On this sunny day, the very epitome of ideal Summer afternoon, the tall verdant grass was bending ever so gently in the wind. This rippling green ocean stretched out farther than the eye could see in every which way, until it touched the sky – a bright blue ceiling of ice, by comparison. Green and blue, chartreuse and turquoise, the colors were so distant, so intertwined, that one would sooner find the fabled end of a rainbow than the hazy line that separating land and earth. If one were to perform a neat little pirouette, he or she would find that this joining together of air and earth wove a beautifully perfect circle, encompassing anything and everything, This circle of land and sky, solid and fluid….was all part of what Hattie had come to regard as the circle of life.

A single dark peak jutted out from the swaying landscape, not marring the surreal feel of the landscape, but instead adding texture and dimension to the beautiful scene. This mangled hat, of the kind stereotypical witches would tout about, had seen its golden days come and go many decades ago – centuries, even. The ragged looking thing may have been worthless in material terms, but to the small orange kitten beneath it, it was the world. Hattie could never explain her fascination for this hat – one of her only possessions in her travels across the world – but then again, she couldn’t put her love of life and nature into words, either.

Having been still as a scarecrow for the last hour – a sage Hattie may be, but she still certainly enjoyed her cat naps! – the mage kitty was all too happy to stretch out her relaxed muscles, feeling the energy pumping into them. In this rare state that bordered both realms of consciousness, Hattie knew she was experiencing her own personal nirvana – she gave a long, contented purr to accentuate this point – to have each and every one of her senses be so luxuriously relaxed and yet charged with absolute ecstasy.

Her moony black eyes drank in the rich sight of the magnificent azure sky, the fields of grass waving in perfect harmony – this was nature at its finest. Hattie’s deli-cat ears twitched as it listened to the flawless symphony conducted by everything around her: the wind whistled softly , the tall fields of grass rustled – even the dirt beneath Hattie’s forepaws, unconsciously kneading the terra firma beneath them, played its part as it grinded against itself. And those furry paws – they simply loved the rough feeling of the fertile dirt as Hattie pressed her soft pink pads into the easily-yielding dirt. The last two senses – scent and taste – functioned as one to take in the sweet earthy aroma of the land around her, tongue lolling and nose quivering.

Wishing she could forever savor this magical feeling, Hattie dragged her rough tongue over one of her forepaws in a short series of rapid licks – not to cleanse her fur or for warmth, but out of sheer habit. Habit . There was a concept that rarely crossed the cat’s mind; few things in her life were ever consistent, aside from her lively (and annoying) personality, her beloved hat, and her trademark paw-lick. Other than that, Hattie simply went with the wind, constantly exploring new places, meeting new people, trying new things. In fact, Hattie really couldn’t remember anything besides this adventurous lifestyle she’d seemed to have known forever. But that didn’t make sense; she had to have had a childhood and picked up her magical wisdom somewhere, right?

For a second, Hattie was bored, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t that she had nothing to do out here in the natural paradise, but that she had too many things to do! Really, the hyper little mage had more games to play than tricks up her hat!

“Oh! I know! I’ll have a tea party!”

This in mind, the orange kitten let out an excited squeal to no one but mother nature, besides quieting down so that she could focus on her magic.

“Give me a show!” commanded the cat to her magic, of which her mastery was only subconscious. Immediately, and not really knowing what she was doing, Hattie cast her illusion spell, bringing forth the image of a nondescript man juggling three apples.

“Aww…That’s not very exciting…”

With little twitches of her tail, Hattie conducted her magic to make a myriad of changes to the illusion in front of her. First, she turned the image’s skin a bright orange, and transformed his boring crop of blond hair into a bulging green afro – the juggler looked like a giant carrot! Absent-mindedly, Hattie decided to name her new friend Mr. Carrothead. Oh, but she didn’t stop there! The sadistically playful kitty granted the image a pig’s nose and a raccoon’s tail, two extra arms and a giant handlebar moustache. How comical this display was! As a finishing touch – Hattie gave one last dainty swoosh of her tail, as of putting the icing on a finished cake – the mage changed the apples Mr. Carrothead was juggling into squawking hens.

