californication | bones

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Nose sniffling and head held down low the chimera is tracking something. Something to him that is sort of important. During leafbare he decided to be like a squirrel, just something silly fun to to and he buried some of the bones to a meager meal he had. Now he is trying to find them and his memory is not the best. "It has to be around here somewhere..." Maybe his memory is really shite. Huffing he steps around muck and mud, shifting around a tall and sparsly branched pine tree. It looks sort of familiar but maybe he went in the wrong direction. Furrowing his maw into almost a pout he sniffs once more along the ground, tail raised up high. Not like he is hunting and he comes over rise, steps across a large rock before he pauses once more. "Damn, am I even getting close or...ah! Ha-ah!! It's near here! I remember that fern there." That specific fern all soggy and wilted. Yep, that is the one.

With a hop and a skip he jumps down and starts searching, his shoulder bumping into a tree from his excitement. "Heh, pardon me..." His voice sweet ends in a chuckle before he finds it. Finds the slight bulge of the earth and then unsheathed claws begin to dig. Spraying dirt in all sorta of directions. He wonders if they will he there and truly this was nice tracking practice. The hole gets wider and deeper as he digs, small pebbles being scooped out of his way.​

 

[smogstar]

Chittertongue, a spitting image of a puppy dog as tore through the ground in search of something he'd assumedly buried. Clumsily, too. Smogmaw had observed incredulously as the chimera met a tree head-on, before plodding away as though nothing had happened. Not even easily-avoidable vegetation stood in the way of his simple goals. Now, the deputy can only watch on as his clanmate kicks up a manner of small rocks and dirt clumps in his attempt to disrupt the soil. Perhaps he resembled more of a gopher than a dog. Or a mole, or dare say, a WindClanner.

"Lose something?" Smogmaw asks as he draws near, keeping his head turned away to elude airbourne dirt flung his way. Erstwhile, he racks his brain in search of what Chittertongue may have buried, and why storing it for later was worth while to him. ​

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornadopaw's head ducks just in time to avoid the violent spray of dirt being ruthlessly churned up by Chittertongue's paws. Dull yellow eyes stare blankly at the giddy tom before glancing momentarily at Smogmaw. What on earth was he searching for? "Must be important whatever it is..." She mumbles afterwards coming to sit somewhere nearby the tabby, head hanging somewhat low as she assumes a broody position. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart, like the rest of her clanmates, cannot help wanting to know what her brother is doing. She watches him paw through the dirt and for a moment, it reminds her of herself. Certainly, when she looks at her siblings she can see the similarities between them and she wonders if they see the same when they look at her. Do they think of her at all? She wonders.

Everyone else has already asked, so there's no point saying anything, at least, not in her mind. Instead, she chooses to quietly stand at Tornadopaw's side, nodding her head at the curly-furred apprentice in way of a polite greeting before she turns her attention back to Chittertongue, awaiting the answer to everyone's questions. Smogmaw seems to think he has lost something but Starlingheart disagrees, the place he is digging is too specific, deliberate. It has to be something important like Tornadopaw had suggested. That is the only reasonable explanation in her mind.
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[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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it was a wonder how chittertongue even survived before clans existed. he didn't seem very steady on his paws, rummaging and rampaging like a mother that had lost her child. he was... clumsy. he barely had his paws under him and he was always talking. always laughing. not the greatest of qualities for a shadowclanner, was it? with a twitch of their tail, they watch for a moment, only slightly curious because clearly something had to have him in a tizzy like this, right? they'd hope so. suddenly, the cat is digging and chilledstar let's out a squeak, scrambling back with a growl as dirt lands upon their fur. they hiss loudly, tail lashing back and forth before their jaws snapped together in a threat.

