no angst BLUER THAN INDIGO | falling into snowdrift

[CELANDINEPAW]

In a bout of guilt-fueled inspiration, Celandinepaw decided to head out into the white-capped territory in search of anything remotely green. Herb stores dwindled as the leaves curled inwards, as if drawing themselves into a balled fist of protest. Windclan had managed, though, and she was sure that they would continue to manage. Afternoon sun ambled lazily behind strewn clouds, shyly peering through the certains with its gaze that seared through the cover. Golden-furred molly strode through the snow-laden moor, paws pushing down upon the aftermath of winter like she traveled upon the pulp of the winter, a beating and unnavigable thing. Each trample indented upon the skin of the snow, and the weather that would soon patch up its wounds had not awoken yet. Olivine eyes peered out for any sign of green that poked its head through the mire, though she found nothing among the wasteland of her home. Ugh... The snow's always too wet, too cold, too- A started yelp escaped her as she found herself tumbling into the snow, and it was not a pilose and paradaisical sensation as she expected - instead, it was damp and sharp shrapnel that pressed against her face and chest. Panicked flailing of her limbs was the only sign that she was alive through the harrowing situation of having fallen a few mouse-lengths into the frigidity. Eventually, she managed to resurface with her head coated in powdery snow, taking a deep breath like she just dove to the center of the world and had barely come back. She stood up, and by now it was unclear where Celandinepaw's wheat-colored coat began and where dredges of ivory weather began...

𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗙𝗔𝗦𝗧, 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗦𝗟𝗢𝗪 ( .☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁˖.☘︎ ݁ ) 𝗥𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗧, 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗦𝗘, 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗢𝗡, 𝗢𝗛 𝗡𝗢

• OUT OF CHARACTER. text
  
  

  ❁ — MEDICINAL EXPERTISE: Celandinepaw is the current medicine cat apprentice of Windclan. Although she is quite new to her position, she also has much expertise with treatment regarding infectious diseases and basic remedies. As for anything more complex... you're better off asking a more experienced medicine cat. WOUNDS — ★★★☆☆ ACHES — ★★★☆☆ INFECTIONS — ★★★☆☆ BROKEN BONES — ★☆☆☆☆ CONTAGIOUS ILLNESSES — ★★★★★ CHRONIC ILLNESSES — ★★☆☆☆ POISONS — ★☆☆☆☆ KITTING — ★☆☆☆☆ TRAVELING — ★★★☆☆​

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  CELANDINEPAW & SHE / HER & 17 MOONS
  

  —— Medicine Cat Apprentice of Windclan / Mentored by Cottonsprig
  —— A shorthaired, wheat-yellow spotted tabby with yellowish-green eyes. Somewhat pudgy, though lean and able to hold her ground in the wild. Broad-shouldered and tall compared to her smaller clanmates, she stands out through a Windclan crowd.
  —— Outgoing and terribly saccharine, she is a friendly and affable face in Windclan. Though ditzy and cowardly, she tries her best to help her clan as one of their healers. She is prone to outbursts when spurned or stressed. She also tends to follow her own personal code and will often go for a safe, painless option.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

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[Silkpaw]

Silkpaw had been padding back toward camp after a quick lesson with Scorchstorm when the muffled sound of a startled yelp made her ears twitch. Freezing mid-step, blue eyes narrow as she scans the moor. It doesn't take long to spot the source: Celandinepaw, flailing wildly in a snowdrift before finally resurfacing like some bedraggled, golden phantom.

For a heartbeat, the ivory apprentice merely blinks as she processes the scene. Then, her whiskers begin to twitch, and she can't suppress the small laugh that bubbles up. She comes closer on light, prancing paws, blue tail lifted high in the air. "Celandinepaw," She calls sweetly in a sing-song voice, her tone laced with mirth. "Are you trying to blend in with the snowdrifts? Because if you are, I have to say, you're doing a fabulous job." As she reaches the edge of the dip, Silkpaw tilts her head and sweeps her gaze over the golden-and-white mess that is the other apprentice.

She flicks her tail as she crouches at the edge of the drift, batting her eyelashes lightheartedly as she playfully purrs, "Do you need a paw, or would you like to keep impersonating a snowbank for a while longer?"

// mentor tag @SCORCHSTORM
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[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ Traversing the tunnels is no issue for the leader, born and raised in the dark as they were, but the two younger tunnelers who follow after them are not quite so experienced. Until they can be trusted to handle themselves, both Bilberrypaw and Splinterpaw will continue to earn some leeway—which Scorchstar is fine with, so long as neither of the apprentices are lost before they graduate. Too many WindClanners die early, and she is determined not to allow these two to join those before them. Her very own kin, Rattleheart's kit, is deserving of a long life, after having their parent's own life cut short when they were still Splinterkit. Foolish, the calico thinks, scathing in the face of her littermate's worthless sacrifice, idiot. Splinterpaw deserves to be sheltered just a bit, to ensure they will be allowed to grow into the robust warrior Scorchstar is certain they will become.

