camp good to be chillin' out || socializing n nest making

Cricketcry

wretchedly nervous
Jul 1, 2024
47
6
8
𓆧 Cricketcry scutters through the camp clearing, his uneven gait vaguely worse than usual. This could be because the sullen tom has neglected to remake his well-worn nest for quite a time, sleeping in the remains of it that provide no comfort nor support for his poor hind leg. He gathered up the ragged remains of his nest and left it in a less quiet spot away from where the warriors' rest, which he returns to now with a bundle of moss, long grass and feathers he had been collecting from his meals. Cricketcry places his materials down and settles down lightly on his haunches, shifting his hindleg out from beneath himself in attempt to not put too much weight on it.

He surveys his new materials before reaching forward and gathering the ragged remains of his nest. He pulls the shapeless nest towards himself, pressing the dried moss together into a ball that he shifts from paw to paw as he thinks of the best way to go about weaving the assortment of materials together into something more comfortable. The demure tom feels a little lonely, which he does indeed feel often due to his inherent reclusiveness. It's not often when the loneliness urges him to search for some sort of conversation. He lifts his head and takes a gander about, round eyes flitting in search of a prospective company while he works on his nest. He's surprised to see someone just a tail length away from him, a feline he had not seen prior as he had been so preoccupied.

"H-hello, hi," Cricketcry mews roughly. "Care to j-join me here? He flexes his stained paws into the moss nervously but keeps his wary gaze upon the one he speaks to. In an attempt to not be perceived as so stupidly shy and laughable, he straightens his posture and shifts his hindleg back beneath himself so he appears as more composed. Abnormally, he even attempts a welcoming smile, which expires just as quickly as it appeared. It just didn't feel right on his usually downcast face. He chirps up once more and rasps, "Any tips in nest making would be appreciated."

IS IT BETTER TO SPEAK
OR TO DIE? —————

he/him | windclan tunneler | tags | PENNED BY ken | *:・゚ 𓆧*:・ 𓆧
 
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The last thing I want to do is make nests, Bluefrost thinks sourly, her green gaze hanging on Cricketcry's pale pelt, but I suppose it is better than being in that stifling nursery. The smoked she-cat nears him, the breeze ruffling the thick mane of fur ringing her throat. At his paws is a dismantled mess of moss, feathers, and bracken — materials for his new nest, she thinks.

"I suppose." Her voice is clipped as she settles a respectful foxlength from the other cat. She surveys the remains of his old nest for a moment, her tattered ear twitching as though an insect buzzes at its soft center. "You will want to start from the outside in. Twine the grass together to make the base." She allows some of the tension to leave her shoulders. It is nice to be among Clanmates, she supposes, and the sun feels nice on her swollen belly. "Then you can pack the middle with the rest of your materials."

  • ooc:
  • 69334192_7vVwuq2U19bWMTh.png
  • Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
    — “speech”, thoughts, attack
    — 17 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
    — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
    — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
    — penned by Marquette.

    lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.


 
It is nice to see Cricketcry mingling with his Clanmates. Though she'd never force him out of his shell like she'd wished too, Hollyhockpurr is pleased to see him taking a few baby steps on his own since his talk with Dimmingsun. The black-furred molly arrives on scene, giving Bluefrost a small nod before turning her attention to her old friend with a wide smile.

"I'm not much for advice, but I'd love to join you regardless," the tunneler mews cheerfully. She does not ask for permission - it's certainly not uncommon for her to butt in wherever she feels she fits. Vibrant blue eyes trail down to the mess at Cricketcry's paws. "Feathers are a nice touch. You're off to a start," she muses, duly noting the feathers that the tom had collected. "Would you like some help weaving?"
  • hollyhockkit hollyhockpaw HOLLYHOCKPURR
    ━━ TUNNELER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
    ━━ 24 MOONS,, ages every 1st
    ━━ NPC xx NPC
    ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
    ━━ MENTOR to NONE
    ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | generally healthy​
  • base credits to velvtreill on th
    hollyhockpurr.png

  • speech is #87B3E0

 
𓆧 It had taken a lot for the withdrawn tom to actively invite those in his proximity over but did not plan for this offer to be accepted. Cricketcry had intended to either be disregarded or simply go unheard, his hoarse voice lost among the rasp of sand beneath paws or the chatter of clanmates. He'll have to improvise. With a small tip of his head he welcomes the smoked she-cat and watches as Bluefrost settles close, but not too close, thankfully. "Right..." He mews softly, beginning to heed Bluefrost's advice, paws moving clumsily. If only he were more capable doing anything beside tunneling.

Cricketcry turns when he ears another arriving and some of his tension eases as he sees it is only Hollyhockpurr. He gives her a polite, half-hearted smile-- truly, he was glad to see the molly but was unsure how to express it-- before glancing back down to his mess and then towards his feathers. "Mhmm... b-been collectin' them for a while. Time to put them to use. Just a waste to...t-to stare at them." The nest is a muddle. When Hollyhockpurr asks if he'd like help weaving, he shocks himself by the speed in which he looks up graciously and nods. "I'm afraid I do," he exhales, sliding the mess over to the molly. Maybe she would just do it for him. In that case, he notes he must do something nice for Hollyhockpurr, perhaps gift the prettier feathers from his collection to her.

But now he has nothing to excuse himself for not speaking much and he stares down at his unoccupied paws, racking his brain for what his next course of action could be. Cricketcry sighs softly and glances up, directing his attention to Bluefrost. He has resigned himself to the fact that now he must commit to the bit. "I've not seen you much... r-recently. Are you unwell?" He tilts his head, ears flicking passively as he awaits his fellow tunneler's answer. Cricketcry's not heard anything regarding her pregnancy, he's been too occupied by his own neurosis and only knows he has not been on a patrol with her for a few days.

IS IT BETTER TO SPEAK
OR TO DIE? —————

he/him | windclan tunneler | tags | PENNED BY ken | *:・゚ 𓆧*:・ 𓆧