BURN TO THE WICK [material gathering]

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ When the weather begins to turn cold early, Scorchstar is not concerned. She has lived a good few years, and sometimes the chill of winter sinks into the land a bit earlier than other years. This seems to be one of those years, with frost already coating the moorland's grasses and turning the tunnels' dirt hard and cold. The solution for the cold is the same as any other winter, especially for WindClan. The horseplace's sheep are laden with wool, and there should be plenty for the beasts to share with the moorland cats. For those who cannot escape into the insulation of the tunnels at night, a wool-lined nest can do just as much to warm them as another cat's body. Hunkering together for warmth can only do so much when snow and ice begin to coat the world in white; for this reason, the leader ignores the slight strain in her flank as she treks along the last stretch of land to the fence line. The fence itself looks to be holding up well, and the sheep that lumber about on the other side of it seem unaffected by the weather. Of course they don't mind the cold—they have thicker pelts than any WindClan cat, with the exception of perhaps Bullkit.

Turning to glance at the patrol, the leader declares, "We should gather as much wool as we can... if we can find any. The more prepared we are for the cold, the better off we will be." Searching for wool around the fenceline, Scorchstar spots none. No telltale white fluff clings to the grass where she looks—perhaps she simply isn't looking in the correct places. Shit, she thinks to herself, gritting her teeth against the disappointment that rises within her chest. If Bluepool were here, she'd likely already have a stockpile of soft wool to line every cat's nests with. The reminder of her mate brings a tense expression to the calico's face, but she attempts to keep up the search in spite of her thoughts. Tireless energy, remember? I cannot give up so quickly. Just as she steels herself to keep searching, golden eyes catch on a clump of moss creeping up the side of a fence post, and she trots over to begin removing it with careful paws. Brackenpaw and Bilberrypaw are left to their own devices for the time being, both of them trusted enough to do their own duties without being reminded.

YOU KNOW I DESERVE IT ☽♰☾ WELL, TAKE IT OUT ON ME

• ooc: This is an event thread! Make sure you roll in the resource rolling channel in discord when you post here, and then make sure you add your earned points to the event thread tracker!
  apprentice tags @Brackenpaw @BILBERRYPAW
• 
• SCORCHSTAR ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ she/they, leader of windclan, tunneler
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. cold and closed-off, ferociously protective of her clanmates.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to bilberrypaw & brackenpaw ; previously mentored pinkshine
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted, but may react aggressively
  ༄ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[Puddlepaw.]

I WANT TO BELONG
LIKE THE BIRDS IN THE TREES ​

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

puddlepaw & 08 moons & demi-girl & she/they & windclan apprentice ​

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

Puddlepaw would much rather be underground right now - where it is warmer, and the wind doesn't buffet her tabby coat with every step. Still, it's not as though she's about to argue with the patrol leader - not when it's scorchstar at the helm, and its not worth kicking up a fuss with her mentor either. She's rather not end up on tick duty, thank-you-very-much!

Paws scuff the ground as she hums absently under her breathe - kicking any stones she spots and watching with rapt fascination as they skitter across the hard-packed ground, sending blades of grass quivering. Nose twitches as she darts a glance to Scorchstar, head bobbing as she sways - " Wool? Mmmmm'kay, " she agrees, only half paying attention.

The rosette covered apprentice simply wanders for a moment, not really putting any effort in until eyes catch upon a splash of color. Not white or grey, like the item she's supposed to be hunting, but bron and green and shimmery. Puddlepaw plods over with an excited beam, eyes wide as saucers and she pokes and prods until it comes loose, teeth flashing in triumph. 'a Rooster feather!'

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

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

B L U E B I R D S ━ F O R E V E R ━ C O L O U R ━ T H E ━ S K Y

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
// Material Roll: 13 finds insulating materials (feathers)
Points Earned: 2

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Hunkered close to the wire-sharp fenceline, Sedgepounce watches Scorchstar with wide, solemn eyes as she sets them to their task. The sky is sad and gray and it makes the moor look sad and gray. The sheep meander indifferently, chomping hay in their blunt teeth and staring forward with a distinctly bored kind of apathy. They're hugely fluffy, thick coils of cottony white wool weighing down their flanks. Sedge squints at them through the fence.

As a kit, he didn't understand that wool would sometimes shed like fur. He'd always thought it had to be plucked from the source, and he'd entertained himself with the idea of brave WindClan warriors leaping onto sheep to grab pawfuls of wool like pulling fluff from a dandelion. If the cold gets too much worse, maybe he'd try it for real.

