camp It's lost and can't be found || intro; snapping

[Foxglovepaw.]

He's never been a playful child. It seems to never have occured that he even was a child, his heterochromic gaze glaring to his clanmates through squinted lids, as if judging the very souls that basked or moved through camp with disgust on his maw. He kept his fur neat, pristine, and would yowl his displeasure at mud or anything he considered dirty touching his beautiful red fur; even if it was his siblings, who he cared very little for.

If he did play, he often times showed too much interest in using claws- then acting as if he didn't know or mean to. It was a rise, he didn't care. Because why would he? There was just something here in general he was displeased with. Not his parental figures, not his siblings- he had no interest in anyone. The first prey even given to him was chosen to be played with; dissected, tossed around- and though he was given stern warnings, it never really stopped.

The boy lacked emotions besides anger and disgust. His moss and ice intertwined hues have never let a tear drop from them as he never even felt guilt, fear, grief, or sadness. Perhaps his name was a curse- Foxglovekit was nothing but poison.

"I don't play." It was a statement, a fact, as he felt the other child bat at his plume of a tail, curling it inward to himself to hopefully make the kid leave him alone. But he felt the tiny grubby kitten paw still bat at his tail, and his head snapped to the kitten, a growl escaping his chest. "Leave me alone."

He had given two warnings, but the pinprick of teeth into his tail sent him on his paws- a strike of his paw slamming the other childs head. As teardrops welled in the others eyes, the child having hit their jaw into the ground with a clank of their teeth, he found himself only rolling his eyes. "I gave not one but two warnings to stop, and you refused. You will receive nor deserve any apology."

@DUSKPOOL
Anyone can be the kit he struck, or it can be an NPC!/
​

 

[Oleanderkit]

I don't play. Oleanderkit smiles at this. She didn't used to play, either. She was born into a stockpot of jealousy, an envy so strong it killed her father and marred her mother. When the water simmered she put the lid on. When it boiled viciously she stamped down the steam. Lovage had instilled this in her, fearful of Nightshade's surveillance of her kits as if his gaze alone could turn them into something dangerous. Oleander had taken all of this living she'd already done and distilled it into a grand set of rules by which to continue living: don't stand out, don't get close, and know one's exits.

She didn't used to play, but that's because playing had never really been introduced to her, on account of the fear and her young-ness and also the lack of peers she was afforded. Now that she knows about play and all of its possibilities, it is difficult to understand why Foxglovekit refuses her so viciously. He's older than she is — nearly an apprentice now, if she is right in her estimate, but he acts like he's sucked all the malice and fright out of the world and funneled it into his tiny body.

"You just don't know what game you like. I already told you that you should try mossball," Oleanderkit insists, a prim and willowed paw batting idly at the other's tail. The way he lashed it angrily was just too enticing. And though she knows much better than to bite, the banal instinct creeps into her now. With a quick glance to make sure Butterflytuft isn't watching, Oleander gives in to the pleasures of child's play. Maybe Foxglovekit would even realize that it's a game, or something, and they'd wrestle and cheer and laugh, and Oleanderkit would be lauded as the girl to have given him a spark of joy.

But none of that happens, because Foxglovekit serves her a deft blow to the forehead, and Oleanderkit retreats with a whine. Maybe that is how Mercury and Budkit felt when she had done the same to them not long ago — but if there is discomfort in her punishment, it is quickly forgotten. What gave him such a stern character? Is it his name? She of all kittens is apt to recognize it as a poison; she herself is named after another breed of dangerous flora, as was Nightshade, her not-father. But she does not find herself particularly rude or disagreeable. Naive, sometimes, to how things work — but not like this.

And so she becomes curious. Had Foxglovekit had something really really bad happen to him before? Maybe his whole family died in a fireball. Maybe they got hit in the body and needed seeds to eat like Slate. But nobody else in the medicine den needed seeds like Slate, so maybe it was more like they got hit in the body and died from it. Or maybe they just keeled over, like Violetnose.

"What's wrong with you?" It is not spoken with disgust or snide cruelty or any such emotion. She asks her question with the even, theatrically-kind cadence of a pediatrician, or of a customer service worker who makes most of their income on commission, or of a beloved celebrity puppet. "Did your family die? Is that why you won't play?" Oleander tilts her head. Her earnest tone is almost painful to listen to.

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍, 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𓆱 . ݁˖ . ݁𓆸

• ooc.
  
• OLEANDERKIT —— kit of skyclan . lovage x laurel . littermate to birchkit and mercurykit ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a willowy silver blue ticked torbie with low white and seafoam eyes. lonerborn, oleander struggles to learn the ropes of clan life while coping with anxiety and past trauma. may seem strange, and has unconventional hobbies.
  ✦ girl / she her pronouns / undiscovered sexuality / 03 moons & ages every 20th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will not start fights / will flee / will show mercy. a mere kitten, she cannot defend herself in battle.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

​

 

[Foxglovepaw.]

He had not heard her previous statement about trying games. His quick action and seeing her pull back- he was sure she would walk away like most other younger members of Skyclan. Mottled moss and ice turned to meet her curious hues. Not even anger or fear or sadness filled them. His invisible brows furrowed, but before anything could leave his lips, she asked the questions that crossed her mind.

Did your family die?

