pafp crows in the garden ⸸ moths

[Magpiepaw]

At night he was bewildered by the sight of butterfly shadows only to discover they were anything but. He had not considered that other fluttering things existed and was almost entirely convinced these were just butterflies coated in a soft layer of dust like the very filth that riddled every ShadowClan cat's pelt and left them looking murky and dark as the swamp itself. Magpiepaw spit, the partially chewed wings of the creature he'd snapped from the air with a well-placed bite spiraling down to his paws where they rested and fell limp. He had not meant to kill it, only pull it down to observe but they were fragile as their daylit counterparts it seemed; delicate and pretty though their appearance greatly differed. Where the fluttering spirits of the day bore bright colors and slender bodies these were fuzzy abbersations with silky wings and frizzing antennae; honestly he kind of prefered them. His blue-violet gaze wandered from the insects settling against the edge of the den mouth to within the den itself to find he had an audience observing him in the silence and he opened his mouth before pushing the remains of the moth forward to clump into an insect blob on the ground at his paws.
"I don't recommend. They are dusty." He chirped, tone amused with himself, he didn't catch proper prey but he could catch insects and eventually that would lead to an actual gecko or frog.
"Do you think-" He starts, eyeing Crowpaw with a scrutiny that made clear his question had an answer already and he would be disappointed with anything else, "-that cats change shape too at night? Like these moon butterflies?"

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[Ooc]
- pafp @Crowpaw.
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[Crowpaw.]

Change your mind​

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Crowpaw had watched in amazement as the other warrior simply caught the moth, spitting it out almost as quickly as he had caught it. Of course the apprentice had not meant to watch the other, but it seemed Magpiepaw had caught the other staring and copper eyes blinked while his tail twitched slightly and listened to what the other's question was. Do cats change shape at night?

He paused to think, remember seeing shadows of cats shifting, changing is forms as a cat walked which made Crowpaw shrug a bit. "I don't see why not" she responded coolly before coming over, gaze drifting down to the dead moth and examined it slightly, apparently they were moon butterflies and he wondered if another apprentice would agree with that or snipe down the questions that Magpiepaw had asked.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[Ternfrost.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH​

maggotpaw | 06 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple

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"Tch - what a waste," the words that fall from the girls mouth actually sound mournful, even as blank eyes stare emotionlessly at the spit-out insect. Food is food - she does not understand how magpiepaw can be so picky about such things. First the tadpoles and now this? What a waste. The girl only then turns to take in the rest of the scene, ear flicking idly as she listens to whatever nonsense he has decided to spew today. "We change shape every day, not just at night." she says instead, head tipping to the side. She is not as creative as the other two present - in her mind she thinks only of getting bigger and stronger, or of the weak withering away. Change is constant - if you cannot adapt in this cruel world you die. Becoming food for the worms and the birds, and nothing more.

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[FERNDANCE]

To be a moth was to live a life of inadequacy, appear as a beautiful thing for a few days and then perish when your fire burned brightest. To be a moth was rather similar to being a clan cat, but unlike the insects, Ferndance was able to find meaning in that inadequacy. Emerald eyes were scarcely seen in the gloom of night, but they stared at the disfigured moth all the same, blinking slowly towards the dead thing 'wasted' by Maggotpaw's standards. It was ok, as soon as the attention had parted from the two apprentices, she would find a meal in the abandoned moth. Kneading the ground beneath her, the Lead Warrior entered a demurely seated position, a smile upon her maw. "Oh that's very true." She agreed with Maggot, nodding along before she considered the meaning of 'changing shape'. "Sometimes I am lying down, sometimes I am standing up. I change shape all the time..." She nodded in affirmation, placing her cheek on the damp soil. Wide eyes blinked scarcely towards the moth, her whole body stilling with a sudden realisation. "Are we all moths?" She asked no one in particular, though secretly hoping the wobbly apprentice would be the one to answer her philosophical crisis

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[Magpiepaw]

He expects Maggotpaw to pick at his scraps as she always does but for once she turns up her nose and looks away. To his surprise it is Ferndance who does instead, a display befitting a worm more than a cat and his gaze darts from Crowpaw to Maggotpaw once more before he finally lifts his upward to gaze out into the sky in thought. To change shape, perhaps he wasn't clear enough; the body could twist and warp into any such contortion for cats were naturally akin to liquid and able to spill across the ground like pools, but if his broken tail was anything to go by they were trapped within the vessels of realism. Unfortunate.

