pafp haunted cards | pelt decorations

[BIRDMASK]

Birdmask is not a cat designed for poor weather. You might think otherwise, given that he is a clan cat through and through, but you would be wrong. The snow clumped his fur up and matted that around his paws; the wind undid hours of careful grooming. It was just rude, really, for the weather to waste one of the few things Bird put any actual effort into: his appearance. He's far better suited to sunnier weather that warms rocks for laying on, and grows flowers for putting in his fur, and calms the wind to leave his fur unruffled. If this weather would also come without all the obligations of hunting and patrolling and general warrior duties, well, he would be most grateful, but he'll concede that Starclan must keep him in check somehow.

(There is a very definite reason his name is based solely on his appearance and no discernible personality or skill.)

With the seasons turning a new leaf, he's a step closer to his ideal weather. At the very least it's giving him plants to pluck and weave into his pelt, fresh from the edge of the river, wherever that lies these days. Closer to where it should be, which is a low bar, but enough about the river. The fresh, leafy green contrasts well with the white and minimal orange of his pelt. He thinks it looks quite handsome. Rustic, even, because these paws were not made for weaving, so leaves and stems and flowers have more been jammed into his fur than anything else. Rustic is handsome, Birdmask is very sure of it, but a second compliment never hurt anyone. He sits a few paces away from the river, lazily scanning for cats with nothing else to do, until his sight lands on his worst friend.

"Hey, Morning!" He calls to the big feline, striking a pose. "How do I look?"​

 

[morninglight]

Oh, here comes their headache. Stuffing shrubbery into his fur and assuming it makes him look good. They let out long, put-upon sigh as he calls for them, and turn their head. They give him the expected cursory glance; it's not the worst they've seen, but he... lacks any semblance of skill. At all. He's the worst at everything he does, and they're always sure to make sure he knows. "Terrible. Matches your dumb face," the large cat calls back, not deigning to move towards him. He can come closer on his own, if he feels the need. However, within seconds, their eyes catch on something and they change their mind immediately. "Keep it up. Better yet, I'll help you."

Morninglight snatches something from the river, making sure its hidden in their jaws as they get to their paws and make their way over to him. They stop right in front of him, lift a paw to hold his head in place, and narrow their eyes as if deciding where best to place their centerpiece. A few seconds pass, and then they lean forward, plopping a clump of algae directly on top of his head. "There you go. Perfect. Everyone will love you," they say, head tilting slightly with a smug smile.​

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"speech"​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw is accustomed to the way some of her Clanmates choose to adorn themselves. All manners of feather and flower are woven into their pelts, tucked into the bases of their tails -- and while she doesn't judge them for their accessories, she finds herself above it.

In recent moons, the tortoiseshell finds herself buoyed by the glimpses she gets of herself in rainwater puddles. A finely-defined face, the white blaze arcing up her nose like a splash of watery foam and accentuating her sky-colored eyes -- Iciclepaw knows she is attractive. On some level, she's always known, though it has not been important to her. Her pelt is glossy, mottled with pretty shades of earth and sunkissed-gold.

This has never served any purpose for her. She has no intention of catching any tom's eye. Or she-cat, for that matter, though... sometimes Iciclepaw wonders how Ashpaw thinks she looks. Is she impressed by tortoiseshell fur, blue eyes? Is there something she'd rather Iciclepaw be?

The young she-cat observes Morninglight and Birdmask with a small smile. "You look like Beesong's den grew four paws and started prancing around," she says.

Iciclepaw tastes the air and scrunches her nose. "Argh! You smell like their den, too," she says, purposefully exaggerating.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[► Sneezefur.]

IF YOU ONLY LISTEN WITH YOUR EARS I CAN'T GET IN
sneezefur | 25 months | demi-boy | he/him | physically medium | mentally medium | attack in bold #50c878

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Unlike many of his clanmates, sneezefur has never put much time or thought into his appearance. Even in childhood, it had been plain to see that any efforts made were wasted - he'd simply came out wrong to begin with, there was no helping it. He is to sharp, to boney, to crooked - even in the most plentiful of times muscle refuses to cling to his poor bones. And these days... well, he's covered in a plethora of scars he's certain are an eyesore to even the most uncritical of his clanmates. It is not something that bothers him anymore - there is no changing what you're simply born with. It could be worse after all. He's simply glad that despite his sickly appearance he's yet to actually keel over or succumb to his fragility.

