it's buzzcut season anyways ❄ new accessory

[Snowpath]

He was an afterthought now and it was something he would once consider a great offense, but now he took solace in it. Snowpaw didn't want to be noticed, be remembered, he was an eternal ache in the heart and reminder of things that should not have been and for this reason he accepted his fate now as a pale shadow on the sidelines. It wasn't a bad thing, it wasn't even a good thing, it just simply was. Some cats made themselves known, some cats wanted to be known, some cats died never being known. His legacy was not one he wanted, but he could live with it, he could adjust. When he died he hoped it would be as a warrior of SkyClan and not a killer; it was his only goal. A lofty one but, he felt less scared about it now. A touch more hopefully.
It was why when he spotted the dove on the freshkill pile he stared at it so intently his eyes watered from lack of blinking and when he jerked his focus upward it was to see someone else reaching for it. Snowpaw reacted with a, "Oh-wait-" Sputtering out as he ambled forward and raised a paw to place on it, stopping teeth from claiming it as theres. "Can I-can I have the feathers? When you're done?" Biting it like that would damage them, he wanted to pluck them off first but if he had to wait then he didn't mind. The warrior chuckled at him, seemingly amused but simply grabbed something else with a wink and left him to the limp pale bird in peace. The blue tabby blinked his eyes in silent gratitude, grabbed it to take it a spot at the edge of camp he could pluck a select few pristine white feathers in peace before eating the rest; thankfully most of the plumage was free of blood spots but the few there he was able to run through his mouth and clean; letting them dry again on the ground next to him. The apprentice marveled quietly at how simple that was, removing the blood stains; washing the white. You would never know they were there unless he told you.
Snowpaw tucked his paws up to his chest where he lay, stared down at them in silence for a moment. They looked pretty clean to him. You wouldn't even know by looking.
It was enough to tear him up again but he caught it, held it in and swallowed it back down before picking up a now dried white feather and sticking it into the fur of his back above his tail where it could lay back flat like the plumage of a dove's tail feather. A few more were added there as well until he had what he thought was a presentable display of white feathers and a quiet vow to keep them clean.


​

 

[TALLULAHWING]

What a pity it is for Tallulahwing to watch Figpaw's littermate so broken, folded into himself, self-isolated from the rest of his Clan. She remembers him as a tiny kit, excited for his ceremony, but wary of all that being an apprentice would entail. She recalls Snowpaw and Figpaw together, bouncing languidly on the branches of the pine trees without fear, without care.

They're both different now, she thinks with a frown. Time has weathered them, as it does all kits. She and Huckleberry had not escaped it either -- life in the Clans was not easy, even for two easygoing former barn cats.

Snowpaw especially has things he must carry alone, heavy things. She does not know much about StarClan, but she wished the damn cats up there would let Snowpaw know he is forgiven.

"Awful pretty," she murmurs as she approaches him. He's eaten a dove, pushed away the remains of the bird and has stripped and cleaned multiple feathers. White, pure. Tallulahwing blinks at the display, her ears twitching. "Do you intend to wear them? They're just as good as my ribbon." She paws the collar in question thoughtfully. A dove's feather, peace. White and without stain. She wonders what it all means.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

Daisyflight was surprised to see he son intercept another warrior from their fresh kill, he was far quieter in recent months. Intrigued, she watched the ensuing interaction. Plucked feathers, quartz blades, hooked deliberately into his fur buoyed her brows. It was a show of consideration for himself. Seeing it pushed a little relief into her, it had to suggest something had changed for him.

"Looking sleek!" The calico couldn't contain her enthusiasm, slinking from the frost-fletched walls of camp. She gave an implied shoulder bump to Tallulahwing. She was pleased to see the daylight warrior sharing her praise for the new accessory. "The white suits you nicely." Snowpaw's ashen pelt was brightened by it. A new beginnings perhaps?​

✿ ✿ ✿​

 

[WYRM]

The difference between the world here, so close to twolegplace, would never cease to amaze him. It was only a feather. Like, seriously. Plain and freshly plucked from their prey. It was far from remarkable, and yet they crooked and crooned like it was a fresh collar, arrived in one of those big, sky-blue things that let you know the contents were worth dying for. His own is around his neck, now. Slightly loose, a dark leathery sheen studded with silvery prongs. Of course, they weren't actually so deadly. (It'd be too much power for him, to be able to poke holes in anyone who stood too close for him. It'd be a nightmare in a crowd, probably).

But who was he to ruin the fun, to let the forest-dwellers know that there were better things out there? They certainly knew that already. Not his fault they're too stupid to take advantage of it. Wyrm rolls his shoulders, (Maybe purposefully) jostling the spiked thing around his neck. But his smile is bright, and eyes half-lidded as he whistles at the addition. "Whew, leave some she-cats for the rest of us!"​