pafp BACK OFF | nest making

[SILVERSMOKE]

The recent snow-in meant that the warriors had huddled together in their den like a flock of sheep, conserving warmth and sharing stories. There'd been a camaraderie there the large feline seldom got to appreciate, he'd found himself smiling from the friendships he'd found, but reality had a way of hitting fast and hitting hard. Once the kittypets and warriors dispersed, the den was left in an unacceptable state, with nests linked up with nests and moss seemingly everywhere apart from where his associates slept. There was enough fur scattered on the ground to make a new pelt, admittedly a lot of it was his own, all the same, it'd flipped the orderly cat's stomach when he first saw the mess. His first thought had been to call apprentices over to sort it out, but then he saw Hailstone and, remembering the blizzard hunt, decided it would be best if the two cats got it done to their own standard. It'd been embarrassing to fail to catch prey right in front of him, tidying the warrior's den was no path to redemption, but it was better than sitting around waiting for the next opportunity to hunt to arrive.

Silversmoke's eyes briefly wandered to the empty space. The den looked larger without anyone in it, suddenly, it no longer seemed like a miracle that everyone had managed to fit beneath the bramble bush. His claws raked through old moss and bracken, kicking it towards the entrance of the den to dispose of it elsewhere. All sorts of hidden trinkets were sewn around the den, which he found as he worked, some looked like kittypet mementos whilst others were pretty rocks or feathers. Silversmoke tried his best to avoid disturbing them, though couldn't help but glower a moment at the former. He couldn't imagine why anyone would long for a life they'd so willingly left behind, especially when that life had likely been full of pain and grief. His gaze shifted to Hailstone, eyeing the feline's progress carefully. 'I guess not all kittypets are bad...' He wasn't sure how the stupid fluffball had wormed his way past the tabby's defences, Hailstone was hardworking and didn't get upset at Silver's own taciturn nature and now suddenly, he was being invited to discussions with the tom on all sorts of topics. What was even weirder was that Silversmoke didn't mind it, even when he had no advice to offer.

He blinked fervently and kneaded some newer moss into place. "They are messier than kits in here." He complained calmly, his ears twitching uncomfortably. "How are you doing?"

@Hailstone
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[Ashenclaw]

[ ☾ ] Large paws tried to move carefully with the bracken and ferns, trying to get the wall to form at least but seems like that was just out of reach for him. Hailstone gave a sigh as his seventh knot fell apart in his paws and he shook his head a bit in annoyance. He was all for helping maintain the camp and the dens, but this seemed a bit excessive. Did warriors just now know how to take care of their things? Seemed like it and from behind him, Silversmoked voiced such things and he gave a nod in agreement.

Hailstone and the silver tabby were unlikely friends as the prickly cat hated kittypets and daylight warriors, but somehow Hailstone made it possible to befriend Silversmoke. It was strange and to be very honest, he had no idea how he did it. It just sort of happened? "Oh you know, living the dream," He responded rather sarcastically back to the tomcat with a twitch of a tufted ear.

He tossed the bracken to the side, it was now broken, and went onto trying for the hundreth time to making the wall work. "Are making walls always this difficult? How do the Riverclanners weave so well?" He questioned back to the other cat in the mess of a den.

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[Orangestar]

"I assume reeds are a lot different to bracken, Hailstone."

Recently freed from Dawnglare's intense watch, where he had healed her wounds with herbs she didn't even know existed let alone had medicinal use, Orangeblossom breathes in the familiar scent of the warriors' den and ducks under its entrance to find it not as empty as she'd hoped. Hailstone is there, futilely attempting to patch holes in the bushel walls, and Orangeblossom flicks her tail over his pelt warmly as she passes. Attention turns next to Silversmoke, whom she hadn't noticed at a glance, and her ears warm with embarrassment over the display of affection he'd likely just seen from the stoic deputy.

"Silversmoke. Doing some tidying?" She queries, turning her attention towards his progress. There's a lot of fur scattered in the den from their winter coats, but she's impressed by the collection of old moss and bracken in the corner of the den. He's been cleaning, and as one of their injured Orangeblossom is quite grateful for the fact.​

✦ ooc ✦ info

•  
• 
  ✦ orangeblossom, deputy of skyclan
  — mentoring vulturepaw and eveningpaw.
  ✦ 26 moons, she/her
  ✦ fluffy white and ginger cat with brown eyes. torn left ear, scar on right foreleg. injured!
  ✦ bi, single. @ on discord for plots.
  ✦ "speech" — thoughts

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[CHRYSALISWING]

Chrysalispaw would rather be doing anything but cleaning and restocking the dens - he bored of menial tasks easily. The same thing ailed him when he was assigned to clean the ticks off elders or collect the bedding for his clanmates. He knew just how much of a mess his fellow apprentices made in their own den, with the rowdier felines flattening and pulling apart the tightly-knit bedding, like yarn torn apart by dexterous yet haphazard claws. Strings and tousles of moss and lichen were strewn everywhere on the ground, crackling and crumpled confetti scattered as if there were some sort of celebration, though nothing was worth celebrating at the moment, in Chrys' point of view anyhow. Especially in this season, when plants that had not been swallowed by the snow were rare to come across and rarer willing to be plucked. Anything mawkish of a party was simply a waste.

After evading Silversmoke's instructions for so long, the unruly juvenile figured he should at least give the poor man a little bit of his much-coveted attention, as if he saw his mentor as nothing more than another leash to tie too-tightly to the fragile windpipe. For a child so unanchored by iron chains and clinched hawsers, he saw anything as an attack to his freedom - even the lightest of disciplines. Still, the chimaera-coated cat sat at the end of the murmuring crowd, daylight sparkling against froths of stark alabaster, like it aimed to make the already-bright hue glow even more so. Today was quiet, quieter than the other days. After the raid, there had been a tense, pursed sort of peace, as though auspice suspended upon the air and rung against invisible strings of fate. Well, any silence was good silence to him, no matter where it came from. He pawed at a loose ball of dried, verdant tangles, careful not to let it un-knot, lest he get an earful of scolding.

"How long do we have to do this?" Complaints came easy to the apprentice, with an adolescent cadence grumbling and whining as it did best. It was a slow yet hustled drawl. He knocked the same mossball as before between two paws now, playing some sort of game between he and himself - with no goal except to ease the utterly abrading apathy that plagued Chrys. Cures for boredom were far and few in between, especially in dull spells such as the whole of the leaf-bare season. He should be out hunting or sparring, not doing something that should be designated to some fox-hearted kittypet. In fact, he knew quite a few lazy bums who could stand to do some hard labor instead of mooching off of the forest cats for once.
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