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Somali’s will rule the world~:

Proposed Name of child: Shuichi
Gaian user name: Erina_Nobara
Prompt NUMBER: 1
Response: A ball of fur was sent tumbling into a bale of other kittens, all around the same age, and according to the sign, also the same price. Shuichi had just been dropped into his temporary home until someone purchased, and brought him home. He was needless to say, a very unhappy individual. As all sorts of people ranging from adults to small children walked past, stopping to pet the cute and cuddly kittens around him, Shuichi merely sat in the middle of the chaos, ears perked. He made no motion of hiding in fear, but he wasn't the friendliest cat in the bin either. He wanted to go home, back to his family. His mouth opened and he let out a loud yowl of frustration, rendering glances from passerby and his fellow kittens.

One lept at him from a corner, tackling him with a playful smile. "What's your problem? Come play with us."

Shuichi grunted. "This isn't the time to have fun. Why are you all so carefree? Don't you wanna go home?"

"Home? What's that?" the other kitten asked curiously, sitting back on tawny haunches.

"You know, where your mom and dad are," Shuichi replied, looking vexed. How could he not know?

"I don't remember my parents, sorry," the innocent answered, wrinkling his nose. "It's just me and my brothers and sisters here. Ever since I opened my eyes anyway......"

"How sad..." Shuichi gasped, suddenly feeling sorry for having sort of snapped at the other kitten. "I think parents are important. I want to find mine. Maybe you should look for yours too," he suggested, with a wise nod.

"Then we can look together?" the other asked with a grin.

"Ok, together it is then."

And before he knew it, Shuichi had made his first friend. But they were still stuck. It would be an adventure and half if they were to actually escape.

"We need a plan," Shuichi finally stated eyeing the tall walls of their prison. Could they climb? Or maybe pile on top of one another. But that meant the other cats had to cooperate. "What'll we do?" he hesitated, just for a moment.

Suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around him, and lifted him into the air. He was getting out! A miracle? No, quite the opposite.

"Daddy! Daddy! I want this one," cried a little girl, as she stroked Shuichi's back. "I wantz me a Hitler kitty!"

"Wh-what? Noo," he held out a paw, as if reaching out for his friend as he was carried away towards a small room where owner's could play with their possible purchase.

"Hey don't go!" came the other's unhappy reply. He whined in discontent. "Come baaaack!"

But they were fated to never see each other again, at least not in this store, for Shuichi had just found himself a new residence, one without tall metal walls, and also one without friends....

Anything else?: the little girl can be the reason he has a pink collar. lol poor thing <3 xD I also see him as learning to be 'racist' when he is reunited with his family xD taking it up as something he learned from them

Somali’s will rule the world~:

Proposed Name of child: Lilia
Gaian user name: AnarchyGeisha
Prompt NUMBER: 2
Response: To say she disliked her siblings was going a little far, but sometimes, Lilia did. Especially at times like these, with the little mixed breed (how did they even know he was a mix? Did they have a radar?) staring at his paws dismally as Belial continued on, leaning down into his face. Ugh. How the hell did they get like this anyway, their parents were cocky but they weren’t this breedist.

Stepping forward and pushing at Belial’s shoulder, letting out a small laugh to make it out to be a joke, Lilia shuffled forward between her siblings and the kitten and smiled, sitting down. “C’mon guys I’m hungry,” she whined. “Let’s go get somethin’ to eat.”

Aka let’s leave the poor kitten alone. Not like he did anything to them - he just said hi. He was just being friendly. Sigh.

“C’mon c’mon!” Pushing at Belial’s shoulder some more with a little smile, she straightened and bounced over to Tempette, bumping her forehead to Tempette’s. “Let’s go play or somethin’! I’m bored!” Glancing over her shoulder at the little kitten with a small, apologetic smile, Lilia waved a paw over her shoulder before turning and prancing along beside her brothers and sisters with a happy hum.

No, she did love her siblings. But sometimes they were just so damn irritating and depressing.

Anything else?: I WANTZ ME A HITLER KITTY, ZEIG HEIL! D<

Somali’s will rule the world~:

Proposed Name of child: Aimi
Gaian user name: Raving Sohma
Prompt NUMBER: Female Kit, Prompt 2
Response:

Aimi watched her siblings quietly. The kit normally kept mostly to herself, interested in other things then her siblings. Of course she loved them but the female didn't always approve of what they considered 'games'. Often they tended to gang up on other kittens their age and sometimes even cats that were much older then they were and tease them about not being pure breed cats. Of course, Aimi was proud of being a pure breed just like the rest of her siblings but didn't have a complex about it, atleast to the extent that some of her more cocky siblings did.

