pafp do what you gotta do // teaching

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I NEED YOU HERE 'CAUSE I'M A MESS ❀❀​
periwinklepaw | 10 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

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Blue eyes are bright and kind as the long limber feline hobbles his way out of the medicine den, giving the much younger kit beside him frequent glances as though worried he might wander off - or perhaps simply vanish before his very eyes. "S-so, Th-th-thrift-kit," he says, stumbling over the new name and its similar sounding syllables, jaw spasming with his efforts, "all of wh-what you s-see here in the g-g-g-gorse - and th-the moorlands out-side, th-this is windclan. w-w-we all l-live together, and sh-share prey and protect each other." Even for a clanborn cat like himself, learning how windclan worked could be a bit of a struggle. He remembers the days when he didn't know who was related to him, what a clan was, what being a warrior really meant. He sees that naivety in spiderblooms brood, and he hopes to find some of it with thrift. It is better to be innocent while you can - ignorance truly is bliss.

// please wait for @Thriftkit

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[Thriftfeather]

In another life, one where Thriftkit felt more than a dull apathy at best and a growing sense of dread at worst towards his burgeoning life in WindClan, he may have felt exceedingly overwhelmed. There are a countless number of faces to learn and names to memorize, a rich culture filled with politics that would fly over Thriftkit's head even had he wished to know them. Instead, he learns the valuable lesson of doing what he is told when he is told, and staying out of the way otherwise. If Thriftkit thinks about it he may feel he is drowning, his rabbit heart kicked into a frantic thrum, and so Thriftkit doesn't think about it.

Periwinklepaw is different — safe in a way that much of WindClan isn't. Thriftkit still has his gifted feather, damaged as if may have become beneath his nervous fiddling. Periwinklepaw explains plainly in a halting voice the things that Thriftkit wasn't going to ask about, the things a different Thriftkit may have wondered about.

"There was a scent line," Thriftkit's voice is quiet, ears twitching atop his head.

He's seen some of the moor. It had felt empty compared to the dense woodlands he and his mother had passed. He's homesick for a time that doesn't exist, but the concept feels too big for words. It feels too big for understanding. Instead, the winds howl lonely over the moor, mourning what Thriftkit cannot.

When Thriftkit next speaks, it's louder than before but still undeniably soft — directed towards Periwinklepaw, as opposed to himself, "Why's everyones' names—? Uh, why... Why is my name Thriftkit?"​

WINDCLAN KIT ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 3 MOONS​

 

[>Twigwhisper]

=^._.^= ∫ — It felt like a gathering of the soft-spoken, those that could only harness a breeze for a voice instead of a storm like certain warriors. Twigwhisper looked upon the interaction of the apprentice and kit from where he laid. His head resting upon branch woven stripes that adorned his limbs, a small marrow of amusement thrumming from the throat of the tom as he heard Thriftkit's question. It was a valid one indeed. Shifting his amber gaze to Periwinklepaw, he was curious if the youth had an answer for the golden tabby kit.
(a simple track post <3) — tags​

 

[SNAILSTRIDE]

"It's to denote your rank. You're a kit, so you're called Thriftkit. Apprentices are slightly bigger and get their paws dirty while training so they're called paws. Your final name is your warrior name, which is sorta like showing off your special skill. I'm Snailstride because I'm a fast runner... or maybe its because I like to take my time, I'm not sure actually." A forced peppiness made its way into the blue tabby's words as he dragged his paws to be by their friend's side. Some sincerity entered their smile as they looked toward Periwinklepaw, but it did not reach their eyes, the weight of other things too heavy for the tabby to try further than that. Busy doing their own thing, they'd scarcely had time to pay attention to a new kitten in camp, whose question raised plenty more for the curious cat. Why were apprentices called Paws? Why didn't they use roguelike names for kits when it was so obvious that they were young? They got the sense that they missed a very important meeting when discussing such things. Falling back on their haunches (and quietly relieved to have the pressure off of them for some time), Snailstride curled their paw haphazardly over their paws.