"No." Magpiepaw says simply to Ferndance's sudden question, a flurry of motion in his head that gave him vertigo for a brief moment, a surge of realization shortly after, "Some of us are. You are not." Moth's had a grace despite their nightly visage that the lead warrior sorely lacked. He walked on awkward teetering paws yet the brown she-cat was often more foolhardy and clumsy than even he was. "You are a Cicada. Constantly screaming, constantly moving. Until suddenly you are not." To live, to yell, to die, that was the way of the noisy insects.
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[Sundewtail]

Sundewtail didn't always understand Magpiepaw. He was a strange cat, but she found it charming rather than weird or disturbing like some. She wondered... If cats did change at night, what would they change into? She loved the idea of growing moth wings at night..... To be able to flutter away.... Do moth things...... If only such a thing were possible.

She supposed the others are right though, cats do change every day. As they grow, as they learn, as life changes them. Change was inevitable.

Ferndance receives a Magpiepaw assigned bug. A cicada. She thought those things were strange. All they do is scream. Why do they scream?? Are they in pain? Distress?

"This one wonders if she is also a bug." She says.

She must know. It is important.
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[FERNDANCE]

She looked towards Magpiepaw as if she'd stepped upon a thorn, the stretched corners of her mouth contorting even further. Wounds to ShadowClan's pride or even the body could be shrugged off like fur snagged upon the burrs, but to be compared to a cicada? There was pain, she wasn't sure if it was because their noises made her ears buzz or if it was because she couldn't help but think of RiverClan's leader. She'd only seen him in gatherings, but she'd never seen him scream or move until death - did that mean Magpiepaw was lying about Cicadas or did it mean that Cicadastar was lying about himself? A self-made conundrum that made little sense, her fleeting attention eventually shifted back towards the young apprentice. "Well..." She started, her head tilted to one side as she formed her argument. "I also bounce. If I scream, move and hop, perhaps I am a cricket instead. How about that, hmm?" If she could not be a moth, then she would prefer to be a cricket. Turning her head towards Sundewtail, without missing a beat, she replied "Oh absolutely. I would say you're.... a big squishy spider. You're everywhere and got them big ol' eyes, though...." Ferndance leaned in, concerned. "You don't poop cobwebs like they do. That might be a problem."

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[Swansong]

————— ☾ —————
NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit's been trying to get out of the nursery more, he knows his parents want him to get out there and... explore, and make friends, and all that. He doesn't quite see the point. Still, he's taken to wandering around camp to satisfy their requests. He's stumbled upon an interesting conversation now, listening in silence, half-lidded eyes betraying none of his interest. It seems as though the kit is completely unaware of the group, lost in his own head, until a quiet voice suddenly pipes up from where he'd wandered underfoot.

"Um. Excuse me..." he squeaks. Best to be polite, especially with a lead warrior and alleged best friend of his father here. He likes the things they've been saying, has let his mind run away with the idea of changing shapes, maybe into something bigger, maybe into something that can fly. He can do that during the night, he thinks. That's what dreams are for, right? Maybe he's a moon butterfly too... But well, he's not the expert here. Pale eyes flicker between Magpiepaw and Ferndance. "What bug am I? I think... maybe a moth, but I dunno..." He didn't know cats could be bugs, but it makes sense, he thinks. Maybe Garlickit is really a snail. That'd explain why she likes them so much...

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
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☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

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• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 2 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
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• 

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