- Jul 29, 2023
- 31
- 6
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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep is the brother of Death. Twin boys, the pride and joy of the Divine Mother of Shadows. Sleep's paws may be warmer than his brothers, but both remain faithful guardians to the creatures of the living world.
Poppypaw was Poppypaw was not Poppypaw, or well, she hoped this was the case. There was a certain sadness in accepting their divinely ordained position among feline-kind, faithful as they might be. An echo of a hoot and a holler, hushed and sapped of its urgency. A blurred reflection, indistinct in form and unsure of where her edges stop and the water starts, obscured by a ripple. Poppypaw was all blood and flesh and bone and consciousness and feeling, yet she was more a ghost than a real girl.
Why would Starclan place such a heavy burden upon such narrow shoulders? Guardianship was not as simple as she had understood it in her childhood, and as the frigid death-parade of Leafbare trekked along before her, she came to realize that her responsibility insisted more that she bear witness than it did empower her to protect.
Still, they held fast to their destiny, praying faithfully and doling out blessings whenever possible.
Leafbare had proven itself to be Death's most favored domain, and Poppypaw familiarized themself with his practices enough that they could comfortably call him an acquaintance. But, decidedly, he was not a friend. The barrenness of her beloved wetlands was soul-saddening, and the despair of Shadowclan even more so.
They had spent the past sunrises and sunsets praying for a kindness to grace their presence, a star-granted moment of peace for her and her friends. Newleaf was beginning to bear its sleepy head from its burrow beneath the snow, and lethargic seeds planted in the seasons previous began to take root in the recently softened soil. Poppypaw, too, was feeling drowsy beneath the warming rays of the unclouded sun. She padded with purpose toward a sun-warmed patch of grass growing in a corner of camp and sprawled out to enjoy it to its fullest.
Small red paws spread in the soft new grass and brushed forth a small bloom, a thin-stemmed and cheery little thing just beginning to peek its own red face over blades of tender green. It was a poppy, soft and born again after a long season of cold death. The blessing they were praying for!
Alas, though their paw was the one to uncover the delicate petals of peace, Poppypaw's eyes had already slid shut, and a small snore would escape them as they slumbered tranquilly in the late-afternoon sun.
Poppypaw was Poppypaw was not Poppypaw, or well, she hoped this was the case. There was a certain sadness in accepting their divinely ordained position among feline-kind, faithful as they might be. An echo of a hoot and a holler, hushed and sapped of its urgency. A blurred reflection, indistinct in form and unsure of where her edges stop and the water starts, obscured by a ripple. Poppypaw was all blood and flesh and bone and consciousness and feeling, yet she was more a ghost than a real girl.
Why would Starclan place such a heavy burden upon such narrow shoulders? Guardianship was not as simple as she had understood it in her childhood, and as the frigid death-parade of Leafbare trekked along before her, she came to realize that her responsibility insisted more that she bear witness than it did empower her to protect.
Still, they held fast to their destiny, praying faithfully and doling out blessings whenever possible.
Leafbare had proven itself to be Death's most favored domain, and Poppypaw familiarized themself with his practices enough that they could comfortably call him an acquaintance. But, decidedly, he was not a friend. The barrenness of her beloved wetlands was soul-saddening, and the despair of Shadowclan even more so.
They had spent the past sunrises and sunsets praying for a kindness to grace their presence, a star-granted moment of peace for her and her friends. Newleaf was beginning to bear its sleepy head from its burrow beneath the snow, and lethargic seeds planted in the seasons previous began to take root in the recently softened soil. Poppypaw, too, was feeling drowsy beneath the warming rays of the unclouded sun. She padded with purpose toward a sun-warmed patch of grass growing in a corner of camp and sprawled out to enjoy it to its fullest.
Small red paws spread in the soft new grass and brushed forth a small bloom, a thin-stemmed and cheery little thing just beginning to peek its own red face over blades of tender green. It was a poppy, soft and born again after a long season of cold death. The blessing they were praying for!
Alas, though their paw was the one to uncover the delicate petals of peace, Poppypaw's eyes had already slid shut, and a small snore would escape them as they slumbered tranquilly in the late-afternoon sun.
Flowers have many meanings and most are positive. Pick a flower you most associate with your character and why and do some general writing symbolism relating to it.
- OOC: fun fact poppies are a common symbol of sleep, peace, and death <3
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poppykit- poppypaw
— agender they/she. 9mo apprentice of shadowclan
— grey-ace. questioning affections. friend to all.
— a tiny, fluffy white and dark red tabby cat with pale, wraithlike blue eyes
— smells like mushrooms, dust, and foggy night air
— deaf in left ear, may display asthma-like symptoms of "long-yellowcough"
— sounds like lain iwakura, with a flat yet gentle high-pitched tone
— “speech”, thoughts, attack, 'poppypaw'
— icon by mercurial, fullbody and pixel headshot by dejavu
— penned by eezy - disclaimer: poppypaw is not always operating completely within reality! they are affected by some delusions and may see, hear, react to, and interact with things that are not actually there. most notably, she will believe herself to have interactions with starclan as a whole and specifically, the deceased shadowclan apprentice Poppypaw. these are not reflective of ic reality and are not real interactions with starclan or deceased characters! this is not an attempt at powerplaying, godmodding, or metagaming.
