pafp Lily white and poppy red | sorting flowers

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

When everything goes wrong — when the water level is getting lower every day and tensions between clans running high — it’s nice to have something tangible to work on, something you can fix. The ever-stressed out Snakeblink takes to the task with characteristic single-mindedness. Watching others, finding little grievances, the clicking tongue and glares of annoyance, connecting the signs to the cause… He enjoys putting the puzzle together. Finding a solution often keeps him pleasantly occupied during long sleepless nights, and though his manner of solving problems isn’t always perfect there’s no joy like seeing it work out and getting to see his clanmates a little happier for it.

Today the target (or victim) of his well-meaning schemes is Poolswoop. The dark-furred elder is a recent widow, her mate having passed on at the end of a long life; an expected event, but a painful one nonetheless. He’d see her comforted if he can, but first he has to figure out what to do with all these goddamn flowers.

Knowledge of plants is not within his purview. Understanding their medicinal properties is the medicine cat’s privilege, and any other aesthetic or symbolic meaning is simply lost on him. But Poolswoop often stares longingly at the colorful blooms cascading over the banks of the river, and he remembers the petals decorating her mate’s pelt — he thinks she would sincerely appreciate a nice bouquet. Now, to make it nice—

He makes his way through camp, tripping every so often on the overflowing vegetation drooping from between his teeth. The volume of it almost hides him entirely: from the front, one sees little besides an explosion of bright colors and equally loud, floral scents. Straining through the gaps in the greenery, his eyes zeroes in on one unfortunate cat. Someone meticulous and willing to follow Snakeblink’s idiosyncrasies.

”Ah, Crappiepatch!” He tries to say, though only the vowels make it through his mouthful of plants, making it sound closer to A, o’ee’ach!. Dropping them at the spotty cat’s paws, he tries again. ”Just the cat I was looking for.”

Quickly, business-like, he gestures at the mount of flowers, flicking away a wilted one with a careless swipe of his paw without looking at where or on whom it might end up. ”Would you kindly help me sort these out? Do not ask,” he adds ruefully, anticipating confusion that may not even come, ”I only need you to pick out those that make you sad to look at. Although if you can find an aesthetically pleasing way to arrange them then by all means—”

He shakes his head, all nervous movements as he selects another unsatisfying flower — a bald poppy, its fragile petals having not survived the trip across the river — and jerks his head sideways to throw it aside. Self-consciousness has him clarifying himself. ”That was hyperbole. You may of course ask questions as you see fit. I do genuinely need your assistance with this task, though: I do not know what to do with all these flowers.”

Later, he’d like to put some in Poolswoop’s nest, but sneaking into the elders’ den will have to wait for a more reasonable amount of flowers.
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  please wait for @CRAPPIEPATCH
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

Crappiepatch is used to things going wrong. In fact, they are not certain that they have ever had something go right in their life. And now, with Beesong dead, they feel more awful than ever. They had wanted that—for a brief moment, yes, but a disgusting one. And now there are loners, or beavers, or something, in the territory. RiverClan cannot catch a break. And the calico feels terrible, like there is an itch, a wrongness deep inside. Nothing they do feels correct, feels okay. And they cannot fix it, any of it, so they need to find some way to… distract. They need to find something to do with themself, so their paws do not feel attached to the wrong body.

A voice cuts into the silence that lingers around them, and Crappiepatch’s head lifts. Before them stands… a patch of flowers, walking around on paws that are hardly visible past the greenery. They do not understand what the voice says, garbled and muffled as it is, but then the flowers drop to the ground, revealing the brown and white form of Snakeblink. They look up at the tom, eyes glittering with happiness. They enjoy the presence of the lead warrior and admire his strength, the way that he defends the clan with all his might. Just the other day, he rescued Cindershade from drowning. If he is not a good tom, a good warrior, then Crappiepatch does not know who is. They only hope that they can be like him someday.

And Snakeblink is… asking them to help him? They want to ask why—why did he choose them, and why does he need this many flowers—but he says not to ask, and they snap their muzzle shut once more. He wants them to sort things, though, and that is enough to satisfy the young warrior. Pick out those that make you sad to look at. "They all make me sad to look at, arranged like this." Where is the organization? The effort? Though, they suppose that is what the lead warrior wants their help for. He tosses out a few wilted flowers, and so Crappiepatch does the same, carelessly swiping away the crumpled, dried corpse of what was surely once a beautiful daisy. "In order to sort them… will you tell me why you need this many flowers?"

Even as they begin asking questions, though, the young feline gets right to work, shifting and sorting flowers already. An ivory paw shifts to rest upon the stem of a beautiful geranium, moving it to the side, away from the rest. "Are you crafting a bouquet to woo someone?" Their question is asked with idleness, but green eyes shift to stare directly at the older RiverClanner. "Or are you requesting my aid for an apology gift?" For once there is no judgment in the young cat’s tone; they respect Snakeblink far too much to judge him for such things. If he has upset someone, then surely such a gift will fix it with haste. They wrinkle their nose at a particularly pathetic bloom, one brow raising as they glance at Snakeblink. Why would he possibly deem some of these flowers acceptable at all?​

[ my my, cold hearted child ]​

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[Flutterpaw ☆]