Satisfied, the obviously immature sage clapped her paws together in glee, beginning to mrrw wildly, giggling madly for the next five minutes straight; every time her laughter began to die away, she would flick her gaze back to her personal juggler , and break into fresh peals of laughter. After what seemed like hours of such sheer joy, Hattie decided to have some more fun with her hologram of a companion. Hattie flicked her tail again, conjuring the image of a small tea table, set for two. By itself the silver pitcher of tea began to pour some of its steaming contents into the two cups.

“Would you care for some tea, Mr. Carrothead?”

“Why, I’d love some!” exclaimed the juggler in an exaggeratedly high-pitched voice.

Nodding, Hattie altered the illusion once more, to send a dainty little cup of tea to each of them. She sipped at the tea and of course, tasted nothing but the wild country air. Hattie didn’t care – it was more fun to just pretend anyways. Who really liked tea? There was like, no sugar in it at all! If only she had more company – how did that saying go?: “Two’s company but three’s…something”. Well, Hattie could never have the attention span for memorizing anything other than her personal interests – namely, wizardry, nature, and cute things. The bright little kitty considered adding a second guest to her tea party, but decided against it. Though she was at her magical best here in the wilderness – a true druid, Hattie drew mana from the nature around her – the sage was hesitant to expend the energy for an additional phantom friend. It was already fatiguing enough to maintain the current illusions with such clarity.

Eh, Mr. Carrothead was company enough anyways, even if he didn’t emit any “happy vibes” as she called her other source of magical energy – the mana emitted from positive feelings that Hattie channeled into magic.

OOC: I honestly couldn't tell if your character was having the entire tea party underneath the hat or no and we're pressed for time so sorry if I only wrote this hastily. xD

IC:

His master could turn her hands into stone. The cat named Mr. Fluffington shrewdly considered this information as he ran for his life and sanity. Especially his sanity. It had been torn to shreds, mutilated but it was still, miraculously, intact. More or less. Probably a lot less than more but that was life for ya. Sometimes it gave one lemons, and sometimes it gave one a homicidal maniac with waaaay too many knives for anyone's comfort. In any case, Mr. Fluffington was shrewdly considering some very important information. In other words, the event of his master turning her hands into stone.

Now, by any stretch of the imagination, Mr. Fluffington was not- how would one put this- a smart cat (probably due to a number of embarrassing number of limbs coming from unknown and unknowable sources) but he could put one and one together and had a certain cunning about him that let him see things that more intelligent creatures might miss.

For instance, he was well aware of the fact that his master (cursed was her existence) did not usually turn her hands to stone. In fact, when she had managed the feat she had seemed as surprised as him and had stopped trying to get him to wear enough bandages to look like a mummy (he had managed to get rid of the rest while running) and during that moment of inattention he had run as if his life depended on it.

Which it did. She was trying to get him to be an 'cutsey-poopie-injured-leetle-baby.' Now Mr. Fluffington did not know what a 'cutsey-poopie-injured-leetle-baby' was but had had quite enough of the last time he had been 'baby'd' and was more than certain that this particular experiment was twice or thrice or more than that particular number of times as bad.

Ooooo! A butterfly! So many pwetty colors! Orange and red and green and black and... and...

Mr. Fluffington nearly went off to chase it when he realized that he was still running for his life and limb and then, a bit dejected, let the butterfly alone and continued racing onwards. Because he was sane and sane animals such as cats (who were noble, wise and above all other things, self-sufficient) wanted to keep their skins intact thank you very, very much.

He was thinking of something... something important. Something about... about what again? He nearly bumped into a big rock thing (what was a stupid rock doing around here anyways? People should be more careful!) and suddenly remembered- his master had turned her hands into stone. And when her master had turned her hands into stone she had also done something else- or at least the grass had done something else... it had tried to catch him. He didn't know why nor how the grass had decided upon him as a likable target but there he was and then there was the grass. He was pretty sure grass didn't usually try and snag passing cats so the only possibility was... that... that...

Master was changing. Mr. Fluffington shivered a cat's shiver. It started from his tail and moved all the way up his spine until it reached his neck.

"MEESTER FLUFFINGTON? WHERE ARE YOU? ROBYN-RIN WANTS TO-"

As usual, Mr. Fluffington had no idea what the crazy gurl was saying and didn't bother to pay attention. Leaping forwards he sniffed the air and- and-

There was another cat around here! For a moment, Mr. Fluffington considered back-tracking. Another cat meant more operations! He didn't want any more strange ears or eyes or noses anymore! And he didn't want to feel guilty about it either! But by then it was too late and hands -regular hands- had grabbed onto him.