She understood being proud about being a pure breed Somali but the kind kitten didn't understand why one would be mean to other cats because they weren't pure breeds. She couldn't really see how this made them any less fun to hang around with. Sometimes those mixed breed cats were almost more fun to hang around with then her own siblings. She found this proof enough that there was nothing wrong with not being a pure breed, that she enjoyed the company of other cats that weren't of the pure blood. She still had a slight superiority complex but attempted to not let it show too much to other cats that she would spend her time playing with.

Today she was sitting outside on the edge of the University, watching her three siblings carefully, staying futher away from them. They had turned on a little kitten, slightly younger then they were and smaller in stature. They started off friendly enough, starting banter with the kitten but things took a turn for the worst when the kitten was asked about it's parents. It was already obvious that the kitten wasn't a purebreed cat but it was only once the kitten confirmed it that the taunting started. It started as a few snide remarks which Aimi simply sat back and ignored, not wanting to butt in but as the taughts got crueler and crueler Aimi found herself getting angrier and angrier at her siblings. This little kitten hadn't done anything to her siblings and yet the three of them were picking on it. She knew from previous adventures that things were only going to get worse unless someone stood up for the kitten.

Finally one of her siblings shoved the kitten slightly and Aimi jumped to her feet, her temper rising. She walked over to them in an angry huff shouting in a high pitched voice. "Guys! Leave it alone!" she said, her voice rising angrily. "She didn't do anything to you. It's not her fault she's of mixed blood!" The female moved infront of the smaller kitten, shielding it from her siblings. They glared at her, shouting words of annoyance at her, saying how this cat was beneth them all and deserved it. She ignored them, turning around and telling the kitten to run away. She knew that this would let the kitten escape her siblings but she knew that she would end up feeling their anger. She stood up against them, knowing that the three of them were much stronger then she would ever be. But for now her she mind was happy and clear, knowing that she had helped someones weaker then her, even if it was a mixed breed.
Anything else?: I wantz me a Hitler kitty!

Somali’s will rule the world~:

Proposed Name of child:
Emily

Gaian user name:
Ol-j-man/Mediciner

Prompt NUMBER:
Numero Uno

Response:
Consider this: every kid has wondered at some point or another if he or she happened to be adopted. Maybe they didn’t happen to look the same, or have very different – perhaps conflicting – personalities from the rest of their families. Theirs was a queer family in that the siblings looked so similar to one another, so there was little excuse for their obvious parentage, and yet . . . Emily sometimes wondered. She wasn’t quite like one or the other minus keeping Alice’s stubbornness and Dhiren’s wanderlust, but between them was created an eccentric individual. Keeping that in mind, Emm was the type to wonder many things simple and complex, realistic and lost in the realm of serendipity. Really, sometimes she didn’t understand situations due to that utter incomprehension of Newton’s famous third law: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Things were always supposed to turn out okay, right? The knight slaying the dragon and getting the girl, the couple getting reunited after war, all sorts of mushy stuff – but mushy was the good stuff, man. Her perception was a little different to say the least on most things.

Not that she was crazy, no, unless ingenuity was a sin – certainly calling the end results of her paintings “art” would be. Emmster had the creative skill of a kindergartener, yes, but the very same enthusiasm and innocence was behind it, and with little self-consciousness she would proudly interrupt Gwin’s classes to showcase her artwork with a big grin, paint smudging the new dress Alice had bought with her mere days ago on a mother-daughters shop and bond. “This one is you, Ms. Gwin,” she said one day, pointing to the pink and green and red stick person, “and this is Mr. Remi!” she added, pointing to the blue and red and gold stick person holding the Gwin-stick’s “hand” with some sort of brown glob on his back that was meant to represent his violin. What Emily had been hoping was one of those warm “Oh that’s nice, honey!” sort of replies she was so used to followed by a smile. Smiles always warmed her heart as quickly as a candle could be lit.

Instead she watched her teacher blush, mutter something incomprehensibly quick, then instruct her to go wash off quickly because God only knew what Alice was going to throw if she saw the state of her daughter’s clothes. Emily never did get why Gwin would be flustered. Maybe her painting was embarrassing? Yikes . . .

