- Jul 6, 2024
- 49
- 11
- 8
✧*:.｡. Inky paws slosh through mud as Wormwatcher stalks across camp, spindly tail twisting irritably behind himself. There was morning rain over Shadowclan, resulting in the forest to be especially muddier and his black gloves are brown, nettles stick to the filth. It's frankly a comical sight, the lanky tom knows this but there has not been enough time in the day to pause and truly sit down and clean up. Think what the clan may about Wormwatcher, it is undeniable he's devoted to the clan, maybe too much so. Wariness weighs his limbs down, his shoulders burn from overexertion and the irritation he feels is blatant in the way he moves through camp.
Wormwatcher's incapable of helping himself and slowing down, but just as it is undeniable that he is devotes all of himself to the marsh cats, Wormwatcher cares much for each of his clanmates (however oddly he shows it). He keeps a distant eye on the odd sorts, not entirely hands on in their lives but he can be if he must. Part of the agitation that runs through Wormwatcher is because there is nothing more that he hates than seeing another incapable of helping themself. It disgusts him to see another struggle as he has but in a way much more evident than himself. Carrioncry, simply a dark smudge in camp. Skinny, arguably skinnier than himself... but at least Wormwatcher feeds himself... most the time. The time between Carrioncry's meals are not... suitable for Wormwatcher. They really must eat more and the perceptive tom believes he knows what the problem is. It does not take an idiot to know Carrioncry had an absolutely dismal life before Shadowclan. He came to them with the scars of a warrior but from a much more.... morbid cause than warrior on warrior conflict. Wormwatcher does not know Carrioncry's story, the cat hardly speaks as it is and Wormwatcher believes they're just as reluctant sharing their past as he is. He knows enough: Carrioncry does not eat enough.
The blue-grey tom pauses before the fresh-kill pile, pale eyes analyzing what is available for him and most reluctantly, Carrioncry. A rat for two. It'll do fine. He snatches it and turns around, heads directly towards the smudge. He sits, uninvited, next to Carrioncry with a good distance between them- he is unsure if Carrioncry takes well to closeness- and sets the rat down. "Carrioncry," Wormwatch twists his wormy tail around a forepaw and stares down upon the scarred feline. His voice is soft, caring but slightly stern. "We are going to share a meal. That okay?" His theory: they have some sort of... aversion to eating and Wormwatcher believes he is holds their paw and helps them through it, whether it by day by day, then maybe Carrioncry'll reach a semblance of health he's happier with.
The tom leans down and takes a rather hearty bite from the rat. It's been a while since he had a meal and he had not expected the first bite to taste so good. He straightens and chews (showily) on the rat, swallows and then swipes his tongue around his muzzle. Now they'll wait: Wormwatcher would like to prove to Carrioncry their meal will not harm either of them. "Next bite's on you. How's your day been? Keepin' busy? Useful? I'm sure you are."
Wormwatcher's incapable of helping himself and slowing down, but just as it is undeniable that he is devotes all of himself to the marsh cats, Wormwatcher cares much for each of his clanmates (however oddly he shows it). He keeps a distant eye on the odd sorts, not entirely hands on in their lives but he can be if he must. Part of the agitation that runs through Wormwatcher is because there is nothing more that he hates than seeing another incapable of helping themself. It disgusts him to see another struggle as he has but in a way much more evident than himself. Carrioncry, simply a dark smudge in camp. Skinny, arguably skinnier than himself... but at least Wormwatcher feeds himself... most the time. The time between Carrioncry's meals are not... suitable for Wormwatcher. They really must eat more and the perceptive tom believes he knows what the problem is. It does not take an idiot to know Carrioncry had an absolutely dismal life before Shadowclan. He came to them with the scars of a warrior but from a much more.... morbid cause than warrior on warrior conflict. Wormwatcher does not know Carrioncry's story, the cat hardly speaks as it is and Wormwatcher believes they're just as reluctant sharing their past as he is. He knows enough: Carrioncry does not eat enough.
The blue-grey tom pauses before the fresh-kill pile, pale eyes analyzing what is available for him and most reluctantly, Carrioncry. A rat for two. It'll do fine. He snatches it and turns around, heads directly towards the smudge. He sits, uninvited, next to Carrioncry with a good distance between them- he is unsure if Carrioncry takes well to closeness- and sets the rat down. "Carrioncry," Wormwatch twists his wormy tail around a forepaw and stares down upon the scarred feline. His voice is soft, caring but slightly stern. "We are going to share a meal. That okay?" His theory: they have some sort of... aversion to eating and Wormwatcher believes he is holds their paw and helps them through it, whether it by day by day, then maybe Carrioncry'll reach a semblance of health he's happier with.
The tom leans down and takes a rather hearty bite from the rat. It's been a while since he had a meal and he had not expected the first bite to taste so good. He straightens and chews (showily) on the rat, swallows and then swipes his tongue around his muzzle. Now they'll wait: Wormwatcher would like to prove to Carrioncry their meal will not harm either of them. "Next bite's on you. How's your day been? Keepin' busy? Useful? I'm sure you are."
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ooc–@Carrioncry
- wormwatcher —— ✧*:.｡.shadowclan warrior, he/him, homosexual, 28 ☾, tags