pafp laputa was all we knew | accessorizing

[silkbreath]

TAGS — "How do I look, Fern?" Silkbreath hums, turning his white-webbed gaze towards his aunt. His fur is littered with different sorts of leaves and flowers; he'd even managed to find a few insects to delicately rip apart and add to his collection-- though he'd been careful not to touch any more of that mud. He got enough on his pelt every day, and it was a pain in the tail to groom it out of such pristine fur. The leaves, though; the leaves and wings and all other pretty things he's adorned in- those won't be going anywhere anytime soon. Water lilies and blue flag flowers dot his otherwise stark-cream pelt. The swamp flowers were just starting to bloom in the newleaf sun, and they're a wonderful natural perfume. "Am I pretty?" he prompts his aunt again, plumy tail flicking.

ShadowClan may be curious about what it is that the pair are up to, but Silkbreath doesn't feel obliged to explain. This is his tradition, after all-- one the rogue group had instilled in Ferndance and himself; one that he is sure he will not soon forget. To dress up the body and match the stars; to adorn the shadow and know that one day you will become it. The cream-hued tom knows that the flesh is not binding. One day he'll join StarClan, and when he does there will be flowers in his fur just as there are now. Ferndance knows this, too, and she decorates her pelt the same way, honoring the spirit that masks itself beneath her fur. He can't see it well, but the smell of the leaves and flowers are pleasant all the same. A nice honor, it is! A beautiful honor, a beautiful portal to the next world, the next life! Silkbreath releases a joyful, songbird cackle, leaf-strewn tail swaying happily behind him.

/ @FERNDANCE !​

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[FERNDANCE]

The ticked tabby's fur was often adorned with the strangest of things. Bugs, leaves, feathers, even the occasional flower, though those did not always seem like the easiest things to find in ShadowClan. Silkbreath had done a good job of finding them though, his pelt adorned in colours that Ferndance only wished were a more permanent fixture on their mortal bodies. Petals of various shapes and sizes were loosely weaved into coarse strands of fur across Ferndance's body, seemingly hanging on by sheer force of will. Some pinks, some greens, even cobalt, though this was unknowingly the shell of a beetle as opposed to an actual flower part. Other items had begun to be arranged in an odd pattern on the floor, it was only when the Lead Warrior stood in a certain way did the light reveal that it filled the shadow of the warrior. She couldn't remember the story behind her parents' fascination with the tradition, maybe it had been a way to apply greater meaning to the things they scammed from other cats, or maybe it'd come before that, a way to celebrate death. Life was a journey, the afterlife was the destination, it was a lucky thing they'd believed in making that road an interesting one.

"Oh, you look stunning." She replied with a polite chortle to her nephew, gently pressing one of the violet flowers further into the sea of milky fur to hide the nibbled stem as best she could. Ferndance caught herself before she started fussing like a new mother with a kit, a white paw hovering tentatively where she wanted to make amendments to Silkbreath's already perfect job. She did not know what he would look like when he died, or what decorations would be assigned to him. She'd pictured something poisonous and pretty, luring others in with fancy witticisms before going in for the kill. It was no different from how he spoke, whilst both of them were blunt, only one of them beamed as if they'd just told a compliment when they lashed out. Ferndance didn't mind the trait though, it was what made her nephew unique and she couldn't imagine him any other way. "You've left your true self awfully barren though." She admitted, finding the other's shadow amidst a slew of others. Emerald eyes meet vacant ones, and she regrets speaking so soon. "If I marked it with bright things, would you want to do the rest?"

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[smogstar]

Smogmaw needn't bother over frivolous means of embellishing himself. This is not to insinuate he doesn't take pride in his appearance. It's quite the opposite, and as per his own evaluation, his image has proven more than sufficient for its intended purposes. Rugged and unkempt, his pelt scarred and characterised by bizarre cowlicks, and not to mention the innate dark pattern worked into his steely fur—any further accessories would simply devalue his profile. He is how he wanted others to perceive him: dreary, dismal, and unassuming.

Toward those clanmates of his who are inclined to wear accessories, no ill will is harboured. If masquerading one's true self beneath a veneer of torn flower petals allows for easier sleep at night, then it isn't anything to be concerned over. He won't lie and imply a few of his peers didn't look better with such adournments, but that sentiment is mostly reserved for those who were visually unremarkable. Consider Ferndance, for instance. Beset by a lopsided personality and a rather forgettable appearance, the ticked tabby had few qualities in her favour. However, seeing her in such a palatine getup is almost pleasing on the eyes, nearly something worth remembering. Good for her.

"Pretty?" the deputy would echo, taking in all the items bestrewn about Silkbreath's coat on his approach. Smogmaw lacks a standard of comparison for what constitutes an attractive tom. He isn't sure if it's due to ShadowClan's males being universally unattractive, or if it's because his attention is primarily drawn to the she-cats. Nonetheless, it's apparent that Silkbreath had put at least a nominal amount of effort into his appearance. "Mushrooms'd be prettier than flowers," comments the pewter-toned tabby, slowing his gait once he draws near. "The coloured ones with all the spots on 'em. Probably easier to find, too. Where'd you even get those?"

The concluding question matters the most to him. When he's out and about in the greater marsh, a larger amount of heed is given to the looming trees and reeds than the flowers which bloomed between. It'd be nice to know where Silkbreath found the flowers—Halfshade hasn't received a gift from him in quite a while.​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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//brief mentions of dysphoria

though chilledstar prided themself on being clean and looking very neat, it was hard to say whether or not they actually believed they were pretty. if you asked them, they might have avoided the question all together because in their mind, they weren't all that good to look at. it comes from moons and moons of self doubt and loathing, staring into a reflection that doesn't look quite right. dysphoria was one hell of a thing, wasn't it? still, they manage. they manage and they find things like flowers actually makes them feel good. that was something they wouldn't allow anyone to take from them. no matter how they felt, flowers always made them feel better.

stepping near the crowd, they watch for a moment before moving closer to silkbreath, grabbing a flower from his pelt and placing upon their own, tucking it gently behind their ear with a slow blink and a softened smile.

"are you saying i don't look pretty, smogmaw?"

there is a tinge of laughter in their voice before they just shake their head.

"don't even begin to answer that, especially if you want to keep your pelt on."

whether or not they were joking remained to be seen. they felt pretty and they didn't need confirmation or rather anyone to dispute that. they should have been allowed to enjoy the mood they were in.

"mushrooms would add to your pelt, though. I think you look rather... decorative."
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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — Sabletuft found it wasteful spending so much time 'prettying' one's fur with silly items like leaves, flowers and, least of all insects. What was the point to keep all that mess around? Sabletuft could only see it attracting pesky flies and ants. The time wasted trying to stick so many things to his pelt could easily be spent doing something much more productive.

His opinion didn't change seeing Chilledstar and Smogmaw were enabling the behavior, but he remained silent on his judgements anyhow. "Add enough mushrooms and the swamp might swallow you up." He grunted, though his tone was dull, his words could be taken as harmless teasing. — tags​