"Ooooo! A hat! And a tea party!"

Mr. Fluffington honestly had no idea how his master could spot any of those things. If he could understand her speech, of course, which he couldn't. He was pretty sure he couldn't.

"Let's go make some new friend-friends!" His Master said cheerfully. And then with a wave of her hand, Robyn made the long grass part before her and she marched straight towards the funny looking hat.

(Actually, it’s just a normal tea party. Hattie’s wearing the hat normally. Bleh, what a mouthful)

“Ewwww…Do you smell that Mr. Carrothead?”

That was what the orange kitty mewed, even though her green-haired playmate obviously couldn’t smell anything that she didn’t want him to, as she wrinkled her soft pink nose. Puzzled, the sage kitty tried to pinpoint the source of the strange sour scent, but the winds, so precise only seconds ago, now disorientated the confuzzled cat. It was as if it were coming from multiple directions, to converge at this spot, as if the grass itself were holding out against the wind. Feeling the first pangs of fear sidle into her – it was practically an unknown state of mind to the happy-go-lucky kitty – she uneasily looked around, sniffing the air cautiously.

Death. That was the ugly word that reared its head within Hattie’s mind; it was the stench of death and decay that had tainted her beautiful day. Before she could wonder any more, she was spared the torture of speculation when someone – something – pushed its way through the tall grass, something smaller at the larger creature’s feet. It was a…Cat? But it looked so…Weird. Mewing softly, the orange tabby coked her head with both fear and curiosity as the strange pair appeared.

Confused and nervous that such terrifying monsters were so near to her, the druid kitty swished her tail anxiously while she tried to decide on a course of action. Hardly daring to even look at the strange people who radiated such fear – and no happy vibes – Hattie averted her gaze, mewing the only thing she knew.

“Umm…Hi…I’m Hattie. Wanna join my tea party?” she asked innocently, while Mr. Carrothead was seemingly frozen in suspended animation now that the kitty was no longer focusing on the illusion.

(Wot color speech j00 use? o.o)

The tabby was busy making master-speech. The tabby should probably *not* be making master-speech. Master-speech was bad, bad, bad, baaaaad as the cat named Meester Fluffington knew all too well. He tried to vigorously wave his paws in the air and tell the orange haired one to run away but he was having a smidgen of trouble- firstly his entire body was somewhat constricted by his meanie-pants Master and secondly the tabby seemed to be ignoring him. Well, not ignoring him per se- more like being very, very, very distracted by his Master which was a rather commonplace reaction. And it was a deadly one- she should *not* be doing it! Cats were supposed to be smart! Couldn't she realize that this was beyond dangerous- like super-duper dangerous? Run away! He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. So he waited, biding his time.

"...Hattie. Wanna join my tea party?”

Robyn clapped her hands together in glee, jostling mr. fluffington in the process for she had dropped and then caught him all in one smooth motion. She seemed very quick for life-challenged person-thing.

"A tea party? Robyn-rin would be delighted!" She smiled, showing creepily perfect teeth. One half-suspected that they might not have been her own, so perfectly sharp they were. They were actually glinting. Then she sat down cross-legged, apparently used to having tea parties on the floor.

"Now sit down Meester Fluffington- SIT, I said." There was a brief struggle, a yowl, much scratching and then a pathetic whimper. "Friend-friends shouldn't fight with friend-friends Meester Fluffington." Robyn told the undead cat seriously. The cat was busy trying to move but seemed to have been somehow tangled up in the grass. Robyn glanced back towards her new acquaintance and smiled cheerily.

"Boysy-boys just don't understand the fun-fun of tea parties. They're such naughty meanie-poohs. Poppa Bear always said he never understood tea and Momma Bear-" and on the dead child prattled. Her hands were covered in scratches but she didn't seem to mind. From her hair two small spiders leaped out, did a few twirling leaps and landed on the ground. A fly buzzed from her ear, landing close to those two.

