camp don't walk alone | wholesome content

DogTeeth

⛤ RIVER SIREN
Jul 23, 2022
118
32
28

A deep caw sounds from above, the loose strands of a droopy willow sway above the soft cup of his tan ears. Paws cuddled under his chest, eyes half-lidded and sleepy from patrol. Dogteeth is resting in reverie, the cold of autumn is not a sting but his nose his kissed with discomfort. He never liked the cold weather, he preferred the warm sand and even the hot pebbles that burn underpaw. He would admit to its beauty though, and fear its danger.

Another caw, and suddenly the tree is filled with them. Oily feathered birds he hadn’t the slightest chance of catching, blacker than a moonless starless sky. " a murder" he hums with a gentle laugh. His mother had taught him the term used for a group of crows, found it oddly funny.

When someone sits next to him, he doesn’t startle, look, or scent who it can possibly be. He doesn’t dislike anyone in his clan and he hoped that nobody disliked him- so he leans his head on them slightly. Without warning or words. " did you know that’s what they’re called?… " he yawns wide, obviously groggy with sleepiness.


  • — open for good vibes <3 need it rn :')

  • — Dogteeth | twenty-five moons | cis-male
    — warrior of Riverclan
    — gay | crushing on n/a
    — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with dazzling blue eyes.
    — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
    — deals a nasty bite | physically medium / mentally easy
    BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
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The bite of the cold hasn't fully set in yet, but it’s still too much for Crappiepaw’s thin pelt to protect them against. As it gradually grows colder, most of their mornings and afternoons are spent huddled up beside the warmest clanmate available, sleepy and contented despite the uncomfortable chill. Today is no different, although their reasons for seeking out Dogteeth are nothing special. They feel comfortable with the blonde warrior, and he doesn’t seem to mind their company.

A murder. The word evokes images of Peachpaw, that horrible fate, but Dogteeth surely means nothing by it. Especially as a crow caws once more, and the tortoiseshell forces their shoulders to go lax. "That’s a bit morbid," the lanky apprentice comments, but watches the crows intently. When the other tom leans toward him, Crappiepaw startles a bit but remains stock-still. They can handle a bit of friendliness, they think. And after Koipaw’s cuddling up to them that one terrible night, they’ve grown more comfortable with touch anyway.

They tip their head back to stare up into the tree where a black-feathered bird perches—it caws, and Crappiepaw squints at it. They’re kind of annoying, these birds, but they seem relatively harmless. They seem more interested in eating dead things, anyway. That thought sticks in their head, and they turn their head to glance at Dogteeth again. "Why do you think they’re called a murder?" They stifle a yawn with a dirty white paw, echoing the older feline’s grogginess.
[ FORTUNE LOVES THE BOLD ]
 
Unlike Crappiepaw, Peachkit was far from cold. She trotted over to sit beside Dogteeth, green eyes trailing upward to settle on the flocking birds. She answered Crappiepaw's question before Dogteeth had time to so much as ponder it. "It's because they hang around dead stuff all the time," she told him. She wasn't sure if it was exactly true, but why else would they be called that? Suddenly self-conscious about the possibility of being wrong, her gaze flickered towards her lounging father. "Isn't it?"
 

Crappiepaw, Dogteeth finally gives a little lazy attempt to figure out who he had laid his head on. that’s a bit morbid, the tall apprentice comments. To which the blonde nods with a light laugh. " very " he agrees softly. They ponder aloud, and it gets the wheels turning in his otherwise empty head. Why would they be called a murder, good question. Another voice, comes from his other side- his maw splits into a massive smile.

" My lil’ peachy! " Dogteeth’s baby blues crack open a bit wider and he presses his nose to his daughter’s ear in greeting. " your guess is as good as mine… " he admits with a tired smile and whimsical glance back to the birds. " you’re so smart honey " Dogteeth boasts over the blue and orange kit.

" Oh dear… I hope your coat gets thicker before the snow falls " he comments with a twist of concern on his muzzle for Crappiepaw.




  • — Dogteeth | twenty-five moons | cis-male
    — warrior of Riverclan
    — gay | crushing on n/a
    — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with dazzling blue eyes.
    — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
    — deals a nasty bite | physically medium / mentally easy
    BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  • 0yQlsKL.png