camp Creepy Crawlies || o. Prompt

[Snowlark.]

You've wasted your life, but thanks for applying​

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The air was frosty this morning, and Snowkit found herself tucked outside of the nursery out of hiding for once, afterall with the increase of cobwebs, the young molly found it more and more difficult to hide as she did not want to get any of that stuff in her fur. There was no amusement in her gaze as she noted that it seemed more had appeared over night, and she wondered to herself, will they ever get rid of this stuff?

Her bobbed tail thumped on the groud a bit before deciding to approach one of the webbings, partially destroyed and abandoned, dew drops clinging to the silk and she hummed watching at the pale light of the sun glinted off them, reflecting the brightness off them and she frowned a bit. For something so utterly gross, they seemed to make something so...pretty. Yet she knew that eventually someone else would come along and quickly collect the scrap of web, destroying the dew drops and ridding the camp of even more cobwebs, something in which little Snowkit could not complain about.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

Lately it seems the spiders have been a little too enthusiastic in their web making and have covered most of the camp in them! While the medicine cats will enjoy having the extra cobweb, they are not fun to get out of fur!

 

[CHERVILSHADE]

"Do you think one spider did this, or did they work together...?" Came the ever-inquisitive Chervilkit's quavering voice, still holding that shivering torchlight tone, as it burned and shirked away from the brighter lights and louder timbres. Small breaths fulminated the frosted air, as her petulant pants fought not to rot in the overbearing cold. Perhaps, for the stronger-willed and better-constituted, the changing seasons would be of little consequence. But for her, the walking misfortune, it meant foredoom. Little Ghost stood just besides Snowkit, feathery tail wagging in an almost doggish manner, in a show of a pendulum-like curiosity.

Leaden, moss-colored eyes trailed along the intricate webs with their adornations of dewdrops, as though heavy footsteps teetered along the silken edges, heedful not to plummet to peril. Fragility was just that - a balancing act above the maw of certain breakage. She was much like the woven will of the spider, a porcelain picture of Weltschmertz making. Though, what surprised her about this instance was that these threads of filigree folly were everywhere. At least the medicine cats have enough cobwebs to last a lifetime.

One paw batted lightly at a cobweb as it fell apart by her hand, of which she subsequently shook it off like she were trying to get a burr off of her hand. The pleats and the threads now hung from petite paws, and the garland of the arachnid's pride was no longer recognizable. "Oh! Sorry... I didn't mean to do that." She frowned, though the melancholic expression came easy to a morose making of destitute clay and lacquer.
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[Sweetpaw]

————————————————————⊰ʚ･ɞ⊱————————————————————
Some cats were born seeing things and lost it, but Sweetpaw had never had vision to begin with. It had actually taken him a while to rationalize that other cats had an extra sense he was not capable of, but it had never really bothered him much. The darkness was comforting, he felt braver inside his own mind and his ability to detect scents was developing into something worth notice; surely he would earn his mother's attention in time, he just needed to keep getting better. The one issue he came across was things like spider webs and hanging vines often got in his way, there was no detecting them on scent alone nor could he feel them until they were right in his face and smothering him - his whiskers were not long enough to spare him such embarrassment.
Chervilkit and Snowkit's voices drew him onto the scene curiously, he overhears the former comment about spiders and slows his steps to a shuffle - warily not wishing to walk headlong into anything as he'd done so before.
"...are the webs everywhere here?" Sweetpaw asks, voice a broken warble of a sound and tail switching unhappily, Chervil cat seems to have done something worth sounding almost apologetic - he hopes it was knocking a web out of his way. The spiders could just rebuild their homes, just like cats do and preferably they would do it somewhere else.

ʚɞ ･ﾟ･ sweet like honey - little yellow bees ʚɞ ｡･sweet honey nights & golden honey days

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  Sweetpaw
  —⊰⋅ Apprentice of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ They/Them
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ LH Solid black w/golden eyes (Is Blind)
  

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[EERIENIGHT]

"Pretty," he notes of the dangling cobwebs, dark eyes searching the woven den for its creator, spindly-legged beings akin to him. The presence of such does not bother him, a fascination held in the small, many-limbed creatures since kithood.

Eeriepaw is bound to apprentice tasks still, a means of carrying prey toward the nursery to feed ShadowClan's youngest in the early morning's frost - those who will likely be his denmates within the coming moons, if the world's end doesn't arrive first; if he doesn't earn his name soon, in this slowed, excruciating crawl to warriorhood. He'd rather be doing other things, would rather be watching for dwindling spiders in the camp's surplus of cobwebs, the last he'll see before the camp is blanketed in white once more.

And, oh, he doesn't get long to do so, before kitten paws approach, clumsy as he once was - though even still, an Eeriekit had been careful with spiders' webbing, intricacies that only needed observing, only needed tracing with eyes, rather than the paws of... whichever kit this was, to come near it. Ebony-shrouded eyes blink once, before turning to look at the fog-ridden kit.

"You destroyed its home," he states, his words void of emotion as he stares at the kit and her partner-in-crime beside her, though sadness bites at him, for the spiders that worked so hard to create such art, "It'll have to make a new one."

Sweetpaw's words reach bat-like ears, and though the almost-equally shadowed apprentice wouldn't be able to see him do so, Eeriepaw turns to look at the younger tom.

"Not anymore," he says with a sway of an inky tail - bad news in his eyes, though perhaps good to the younger.
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[Swansong]

( ☁︎ )　 The spiders have brought a gift to ShadowClan, covering their camp in spun silk glimmering with sunlight and dew. Swanpaw finds himself very content this morning, watching the way the little dark things work so carefully. Clever little creatures, these spiders. He, like Eeriepaw, finds far more enjoyment in watching their weavings than carrying out his duties.

Chervilkit's voice is as soft as ever as she asks a quiet question; he does not turn his gaze as he muses his own theory. "Must be a lot of them..." To cover the camp like this, as Sweetpaw says. Would it be appropriate to thank them, for the gift? He supposes they wouldn't understand.

Eeriepaw's voice is flat, emotionless, as he looks upon the two destructors of the spiders' gifts. He can't quite tell if the pitch-coated creature feels remorse for the little spiders or if he is simply stating a fact. "Ah, it'll recover quick. By tomorrow, the whole camp will be covered again..." Maybe they'll bring their friends to help rebuild, cover even more of ShadowClan's home. Oh, how lovely, how pretty that would be.

I WANNA BE HAUNTED ☁︎ I WANNA BE LOVED ! 【 11.22.23 】

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• "SPEECH"

• ☾ 　⁺　₊ 　⋆　SWANPAW.　APPRENTICE OF SHADOWCLAN.　HE / HIM / HIS.
  8 MOONS & AGES ON THE 17TH.　PENNED BY SATURNID.
  
  

  

  ☾ — A PALE, ELEGANT CREAM TABBY WITH PERIWINKLE BLUE EYES.

  
  HALFSHADE xx SMOGMAW. LITTERMATE TO APPLEPAW GARLICPAW & ASHENPAW. OLDER SIBLING TO THORNKIT HALFKIT TANGLEKIT & DREAMKIT.​

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