsmen, after all. They needed to occasionally interact, at the very least. However, that didn't mean that Wormwood had to forgive her, or even really acknowledge what had happened. He had been violent once or twice in the past, but that had always been towards members of the Pitt – not Tanglers, who were like family to him. The thought that Feza had really thought for so long that he was just itching to sink his claws and teeth into her? It made Worm sick to his stomach, and it made him so angry.

Still, it wasn't as if he didn't sometimes pass by Feza's home, if only because it was on one of the routes that he took back from hunting trips. It had been one of the days where he had gone on a large hunting trip to help replenish the food stock, when he passed by Feza's home and heard her very confused seeming voice. He wanted to just continue onward, ignoring her entirely and getting his prey back to the main camp area, but... she sounded legitimately out of it, and the angel couldn't just continue on when a clanmate was in need. A heavy sigh left the lion as he put his catch down on the ground and padded back towards the snow leopard, looking like her regular self, save for looking perhaps a little bit battered. He wasn't aware of the boxes falling on her, but he could definitely tell that something had happened, particularly considering the odd state that her voice was in. She didn't seem to be speaking with her usual happy and high pitched tone, which was somewhat unsettling to her fellow guardsman as he looked her over. While she was claiming that she had been covered in paint or something like that, she looked completely like her usual self to him, and that only heightened his worry. Was she just joking around or something, or was she being entirely serious? If she was being serious, that would be even more of a red flag. Moving over to the snow leopard, Worm's tail flicked nervously from side to side behind him before he rumbled softly, his head tilting to one side as his wings shifted along his spine, "Feza? What are you talking about? You look the same as you always do. You don't have any paint on you..." His voice was still mostly monotone and cold, as it usually was nowadays when he was speaking to her, but it also held a bit of an overlay of worry.

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]

arcy · 10-24-2019, 07:49 AM

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[glow=#000,1,400]all you've ever done is been a noose to hang on to — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]By this point, Crowley has no idea what to make of Feza. Or ... any of the Tanglers, actually. Wormwood was the only one he saw consistently, and so the only one Crowley had any attachment to, even if Crowley was still denying it. And, well -- he saw Feza fairly often too, but after the last .. incident, he still didn't really know how to act. He was figuring it out. More information needed, see.
"I mean, unless you've always been covered in paint," Crowley offers dryly, even as he circles around the leopard. A nervous tic. He doubts Feza would come up with a plan that started like this. Like, seriously, what the .. hell. Which means something is ... wrong. He shouldn't care, by any means, but .. well, he does, just a tiny, little bit. Inconsequential in the long run, surely. "Feelin alright? Hit your head?" It's meant to be a fun quip, though he's struck the nail on the head* without realizing.
*and you know what else has been struck on the head?

fulzanin · 10-24-2019, 01:14 PM

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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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.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY

wormwood. · 10-25-2019, 12:23 AM

Wormwood looked up when Crowley padded up onto the scene, slowly circling around Feza and questioning her in a very similar way to how Worm had – although he had picked up on something that Wormwood hadn't. Hitting her head...? Well, that would've made sense, considering the nonsense that she was spouting right now. He was honestly used to Feza spouting nonsense the majority of the time, but usually it wasn't like this... usually when she was saying something odd, she was coming up with some big plan for a party or something of a similar nature. Now she just seemed genuinely confused, and was talking about herself in a way that made Worm frown in worry. Grey, silver, and black? Sure, Wormwood hadn't known Feza since the day that she had first joined Tanglewood, but for as long as he had known her, she had been her current flamboyant eye burning colors. Yet now, here she was, claiming that she had fur more similar to a raccoon than the children's toy looking pelt that she was currently wearing. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that she didn't seem at all bothered by him. Sure, she seemed to shift a little bit, as if she knew that something was off about their interactions, but then she moved off from it very quickly. Plus, she hadn't moved on from the subject in her awkward and jerky way like she had usually been doing lately, and had rather just gone back to worrying about her own pelt. None of it added up, and Worm felt his tail twitching and lashing behind him in anxiety as he tried to figure out what had happened.

When she mentioned that her head was feeling sore, Wormwood felt his eyes drifting upward and behind the snow leopard to look at the large party building the female called home. He had never really gone inside for an extended period of time, but given how much she usually raved about her cardboard boxes, he could only imagine the amount of dangerous stuff that was inside. Plenty of things that could fall down and concuss his fellow guardsman. A heavy sigh left the winged lion as he got up to his paws, reaching out to gently run the pad of his paws over Feza's head, searching for some kind of sign of injury or anything out of the usual, "Feza.... for as long as I've known you, your fur has been this color. It isn't paint, this is just your form nowadays. I think that maybe you're forgetting things because you've been injured somehow. That's the only thing I could think of that could make you just forget about your own colors..." She claimed that she was just tired, which could've been believable, but to completely forget about her own coloration and claim that she was perhaps a completely different creature? That was ridiculous, and Worm was sure that either he or Crowley would have to call for Selby sometime soon. A frown coming to his muzzle, the lion turned and rumbled gently to Crowley, his wings drooping a little bit, "Hey Crowley, could you go looking for Selby, or one of the other medics like Moth? I want one of them to check out Feza's head."

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]

fulzanin · 10-26-2019, 01:22 PM

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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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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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY

beatae · 10-28-2019, 09:49 PM

'amnesia' was not what indie would call when she happened to come upon a spirit still stuck in the time of their death. though they shared the same similar symptoms feza had; refusing to accept this present as it was, regarding clear events from a past time, acting accordingly to the moment before they lost touch with the present... it was all there, just feza wasn't a spirit.

indie took on the tone she normally held with these spirits, keeping herself at a fair distance. she looked to feza with a slight lilt of her head. "do you know what day it is?" she asked first, sitting down to get comfortable. the cold began to sting her paw pads, how she hated the coming winter...

"oh, and how old are you, dear?" she added, looking to wormwood before back to the leopard.

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