Username: Embergleam
Cat Name: Martin Mouseheart
Gender: Male
Rank: Warrior
Clan: In The Wake Of GiantsPrompt: "-and if we modify that insect-killing powder
Junebug uses on her flowers, it should do pretty much what you're after! Except it might dye your fur green. But I think you'd look nice with green fur! And I'd need to work on the whole... toxcicity problem. We want to kill crawly things, not cats. I wonder if-"
Martin was starting to regret ever bringing his problem to
Flashbang.
Scratch that. He was starting to regret coming to the Wake at all. Back in the big city life had been handed to him on a silver platter. The bent old woman who cared for him had always gone to great lengths to ensure he was warm, fed, and comfortable. The food might not have been particularly
good, mind, but there was plenty of it, and it appeared at regular intervals without him having to lift a claw. All he had to do in exchange was wind around bookstore patrons' ankles and hunt down the occasional mouse.
The Wake was a rather less indulgent mistress. There were no can openers out here, no fluffy blankets, none of the myriad comforts he'd grown accustomed to. Of more pressing concern was the lack of flea treatment. Martin's luxurious coat had somehow become infested with a legion of tiny, hopping things. No amount of vigorous grooming had deterred them. After the third sleepless night he'd finally broken down and turned to an unlikely source for help.
"-and then we could douse the whole clan all at once! We'd have to get Chip and Flicker on board, or maybe set up some sort of dispersal device that hangs over the camp? Either way, if we get the powder airborne, it would make it a lot easier, but then we'd have to worry about getting the concentration right-"
"Flashbang!" Martin nearly had to yell to make himself heard over the torrent of stream-of-consciousness rambling. "Please, take a breath!"
The violently orange inventor stopped mid-syllable and did as instructed. Martin just wished he looked a bit less
wounded while doing so.
"
Thank you." He took a slow breath as well, exhaling it as a sigh. "As I was saying... our esteemed healers believe they have a solution ready to paw! A combination of powdered stone and herbal soaks, if I understood correctly? The problem is, ah, my fur."
"Your fur?" Flashbang blinked rapidly, not entirely sure how to react to that.
Too much fluff wasn't the sort of problem that could be solved with his preferred brand of...
applied overenthusiasm."Apparently there is rather too much of it." Martin cleared his throat sheepishly. "I was hoping you might have some sort of tool to make the experience of... losing most of my coat less miserable."
"Oh. So you need choppy-thingies?" Flashbang blinked rapidly, visibly redirecting his train of thought. "Well why didn't you say that to start with?!"
Martin couldn't help himself: he boomed a laugh so loud it startled nearby birds into flight.
"My dear boy," He wheezed between peals of laughter, "I tried my very best! But I fear you heard the word 'fleas' and took leave of your senses!"
Flashbang covered his face with a paw and tried his best to become one with the dirt.
"Right. I knew that. Look, can we just- try this whole thing over again,
without me sticking my paw halfway down my gullet?"
Still chortling, Martin waved him on, too amused to be annoyed.
"Hi, I'm Flashbang! I heard you're looking for some snippers! I know just where to find some!"
Off they trotted in search of scissors, all awkwardness forgotten in a twinkling. There were more interesting things to consider- things like
unleashing unholy terror on all things remotely flea-shaped.
