Weapon or writing utensil?

Stella's molting, which means we find feathers all over the house as she drops them while flying around.  Last night, she dropped a flight feather.  I picked it up and was pretending to write with it, as though I were in the 18th century.

I did this a little too close to Stella, who angrily grabbed the feather back from me.  She aggressively preened it a few times and then let it drop to the floor.

She kind of looks like she wants to stab me with it, though.