- Jan 12, 2023
- 163
- 57
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her expedition beyond riverclan camp's protective hedging had been short - lived, her experience with the rolling wetland meadows far briefer than she had initially thought. she is standing paws deep in the shallows, strawberry eyes gazing unblinking into the shimmer of water and the occasional shadow flitting just beneath, not far beyond the reed exit of camp with lichentail lingering somewhere behind. her mentor ; the word still beams a bright light through her chest, solemn as the pointed deputy had been since smokestar's untimely disappearance. she doesn't like to think of it much, doesn't like to think of what would have happened to the ebony - coated leader if he had survived. she prays starclan guides him, envelops his paws with alabaster stardust for as long as it took for his body to recover. she's still yet to see the gorge. she does not ask to see it, either -- not now. instead, she asks the river, whispers to the babbling brooks to keep him safe wherever he'd found himself. she dreams that she can see the spots of bloodspattered ivory he bore in the great net of celestial black above.
but in this mortal plane, the evening glows with a low, fiery simmer ; the golden hour of dusk, where all along the river cascades into a citrus - swarmed ichor. cicadas sing loud at her back where a noise sends her into an emergency crouch. her belly wets with the moving brook but she sees it through the sedge, through bladed ribbons of water - dappled newleaf greenery ; something yellow, something toddling the water along the banks across from her. it looked to be a young bird of some kind, its tail curved into a neat, dandelion point, orange beak flitting through the bars of reed and undergrowth. she is new to hunting, still. an understatement, really -- she's yet to have a catch to claim, tempered only by the knowledge that she hadn't had much of an opportunity yet. like this, pupils blow wide as she wriggles her hind end. like this, an opportunity. to bring home a young bird on one of her first outings, she can feel heavendusted eyes watching as she takes a leap, pushes off limbs still thickening with recovery. claws splayed, her paws cup it's back neatly, squarely. her catch lands, and with the speed of an overeager viper, she ducks to take a bite.
it squeaks. it does not bleed.
confusion paints her shell - cracked expression, sacchririne eyes singing a frustrated rust as bites again. squeak. again. squeak. again. black eyes stare dully at her, unflinching, heatless beneath hard, strange - feeling skin. she doesnt like it, not at all. it stares uncannily at her, she stares back until the crunch - splash of a pawstep behind her brings a lilac tail to a mighty lash, hooded luminaries casting an annoyed glance towards whoever approached, β there's something wrong with it! β anger sounds strange still in her featherbeat tone ; in annoyance, the new apprentice swings a paw at the unfortunate duckling, sending it toppling over.. and immediately back to it's upright float. squeeeak, β ugh! β
but in this mortal plane, the evening glows with a low, fiery simmer ; the golden hour of dusk, where all along the river cascades into a citrus - swarmed ichor. cicadas sing loud at her back where a noise sends her into an emergency crouch. her belly wets with the moving brook but she sees it through the sedge, through bladed ribbons of water - dappled newleaf greenery ; something yellow, something toddling the water along the banks across from her. it looked to be a young bird of some kind, its tail curved into a neat, dandelion point, orange beak flitting through the bars of reed and undergrowth. she is new to hunting, still. an understatement, really -- she's yet to have a catch to claim, tempered only by the knowledge that she hadn't had much of an opportunity yet. like this, pupils blow wide as she wriggles her hind end. like this, an opportunity. to bring home a young bird on one of her first outings, she can feel heavendusted eyes watching as she takes a leap, pushes off limbs still thickening with recovery. claws splayed, her paws cup it's back neatly, squarely. her catch lands, and with the speed of an overeager viper, she ducks to take a bite.
it squeaks. it does not bleed.
confusion paints her shell - cracked expression, sacchririne eyes singing a frustrated rust as bites again. squeak. again. squeak. again. black eyes stare dully at her, unflinching, heatless beneath hard, strange - feeling skin. she doesnt like it, not at all. it stares uncannily at her, she stares back until the crunch - splash of a pawstep behind her brings a lilac tail to a mighty lash, hooded luminaries casting an annoyed glance towards whoever approached, β there's something wrong with it! β anger sounds strange still in her featherbeat tone ; in annoyance, the new apprentice swings a paw at the unfortunate duckling, sending it toppling over.. and immediately back to it's upright float. squeeeak, β ugh! β
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i. bingo event slot - salmon. she's found a rubber ducky along the shore! mentor tag for @lichentail < 3
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frail alabaster molly with lilac striping and watery amber eyes.SHELLPAW π SHE / HER. SEVEN MOONS OLD, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN, MENTORED BY LICHENTAIL ; SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. HAZECLOUD xx LICHENTAIL, NIECE TOSMOKESTAR. PENNED BY ANTLERS-----------------Β° β βshe is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of dovey lilac curls, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore and plush enough to conceal the juts of malnutrition beneath. tufted elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined rheumy, rosen amber. the anemic cold pink - purple at tender paws and nose tell a lifetime of sickness, further made obvious by the feathering weakness in half - whispered tones.
