pafp BUT I'M A CREPE | pafp, rock hunting

[FERNDANCE]

When the apprentice had asked her to go rock hunting, of course, Ferndance had been down. For too long, ShadowClan's apprentices had been responsible, productive members of clan society, so when one decided to break the status quo and ask her to do something so useless it was bound to ruffle some feathers, the ticked tabby had insisted that the pair head out to the Carrionplace immediately. Having gathered a nondescript number of other felines for a nondescript reason, Ferndance had urged Honeypaw that she keep the nature of the journey a secret until they'd arrived at the heap of Twoleg trash. Ferndance could use her authority as a Lead Warrior to force an adventure if she truly wanted, but with sick cats at every corner, it felt a little bit tacky - lying was tail-lengths better instead. The ticked tabby was sure to engage in as much conversation as she could with the others, talking about how their nights were and how their families were doing, asking unanswerable questions, and debating philosophy too - she did as much as she could do to avoid hearing the mirthful silence of ShadowClan's antagonistic swamp. Before long, the mire's trees broke off, leading them all directly into the Carrionplace.

Her nostrils flared at the familiar rotting stench, eyes slowly opening and closing as he steeled herself against it once more. Pushing through a gap in the wire, she urged the others to follow with a lash of her tail, paying special attention to her partner in crime as everyone moved forwards. "Take a break today, we're hunting rocks," she spoke plainly, a smile stretching from ear to ear. Sensing some confusion, fictitious or otherwise, she tilted her head. "I believe you might also call them stones, or even pebbles... there's a fancy word as well on the tip of my tongue... oh well." Shaking her ruddy pelt out, Ferndance then turned her attention fully on Honeypaw, her lackadaisical expression briefly lost as she leaned down. "If you get bitten by a rat, you are probably going to die slowly, it's very painful." 'Be careful' was the translation, lost to a theatrical display. Like a switch had been flipped, a cocky smile appeared once more, emerald eyes briefly closing as she addressed the other once more. "Have fun! Whoever has the best rock owes the other a frog, deal?" Who would be the judge of that? Chilledstar, of course!

@honeypaw
​

 

[honeymoon]

sweet like honey
———— ( ☀ ) ————

Honeypaw had a bit of an odd interest in collecting stones, an eclectic assortment of all colors and compositions lining the bottom of her nest. Not comfortable to lay on, not in the slightest, but her downy fur made it hard to notice them and they were awfully pretty to wake up in the morning to. Some of them even caught the dawn light and glittered when she would bat them around! Finding the time - or opportunity - to sneak away and stare at rocks was growing increasingly more difficult as she was growing up. Turns out she had some responsibilities to tend to first, and they usually took up the majority of her day! How unfair. If Honeypaw wanted to sneak away from Cherrywhisker for a while and shirk her training, she'd have to take extra care in picking someone to spend time with that had the authority to pull her away from her mentor. Who better than Ferndance? If anyone was going to humor Honeypaw's peculiar interests, it would be the unusual Lead Warrior herself. Turns out she didn't need much convincing either! All Honeypaw had to do was ask if Ferndance would accompany her to the Carrionplace to look for rocks - she didn't even have to lie! In return, Honeypaw soothed her mentor's worries that she would be stepping out with Ferndance for the time. Honeypaw had done as instructed and kept her lips sealed shut about the nature of their wanderings, but she couldn't help herself but gossip about going out for "something fun" later. ShadowClanners sure had odd senses of entertainment.

Ruddy paws keep easy stride with Ferndance as the small apprentice eagerly accompanies her, trying her best to not wander off ahead and leave the others behind in her excitement. Small talk and pleasantries mean little to Honeypaw, and the apprentice only speaks when directly addressed, but its clear her silence is not from a lack of enthusiasm. The girl is practically vibrating in their skin as the ragtag patrol finally reaches the Carrionplace. Honeypaw slips in behind Ferndance, holding her breath against the strong smell of rot. It's a smell that almost makes her eyes water, but it'll be oh so worth it when she gets her paws on the prettiest pebble. Ferndance warns against getting bit, but Honeypaw has learned against taking the Lead Warrior too seriously since her tree mishap. The apprentice flicks her tail. "I'll bite back harder," she states confidently. Honeypaw pointedly ignores the warnings of a slow death by turning her head away, lifting her tail excitedly. "You'll be looking for one too, right? I'll give you somethin' good if you find a cool one," Honeypaw offers Ferndance with a playful narrow of her eyes, bending her forelegs before springing off of them away from the small cluster of Clanmates to begin her scavenger hunt.

/ill be rolling to see what she successfully finds >:)


​

 

[smogstar]

Smogmaw initially supposed his mind needn't roam far to gauge the intent behind Ferndance's solicitation. A stern emphasis on the second word, by the way.