Seafoam green gaze watches passively, a warmth in bejeweled optics that he seems to otherwise lack as he watches the two friends bicker - he wonders sometimes, what it would be like to make a friend. But it is not just his looks that came out wrong - any time he tries, it seems the words simply refuse to come out. Humming idly, he's content to simply be there at all - though truth be told, he doesn't think Birdmask looks all that terrible. He's certainly seen worse after all.

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

the deputy was never one to adorn herself with beauty, delicately woven leaves and flowers into her earthen furs. perhaps she had never truly thought of it, mind dwelling on other matters than her appearance. and thus, it may explain her awful scowling towards birdmask. perhaps she had awoken on the wrong side of the nest, and her usual complaining to lightningstone hadn't helped her as it usually had. now, it simply feels as if her fur is placed wrong on her hide. it was a horrible irritator, and buck had lost much of her patience by now.

she is watching them, the scent of algae filling her nostrils and making her muzzle crinkle. her stomach seemed sensitive this morning, and the overpowering scent of the algae is surely not helping her. the woman finds herself agreeing with iciclepaw's statement of birdmask's imposed stench, thanks to morninglight, of course.

her eyes catch sneezefur for a heartbeat. bony and sharp, watching alongside. "we can love you from a distance. a very large distance." is all the deputy can add, hoping birdmask gets the hint to get rid of his decor or move further from her.
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[CLAYFUR]

Clayfur has never been one to decorate his own pelt—it’s messy enough as is, without any accessories stuck into the tufts of earthen fur. But some of his clanmates do enjoy covering their pelts in shells, leaves, or feathers, and Clay can appreciate the beauty of a well-decorated pelt. Birdmask’s fur looks good complimented by the various plants—but it looks much worse after Morninglight plops a clump of algae directly atop his head.

He strides over to join the group, standing just behind his niece. Icicle comments on Birdmask’s smell, as does Buck, and he wrinkles his nose at their words. Like, okay, rude. Algae doesn’t smell too bad, and neither does Beesong’s den. He glances at Sneezefur, hoping the other warrior will say something, but he doesn’t say anything in Bird’s defense. "What are you guys talking about? He doesn’t smell that bad," Clay says through a mouthful of grass. His words are slightly garbled, muffled by his chewing as he speaks.
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[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]​

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[LILYBLOOM.]

Lilybloom was not the sort of cat to adorn her pelt in trinkets. She had no problem with those who did though and could certainly appreciate how the addition of little plants or feathers could bring out another cats eyes or pelt. Although not vain enough to admit it out loud, she knows she is an attractive enough cat not to need any accessories to catch the eye.

"The smell isn't that bad," Lilybloom mewed, padding up alongside her younger sister and uncle. Well, it might not have been that bad but it certainly wasn't that good either. She gives Birdmask a sympathetic look, pitying him for the fact that everyone now couldn't help but imply how bad he smelt. "Just don't wear the algae too long, Birdmask," Lilybloom advises politely. "The rest of your pelt looks very nice though."​

 

[BIRDMASK]

He’s quick to frown at Morning’s critique, as if it was at all unexpected given their bad taste. “You have a dumber face. Because it’s so big,” he says. If there’s any correlation between face size and dumbness, Morninglight’s broad, handsome face certainly has Birdmask’s rounder, handsomer face beat. But all insults are quickly forgotten as the other walks over to help (not that he needs it), and the orange tom preens as he waits for the promised assistance.

Newleaf is too young for the algae to be refreshing. He yelps at the sudden wetness and starts to splutter out some indignation, but the arrival of more cats stops him short. The first few don’t appreciate his look, or the look that’s been thrust upon him – though, he can’t really get a read on Sneezefur – which stings the way a kitten biting your tail would: not very much. It’s kind of fun, actually.

Iciclepaw’s first statement isn’t negative, exactly, but it misses that complimentary element Birdmask had been after. “Well, I’ve been preaching the benefits of a mobile medicine den for moons, but will anyone listen to me?” He shakes his head. The second statement is negative, but he can pick up the playful aspect Icicle is putting down. Not that Buckgait finds it funny, making a face like that. He maturely doesn’t say anything on the matter, but if he pokes his tongue out, well, that’s between his tongue and the playfights it wants to pick.