Finally a... well, what only could be described as a 'blob' (with eyes) appeared on the top of her head and slithered down to the ground, glaring evilly at everything it saw. It still looked rather pathetic. Reaching into her shirt the girl finally managed to procure two demented looking teddy bears and gently put them next to Mr. Carrothead. It was best not to imagine how she had managed to stuff them in there without letting them make a noticeable bump.

When all was arranged to her satisfaction (it took only a few short seconds of prattle) she spoke something not quite as nonsensical:

"Should introductions come before or after tea?" The child asked politely. Since Robyn wasn't the host, she didn't get to make up the rules but hoped that there would be lots and lots of fun stuff involved.

(I use Antiquewhite)

It took quite a lot to frighten the adventurous orange kitty, and only then, the shock wore off superhumanly quickly, as was the case here. After a few seconds, Hattie accepted the presence of the undead…thing…and the cat-thing beneath her feet, flailing around wildly for some bizarre reason. Still hesitant but now with waxing pangs of her former friendliness, she watched with interest as her playmate pulled – from nowhere, seemingly - a wildly assortment of odd-looking creature’s that had the curious sage kitty overflowing with questions. Unfortunately, she never had an opportunity to – the garrulous cat was not used to others blabbering as much as she did.

There was the cat – Mr. Fluffington? – of course, Hattie noted while it seemed to be wrestling with the grass around him. What a strange cat…Actually, that looks kinda fun! she thought passingly while a couple of insects made their presence known. Wow – this was going to be the biggest tea party ever! The zombie girl sure had a lot of friends…friends…She also noted a pair of little bears; something looked not quite right about them, but Hattie didn’t get a very close look because she was immediately distracted.

“Blobby!” she squealed, bounding over to the cute green-blue squishy-looking thing that immediately stole her attention. It just looked so funny! Giggling, she gave the strange creature a little poke, fascinated with its squirmy shape. Still giggling, she drew back so not to appear rude (or more so than she’d already been acting!) though her paws itched to play with the little thingy.

“Hmm…Intruducktions first, of course! I’ll go first! My name’s Hattie! And I like magic and candy and duckies. And this is Mr. Carrothead!” she introduced with a flamboyant gesture, her green-haired friend became reanimated as he gave an exaggerated bow and announced himself as Mr. Carrothead.

The blob did not seem particularly happy to see the alarming looking cat come at it with ebil intentions and it quickly tried to blob away. Failing this particular endeavor with an amazing amount of grace, it quickly flipped its eyes around and consented to being poked. Once. After being subjected to such torturous and evil treatment it quietly directed its malevolent gaze upon the kitty kat. If it could have picked up Robyn, its gaze seemed to say, it would bodily heave her at the cat and hope that it would turn it into a new Mr. Fluffington. Or parts for an old Mr. Fluffington. Or something. In any case, not possessing hands or legs (or anything remotely appendage-like for that matter) it just stood there, jiggling furiously.

And then a small war started as the insect companions of Robyn-rin flew down and also started to poke the blob who apparently tried to crush them under its comparatively massive weight. At a certain point one of the spiders got stuck, and so repulsed was the blob by this intrusion that it immediately sent it hurtling outwards. The insects then had a small conference with the swallowed and regurgitated spider and then their eyes all glinted evilly as they, as one, contemplated the blob. Apparently the muck covered covered spider's tale of derring-do was enough for them to consider bumping the war up to another level...

Robyn-rin would have broken up the in-fighting had she been paying attention, but as it was time for the introductions, so she had to pay careful attention to something else altogether! The introw-duk-tions!

"My name’s Hattie!" For some reason, in the back of Robyn's head, a chorus of 'Pleased to meet you Hattie!' resounded, false in their eagerness and bored in their expression. But she ignored them. How rude of them to act in such a way! How ebil!! "And I like magic and candy and duckies." What a coinkydink! Robyn didn't know what 'magik' was, but Robyn liked candies and duckies too! Especially candy last ducky she had been had been a meanie-pooh. All she had wanted were a few feathers but nuuuuuh, it couldn't even share!

"And this is Mr. Carrothead!” Robyn gazed curiously at the green-haired person thing and nodded politely at his bowing. She really wanted to curtsey, since Alice-Mommy had told her to always curtsy when people bowed but she found it difficult to remember how to curtsy... all those silly rules were getting mixed up in her head. All she really wanted to do was a curtsy-bow but... but....

