camp SPRING CLEANING ☀︎ RTA & PROMPT

[Sunflowermask]

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ They'd never properly gone through everything, after. Their nest had laid dormant for so long that they couldn't tell which it was once they'd returned. Cleared out for some loyalist, pebbles and sticks discarded. It wasn't the most comfortable, sure, but it was theirs. There was comfort in that, to Sunflowermask. They'd dragged it all the way over to where the warriors sleep when they'd been promoted, and now it was gone. The feathers were torn, strewn about across different nests... They couldn't tell their own from others'.

Well, no better time than now to rebuild; they had other stashes. Sunflowermask is nothing if not a hoarder, and they've managed to track down everything they could remember. The pile sits in the center of camp, a treasure trove of shiny pebbles and dried flowers, dead insects and interesting bits of prey bone. It's smaller than they remember. They've certainly missed some, but this measly pile will have to do.

Still, it's been to long since they've seen most of these. A moldy bit of twoleg junk... A delicate lilac paw sweeps that one away. They're not quite sure what they were thinking with it. The little crow-bone from when they first met Maggotfur is scooted surruptitiously towards themself, much as it pangs their chest to look at. So too, is the painful sight of the dried out flower stem gripped between their teeth; they're glad they found that one, it will be returning to its rightful place within their nest.

Still, they're not quite sure what to do with the rest of this. Sunflowermask's head tilts as they survey the rest of the small pile, golden eyes wide. They sit attentive in the middle of camp, gathered trinkets laid out neatly.

‎‎┌── BROKE MY HEART TO SO MUCH AS TRY ☀︎ TO LIVE THE LIFE THAT LAY BEFORE ME ──┐‎

• PROMPT: Spring cleaning time! How does your character keep things tidy? Are they sorting through old things in their nest, are they cleaning the fresh kill pile, or are they giving some bedding a refresh? Whatever it is, cleaning goes faster with a friend!
  
  trinket clearout! sunflower's gathered a bunch little items they hoard around camp/in their nest and is trying to decide what to keep. feel free to make up items to point out/ask for, or give them something new to add!

• 

  
  
  "SPEECH"
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• 
  SUNFLOWERMASK ☀︎ they / them, moor runner of windclan, sixteen moons.
  ➳ lithe lilac tortoiseshell with messy fur and bright golden eyes.
  ➳ rarely speaks & has very muted expressions. dislikes physical touch.
  ➳ walks with a slight limp & tends to hold left forepaw off the ground when idle.
  ➳ rain x npc; half-sibling to vulturemask & littermate to goldenstrike & shadowrunner.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[Quietcrow]

The apprentice did his best not to stare at the tortoiseshell cat walking; perhaps limping was the right word to and fro camp with something different in her mouth each time. With such precision too. Where was she finding them? The warrior's stash must be near by, so why is it being moved? It was like she was gathering items he hadn't even noticed existed. Which is weird because he also likes collecting things, mostly things easily found around that no cat claimed. He was dreadfully worried about his words being taken as rude, but he had to ask. Curiosity was clawing at his insides. His chance had arrived when the object of his interest sat in the middle of the camp.



Quietpaw rose from where he was hiding to carefully approach, hoping that he wouldn't be snapped at. Peering into the makeshift pile, his eyes caught something shiny, but he hadn't seen it before. It was like a stone but much flatter, and it reflected the sun. Things like that probably came from a two-leg, but how did the warrior get it? "Umm, hello,,, what are,, you doing?" Quietpaw words revealed his nerves, but his interest let him stand there close enough to be heard, despite the hushed tone. "How did,, you get that?" pointing his white paw in the general area of the item.

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[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He still thinks fondly on the butterfly wing a young Sunflowermask gave him, and such memories are a precious boon the cold nights of leafbare. Wolfsong ought to make more of them now it is newleaf, but his latest dream has the medicine cat feeling...apprehensive, searching the world for more signs and omens, but he feels more blind than he has since he first lost his eye. Perhaps he should seek Sunstar's advice— but he is ashamed, and seeks comfort from the familiar simplicity of everyday WindClan.

Sunflowermask presenting their little hoard of trinkets collected over the moons lightens Wolfsong's heart, and his mouth twitches slightly as he watches Quietpaw approach them tentatively. "Sunflowermask has always had a curious eye for such things," Wolfsong says, stepping closer. "Are you doing away with the old for the new?" His gaze shifts to Sunflowermask and then pointedly down at their stash.
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 42 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTAR (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

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[CELANDINEPAW]

Hollow suits of snakeskin, sallow shells of nuts, stray stalks of hay... Celandine had grown up with the chaotic clutter of the Horseplace, from cobwebs resting gentle along untamed corners to dust whispering along windowsills like the former frost of bygone leafbares. Her barnfolk had strutted along the wood-laid floor and sweeped at it with strange, tail-like apparatuses, but even the might of the Twoleg was not enough to keep entropy from settling into the vertices and corners. Disorder, perhaps, found its home in the creaking floorboards and the half-lidded filters of light. To clean up after oneself until there was naught but empty space and the quietude of nothingness almost terrified the young molly. Windclanners, to her, gave off a much more prim and proper presentation, grooming their pelt until not a single hair stood up in defiance. In this regard, Celandine stuck out like a swollen pawpad. There seemed to be a vast valley of culture dividing the former barncat and the wild ones, she feared, and there was much to learn before she could be just like them. In even the littlest of acts, the slightest twitch of whiskers, the rosetted molly proved radically different.