Emily was a girl of somewhat frail constitution that she strove to undermine on a daily basis. Perhaps something had happened during birth, or perhaps it was just what she would have been born with anyway. Either way, Emm had this cloud of guilt surrounding her young self in the aftermath of their birth where Alice was restricted to her bed, as pale as her youngest daughter and just as weak. Curious as she was of the world, she was the kit that always remained nearby, both for her safety as well as her mother’s; at the least it was not always dull inside. This free collar called Tempo liked to visit – apparently one of her sisters was named after him – and when Daddy wasn’t around, Emm liked to curl up in his lap and think of Dhiren’s warm embrace awaiting whenever he came back from one of his wanderings. And oh, how she wanted to see her mom dance again . . . It was almost demeaning to see her confined to a bed.

Maybe it was her godfather’s touchy-feely influence that made Emily so inclined to be the same. Without fail she would greet her siblings, parents, and friends with a nuzzle or pat of some sort, like it was some unconscious impulse of hers to reach out and touch another to show her love, to know that they were physically there. Frankly she was a little scared of the world beyond the University (The Ruins excluded of course, though she had yet to visit), and thus it was for her father that she feared he would be attacked . . . by onions.

That bit about an overactive imagination? Somehow it had manifested into a distrust of specifically those vegetables. No-one could be quite sure when this inherent animosity started or why, but before long Emily was on a campaign against them, a fact that amused (if not annoyed) her family. In one particular instance she had stolen a cowboy hat (from where? She would not say), donned it, and played out the guardian one day just outside her mother’s ward, pacing back and forth at various intervals, shouting, “HUP, two, three, four, HUP, two, three four . . .”

And then she’d pause and give her doggy doll (another anomaly they could never fathom; a dog?) “Yes, that’s right, Caek, I can count to four,” she would then state as a matter of factly and giggle. “Silly dog.”

Belial would be so proud of her being so brave as to be a guard dog for Momma when they were away! Or was it guard cat? Guard . . . kitten . . . ? But that didn’t sound very menacing and awesome at all!

Footsteps down the hall! Stiffening herself in preparation for battle, the tiny kit stood tall and stepped forward, waving a stick she had pretended earlier to be a magic wand – now it was a sword. ”Halt!” she cried out in a high-pitched voice. “State your business and name, that’s how we play this game! Who goes there?”

“Relax, kiddo. S’just me.” Dhiren appeared down the hall, each step bringing forth a strange sound – like crackling. The man smiled slightly as his daughter rushed forward with a soft squeal, nearly tripping over the stick in the process of almost leaping into his arms.

“You weren’t taken by the Onion Knights!” she exclaimed happily, nuzzling her head beneath his chin. Her nose twitched, coming across a distinct smell. “Hey, you didn’t . . . “

“I did.” Smirking now, Dhiren held up a bag of potato chips: sour cream and onion flavor.

Emily’s face lit up as she hugged his neck. “You beat them and turned them into tasty snacks!” she beamed, nuzzling him proudly. “Epic.”

“Would you expect any less?” Dhiren said with a chuckle.

“Course not. C’mon, let’s go see Mom and the others!” Though the thought of feeding them the processed bodies of her enemies probably wasn’t too pleasing . . . Well, she’d just have to eat them herself! That wasn't as disgusting to think about, and she'd save Alice the trouble of garlic breath later, which of course was a reward in and of itself. It was hard to kiss Mom goodnight when you got a whiff of onions after all to sleep on.

Anything else?:
I dun wan a Stalin Kitty. Or a Himmler Kitty. No, I WANTZ ME A HITLER KITTEH. 8D

And yes: she doesn’t like onions alone, but she does like sour cream and onion flavors. THAT’S TOTALLY DIFFERENT. I feel as if this response was a bit eclectic, but eh. 8D; Emily also has a thing for hats, but I didn’t really get to show that here beyond her stealing the cowboy hat from no-man’s land. With time she would grow to like walking about and seeing the sights, ignoring her somewhat-frail health and sometimes placing herself in danger because of it. Not to mention she also feels as if she’s responsible somehow for Alice’s afterbirth weakness, sympathizing in her own weaker-than-normal health.

Emmster wouldn’t be exactly “purist” like her more extreme siblings, as she probably wouldn’t be raised as such considering the parents – least, that’s what I think. Her bias, however, would manifest in that at first she takes what her family says seriously; basically being one of those people that falls for those “Hey look, gullible is written on the ceiling!” sort of jokes. Not sure if she would ever grow out of that, as it’s one of the many side-effects of having such a trusting nature. What they say has to be true, right? Unless it deeply conflicts with her own perceptions.

Yes, she carries a plush dog doll named Caek. You can thank Spica for inspiration. |3 I’m thinking that happens to be her favorite dessert as well. Not dog dolls, cakes.