It was not a rude question, but one that she asked without any knowledge. Nothing held back- a thing children do or say that often he does because of his lack of care. Mason- Father, was who knows where instead of here- and he knew nothing of his mother and didn't care to ask. Neither of them was there. Pineberry took care of them. "Nothing is- Wh- No! Well- I don't know? Why would you care?" He spat back, before clearing his throat and watching the younger femme for a second. Dramatically, he rolled his eyes, exhaling an annoyed breath. Why did she care? Why did the youth wish to play so bad?

"Are you that bored? Fine. Ill- entertain you." He stumbled over his words, voice gruff in clear annoyance. But his paws shifted, gaze casting across camp. He had no interest in tag, or hide and seek. They were boring. Or maybe the simplicity bored the male. "Show me.." Unfortunately , he did quickly realize the child was not missing clues. He did not know these games. Mossball, or, anything. "something."

​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Children fights escalated far quicker then warrior ones, it often seemed. From the shade of a pine she watches a playful nip of the tail go from a swat to ’it must be because your family died’. Figfeather did not understand how kitten’s minds worked and to think she had been their age at one point in time.

”Behave.” Figfeather warns with a piercing sternness, telling that discipline was certain if they continued in the direction they were heading.

Foxglovekit’s annoyance miraculously turns into tolerance. Figfeather says nothing more but keeps a careful eye on the two.

​

 

[Daisydrop]

Small downtime between trainings were often spent now with Daisypaw grooming his fur, making sure that whenever it was time for his assessment - it had to be coming soon, he just knew it - that he would look perfect doing it, that he wouldn't look disheveled and gross, and though he knew that sleek fur wouldn't last forever (he wasn't a RiverClanner) he still enjoyed spending his time like this, and there wasn't much to groom anyway. He'd been mid-lick on his chest when the sight of quick paws moving over to another's head caused him pause and quickly the older apprentice would look up, ears pinned to his head as he looked at the two as his mentor told them off.

Had Daisypaw ever been this way as a kit? He didn't think so, nor did he think Fluffypaw or Weedpaw had been this way, smacking at each other in annoyance for questions asked and games begged for. Silently he'd watch as well, ready to step in to offer to play with Oleanderkit should things get worse, or even simply there to play with both younger cats to make sure there was a buffer... just in case.

CAUGHT YOU RED 🌺 HANDED IN THE BISCUIT TIN

• 

• 
  ♡ SH blue w/low white & blue eyes
  ♡ cannot properly control emotions
  ♡ born november 8, 2023. ages realistically
  ♡ sexuality unknown ; interested in no one
  ♡ adopted by Butterflytuft and Dandelionwish
  ♡ brother to Weedpaw and Fluffypaw
  ♡ easy to befriend ; easy to upset
  ♡ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ♡ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[Oleanderkit]

She watches his brows furrow and her head inclines two degrees forward. When he opens his mouth to retort, he spits, water and oil on the skillet. It's... interesting. Her forehead still tingles where he'd smacked her, and now he is blubbering, apparently so put off by her question that he has fizzled into something workable, albeit still quite feisty. Is it really this easy to find compliance in others? Is disarming them all she needs to do first? She hadn't meant to dig under the skin so handily — Oleanderkit's question had been pure curiosity, a hypothesis to test. Lucky her that it worked this time, but she wonders idly about its replicability.

Now that Foxglovekit is clay in her paws, she is satisfied. It is only Figfeather's cutting discipline that dampens her success. Behave, the golden molly warns, and Oleanderkit offers her an obedient glance. She is behaving, she thinks, except for biting Foxglovekit's tail — so maybe she's warning him instead. That makes much more sense. Thankfully, Foxglovekit must have clairvoyance, or something; he is much more open to the possibility of play now, to Oleanderkit's delight.

She still has to answer his question, though. Why does she care? "I don't," she answers, because it is true that her interest is mostly clinical, "but I had a..." she struggles to find the word theory, "... an idea that maybe nobody taught you how to play or be nice, because maybe they died."

Hopefully that would suffice. She'd like to play now. Her attention skates around camp, across Figfeather and Daisypaw, who she notes is now watching her. "Well anyway," she segues, "I think you'd like mossball, but I don't have one right now, so... maybe pretend is better. When Birchkit plays pretend with me she likes to be SkyClan and I like to be a fox, 'cause I do a really good fox impression." Not that she knows what foxes look or act like. "So we could do that? Here, I can start."

The girl finally rises to her paws, willow-limbed and languid. She takes a breath, clear blue eyes fluttering shut in a brief moment of meditation on fox souls and gnashing teeth. And then she drops, lips peeling away from her teeth, yipping and bristling in an extraordinarily foxlike fashion. Oleander continues this display for a moment before pausing her performance to check on her partner: "see! It's really good. So you have to be SkyClan and fight me off."

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍, 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𓆱 . ݁˖ . ݁𓆸

• ooc.
  
• OLEANDERKIT —— kit of skyclan . lovage x laurel . littermate to birchkit and mercurykit ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a willowy silver blue ticked torbie with low white and seafoam eyes. lonerborn, oleander struggles to learn the ropes of clan life while coping with anxiety and past trauma. may seem strange, and has unconventional hobbies.
  ✦ girl / she her pronouns / undiscovered sexuality / 03 moons & ages every 20th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will not start fights / will flee / will show mercy. a mere kitten, she cannot defend herself in battle.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

​