"... Do you need help?" Inquisitive tone, fraught in the brilliant sunshine of newleaf's tide, peeked through the curtains of the conversation. Curiously did her footfall lead her to a place besides Quietpaw, nitid fur harsh against the other's nightly hues. She was always eager to help around, and though it would likely take moons for her to truly become one with the clan, that didn't mean she wouldn't at least try. "I can help. Buuuuut keeping what you love isn't such a bad idea, either. My nest back at the barn had so much stuff in it! I found a lucky four-leaf clover once, and it's probably still there." Toothy smile beamed, flashing ivories in a show of brazen joy. It was true - though the flash of green had likely shrunk and bowed its head, or had even been plucked away by a collector's eye and a prying claw. Ah well to that, she reasoned, for she was taught that life itself flew on ephemeral time. What was once there may not be the following day, nd it did no good to mourn what one could not control. Wheat-tinged eyes glanced down at the various trinkets that had been scattered about in the middle of camp - a wrinkled flower here, a crow's wishbone there. She had never thought to collect the bones of her prey as though they were trophies rather than simply what lie beneath rich sinew and soft collagen...​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

OH, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SOMEONE ━
THAT EVERYBODY HAS TO TALK TO━​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

periwinklebreeze ❀ 20 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior ​

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Seeing a windclan clean out their 'nest' is nothing new - sorting out trinkets, mementos. Sunflowermask is hardly out of the norm... and yet, it's a painful pang of grief that rocks him as he watches them. He would've done the same once. Still would, but he has nothing left.

Feathers and flowers and stones and tufts of fur he'd snuck in his grief - all of it gone. Lost. Taken from him while he'd been miles away, battling against hunger and fear and the very mountains themselves. Sootstar had lauded herself infallible, invincible - and yet, she'd allowed her clan to be driven from the moors. His clan.

No, there'd been nothing to come home to - ever last scrap of memory he'd held onto so tightly gone with the wind.

He tries not to dwell, to let that grief linger, but he thinks he's failing quite miserably.

Head shakes forcefully, long limbs carrying him over those last few paw steps to join the others. Paws tuck neatly beneath delicate frame, and he blinks - the words he speaks soft and affectionate. There may be no blood tying them together, but still, he thinks of them as kin. " Newleaf c-cleaning? Any st-stories to tell, or j-j-just trinkets? " he cant help but run one paw against his tail - the smattering of dried, tattered, bloodstained daisies all that he has left.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━H E━H AD━N O━O N E━T H A T━H E━C O U L D━T A L K━T O━

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[SCORPIONBACK]

The dull black tom lounged nearby, with his legs splayed outwards as he let his head lay on the dusty ground below him. Hearing voices near, flicking an ear he moves to lift up his head at the chatter noticing Celandine's voice among the conversation. Grave grumbles under his breath, as he heard of trinkets and other silly collected doubloons.. Actually, he shouldn't talk about collecting, he'd collected some of his own treasures here and there and stuck them in his nest back at the barn. Snakes skin, bones of crows and from other various birds he hunted, shiny things the barnfolk dropped. He liked the disorder of his own nest, nobody touched his precious treasures. Though... spring cleaning is a calming thing even for him.

He lets out a huff, as he eventually got up onto long limbs to drag his paws towards his golden charge. Tired amber eyes flicked to each clanner, as he plopped himself down next to Celandine with a small rumble. "Hope you have fun cleaning, Cela.." He observed the wind cats with a slow head tilt..

CAUSE YOU'RE A NUTCASE ( ♰ ) YOU'RE A FILTHY PIECE OF TRASH

•  

• 

• ( they come in creepin' ) GRAVE : rogue
  — afab, trans masc ; HE / HIM ; currently 19 moons
  — pansexual / single / not actively looking / open to crushes & romance
  — a tall, lanky shorthaired dull black feline with narrow dark amber eyes.
  — action , thoughts , "Speech, 9a3b3b"
  — smells of raspberries and midnight rain
  
  -tags / @ on discord for plots
  - penned by calzone
  

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[SPARROWBREEZE]

Sparrowbreeze doesn't have the affinity for trinkets that some of her clanmates share. Her nest is typically bare, save for comfort's necessities, free of pastel-dried petals and stand-out feathers. She doesn't carry the luck of finding sparkly stones on her outings, doesn't find much sentiment in the bones of prey.