Oh! It was her turn now!

"I'm Robyn-rin!" Robyn-rin said, smiling happily. "I like spidews and appwles and chocolates and friend-friends and Alice-Mommy!" Her list really was much, much longer but short and sweet could be good too. She had lots of other people to introduce too! "This is..." she stared at her mutinous band of warring tribes and glared at them. Astonishingly enough, the blob leapt upwards and released all of them in random and wild directions. Underneath it, the grass became soft again when it fell.

Robyn pursed her lips. "The other kitty-kat is Meester Fluffington. He likes playing dress-up," even if the yowl sounded like reflexive fear it was clearly a yowl of agreement, "playing doctor and other things!" By now Robyn-rin was getting rather impatient and wanted the introductions to end and the tea party to start so she just rushed through the rest.

"AndthisisThingOneandThingTwoandMEesterStinkypants-" (hufff) "andUrsyWursywhoarereallynaughtykids" (huff) "andshouldn'tbefightingwifeachother." She took a long breath.

And that was it for the introductions. Would they start the tea party...?

In response to the undead girl’s garbled introductions - Hattie only barely understood her words only because of her own experience in rambling - the magical cat simply blinked her big black eyes at the strange friends of the zombie girl. She seemed nice enough, but she was being kinda mean to Mister Fluffington, Hattie decided as she allowed Robyn-ryn to finish.

“Okey-dokie! Tea time!” Hattie squealed as soon as her companion lapsed into silence and willed the illusionary teapot to pour its nonexistent contents into two more cups, for the strange girl and her cat. (Hattie didn’t know if the other little creatures wanted any tea, but guessed they could all share since they were all so teeny-weeny).

“You gotta pretend,” instructed the orange feline as the teacups wafted through the air to their recipients. “You have to pretend ‘cause that always tastes better than real tea anyways…” Hattie stated matter-of-factly, just as a teacup settled into the grass besides Mister Fluffington, another weightless cup appearing to land in the zombie girl’s hands. The cat sipped at her own tea, imagining the air she sucked in to be honeysweet tea.

“But be careful” warned Hattie in a grave tone, preparing to address a matter of grave importance. [color=antiquewhite] “It’s hot.”

In the ensuing silence, the druid cat found her eyes drawn to the quivering little blob again, for some reason. It just piqued her interest, this little thing that was so unique a being - in all her travels, Hattie had seen nothing like it. Granted, sitting at a tea party with a zombie and assorted insects was bizarre n the first place, but to Hattie, by far the most intriguing was the blob. She fought the temptation to go poke it again.

“I like your blobbity thing! What’s its name?”

Robyn-Rin was politely drinking her tea when the question came up.

"What’s its name?”

Robyn considered this. Politely of course- she was holding her teacup in the way that it had to be held and then set it down upon the saucer as she continued considering. There was a rather lot to consider after all. Things like where to set a tea cup down when there was no small table, or stool, or treatsy body... or what to do with Momma Bear and Poppa Bear. They seemed to be deviously devoid of any inclination to drink tea. Robyn-Rin was scandalized! How could they! After they had been so sure and so certain of teaching her how to be polite an' everything!

She tried to ignore them, hoping that they would revive themselves and start being polite. Even Meester Stinky-Pants was being... helpful even though he was notoriously impolite most of the time. Thing One and Thing Two were being their usual selves... that is to say, Robyn-Rin wasn't sure where they had gone. Meester Fluffington... well, he was still playing with himself and the grass. And being silly. And -not- drinking his tea like a good little kitty-kat. Robyn sighed irritably, she had taken all this in with a single glance and had not particularly liked what she had seen. There would be a lesson of MANNERS to be had.

But annyways, for now she had to concentrate on... Right, Meester Blobbity-Bits.

Ursula... Robyn did not know what Ursula was. Or where she came from. Or if she was a she. Robyn was of the certain opinion that Ursula was, in fact, a 'he' but Momma Bear was adamant on this point - nothing with the name of 'Ursula' could possibly be a he. But then again, Robyn-Rin wasn't sure if Ursula was her- his- its- name. Her name, in Robyn's opinion, was Ursy-Wursy. Or Rumpelstiltskin. She still wasn't particularly sure.

"Ursy-Wursy." Robyn decided on, finally. "Or just Ursula."