lies of p l cobweb picking

Sep 10, 2022

wait around, i'll smile again

Though it's been a short while since he joined, Watson hasn't shown his face around camp for much time at all. If asked, he'd say he's just adjusting, but he knows well that it's because he's been anxious and afraid. He feels silly for it as a grown tom but he's had little experience with other cats until the fateful day his twoleg passed and he met Skittles. He'd reacted similarly then; loafing in a wet alley, squinting in the rain with an aching stomach but no will to move an inch. It took a long time for his companion to coax him up. To outlive his owner, felt like he had outlived his usefulness and he didn't know what to do with himself any longer. In a way, he still doesn't, but he feels stronger than he did those moons ago. He can swallow down his nerves and put his best paw forward. At least try. He's met some of these cats back in the twoleg place and though he's not sure he made the best impression at the time, he at least has a general idea of them. Regardless of it all, he'd been informed that he'd need to pull his weight so he ought to start somewhere.

First thing's first, as he leans down to take a sip of water, he catches sight of how downright mangy he looks in his reflection. "Mmm. You've looked better, haven't you old boy?" Yet it's a good sign that he at least feels an itch to care and with a bothered sigh, he starts combing his tongue through his fur for the first time in forever. A few hairballs later and he looks less like a fuzzy caterpillar blob and more like a presentable tom. He adjusts his plaid bowtie collar and ignores the sad feelings it conjures. With his fur in order, Watson actually looks much more like his younger age than his grumbly voice and attitude imply. As he stretches following the long sit, his bones pop and ache as if to argue against that point. With that out of his way, Watson treks out into the pines to pitch in with a request he overheard. Something about someone needing cobwebs. What in the world a cat would want cobwebs for he hasn't the faintest clue but it's at least something he's capable of completing with little experience. After all, cobwebs were practically part of his pelt when he was creaking around abandoned two leg homes.

Minus their trek here, this is the first time that Watson has been out in the wilds (at least alone) and he appreciates the quiet as it soothes him. He watches the sunlight twinkle through the trees, listens to the crying drip of leaves from a recent shower, and gets so caught up in his nature walk that he almost walks right into a spiderweb. Jerking back, the cat pulls up his heckles and hisses at the small arachnid like it's to blame. "Why you nob... Touch me and I'll pick my teeth with your legs. I mean it!" The spider stays deathly still then spindles it's legs, as if arguing back. Well at least it's a sign that he's on the right track. Ducking beneath, the leaf colored tom catches sight of a labryinth of webs tethered through some bushes stripped down to red in leaf-fall. Laden with shining dew, it's a beautiful in a way and he shortly admires it. Watson then looks around, spotting a long stick shaped like a wishbone toward the end and that he can stand to lift. (If one eats with the devil, he must do so with a long spoon). Using his stick, Watson begins to rake it through the webs, praying not to disturb any of their creators and turning in place to package it compactly like a rolled rug or some very, very disgusting cotton candy.
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𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒

"Far out, brotha'" A coo of a voice would sound from the tree limbs above Watson and the content smile of Deersong would greet the tom from a branch not far above him. "Never seen a cat gather cobwebs like that before. Freaky Deaky." Her strange lingo held only the tones of friendliness as the she-cat gracefully jumped down from the tree and landed not far from Watson with a quiet thump.

Walking over to him, she would tilt her head in her usual dazed fashion, "You're kinda new around here right? Don't think we've met yet." She straightens back up, head tilting to the other side as she waved her half-tail behind her like a happy flag, "I'm Deersong, nice to meet ya, friend. What do you think of Skyclan? Ya Jivin' yet?"


Using a stick to collect cobwebs? A stroke of genius, if he was quite honest. It was far better than using a paw or tail, much cleaner too. "I'll have to remember that method." Sharpeye remarked with a curt nod of his head as he drew closer. He recognised Watson from the day of his joining, though he hadn't seen much of him since that day. Still, it was good to see him continuing to hang about. "Settling in?" He queried, not nearly as eloquent as what Deersong had said. Alas, he felt far too lazy to put much effort into his words. Straight to the point, that was better.

Lurking beneath Deersong’s climbing travel, was the unholy sawtooth shadow of Thistleback. Clad in a bit of pine wood shavings having chased a squirrel, he stalks through the forest- keeping an eye on the molly above. Should she lose footing, he’d be there- he’d always be there for her. She may be an angel, but she was too stubborn to fly when she needed to.

A familiar orange–brown pelt whisks through the sparse and near-barren shrubbery. A strange shaped stick in his gob, laced with the silky strands of spider’s web. Deersong lands ahead of the Daylight Warrior, and greets the newest recruit kindly- her lovely weird slang loose on her lips. " smart lad " he notes aloud, swaying muscled shoulders until he was stood next to her. He stays silent as she introduces herself properly.