The sound of a yelp somewhere above shocks her from whatever peace she may have found in her calm tunnel patrol; hackles rise, jaw clenching, claws poking from their sheaths in a knee-jerk response from the calico. They dart for the nearest exit to burst into sunlight, golden eyes wide in anticipation of some kind of threat. But only the white-dusted moorland shines blindingly around them, exposing no enemies closing in, no clanmates in immediate danger. Instead, the only figures that stand silhouetted against the snowy landscape are WindClanners, Celandinepaw amongst them. The young healer is shrouded in clumps of snow, practically becoming one with the substance, and not far away Silkpaw asks whether she needs any help. Becoming one with the snow would not be good for WindClan; they need at least one healer, and Cottonsprig's path is already not with the stars. Scorchstar does not begrudge her medicine cat due to her choices, of course; pointless rules should be broken. But Scorchstar will be the first to admit that her primary healer's decision has put the entire clan in a precarious position. Celandinepaw's connection to StarClan must be maintained if WindClan is to survive and stand against the other clans.

It is this slight concern that drives them to bite out their initial words. "Head back to camp if you get too cold," they say, their voice dry and cracking like autumn leaves. The blizzard's biting chill had cost Periwinklebreeze his tail—it would do no good for Celandinepaw to lose a limb from a simple romp in the snow. "I assume this was… unintentional?" She levels the apprentice with a flat look, questioning but attempting not to appear judgmental. What sorts of ideas run through apprentices' heads sometimes, she will never understand.

OF THE FOLKLORE AND THE FABLES ☽♰☾ SHE’S THE TALLEST TALE OF ALL

• ooc: apprentice tag @SPLINTERPAW. @BILBERRYPAW
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• SCORCHSTAR ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ she/they, leader of windclan, tunneler
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. stern and serious, ferociously protective of her clanmates.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to bilberrypaw & splinterpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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[SPLINTERPAW.]

SHOULDA TAKEN A BREAK, NOT AN OXFORD COMMA​

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they hated the cold. their pelt did little to keep them warm if their being honest, so being out here was... distasteful. they stayed as close to their aunt as they possibly could, both for a silent comfort and also just taking themself being blocked by any wind chill that they possibly could be. they wouldn't be caught dead playing in the snow. not now, not ever. maybe if things had been different, if they were still a wide eyed kitten who had no worry in their life aside from what game they were gonna play next, then maybe. but that hadn't been how it was, had it? not at all.

"boring."

they mutter with a frown on their face. didn't help that they weren't particularly fond of the medicine cat apprentice. they weren't really fond of anyone. their eyes only stare ahead before they simply roll their eyes.

"can i leave now?"

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[BUCKFIRE]

Boring? That usually wasn't a problem for Buck.

"Look out below!" The gentleman hollers, at least sparing his clanmates a warning before springing off his hind legs and diving toward the pile of snowdust. From the looks of it, Celandinepaw's predicament appeared to be an accident, so why not try to make it a little less embarrassing? He'd go ahead and join her!

Chunks of powder showered around him as pure white covered his brown coat, most of his body completely submerged in the stuff. Well, the initial fall had been fun, at least. Whether it was a pile of leaves or a pond, Buckfire enjoyed the thrill of jumping into things headfirst. However, the snow was not so fun to stay sunken into for more than a few moments.

The chocolate tabby hauled himself out of the hole he literally made for himself, scrambling a little until he was able to crawl away. Powdery flecks clung to the short pelt like static; he stopped in his tracks, trying to shake them out. "Brrrr!" The moor runner rolls his shoulders, a shiver running down his spine as he recovers from the temperature. "That definitely looks more fun than it feels." Buck comments with a cocky smirk, glancing toward the others.

WHERE THE WHITE RIVER RUNSㅤ ☀︎☀︎ㅤINFO.ㅤ/ㅤ12/30

• ooc: text
• 
  ■■■■■■■ ✶ buckfire. moor runner of windclan ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ་༘࿐⋆｡𖦹°⋆
  ☀︎ㅤamab male, he/him | bisexual, single
  ☀︎ㅤ36 moons old | ages every 24th
  ☀︎ㅤwarrior ( moor runner ) | mentored by scorchstorm
  ☀︎ㅤsh chocolate tabby with orange eyes
  ☀︎ㅤwritten by beatles, ic opinions | tags‎

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[SEDGEPOUNCE]

If nothing else, at least Buckfire knows how to liven up a situation. Celandinepaw drags herself from the snowdrift like a sad, snow-clumped mouse, but Buckfire...doesn't look much better, actually. "Haha!" comes Sedgepounce's startled laugh, dampened in the presence of Splinterpaw's highly sensitive ears. Why would he do that? Sedgepounce can't fathom an answer, but he's long past trying to understand the strange machinations of Buckfire's mind. "Dude, I don't think it does."

He's sure Buckfire will be fine, so Sedgepounce turns to Celadinepaw instead, taking pity on her small, sad expression. "C'mon, Cela. Let's go back to camp," he offers lightly, smiling sympathetically as he flicks a clump of snow from the top of her head.
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