four dirty paws // bathtime (prompt)

[Ternfrost.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH​

maggotpaw | 05 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple

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Maggotpaw, unlike most of her clanmates, has always taken pride in her appearance. She looks like her mother, she knows - if not for her cold eyes, those are all her own. There is almost nothing of her father in her but her size, a fact she is more than grateful for. Long, cleeks locks of blue and grey and white are kept clean and neat and tidy - utterly pristine. The same can not always eb said about her clanmates - and, certainly, not about her only friend. With his recent injury, he girl has been on rather on edge - something that annoys her to no end. Why should she have to worry about him? It was his own stupidity hat had resulted in this. But her mind won't quiet, and so she begrudgingly makes her way over to starlinghearts den, turquoise gaze narrowing as she blinks at Magpiepaw. "...Don't you ever bathe?" his fur always seems a mess - sticking up every which way, and she's certain it's not supposed to look that way. She gives him a final once over before aiming to give him a quick swipe of her tongue across his pelt if he'll let her. She's determined to sort it out one way or another - by force if necessary. It's punishment for worrying her, she thinks. "You should keep your pelt neater, it's always sticking up every which way like a porcupine," she grumbles quietly - not that she's ever seen those beasts, only heard stories.

// Please wait for @Magpiepaw
Prompt: It goes without saying that ShadowClan cats are known for their dirtiness. They live in a swamp, after all! But surely, this nasty reputation can be vanquished with a little bit of cleanliness: think grooming, sharing tongues, getting all of the mats and curls out of another's pelt.​

 

[Magpiepaw]

Magpiepaw offered not a single complaint about having to sit in this den for the time being, his tail between two sticks and bound in cobweb more to prevent him from fussing with it than to fix it back up; because according to Starlingheart she needed to ask the other medicine cats about it. It was odd remembering she was not fully trained, she knew so much and he just assumed she could fix anything but then he remembers the shouting and yelling the day Bonejaw left them and he is forced back to the reality of it. At the time, naive as he was (and perhaps still was some), he didn't realize how terrible a fate they had been left with when their healer fled to the river. But Starlingheart had done her best, they were all still alive and surely that meant something.
He'd not complain about getting to enjoy her company more, he still wished wistfully for the days of the nursery but he had finally gotten over the idea it would ever come back.
His dark head lifts from his nest near the front, so he can still see the birds outside, to the sound of steps and Maggotpaw's white head looming over him with her usual indifferent stare before questioning. Do you ever bathe?
"...sometimes." Magpiepaw responds curtly, he didn't like baths. It took him so long to groom himself cause he would fall over often or struggle to twist his head around enough to get to tougher spots and Wolfpaw was sometimes too rough in his assistance so he didn't ask his brother much anymore.
Before he could explain that he found grooming a waste since he was just going to get dirty again anyways, the silver and white apprentice had settled down to take matters into her own paws. Or tongue rather. A rasp atop his head caught him so by surprise he nearly lost his balance where he lay and tumbled over but caught himself.
"...porcupine?" He questions with a grunt of quiet complaint to the fact he was now being cleaned against his wishes but surely Maggotpaw knew more than him; she had always been very sharp.
What was a porcupine?
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[Rainecho]

Her apprentice had taken a fall. Unfortunate but at least he wasn't dead, just cooped up in the medicine cats den which in itself is also unfortunate. She didn't like it in there, the smell of herbs and illness made her want to retch but Starlingheart had left for her monthly meeting with the stars and someone had to bring Magpiepaw his dinner and so Rainecho was willing to brave it. There is a small piece of her that, weirdly enough, misses the little guy and so it is on frost tipped paws that she makes her way over to the ill-begotten den with a mouse clenched in her jaws.

"Hey Magpiie I brought ya- oh" she stops short when she realized the tom already had company. Maggotfur is saying hwo dirty he is, is helping him clean and she watches, amused, as he nearly falls over when the other apprentice licks the top of his head. She drops the mouse between her paws and licks her front paw, dragging it over one ear and laughing softly. mostly to herself. "Maybe when you're done with him you can get my pelt Maggotpaw" she says, her tone lightly teasing. "There's a mouse waiting for you when you're free from bath time, maybe you two could share"
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[smogstar]

Slime. Swampwater. Garlic. Non-ShadowClan noses turn at the mere mention of such words. Yet, those who live in the swamp find themselves equipped with a skill that puts them above the cats foreign to their land: petty indifference. Sure, the before-mentioned odours may be repulsive to outsiders and marsh-dwellers alike. Of course, there are times when the stench of rotting vegetation and stagnant water becomes too much for even the strongest of stomachs. And rest assured, it's not just the smells of the swamp, but the incessant humidity and viscous sludge caking their paws and coating their fur. With that being said, ShadowClan cats have a remarkable ability to shrug all of these off as another part of their daily lives. There are worse things to worry about, anyhow.