"Then, when you're leader, you're chosen by StarClan so you get to be called a Star/ Meowdy, sorry for interrupting."
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[AMBERTAIL]

Why is my name Thriftkit? There is a sadness to that which Ambertail cannot make sense of. A sudden, prodding pain. He blinks uselessly, sightless eyes turned towards the sound of voices. They cannot quite picture what this cat was meant to look like. A time long ago, his sister had tried to teach him of colors. His fur had been red like basking in the sunshine, smothered with the comforting dark of the tunnels. Whatever that meant, he had no idea. What was a thrift? What did it look like? Or perhaps he was named for the sound that he made. Or maybe he was named on a whim. Not knowing gnawed at him; he wonders if this youth feels the same. He did not know the story well, but still it lingered. A tale as old as the ground beneath their paws, turned over with the seasons. Something old, made new.

He paws idly at the grass he can feel. It twists around his claws as they dig fitfully in. "I always thought it was for the way they grew," the tunneler inputs suddenly, in a quiet, lilting tone. "The paws of apprentices. Your body finally meets them. Less clusmy. Or more. If you're unlucky."

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• ──── ambertail. tunneler of windclan. nb, he or they.
  ──── adult, though precise age unlabeled as of now.
  ──── sexuality unknown. a strange windclan cryptid.
  
  ──── a tiny, yet proportionally long-limbed tortoiseshell with unfocused amber eyes. though they retain their color, ambertail is blind. those who don't know as much may be confused, and will certainly be met with dry responses from the tunneler himself.
• "speech"

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[Thriftfeather]

Others arrive and Thriftkit cannot stop himself. He ducks behind Periwinklepaw as if Periwinklepaw's skinny limbs could truly hide the dandelion-yellow of Thriftkit's pelt from sight. He doesn't want to know anyone else, he doesn't want to meet anyone else. There are so many cats in WindClan, more than Thriftkit thought existed in the entire world, and it felt as though the bulk of them have taken an interest in him. Isn't knowing Periwinklepaw enough?

"...Hi," Thriftkit says like an offering, wary rather than shy. Still peering from behind Periwinklepaw, Thriftkit didn't want to be rude.

But Snailstride explains and Thriftkit slowly emerges. Rank, he thinks. He has a rank now. Ranks must be important if one needed to be reminded of it every time someone else spoke their name. Thriftkit feels queasy and uncomfortable — something that has become familiar since he was dropped here. He's never had a rank before, never had to consider it before. He looks over to Periwinklepaw, looks as his paws then to his face.

"Snails don't walk," Thriftkit doesn't say it as a criticism. He doesn't understand Snailstride's name — but it sounds like they don't understand it fully either from the multiple explanations they give, "They crawl."

Thriftkit will someday be Thriftpaw. Ambertail mentions his paws and Thriftkit cannot help but look down at his own. Ghostwail had mentioned his paws as well — how he'd make a good moor-runner.​

WINDCLAN KIT ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 3 MOONS​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I NEED YOU HERE 'CAUSE I'M A MESS ❀❀​
periwinklepaw | 10 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

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Though periwinkle is more than happy to see his friend, a bright smile turned their way, he certainly wishes they'd been a bit less strong in their approach. But.. thriftkit is quick to come out of hiding, curiosity winning over fear it seems. Ah - to be so resilient. He Lets snailstride speak though his maw turns in a frown as he tries to think of how his own parents had explained it -wait, had they ever? He must've been to small to remember, for he cannot recall a time when he had not understood the naming system, strange though it may seem to outsiders. A snort leaves his lips at thrift's point, a grin on his face. "Y-yup - they crawl - but s-s-snailstrides a b-bit to big for th-that now i th-think," he says, giggling at the mental image of his friend wriggling around like their namesake.

"Well, while your still th-thrif-tkit you g-g-g-get to play and eat and s-sleep to your h-hearts content," he adds, since they hadn't spoken much of expectations for the child's rank (because there were none of course). "A-apprentices are very b-busy, we learn t-to hunt and f-fight, so th-that we can keep ourselves and e-everyone else s-s-safe," he continues on, trying to interject what limited knowledge he has. What else is there to- oh!

He crouches down for a moment to look at the golden ball of fluff before him, eyes wide. "Y-you don't know what st-starclan is y-yet, do you?" though the great battle is only a nursery tale for the boy, he knows many of the older warriors had been alive to witness a time before starclan, had been there to see the ghostly figures in the flesh. It's strange, he thinks, to know there are ats who have never heard of starclan - who live without their guidance.

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