Still, she admires her clanmates' collections. Still, she watches with interest as Sunflowermask goes through their own trinkets, sorts them out into piles in the middle of camp.

" They're pretty, " Sparrowbreeze notes with a soft voice as she nears the assortment, an amber gaze assessing the treasures they lay out before them. Mismatched paws shift beneath her as she looks to the tortoiseshell. " What… What do you plan to do with them? " Others around her mention cleaning, parting with the objects like old moss. A newer face offers to help, and the brown tabby nods.

" I can help too… If you want, " she meows, gaze flickering over rocks and the like once more.​

✦ ABOUT

• 

  SPARROW ‣ SPARROWKIT ‣ SPARROWPAW ‣ SPARROWBREEZE
  ── Moor Runner of WindClan
  
  ── Birdie x Fisher
  ── AFAB; She/Her
  ── A scarred, brown tabby she-cat with low white and amber eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clawtail
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

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[DUSTYFOOT]

His own nest was pristine, and therefore bland. A simple place of rest before another day of work. A reprieve from the dust and the roots and the bones that he stumbles across in the deep. There is nothing but moss and feathers to touch his fur; no memories to keep or thoughts he cannot purge himself of. It seems that everyone that gathers here (and there are many) are consumed with that. The stories. The purpose. His own nose wrinkles slightly, uncertain. Why does he still approach? The discarded piece of twoleg trash catches his attention, one tentative paw stretching out to reach towards it, but he stops before touching it. "You would enjoy the tunnels," he remarks softly. "There are many things hiding beneath the earth..." Perhaps he will find his way back to the trinkets, sometime, and bring it back.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  ╱ ( 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍? ) 03.18.2024 ꠶ ݁ ˖༄

• OOC. —
• 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓. HE - HIM - HIS. HARDWORKING TUNNELER OF WINDCLAN. ——— hardworking and swift of foot with a dirt-colored pelt fit for the finest of tunnelers, dustyfoot is an overall overage warrior despite his hard, excellently done work. he holds himself to a forgettable standard. ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a small seal sepia chimera with dull green-gold eyes. his thick fur gives him the illusion of greater size, quickly dispelled by the sight of his bottlebrush pelt disappearing into the rabbit holes of his clan's territory. made of dark colors darkened further by the dusting of dirt and packed mud, the only part of him that gleam are his teeth through endless chatter and his eyes in their clever gleam.

• "speech"

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[spotpaw]

Cleaning isn't really Spotkits forte... His fur always messy, smeared with dirt so often that his cinnamon spots changed places almost every day, its safe to say he just doesn't like it... But as he peers over, something catches his eyes. Lots of cats are here already, some offering advice, some offering help for cleaning, but Spotkit has his eye on one thing as he slinks over...

"Uhm... Sunflowermask....." he starts, ears flat as a momentary bout of anxiety churns in his stomach. He quickly snaps out of it and clears his throat, awkwardly, trying not to look at the other cats that have gathered around. "Can I have this? I can trade you. Mama brought me a stone earlier." he just barely taps at a dried blue flower. He thinks it'd match his eyes. Or at least thats what he thinks, he really only has puddles to look at himself with.

*:ꔫ:* info

• 
  ❥ spotkit
  ❥ amab ,, he/him ,, 5 months
  ❥ kitten of windclan
  ❥ small & oddly proportioned cinnamon tom with high white
  ❥ "speech, afd9f2" ,, thoughts
  ❥ unknown sexuality ,, single
  ❥ smells like windblown heather
  ❥ chibi by pin ,, penned by chuff

 

[Goldenstrike]

"Could you even sleep in you nest with all this stuff" The lanky lilac tom jokingly commented as he came to his sibling's side. Much like some of the cats that gathered he also wasn't one for collecting, but not because he required cleanliness or pristine conditions. His nest was still made with questionable workmanship. He mostly didn't collect because it wasn't a habit he picked up. He hadn't considered keeping the bones of the first prey he ever killed and he hadn't been one to gather flowers. He had scars, but that was about his only collection of anything. They weren't much of a fun reminder though.

His amber eyes scanned along the pile of things, taking note of the item Spotkit was willing to barter for. He couldn't recall if those flowers were of some spiecel esteem or lasting memory so only StarClan knew if Sunflowermask would take the kit up on the deal. It was like a tapestry of his sibling's life up until now. In that way Goldenstrike could see the apeal. Even if some past choices didn't look as good now, he side-eyed the rotting two-leg junk. He gently prodded a couple rocks and then turned to Sunflowermask "So, where is it heading?"

"speech"
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