It's a celebratory occasion whenever a clanmate cleanses themselves of the territory's resonance. Smogmaw has found that most do not do so on their own volition, but nonetheless, they all succumb to the primal urge of getting rid of the stink.

While there is a fine line between pretentiousness and cleanliness (a line admittedly toed by his mate), the deputy can only force an approving grin at the sight before him. Maggotpaw, forcing her tongue across Magpiepaw's raggedy furs—she was a braver soul than even StarClan's finest. The sheer force of her tongue nigh on sends the other apprentice ankles-over-shoulders, which spurs a grating chuckle in the deputy's throat.

"Your fur'll fall off if you don't take care of it," he says in a cautionary tone, verging on the trio. He positions himself a toad's-hop away from Rainecho, who solicited for a tongue of her own. "I've heard of naked kittypets, cats who don't have pelts to speak of, because they'd been so bad at grooming themselves." An awful sight that Smogmaw had the fortune of avoiding. He couldn't begin to envision what their tails might look like.

The other she-cat's requisition lingers in his mind, leading him to draw his focus upon her. A step towards Rainecho precedes the tongue-sharing process; and when it does occur, in lengthy laps down her nape, Smogmaw catches hints of slime, swampwater, and garlic amidst her strands. ​

 

[GOOSECHASE]

sharing tongues is a very important part of clan-life, it's a period of time to wind down and bond with a fellow clanmates over gossip while getting rid of any uneccessary burrs or knots clinging to wisps of fur. goosepaw sort of hovers over the middle ground when it comes to tending to his appearance, sometimes he's just not bothered enough to continously brush himself down everyday if they are only going to get messy again. maybe it was because he was blessed to have short-fur rather than long, flowing locks which he can only imagine is a nightmare to deal with in the marsh.

speaking of fur, goosepaw just happens to saunter by when smogmaw brings up naked kittypets causing them to stop completely with a look a absolute bewilderment etched onto narrowed features. "no way thats true! are there really kittypets with no fur?!" a shudder of revulsion rolls through him at the mental image before he's plopping down where he stands, might as well join the hangout while he's here.
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SHADOWCLAN APPRENTICE✦ CHARMING BLUE AND WHITE TABBY ✦ 11 MOONS​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

Comfreykit, born into a Clan where the Carrionplace is a source of prey and where swampwater coats her Clanmates' fur, does not realize there is anything untoward about their scents. Regardless, even she can tell which of her Clanmates let themselves go too long without grooming. Magpiepaw's fur is an unruly mess -- one that Maggotpaw sets out to clean. Rainecho and Smogmaw, too, share tongues as they converse about kittypets without fur.

"Kittypets," she echoes, looking at Goosepaw with wide amber eyes. "Have you ever seen a kittypet?"

She's still small, and not in the practice of sharing tongues, but seeing her adult Clanmates do it inspires her. She can be grown, too! Comfreykit rears back to start attempting to clean bits of mud from Goosepaw's pelt.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[RIBBITLEAP]

Off to the side, Ribbitleap's cleaning the mud off his own paws, idly listening to the conversation before him. A child of the marshes, the warrior's no stranger to mud in his fur, though its tendency to camouflage into his dark brown fur is a never-ending pain when it comes to getting rid of it at the end of the day.

Despite his own difficulty to distinguish between mud and his own fur at times, Ribbitleap can't help but wonder if some of his clanmates have never been taught how to clean themselves, a question only proven necessary when he sees Magpiepaw's unkempt fur.

A torn ear twitches at the talk of kittypets, at the idea of furless cats. Perhaps it would be easier to clean one's self, to rid the stench of swamp, without fur, though the sight of a cat without fur sounds horrific to him.

"I've met a kittypet before," he offers to Comfreykit, as he finishes one paw and moves to the next. A child of the pine group, not quite a kittypet in its true form, but still one in nature. Ribbitleap briefly wonders where the kit is now - if he's grown to be a warrior for SkyClan. "He had long white fur, and these funny-looking ears. Kind of looked like a cloud - imagine being a ShadowClanner with that fur." He'd never look like a cloud again, over here!
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[Frostbite]

Ah yes, the rarely seen act of grooming. He was glad to see that his clanmates still did it on occasion. He tried his best to do so as well, but there would always be stains upon his snowy white pelt.

He has to admit now though, in a place like this, what was the point of grooming? You would just get dirty again in seconds. He doesn't know how some cats do it. He listens to his clanmates talk as he so often does and finds himself staring at Smogmaw in muted bewilderment.

Hairless cats????

No way. There's no way that's real. If not grooming made you lose fur then most of the clan would be naked by now! But.... What would a hairless cat even look like?

"That would be a sight to see...." He said. He doesn't know if he would feel pity or disgust or both, but he would sure feel something.

He listens to Ribbitleap speak of a kittypet he met, indulging Comfreykit in a story. All white and long fur, huh? Same!

"Yeah, I couldn't imagine it." He said with a smile.

His entire existence in this swamp would be miserable if he were too vain. He had to accept that his fur would be dirty for his mental well-being.
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