pafp DRAGON BEACH | warrior den tour

[FERNDANCE]

Ferndance couldn't pin exactly why she had offered Mottlepaw a sneak peek of where they would be living next moon, then again, she couldn't pin the reasoning behind many of her thoughts. Opportunities were taken readily without consideration of the consequence, what had likely been considered a nice thing for Mottlepaw had been a chance for Ferndance to laze on organising her upcoming patrol to ThunderClan - that was the usual story, at least. As with most of ShadowClan's youth, there was a particular glimmer in the cat's emerald eyes as she addressed the sepia feline that day, a muted, but very real trill of excitement that they had been given the opportunity to grow up and not die a gruesome death. Leading the other towards the Warrior's Den, the ticked tabby tried her best to ignore the smell of sickness from inside, it was less severe than the medicine den, though she was certain there were those amidst their ranks who refused to entertain a visit to the place. She didn't judge, it'd taken moons for her to work up the apathy to rid herself of her tiny insect friends, no doubt others felt some sort of connection to the blight if they wished to stick with it.

Tilting her head slightly, Ferndance allowed green eyes to meet odd ones, an awestruck smile parting her muzzle. "Step inside the den of wonders," she spoke with a reverie fit for StarClan itself, lifting her milky paw to prevent some of the brambles overhead from bumping into them both. Despite the scent of ShadowClan being strongest within the walls, she was certain that Mottlepaw could begin to ascertain which nest belonged to which cat: some seemed conjoined, others scarcely made whilst others so full of soft materials it could be mistakable for a luxurious kittypet bed. Then, in the corner of the den lay one of the worst of all. Trinkets of all shapes and sizes spilled out of a hastily put-together moss blanket, some found out on patrol and others taken from right out under her clanmate's noses. Nothing seemed in pristine condition, feathers had broken tips and bird bones seemed cracked from when the lanky Lead Warrior had pressed her weight on them in her sleep. She nudged her pale nose towards her own nest, chest puffing out in pride at the little grotto she had made for herself.

"You wanted to pick out the best spots, didn't you?" Ferndance tilted her head, moving out the way to allow Mottlepaw to enter should she wish. "As close to the centre as your rank will allow, I can advise you on who snores and who doesn't," she whispered, accompanying her advice with a wink.

@mottlepaw


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[mottlefox]

"Oooh." Mottlepaw coos with what she believes to be appropriate enthusiasm, peering cautiously through the entrance to the warriors' den as if she hasn't just been invited in by Ferndance. This is a whole new world to them, never an explorative kit nor a particularly nosy apprentice, and Ivyback has always been the one to have to wake them up during their training; never the other way around.

"Best as I can!" They meow with a nod, resigned to their fate of being relegated to the edge of the den. It wouldn't be so bad now, when the weather is all sorts of warm and humid, but she knows it's gonna suck in approximately three moons when the weather is cold. Ferndance's second piece of sage advice, however, makes their ears prick. That was relevant! It was a moot point sleeping in a den so close together but she'd take as much distance from those noisy sleepers as she could. Eagerly, she queries, "Who snores?"

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[SHARPSHADOW]

† Mottlepaw is very much a paw streaking towards the warrior’s den, aren’t they? Sharppaw supposes, on Ferndance’s heels, anything and everything is allowed. Traitorously, his eyes follow the pair. It’s a den Sharppaw should have found himself situated in close to a season ago, now, it’s woven bramble walls tantalizing to his tired eyes.

Not as if he’s dying to be surrounded by weird cats, including, but not limited to Ferndance (insane), Granitepelt (unnerving), and Smogmaw (horrible). It’s just… It was only the status, he supposes

And – what status? To be another face in ShadowClan’s small crowd of losers?

No, he can’t really look toward the warriors den with any discernable emotion but a vague sadness. He is sure the den of wonders makes it sound infinitely more interesting than it truly is. Sharppaw should not care in the slightest, and she does not. The wonders were likely the stench of sickness, old bones, and the mold that gives Smogmaw his murky glow. Sharppaw does not dare take more than a glimpse inside the shaded den. " Probably covering for herself, " Sharppaw mumbles. Ferndance looks like a snoorer… if he’s ever seen one.

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 07.07.2023

•  
•  

• SHARPPAW: brother to Rookpaw. Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 13 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — In an era of assessing what has set him back and figuring out what he wants.

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[honeymoon]

sweet like honey
———— ( ☀ ) ————

Honeypaw was eager for her chance to finally enter the warrior's den. She enjoyed the company of Mottlepaw well enough, was learning to tolerate Batpaw, but oh Honeypaw did not want to share a den with the odd little bundle of fur that was Ghostkit. Her ceremony was still many moons away, meaning her friend would be aging out of the den well before Honeypaw. She was excited for Mottlepaw! But a part of her was horribly envious she couldn't join her dustcoated friend. She would offer support however she could in the meantime, tailing immediately behind her friend and her mentor. She had little reason to ever visit the warrior's den save for meeting up with Ferndance, so Honeypaw herself was unfamiliar with the layout. Sharppaw is as sour as Honeypaw expects, but she can't help but snicker at his words. "Ferndance," Honeypaw repeats Sharppaw with full confidence. It was an absolute lie: Honeypaw had no idea which of the warriors would vibrate the den as they slept. But she would gladly take the opportunity to tease Ferndance in return for Ferndance stretching the truth to her desires, even if Honeypaw did so with incredibly less tact.

"I would bet a frog on Smogmaw." Honeypaw wedges her bets further, casting her gaze around to see if the Deputy was around to scold her for such a thing. She didn't immediately spot him, so she figured herself safe. "Bet that's why Halfshade is still in the nursery." Honeypaw moves to bump shoulders with Mottlepaw playfully as she passes her, the sunkissed feline quick to make herself at home in a den that was still well out of her reach. Her eyes scan Ferndance's nest with scrutiny, but she opts to not comment - Ferndance was the reason Honeypaw could still adds rocks to her own, after all. "Soooo... Where are you thinking? Save me a spot, yeah?"


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