For now, Sedgepounce sniffs around the fence-line. There's some scrubby gorse here, some wheatgrass there. "Hmm," Sedgepounce murmurs. Beside one of the fenceposts, a well of earth is overtaken by thick clumps of forest green moss. Not wool, but better than nothing.

// 6-10: finds basic bedding worth 1 point (moss, pine needles)
​

 

[breezepaw]

:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·: it is cold above ground, each of breezepaw's steps are shaky and she cannot shake the chill that runs down her spine. the apprentice would have much preferred searching underground, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that she may find anything of use down there. they needed insulation, something to ward the unwelcome chill from their exposed nests. her aunt calls for wool, so that is what she will find.

her icy gaze is laser focused as it scans the area, anything that is not white is passed up. anything but what scorchstar had demanded would be a waste of time. if all they came back with was moss between set jaws, this would be a useless endeavor.

breezepaw tracks along the fence, gaze narrowed and steps careful. she had found nothing of particular note yet, but neither had anyone else it seemed. there was still a chance for her to be the first. a new fire was set underpaw, and it is not long until she spots a clump of white against dying grass. her brow raises and she checks over her shoulder to ensure her find was just that, hers.

an eager tail is set straight once she spots every other nose to the ground and the apprentice darts forward, carefully pulling the wool free from its confines. there was a competitive gleam in her eye, a wave of victory rolling down her blue lined spine. "got some," she announces, gathering her find proudly at her paws. when her siblings nests were lined and warm, she would be the one to thank.

‎‎THERE IS A MONSTER // ✧ AND I AM A MONSTER ☽✧:·.

• OOC ✧ rolled 18, finds wool >:D
  
  

• 

• BREEZEPAW ✦ SHE/HER, WINDCLAN APPRENTICE, 8 ☾.
  ✧ a small, yet leggy longhaired blue point chimera with icy eyes and a long tail.
  ✧ rattleheart x venomstrike / / littermate to thistlepaw, bunnypaw, splinterpaw, and crunchypaw.
  ✧ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ battle info
  ✧ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[ROWANPAW]

"The cold" is... daunting to the apprentice, to be truthful. Rowanpaw has never dealt with temperatures so frigid, save for those wet and stormy days that soaked their thin pelt straight to their skin. The rain always passed though, whether it be in a day or a few. The sun always made its appearance sooner or later, warming the moorlands in its embrace.

From what they had heard about leafbare, though, it seemed as if snow and raging gales were a constant for moons on end. WindClan had to be ready to face the wrath of nature. It could drain herb stocks and even take lives if they did not take preparation seriously.

Rolling their shoulders, a chill cascading down their spine from a rather cool breeze that tugs on their pelt, Rowanpaw stalks along the fence line of the Horseplace to seek some bedding supplies. So far others have managed to scavenge for feathers and wool, but they could not find any suitable materials no matter where they looked. "Haredung," The tunneler curses under their breath, a strong desire to be helpful only squandered by their sore luck.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐃 ✹ . + 　 　˚ 　　　　 · 　 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍

• rolled: 3
  worth: 0 pts

• 

• 

  — rowanpaw / eleven moons / they/she pronouns
  — windclan tunneler apprentice / mentored by swiftshade
  — snakehiss† x berrysnap / littermate to viperpaw and privetfrost
  — sh black/tortie chimera w/ blue and amber heterochromia, scratches across right eye
  — click for tags

​

 

[Wraithwail]

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ Tedious, tedious, everything was so insufferably tedious during the cold season. Her expression betrayed how she truly felt, her collected and almost emotionless expression as long eyelashes fluttered against hollow olive optics, her gaze searching with what could very well have been interpreted as disinterest- she was concerned about the effects of such a premature Leafbare, make no mistake- and yet she could not hide the way she seemed to yearn for the opportunity to engage in any other activity. She felt like a sniveling hound desperate to pick up a singular ounce of proof that the trail it had chosen to follow was the one that would reap reward, her once graceful legs like that of a gentle doe now stumbling over themselves in a trembling flurry of taut movement. The icy breeze did her little to no favors, and it was infinitely distracting...She would not be surprised to conclude her search with an empty maw.