"i don't care what you're looking for. watch where you're throwing that muck, frog-brain."

they growled, quickly moving to clean off their pelt with a grumble under their breath. of all the places to be leader... of course the one who had a thing about self hygiene had to be in the dirtiest of places.
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[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ The white muzzle now stained with dirt pops up from the hole he is digging and he smirks towards Smogmaw, too bright to reach his beaming gaze. "Lost?! Why of course not because it's right here." Cheerily he goes back to digging, scrabbling to make the hole wider and wider still before he flicks an ear as he hears others approaching. He hasn't the time to chat because this is the most important thing right now. His paws are feverish as he digs and he halts only for a second as he hears his lovely leader spit at him. A chucke leaves his throat and he lifts his dual colored orbs, only seeing them out of one. "Hey. I had to take a mud bath. Maybe it's your turn." He teases despite the threat before he makes a sudden gasp. Jerking down into the hole he scraps teeth and claws against something. Twisting he pulls the item from the earth and drags it out of the hole.

And before anyone has a chance to speak he is grabbing another and then another. But boy do they reek. They smell of the carrionplace but it doesn't seem to bother Chitter as he springs arouns them. "I buried these in the middle of leafbare. I'm surprised they are still here honestly. Ah-haha! You guys want one?" Because sharing is caring and he doesn't mind giving them exactly one. ​

 

[ADDERJAW.]

( ➳ ) Adderjaw's brother is a strange sort, but she can't say that she particularly dislikes him. He's certainly amusing, at least. Especially now -- head down in the dirt, sunshine-bright smile draped across his maw, searching for some treasure unknown to all but him. His laugh comes just as his name would suggest -- stuttering insect-chitter sounds that would grate at her on her more bitter days. Yet Adderjaw holds her tongue as her Clanmates speak, venom-bite reserved for those more deserving. She's curious, she has to admit.

When Chittertongue resurfaces, dirt-streaked and stinking of Carrionplace, Adderjaw can't help but wrinkle her nose. Yet the bones clutched between his jaws catch her eye. She slinks closer, eyes narrowed. "Hm," she hums contemplatively. As much as they stink, she must admit that she likes them, ever-drawn to the ivory white remnants of prey long-eaten. It's an interesting idea, burying them as he has. She doesn't quite get the point, though. better to clean them off yourself than risk thievery from some dimwitted opportunist.

Well, it seems to have paid of for Chittertongue at least. Her eyes flick to his. "I'll take one," is all she says, voice gruff and clipped.​

 

[hitch]

Chittertongue is a bit...odd, isn't he? They're all odd in one way or another, but he's such a cheerful fellow and a good sport about it that he's somehow even more strange. Not that it's kept Rosemire from finding him entertaining, and it helps that he doesn't weary the albino feline with caustic wit or a steady stream of sarcasm.

Still. Odd. Especially as he goes through all this effort for the retrieval of sodden bones, and it turns his stomach to think of all the little crawlies they've shared the dirt with. Adderjaw doesn't seem to mind as much as Rosemire— maybe it's a familial thing, liking bones so much.

"Are you...sure that's safe?" He asks, squinting at the pale tom's treasure. "If you eat it, your insides won't become your outsides? Wait, are you going to eat it, or is this your new nest buddy?"

I N F O R M A T I O N
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[Magpiepaw]

Magpiepaw's eyes lit up, among the grit and gruel of muddy drivel were calcium splinters, wretched from the muck by the golden tom's claws. He bumped against Rosemire, then Starlingheart and finally Tornadopaw as he came to a stop alongside the older apprentice to peer upon the trove unearthed by curved claws.

"I want one. Can I have one?" Buried treasure, certainly. He liked bones, he liked how clean they looked picked white and pearly and free of red blemishes, he liked the sound they made when they clattered against eachother; rattling ominously. He wondered if the bones inside him made the same noise when he moved, with how sporadic his steps were surely they must be noisy but he never heard a single bit of it. Maybe his body muffled the noise, maybe his ears were not skilled enough to detect it though sometimes he could hear his own heartbeat and wasn't that also inside him? Curious.
"Who do they belong to?" Or maybe 'what' would have been a better question, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was a cat given how often remarks were made on eating them and he was the finest cut of prey if you asked the older warriors.
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