See, for all of the she-cat's quirks and her even more damning quirks, she ranked among the clan's uttermost with regard to enthusiasm, walking with an avid bounce in her stride and an enlivened expression forever inscribed into her features. Her reputation for unpredictability and a penchant of finding thrills in the most mundane of tasks definitely preceded her. But, it's this merciless eagerness of hers which forges an immaculate Lead Warrior. And on top of it all, Smogmaw holds a theory that, underneath the seemingly headlong exterior, there lay a cunning mind capable of catching ShadowClan's finest off guard.

With the troublesome going-ons beyond the camp walls, from rats, to a plague, to (hypothetically) plague rats, it was assumed that Ferndance sought his company for proactive measure of sorts. An investigation. An inquest into the 'how's and 'why's of whatever the hell was wrong in this swamp. And it's an idea he held until the patrol delved into the brink of Carrionplace, the foetid, wiremesh-girdled scumhole where all hopes of cleanliness went to die. Sabletuft raised the subject of supposed twoleg beasts after patrolling out to these parts, and the deputy should very much like to see them for himself.

Not so long after gaining entry to the junkyard is their purpose here made painfully clear. Smogmaw's noggin lurches in the ticked tabby's direction at her mention of rock-hunting, lips parting in slight disbelief. She'd actually led a patrol to the furthest reaches of the territory, just to ferret about the place for rocks. It was ingenious. While the rest of the clan wallows leg-high in fear and unease, Ferndance has devised a brief respite from it all. A distraction, sure, but a much-needed one. She has caught him off guard with this gambit, and from henceforth he shall never question her cleverness.

They scatter, each clanmate taking their own course for the hunt. The path Smogmaw walks upon is known to him, and his vision skims over familiar structures and junkyard finds as he presses onwards. No rocks, however. Beneath his paws is not steady ground but rather muck, sludge, and irregularly-sown remnants of twoleg waste, all coalesced into a viscuous footing that would leave any rocks entombed.

Seeing how unproductive his search has proven thus far, the deputy elects to scout out different ground. He weaves between midnight-coloured bags, indifferent to the worsening odour, before his scope befalls the gingery form of- "Honeypaw." Grime flicks from his footfalls as he draws near the younger she-cat, a poor attempt at a warm expression worn into his features. "Find any rocks worth showin' off yet?" he then asks, pondering the ethical components of taking them for himself. "If you haven't, I could help. Used to be an avid collector, I was. Though, mushrooms'd always been my niche." ​

 

[HONEYJAW]

He might have to rethink some aspects of his life, if the first thing his mind jumps to when Smogmaw says Honeypaw is Honeyjaw. They're familiar enough– it's not entirely his fault. But he's no apprentice in need of guidance by their deputy. His ears prick up and his head lifts a little bit as his mind reels backwards. First to the apprentice's (currently unnamed in his chaotic mind) statement, and then to Ferndance's comment on hunting. Rocks? "Wait, what?" Honeypaw. Her name is Honeypaw, not Honeyjaw, and Smogmaw is talking about helping with the apprentice's collection. Not his own. That should be ever so vaguely insulting– or, rather, he is ever so vaguely insulted and he knows that he should not be.

The chocolate tom pads deeper in towards the disgusting stench (which he has slowly grown more accustomed to ignoring, thank you very much) and scans the world around them. It seems ever-changing as stationary as it was. The other creatures that crawled about this filth must have some say in the matter. There's an overwhelming amount of nonsense as always. Why are they searching for rocks, rather than food? It's not like ShadowClan can afford to starve. Not his job. Not his place to say it. Anxiety briefly gnaws at the warrior, but he swallows it down hard. "Rocks. Right. What's the criteria for pretty? I definitely have a veeeeery different idea of what's pretty." An insult in hiding, though he grins to prove it playful.

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

​

 

[Garlicheart]

Garlicpaw jumps to join Ferndance on her patrol, eager for the chance to catch her first prey. She's been trying very hard, and maybe today was the day! Plus, she thinks Ferndance is very smart and cool and wishes to learn from her.

She is even more happy to go when Smogmaw joins them. Maybe she'll catch her first prey and he'll see! That would be so cool! She wants to make her parents proud. She may not be as pretty or smart as her siblings, but she always does her best and that's what matters, right?

She is determined today. She will catch the best prey.

But she is easily distracted by Ferndance's conversation as they make their way to carrionplace, somewhere she's never been before. When they get there, her eyes widen with wonder.

Look at all this STUFF.

"Wooww!" She exclaims, gazing upon this. This treasure trove.

And when Ferndance says they're actually here to collect rocks??? Best day ever. She's so excited.

She pauses on the bit about rats though. Were they that bad? She'll have to be extra careful. Maybe she'll catch one, if she's lucky!

"I'm gonna find the coolest rock!" She declared, bouncing off to explore. What will she find? So many things she's never seen before, smelled before. She thinks she could get lost in all this stuff.... So she makes sure there's always someone in eyesight.

(( @DOGFUR mentor tag! ))​