But no, lady luck would graciously favor her this day. As she languidly turned her frigid body in preparation to give up and return to her clanmates with a most disappointing report, a splash of tantalizing red amidst powder tipped foliage caused her pupils to narrow with interest. Padding- or perhaps limping- close enough would grant her greater clarity. The remnants of a slain rabbit, its ghost leaving behind a pile of shrunken bones, pieces of tougher flesh cast aside in favor of what was more tender, a smear of striking sanguine...and tufts of precious plush fur. The discovery made Wraithwail's plumy tail curl as a ghastly smile tugged at the corners of pink-rimmed jaws, a satisfied trill escaping her tender throat. "You shall be born anew, querida bendición..."

Her departure was as swift as she could make it given the burden of her bodies incessant ache, the elegant curls that filled out a gangly neck beneath newly laden with her prize. She did not dare risk soiling or damaging such a precious gift from one departed in her clans favor by testing the prospect of using her pearly fangs despite their tenderness. The spindly molly would reunite with her patrol in higher spirits than she had come, knowing that they would be caressed by the hands of comfort for just a bit longer thanks to her discovery. Selfishly, she hoped it would go to her- though she was not so naive to recognize it would more than likely be sent straight to the most needy- elders, queens...and kits.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MISTRESS OF GRIEF ༄˖°.🕯️.ೃ࿔*:･ LADY OF TEARS ──┐‎

• 
  
  rolled an 18, found rabbits fur
  

• 

• 
  WRAITHWAIL she/her, warrior of windclan, 18 moons.
  ⭃ tall, longhaired white she-cat with hollow olive eyes.
  ⭃ important relationships on this line / / family, mate, apprentice, kids, whateva! [tbd]
  ⭃ peaceful, healing and minor combative powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by sloane ↛ @encarcerated on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[dimmingsun]

The startling cold is hard to miss. Dimmingsun himself does not need to concern himself much with it — his pelt is far different from his lithe, short-haired peers that populate WindClan's ranks more commonly. All the same, he is anything but unbothered when it comes to his Clanmates' well-being, and they would surely feel this frigid bite during the stark temperature drops of the night. They will need something to warm them with... and at the rate they are going, they would need it fast.

He pads along Scorchstar's flank, and idly wonders how Sunstar and Wolfsong are faring now. Are they huddling close to keep the cold at bay? Are they thinking of their former Clan, the way Dimmingsun thinks of them now, despite their clear abandonment?

Dwelling on questions that would yield no answer anytime soon has little to no use. Dimmingsun wheels himself back to the present, to the for-now invisible puff of breath as he exhales; soon, sooner that anticipated, the kits would start playing games where they imagine themselves as extraordinary creatures who can extrude frost from their very lungs. They would scarcely understand the severity of the situation... right up until they cannot be satisfied with the warmth their mother's belly radiates. They need cats like Dimmingsun, Puddlepaw, Breezepaw, Wraithwail and Sedgepounce.

And despite all his efforts, Dimmingsun comes up short. His gaze scouts the area before him but his paws remain pathetically empty.

"Maybe I should shred a sheep myself." The joke naturally comes as he looks at Rowanpaw. At least there is one more cat who is failing miserably. "Care to join me?" Dimmingsun imagines sinking his claws into the bleary-eyed creatures' hide. How soft and warm it must be while it is still being worn...

Rolled a 2; failure.

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

StarClan was to blame. His path to glory had been clear, streamlined to a point where failure had seemed impossible - until the ancestors decided to throw a wrench in his plans, to send forth a chill that would waver his resolve and make him long for days in the toxic Nursery once more. 'Perhaps I'd have forgiven them for this,' he decided erroneously. 'Had they not involved my little ones. If they starve I'll...' Warily eyeing over the sheep, Sootspot crept low to the earth, barely needing to crouch to slink beneath the fence. Each heavy exhale was met with a cloud against his vision, a condensation that he pushed through with a renewed distaste for everything. The gentle baas in the distance were his shepherd and, amidst an ocean of frosted grass, Sootspot disappeared.

When he re-emerged, the wool in his mouth prevented him from speaking, small strands curling within his fur as if he himself were a ewe. A win for the warriors, the current Nursery inhabitants did not deserve such a precious find and the clan would be better off without the elders. Yet, beneath the pride, loss stirred in his heart, the idea that Scorchstar would give up his find to his niblings settling too quickly for him to be comfortable.

Distraction came in the form of conversation, not meant for his ears, but loud enough for the perceptive tom to notice. He looked towards Dimmingsun and Rowanpaw, glowering at their failures with an unkind smile. He tilted his head upwards to better show off his find and, with a swaying tail, drifted back towards their leader.

How the clan had not starved without him, he would never know.

[ rolled a 20 - earned 3 points ]
​

 

[heatherpaw.]

