- Jul 29, 2023
- 31
- 6
- 8
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 It was only inevitable that the clans would have to shelter beneath the benevolent wings of Shadowclan's marshes. The stars had kindly informed Poppypaw that they would be keeping all the clan cats under their protection, and Poppypaw was glad to be able to serve their part in enacting holy grace. She found herself out in the marshes that evening, wandering near the Burnt Sycamore in pursuit of nothing in particular, perhaps to watch over their guests from a distance. Her paws followed the path of her soul-whim with a cheery silence until it led them to a particular bank of the swamp, and to the creature they were fated to come across that night.
He was an odd-shaped thing, a cat that was stretched at the legs and ears, with a form that hunched with effort beneath some force unseen to Poppypaw's pale eyes—most likely beneath the weight of existence itself. Poor thing. How cumbersome it looked for the creature-boy to exist, all jutting angles and unruly fur. They approached the boy-creature with their floating, silenced gait and caught a glimpse of the eyes on him in the omniscient revealings of the water. One honey, one salt-frost. She recalled with affection the eyes of a friend, neat greys and white and kissed between the eyes by a star, and smiled to themself. The black-and-whiteness of the boy's pelt lacked Flintpaw's neatness, though. White cut and slashed through dark with the viciousness of bear-teeth and owl-talon, and evoked a violence in aura that Poppypaw found fascinating. Poppypaw may have also been jarring in appearance to some, but her blood-on-snow visage was painted neatly on a canvas of fluff and sealed with thematically-icy blue eyes—this was one of Frostbite's many kindnesses to her. Perhaps the parent of this one lacked kindness toward him. Poor, poor thing.
This cat we found, he's kinda...
"Odd."
They said this aloud, in agreement. "Well, wait, no..." they murmured, and Poppypaw appeared perplexed from her seat upon the still water behind him. It occurred to them suddenly, "At odds...!" They corrected with glee, their friend lighting up cheerfully once more. "Friend, do you often feel at odds with yourself?" the small Shadowclan apprentice would ask the boy-creature/creature-boy, focusing their gaze directly toward his face for the first time.
She then recalled the promise she made to the heavens to embody a vessel of grace, and looked downward into the marsh water once more, "You will be safe here... The marsh sings stars back toward the sky." In response, the stars would hum their approval in the shivering ripples upon the water's surface. Yes, they smiled at her for her faithfulness.
He was an odd-shaped thing, a cat that was stretched at the legs and ears, with a form that hunched with effort beneath some force unseen to Poppypaw's pale eyes—most likely beneath the weight of existence itself. Poor thing. How cumbersome it looked for the creature-boy to exist, all jutting angles and unruly fur. They approached the boy-creature with their floating, silenced gait and caught a glimpse of the eyes on him in the omniscient revealings of the water. One honey, one salt-frost. She recalled with affection the eyes of a friend, neat greys and white and kissed between the eyes by a star, and smiled to themself. The black-and-whiteness of the boy's pelt lacked Flintpaw's neatness, though. White cut and slashed through dark with the viciousness of bear-teeth and owl-talon, and evoked a violence in aura that Poppypaw found fascinating. Poppypaw may have also been jarring in appearance to some, but her blood-on-snow visage was painted neatly on a canvas of fluff and sealed with thematically-icy blue eyes—this was one of Frostbite's many kindnesses to her. Perhaps the parent of this one lacked kindness toward him. Poor, poor thing.
This cat we found, he's kinda...
"Odd."
They said this aloud, in agreement. "Well, wait, no..." they murmured, and Poppypaw appeared perplexed from her seat upon the still water behind him. It occurred to them suddenly, "At odds...!" They corrected with glee, their friend lighting up cheerfully once more. "Friend, do you often feel at odds with yourself?" the small Shadowclan apprentice would ask the boy-creature/creature-boy, focusing their gaze directly toward his face for the first time.
She then recalled the promise she made to the heavens to embody a vessel of grace, and looked downward into the marsh water once more, "You will be safe here... The marsh sings stars back toward the sky." In response, the stars would hum their approval in the shivering ripples upon the water's surface. Yes, they smiled at her for her faithfulness.
- OOC: @CICADAPAW
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poppykit- poppypaw
— agender they/she. 4mo apprentice of shadowclan
— ??? ; child.
— 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
— sounds like lain iwakura, with a flat yet childlike 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.
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