- Nov 14, 2022
- 260
- 55
- 28
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The sun beats down, but the swamp below remains cold, as if though very trees refuse to give up their shed their winter pelts of white. The swampy water is so still, it's impossible to tell if it's frozen or not, though the melted snow banks on the side suggest that it is. Magpiepaw sniffs the air, crisp and refreshing, as if the heat hasn't quite settled enough to conjure forth the scent of marsh rot and dying foliage just yet. He feels heavy today, as though the cold clings to long fur, as if the strange humidity plasters his coat even closer to his frame; swaddles him in gross heat. The mud squelches under his paws, and each step is more laborious than usual. It would took a lot of effort to find a place to settle his paws on solid ground out here and he makes his way back to camp looking matted and filthy despite having managed to not topple into the mud once.
He never really was one for excessive grooming, was a waste of time with how often he tripped and tumbled about - he was often left a mess. But for once he longed to be clean, to be rid of the bits and debris stuck in his dark fur and the mud coating his paws like grimey weights.
"...hey. Want to share tongues?" He asks, voice pitching into a not-question, because he wasn't inclined to accept no as an answer even if he did look a fright and was liable to leave any cat's tongue coated in muck with just one lick but that was what clanmates were for. To be there for one another. When it was convenient for him specifically. Who was going to tell him no? What sort of monster would refuse to help their medicine cat apprentice? Their DISABLED medicine cat apprentice?
The sun beats down, but the swamp below remains cold, as if though very trees refuse to give up their shed their winter pelts of white. The swampy water is so still, it's impossible to tell if it's frozen or not, though the melted snow banks on the side suggest that it is. Magpiepaw sniffs the air, crisp and refreshing, as if the heat hasn't quite settled enough to conjure forth the scent of marsh rot and dying foliage just yet. He feels heavy today, as though the cold clings to long fur, as if the strange humidity plasters his coat even closer to his frame; swaddles him in gross heat. The mud squelches under his paws, and each step is more laborious than usual. It would took a lot of effort to find a place to settle his paws on solid ground out here and he makes his way back to camp looking matted and filthy despite having managed to not topple into the mud once.
He never really was one for excessive grooming, was a waste of time with how often he tripped and tumbled about - he was often left a mess. But for once he longed to be clean, to be rid of the bits and debris stuck in his dark fur and the mud coating his paws like grimey weights.
"...hey. Want to share tongues?" He asks, voice pitching into a not-question, because he wasn't inclined to accept no as an answer even if he did look a fright and was liable to leave any cat's tongue coated in muck with just one lick but that was what clanmates were for. To be there for one another. When it was convenient for him specifically. Who was going to tell him no? What sort of monster would refuse to help their medicine cat apprentice? Their DISABLED medicine cat apprentice?
- Prompt - Sharing tongues is a tradition as old as time itself. It's an act of comfort and camaraderie, a sign of trust and respect. Oftentimes, gossip & rumours about clanmates and sometimes even secrets are shared over a grooming session.
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Magpiepaw
—⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
—⊰⋅ He/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
—⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
—⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