( ⊱✿⊰ ) heatherpaw is not the most thrilled that, immediately after her appointment as a tunneler apprentice, mentored by a cat who had been mentored by her father, she is now aboveground, seeking out bedding, of all things. still, the patrol is large, and her father is here, so the girls supposes it's not the worst thing to do, even if she'd rather be exploring the secret riverclan tunnel or venturing over into shadowclan territory via their burrow. small paws carry the blue-frosted apprentice across the moor, towards what she understands to be horseplace. it's a bit daunting, being out for one of her first times and immediately being placed in proximity to the huge beasts of this farmland, but thea defines herself as brave. her short fur fluffs up against the wind, small ears pinned slightly to her head as she pushes on.

arriving at the fence line, heatherpaw's gaze fixes upon scorchstar as she proclaims their duty for the day. a short nod will be given to the leader before she turns to her mentor, wondering if downyfur has anything to add. sootspot vanishes, small body cloaked by tall grasses and the roaming sheep. when he returns, his maw expands with lovely fluffy sheep's wool. heatherpaw smiles at her father, approval glowing in dusky eyes. of course the man who has raised her is the best at this - he's the best at everything. separating off from the patrol slightly, the girl approaches the fence, scenting for any sign of wool or even soft fur, like wraithwail has found.

sharp eyes catch on something pale, fluttering in the chilling wind. a bundle of feathers, likely blown here from some epic hunt of a fox or badger further away along the moor. they look soft, silky to the touch as heatherpaw snatches them up. triumph glows in her periwinkle gaze as she trots back towards the group, head high. "founf fome feafers!"

SAY WHAT YOU WANT ⊱✿⊰ BUT SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT

• // rolled a 16, earned 3 points. mentor tag @downyfur <3 "#b2a0bc"
• 
• HEATHERPAW ⊱✿⊰ SHE / HER, WINDCLAN TUNNELER. MENTORED BY DOWNYFUR. 6 MOONS, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  
  a longhaired blue lynx point with blue eyes. her body is cloaked in pale snow-white fur, a storm of blue flooding her face, tail, and paws. stripes of darker blue accentuate her eyes nose, and band around her legs. shining eyes stare out from the angular shaped face, a deep, faded blue color.
  

​

 

[downyfur]

Scouting for wool is dreary, monotonous task, not helped by their equally dreary, monotonous surroundings. She preoccupies herself with wondering whether they could attack the sheep as a patrol, or somehow persuade them to lend them some of their wool otherwise. They certainly had some to spare.

This doesn't distract them from the larger task at paw though: their new apprentice. Her presence is a lovely burr in her pelt, a constant reminder of a whole entire soul she has to fail. "I trust you to go on your own for this," they mews to Heatherpaw after Scorchstar is finished, finishing with a nod they think is decisive. "Divide and conquer, as they say." The little feline waits until she's turned away to start their own "hunt."

She wanders a bit in the open before coming across a little swathe of stone. Crawling upon it are pads of moss, a little dry given the atmosphere, but forgiveable. They tote them back to where the rest of their sizeable patrol has gathered, a satisfied wave in their puffy tail. Already victorious are her old mentor and their own apprentice. For a moment it embarrasses them, but they brush it off with a delighted smile. "Oh wow, good job!" the tunneler purrs, giving Heatherpaw's shoulder a congratulatory touch with their tail. "Like father like daughter, huh?" she adds, sending Sootspot a warm look.

ooc: rolled a 9; earned 1 point!​

 

[Brackenpaw]

This is her first leaf bare outside of the comforts of the nursery, much too young to really remember how the last season was. If it was this bitter this early they like to think they'd remember it though. They're supposed to find wool, it felt tedious but they hope it'll be nicer than crawling through the tunnels. Her head aches whenever she's under the earth, probably because of the healing wounds, and there is always some lingering scent of badger. She's pretty certain that she's just making it up, maybe some kind of fear response? Trauma? Is that a trauma thing? They find they keep second guessing herself now.

This should be nicer, out near horseplace. Her gaze lingers along the fence line, trying to see if she can spot any easy lingering wool. It doesn't seem so, much to their dissapointment it looks like everyone else has found whatever wool was here. Maybe if she can be lucky she can catch a wayward downy material, no such luck.

Breezepaw and Sootspot both seem fortunate enough to pick up any strays. While others are finding things equally as impressive, there is a feeling of inadequacy lingering within her. Her blind walk into the jaws of a predator had highlighted just how much higher she puts her pride compared to the clan, this was a redemption of sorts. To show that they have learnt from that blunder and that she can be trusted, that frustration bubbles within her when she finds herself lacking for a little longer.