Foliage flutters in Flutterpaw's periphery, capturing the child's attention quite completely away from his half-made moss-ball. Those were flowers! Lots of flowers! Flowers to make you sad, he hears Snakeblink say as he none-too-subtly approaches, intent on maybe taking one of those makes-you-sad flowers for himself. "Can I help too?" He asks, turning his baby blue eyes up to the older cats. Then I can get a little flower for Mama...​

 

[silverpaw]

silverkit's intentions are far less noble than flutterpaw's. she frowns at him as she pads by, frustrated because he is a 'paw now, and she's still not. aren't they the same age?! this is abominal. no, that's not how it's — ab- abominadal. "abdominal," silverkit mutters under her breath. yeah... that sounds right.

turning her attention to the flowers, she decides to help a little. but she's also very hungry, and she wants to eat the flowers, which is why she came here in the first place. so she decides that she'll only eat happy flowers, and she'll put the sad flowers over to the side, so she can help snakeblink and eat flowers!

only the problem is that all the flowers look yummy, which means all the flowers make silverkit happy to look at, and not sad at all. she eats one flower. then she eats another. then another. she does not appear to be sorting or helping at all. she is just sitting there, eating the flowers snakeblink has collected.

●°○•● ​

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.˚◦○˚ TAGS ˚○◦˚.

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  • abandoned by the border, sibling to otterkit, adoptive daughter to pikesplash • 3 moons old • silver tabby & blue tabby chimera with a dusting of white freckles • meticulous, attentive, opinionated, LOUD!! • peaceful powerplay welcome • wants to make friends! •

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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Crappiepatch says that all the flowers make them sad, and Snakeblink has a brief moment of pure exhaustion at the thought of having to go pick different ones before he gets that it’s the organization that’s causing issues here, not the flowers themselves. Shaking his head, he stops to look at the pile of flowers — with the more obviously wilted ones dealt with, he’s at a loss for what to do with the rest of them. ”You see then why I need your assistance,” he sighs.

Keen-eyed and deft, Crappiepatch gets to work without complaint, swiftly sorting flowers in some order than Snakeblink can make sense of but would never have imagined himself. He can’t help a pleased smile: he likes them, their diligence and — selfishly — the steady respect and pleasure in their eyes when they look at him, the way they immediately set to the task he assigned them without complaint. So when they ask him what the purpose of the flowers is, he doesn’t hesitate to answer them — though he coughs out a choked laugh when they mention wooing.

”No, no,” he hurries to clarify. ”Nothing of the sort — could you imagine?” He chuckles to himself at the sheer absurdity of him wooing someone — he would get these same flowers thrown back at his face quicker than he could say his piece, he’s sure. As for an apology gift… He’ll admit to having a similar thought before, but asking for help with crafting an appeal to forgiveness seems… gauche.

In a lower, almost confidential tone, he continues, ”No, this is for Poolswoop. She was recently widowed, as you may have heard, and I thought this might lift her spirits some. It’s little in the face of such hurt, but—”

A younger voice pipes up, asking to help, and Snakeblink turns to look at Flutterpaw with a slightly bewildered frown. ”You may.” Glancing at the tidy piles growing under Crappiepatch’s paws, he adds, ”As long as Crappiepatch agrees, of course. They are the one in charge of… flower sorting patrol,” he finishes lamely. ”And you must follow their instructions if they— what are you doing.”

Movement in the corner of his eye brings his attention to Silverkit, her nose buried in the flowers as she appears to be… eating them. Taking after Clayfur’s example, perhaps. Dismayed, he watches as an entire daisy disappears into her mouth. For such a small thing, she can certainly eat them fast… Should he intervene? Are flowers bad for kits? He lifts his paw in an aborted movement to pull her away, unsure where to begin with this.
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

When Snakeblink speaks, explaining his reasoning for collecting such a selection of flowers, the young warrior frowns. Poolswoop must feel so lost, without her mate. Just as they feel, without any of their friends at their side. "You are doing a very kind thing for Poolswoop. She will appreciate it," they say, with certainty. They think of Boneripple, also recently widowed, and wonder whether they should have done something for the black and white she-cat sooner. "You are a good lead warrior. You are kinder than the others."

The approach of a younger cat draws the calico’s attention, and they look upon Flutterpaw with intense viridescent eyes. The apprentice asks very politely if he can help, and while Crappiepatch does not think that he will be particularly helpful, they push a pawful of flowers in Flutterpaw’s direction. Snakeblink says that Flutterpaw can help—they flick an ear at the odd wording of flower sorting patrol, but they are glad that the older tom thinks them worthy of being in charge of the flower sorting. "You may help. Pick out any yellow or white ones and any with round petals, and put them to the side," they explain, their words gentle. They like this child, this apprentice who asks before they touch things.

They do not pay attention to Silverkit’s muttering, though, choosing instead to focus on their task. But they look up at last when the lead warrior asks what she is doing, and they realize… exactly what she has been doing. She has been devouring flowers. The flowers that are meant for one of the clan’s elders. The flowers that Snakeblink spent so much effort to collect. "Menace!" They shout, in a booming voice that is so much unlike their usual soft tone. They do not even think about the consequences of their actions—anything to get the child to stop eating the flowers. Snakeblink has made no move to stop her, and so the duty falls to them. A pale paw darts out and aims to smack the flowers right out of the kit’s mouth.​

[ my my, cold hearted child ]​

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