“Thank you!” Bird cries out when Clay and Lily come to his defence, his knights in shining armour (whatever those are), saving him from the stink-sayers. And at last, a compliment! It almost makes the algae worth it. “If anyone wants some plants and algae, I’m sure I can make you half as dashing as me with a little bit of effort. Anyone? Any takers?”
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[BEESONG]

beesong would have been content watching the duo in relative silence, save for the lilting hum of amusement in his throat, had it not been for iciclepaw's comments. comparing the mess of leaves and weeds tangled in birdmask's pale fur, algae slumped on his head like a shameful crown, to the healer's den in both appearance and stench. (beesong thinks he must be going nose-blind, at this rate. every time someone points out the unsavory smell of herbs, he shrugs and realizes that he doesn't even notice anymore.) the cinnamon tabby raises a brow and rolls his tensed shoulders back. "hey," beesong begins with a snort. "my den smells much better than birdmask does." then, he leans back, pretending to inspect the 'decorations'. it's nowhere near perfect, seemingly jammed into the other tom's fur at random rather than meticulously weaved with purpose. maybe he has no room to judge, but... "looks better than birdmask, too." it's spoken lightly, and beesong smiles as if that would take the cutting edge off of his half-joking words.

beesong, themselves, have never indulged in decorative hobbies. partly because they're not a fool; they know how they look, thick scar tissue marring half of their face in an ugly display of pink flesh. no amount of flowers could distract from that. and even if they, on a whim, desired to adorn what's left of their cinnamon fur with flora... they've never been gifted at the detail-oriented art of weaving. and with hardships piling up faster than they could blink, it's not like they have the time or care to worry about their own appearance while everything is going to shit.

birdmask remarks how he's been preaching about the benefits of a mobile medicine den for moons, and that elicits a genuine roll of beesong's eye. "remind me of these so-called benefits, again?" 'cause i've been there, done that, and it sucks. trying to transport all of his herbs during the flood, even with the help of gloompaw and multiple warriors, had been nothing short of a catastrophe. in theory, the idea of a mobile den is nice... in practice, however, it's only a nuisance.

lilybloom and clayfur offer compliments to the algae-sodden warrior. beesong can't help but quirk one brow at the praise, deciding on a whim that both of them are lying to appease birdmask. that, or they're in need of an eye exam from the medicine cat... but it's only when birdmask offers his quote-unquote services that beesong speaks up again, smile turning wry. "maybe when i'm dead." or would that be considered disrespecting the dead?​

 

[GILLSIGHT]

Though Gillpaw doesn't tend to weave decorations into his fur as some of his clanmates do, he can find an appreciation for the practice.

Having only had his obsidian fur decorated for special occasions, he can see the appeal. Feathers and flowers, collectors of both could carry their collections with them. Gillpaw isn't sure if one could find a way to attach pebbles to their fur, but, maybe then, he'd adorn himself with shiny flecks of rock.

Birdmask looks quite proud of his own adornments, shades of green against an orange pelt. Though some are correct in the fact that the warrior looks like he'd rummaged through Beesong's herbs, Gillpaw thinks it suits him.

"I-I think you l-look nice," he tells Birdmask. That is, he looks nice, until Morninglight sets algae atop his decor. He resists the urge to scrunch his nose at the smell, a bright gaze trying its best to look reassuring. At the warrior's offer to weave plants into others' fur, Gillpaw thinks for a moment. How bad could it be?

"Y-You can decorate my f-fur..?" Gillpaw offers, "Th-though... no algae, p-please." That smell could stay on Birdmask!
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[LILYBLOOM.]

Despite the overwhelming complaints about Birdmask's stench, he was taking the situation pretty well in Lilybloom's opinion, clearly appreciating her and her uncle's - and later Gillpaw too - more lighthearted comment. Birdmask offers to decorate the pelts of the cats present. Dawnglare quickly refuses, and judging by the reaction of some of the other cats, Lilybloom couldn't imagine he'd have many takers. She considers his offer for a moment, allowing Gillpaw to answer before she speaks. "You can decorate my pelt too, if you'd like," Lilybloom offered. "But I must insist that you don't put any algae on me."​