" Thistleback " he introduces himself in turn. The arrival of Sharpeye allowed the purple collar sporting enigma to sort of wander a bit but only a few tail-lengths away.

" adorable little things they are- " The daylight warrior’s lips peel back into a toothy smile lined with dried blood and grime. A knuckled paw brushes a small brown spider off of a torn webbing. Probably already assaulted by the strange cat with his stick, what a story for the other spiders this one had to tell. " solitary predator… oh how I admire you " he mutters to the small eight-legged creature before flicking it away carelessly and returning to the group. Oh what a attention deficient beast he was at times.

  • — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
    — daylight warrior of Skyclan
    — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  • bVBPWus.png


wait around, i'll smile again

Watson grits his teeth to suppress a jolt, not expecting a voice out of seemingly no where. As Deersong keeps speaking, he finally locates her and eases a sigh of relief that he's not going crazy only for his expression to sport slight confusion then. What a strange way to speak from such a prim and sweet looking girl. He's never heard it before and he's starting to understand that Skyclan is made of all sorts of cats from all walks of life. After another whirl of the stick, he sets his cobweb holder in the grooves of a stripped bush to keep it clean and to be able to speak properly. "I'm just a bit sick of picking webs from my fur, honestly." Almost as much as he hates licking fur from his teeth after a meal. Goodness, does he miss food from a tin. "That's correct, a loghead dragged me in, but it's a pleasure, Deersong. My name is Watson." The tabby feels a little proud to hear feedback on his method because so far, he's felt incredibly underprepared for life outside of the twoleg place. Everything is confusing to him and he knows how to do little so Deer's questions and Sharp's echo'd sentiment makes him feel conflicted on how to answer.

'Well, I'm terribly sad about my upwalker leaving the earth and I'm not cut out for this wilds lifestyle and I just miss my fireside twoleg chair and-!'

"I think I'm settling in just fine. I'm 'jiving.' ... I think. Er, what does that mean exactly?" Watson smiles but it's a little tight. His problems are his own in his mind. Being directly outright called smart however, puffs his chest up with a bit of pride. Between he and Skittles, someone has to have a brain! "Watson. Nice to meet you." Watching the large ferocious looking cat then reach out to grab a spider, he can't help but hold his breath with a slight wince. He's afraid for him of being bitten. "An... interesting observation. I-" Then the spider goes flying and Watson loses his train of though. Well then! "Oh. Can someone explain to me what these cobwebs are for anyway?" He's been wracking his mind but the purpose eludes him.

It's amusing, the scene before him.

Though he hasn't a clue how to collect cobwebs - he'd assumed Snowpaw had done it right when he brought back cobwebs, though Dawnglare didn't like the spiders he brought back with; a shame, really - Greenpaw knew such a task wasn't performed the way Watson had done it. Swinging a stick around, poking and prodding at spider nests.

He knows for certain it's an unusual method when all the warriors praise the newer face for his intelligence, with Sharpeye noting that he'll have to remember such for the next time he'll have to collect cobwebs. Maybe Greenpaw should too, then.

Their small talk isn't much of interest to the apprentice, but his attention is brought back to the conversation when the former kittypet asks for an explanation on the use of cobwebs.

"Oh! That's an easy one! Dawnglare sticks 'em on others when they're hurt," the young apprentice answers with a nod. Something else that he's not truly certain the reason for. Because, Greenpaw's never had an injury significant enough to warrant cobwebs? Luckily? Not that he'd really want Dawnglare sticking things to his fur, of course.

And then, an idea.

"Hey, you should bring some spiders back with you!" he tells Watson - an innocent smile on his face, despite his mischievous tone, "Dawnglare loves bugs! It's good for... What does he call it again? The Mother?"
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Tallulahwing had not gone into the Twolegplace after Blazestar and Dawnglare, chasing after some wispy dream. Like the others, she'd simply become accustomed to seeing certain cats sitting in camp as the dawn rose. A silly-looking thing, old as her or older, rough around the edges but sporting a soiled old plaid bowtie. Endearing, really.

She pads up behind Greenpaw, tittering to herself as she watches Thistleback send the spider flying from its web. The deputy's son says, "Hey, you should bring some spiders back with you! Dawnglare loves bugs!" Pale golden eyes twinkle with amusement and a pale lower jaw parts. "Whoever knew you could use spiderwebs as blood-catchers, huh? If we'd known that as kits on the farm, we'd have scarred a lot less, I'll wager. Spittin' flowers on people and dabbin' 'em with spider gunk... the Clans have it all figured out." She pads forward to thoughtfully paw at the twirled white thread on the edge of Watson's stick. "Good idea. There's gotta be enough here for the next pack of dogs to attack us." She giggles throatily.

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