Moonspear oh, home

So… these things Towhee wore permanently were not a part of her design. They were…  compliments of a cat. It was a strange compliment, and Orca was unsure if she wanted one like that—her eyes turned to Seal and her healing wounds. Lacking a censor, Orca frowned and said, -I dinnae think I want tha’ kind of compliment,- but, after a moments thought, she said, it does look cool… this unsigned, perhaps because she understood the stupidity of the statement as she breathed it into existence. But it was less for wanting one, and more for comforting Seal anyway.

All she had to do was meet a cat, hm? Well it was good to know at least. That one hellcat had lived, but grandmas own had died. That answered one question: they were not the same cat, one back for vengeance or something like that. 

It wasn’t on her to do list anytime soon, though. Both da and Seal had put a healthy amount perspective on mortality. Orca knew that Seal and her da lived thanks to equal parts skill and good fortune. That either of them might have not made it felt heavily implied as of late. 

But they didn’t die, and so Orca just didn’t want to think about it anymore. She knew Seal didn’t either. But as Uncle Bronco was brought up, her brows pressed together in concern. She asked what Seal hadn’t (verbally, at least): -How is he?-