Then there is a green clump of moss, she's not really sure how it got here. Maybe a strong gust of wind had blown it towards the path of the fence post. Or maybe it's just damp enough for it to grow in unlikely places? It could be StarClan too... They will cling to whatever hope she can as she cranes her neck down to pick up the moss.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ OH, IM JUST A GIRL ꕥ WHATS MY DESTINY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. Rolled a 7 for 1 point! (moss)
  
• 
• 
  Brackenpaw ✩ They/she, tunneler apprentice, 12 moons
  
  
  ⸙ A scowling, tiny calico who still needs to grow into her ears.
  ⸙ Mentored by Scorchstar | Formally mentored by Bluefrost.
  ⸙ Speech, thoughts, attacking.
  ⸙ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ( underline and tag when attacking ).
  ⸙ All opinions are IC only.
  penned by Juice.
  

​

 

[Mallowtail]

The patrol was more occupied today with helping hands as they prepared to battle the early frost. Today's plan was to gather as much wool or, well, any padding material that could help resist the bitter cold front coming in. Was leafbare really coming early, or would it all be a fluke? Mm, regardless, it was never too bad to prepare beforehand. Leafbare wasn't supposed to come for another two moons, wasn't it? ” Good luck on your endeavours all, ” Mallowtail murmurs openly to her patrol mates as she bounds off to the right, tufted ears perked alert as she sniffed the ground.

Long whiskers flick as she founds her way along away from the patrol, and she catches the faint scent of a rabbit in the area. The lithe female lowers her head to the ground as she makes way closer to her spot and comes across shredded clumps of rabbit fur. She grasps the mouthful of plush fur in her mouth and makes her way back towards her group, a smug smile etched in the corners of her lips. ” Tha kwits will lov this, ” Mallow would remark as she finds herself pleased with her gathering of materials. It may not go to her nesting ( stars, it would make her nest feel great if it did... ) but it was a worthy sacrifice for all the kittens in the nursery.

Mallowtail observes the collections of others, seeing that most are succeeding (aside from a few). It seems as they weren't as lucky in their gathering, so hopefully that luck shined elsewhere on another patrol or whatnot. The days were getting colder with every passing moment, and it seemed as the dreadful leafbare refused to wait two moons before coming. Why was it coming so early? Was Starclan restless due to the actions of the clans, or was there an external force at play?

Rolled a 20 for 3 points! Gathered a clump of rabbit's fur.

​

 

[SHEEPPAW]

Sheeppaw doesn't need to concern himself with the cold like his unfortunate lithe, short - haired clanmates. His pale coat different from the rest, long fur draped across his figure— keeping him warm in times like these. But, surely they could still feel the cold biting at their heels. The black smoke is currently on a patrol, cats gathered to find suitable materials to bring back to the frost - riddled camp. The patrol is large as they travel to the Horseplace to find... whatever wayward bedding they could find.

She had been too young to experience Leafbare last season, only remembering frigid winds and her mother curled safely around her once small form. The leader proclaims their duty for today, and the Windclanners are off. She kept her cerulean gazes focused on the fence that separated the moorlands from the Barn. An ear flicks to other clanmate's finds: wool, feathers, rabbit fur, even moss. Rolling her shoulders, a chill shivering down her spine, she drifts off to find something of use.

Despite all the long - limbed apprentice's efforts, Sheeppaw comes up short. So far others even the younger apprentices found something grand, swaying his charcoal - dusted tail, his paws come up pathetically empty. "Fox-dung!" He curses under his breath, ears angled back with a frown upon his lips. A desire to be helpful is now squashed, by his luck.

⊹ ⏜ ۫ . 𝙎𝙉𝙊𝙊𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙇𝙊𝙐𝘿𝙎 ᶻ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙐𝙄𝙇𝘿

• ooc. rolled a 5; failure.
  POINTS: 0
  mentor tag @GRAVELSNAP
• no ref yet </3
• ( WHAT? THE FACE? ) ꕤ ‧₊˚. SHEEPPAW. ╱ windclan apprentice.
  ⤷ CLOSETED GENDERFLUID ; HE / SHE
  ✶ CURRENTLY 12 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 29TH.
  ✶ undecided / not actively looking — mentoring none.
  ✶ a lanky, longhaired black smoke with high white and blue eyes
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, B9D6F2" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like night air & windblown heather
  — all opinions are ic
  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone

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