no angst cherry blossom nightmare // decorating

[cottonsprig]

One skill she's gained with being Wolfsong's apprentice is deciphering important petals from not-so-important ones. At least, she thinks it's a well-honed skill, but surely there is always room for error. Regardless, Cottonfang makes quick work of short free time and gathers the few blooms she can find amidst the snowy landscape (which, in truth, is not much at all) just to weave them on the inner sides of the gorse wall. The scent from the deserters had become... sour, as of late, though perhaps that's simply the spilled blood not cleaning up as well as they'd thought. She hopes that the (quickly withering) flowers will make something of a difference.

She spots a space higher in the gorse wall, however with her short stature, Cottonfang struggles to reach it without snagging herself on the thorns. She turns her gaze inwards, towards the camp center, and gingerly waves a cat over, "Hey!" she calls, "Can y'help me over here really fast?"

[ feel free to have ur cat be the one she's beckoning :3c ]​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ The smell of turn-tails and bloodshed lingered in the sandy hollow, just as the sting of cat scratches lingered upon his skin and bruised his body. Eventually, though, the smell would fade and wounds would become pale scars, and time would keep turning.

There was plenty to keep himself busy with, for sure. Foxglare occupied his restless paws with rebuilding and tidying up camp with a meticulous level of diligence, careful neither to mess up the medicine cats' handiwork upon his pelt nor to let his mind get tangled in the weeds of darkened ponderings of past, present, or future.

Ears prick at the sound of a familiar voice, and Foxglare is prompt to approach Cottonfang at the gorse wall. He glances at the various plant-parts resting at her feet but brings his gaze back upward to meet her eyes. She seemed.. okay, which was a good sign, he thought. Surely there wasn't like a big snake sleeping in the gorse or something like that.

"Sure, what's up?"

HOW COULD YOU THINK, DARLIN', ⁀➷☾⁺₊ I'D SCARE SO EASILY?

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 14mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred white and golden tabby tom with grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. resilient, but not invincible. the continued stresses of war and a significant loss have led him to hold fast to his strict internal moral compass for fear of faltering.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by ava, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

The sweet, pleasant smell of flowers was a surprise to Rattleheart, the tunneler having become used to the smell of dried blood and former clanmates on the air instead. It was a far from unpleasant one though, a grin on his face as he approached the slowly mending gorse wall that Cottonfang was in the middle of weaving petals into. He found himself wishing that they were even closer to newleaf, wanting a bundle of that fragrance for his own nest but knowing it would be difficult to collect any more with the current weather. For now he could at least enjoy the medicine cat's work, eyes briefly slipping shut as he sat nearby.

With Foxglare having already offered his own assistance, Rattleheart was perfectly content to just sit for a minute before opening his eyes once more. He was still smiling when he stepped forward, his voice a rough but pleasant purr. "Great work, Cottonfang. Those flowers smell amazing." The newly honeyed wall almost reminded him of the inside of the medicine den, just a bit less sharp and startling to the senses.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[spotpaw]

Spotkit is, thankfully, too young to know the sting of betrayal that the adults have; too young to know the metallic scent of blood, too young to have it linger, choking like a snake. Right now, Spotkit is as alive as he ever will be, and he is happy, and his mama is happy now, too. Some of the adults still looked sad, but as he crouches in camp and watches as he usually does, he sees Cottonfang weave flowers in to the wall. It's the same weaving motion Sunlitpaw was doing, but shes itty bitty, just like he is, so she can't reach.

Foxglare offers to help and Rattleheart follows over. No fair, Spotkit wants to join too!

"What are the names of the flowers you're putting up there? You're a, uh.... medicine cat." because thats all that he remembers Cherrytuft speaking about, how Wolfsong and Cottonfang and everyone else went on a big, big journey and thats why they all went away. But its okay now, because everyones home, and everyone should be all happy! "Do medicine cats learn about flowers too?" briefly, he thinks of verbalizing a fleeting want to become one just like her, but he squashes it, cause being a warrior sounds super duper cool. "If you have leftovers, can I have them for my mama? Pretty please? Puh-lease?" he does his best puppy-dog eyes, or in this case, kitten eyes. He's not allowed outside camp, so he cant go look for flowers himself!

Rattleheart mentions the flowers smell good. Spotkit sniffs deeply, only vaguely disappointed he could only smell them faintly. Perhaps he was too cursed with being too itty bitty...

*:ꔫ:* info

• 
  -> spotkit
  -> amab ,, he/him ,, 2 months
  -> kitten of windclan
  -> small & oddly proportioned cinnamon tom with high white
  -> "speech, afd9f2" ,, thoughts
  -> unknown sexuality ,, single
  -> smells like windblown heather
  -> art by meg

​