camp little wonders |➹| butterfly

[sparrowsong!]

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There was a butterfly. From the moment they had seen it the fluttering insect had entirely captured their attention, eyes wide with wonder. Sparrowpaw watched it intently, how it gently opened and closed its wings upon its perch. What was it doing? What was it thinking?

It was very pretty, they thought to themself, inching closer and closer as if hunting a mouse. The tabby didn’t see butterflies very often in Twolegplace- especially not ones like this. Large, yellow striped with black, and pretty. A sight to behold, and one they were treasuring.

”What brings you here?” they murmured, ever so softly for fear of startling it. Closer still, and on its perch it remained. ”You’re very pretty,” they whispered.

Then, either rested or alerted, the decorated insect took off. Sparrowpaw sucked in a breath, rising to their paws and eyes tracking it as it rose up, up into the sky, the feline tottering along below it in an attempt to keep up. Oh, how they wished they could fly, free like birds and butterflies. Nothing to keep them bound to the earth. What was it like, they wondered, to roam the skies? What did the world look like from so high up?

The butterfly descended again, fluttering about the clearing with the enamored apprentice not far behind. It circled, doubled back, rose up, and fell again. Where was it going? Did it know? Was it simply having fun? Sparrowpaw’s whiskers quivered, rooted to the spot as it flew about.

It was then that it circled around them, their neck craning to watch but unmoving for fear of scaring it away. At last it settled to rest, and they sucked in a breath of awe and interest. The colorful creature was now perched upon their flank. What were they to do? If they sat down, would they scare it away? If they even so much as breathed? Frozen in place, Sparrowpaw simply watched.​

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[✧ Sootspritespark.]

I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootsprite | 34 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99

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Butterflies are a pretty sight indeed - one of the few that Sootsprite finds herself truly enjoying. Fluttering about as they dance on the wind, harmless and pretty to look at - what is there not to like? The black furred molly watches with rapt attention as one such creature flits about one of her clanmates - tiger striped wings contrasting against brown fur as it lands. Her eyes go wide for a moment, before her lips twitch into a gentle smile, eyes soft. "That's good luck you know. To have a butterfly land on you,"

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[CLOUDBERRYTHORN]

The springtime has brought back flowers galore, and along with the flowers have come a variety of insects. Cloudberrythorn really likes the little bugs that appear more often as soon as the weather starts growing warmer and wetter. And it seems he isn’t the only SkyClan cat to enjoy them, because Sparrowpaw smiles at the one that’s landed upon their fur, asking the butterfly what it’s doing.

Orange-toned eyes settle on the butterfly that’s landed upon Sparrowpaw’s tabby-striped pelt, and the young warrior cracks a smile. "Oh, a butterfly. It’s very pretty, you’re right. Maybe it thinks you’re a tree or something." For once, there is no sharpness in his words—hidden or otherwise. The apprentice has done nothing to draw his ire. The creature reminds him of Butterflytuft, one of their most recently missing clanmates. He wasn’t that close to her, or to any of the missing SkyClanners, but still he hopes that they’re okay wherever they are.

Sootsprite’s comment confuses him, though, and he tilts his head quizzically. "I thought good luck was ladybugs?" Or are both bugs considered good luck if they land on you? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t really have good luck, so maybe any bug landing on him would be helpful.
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[ just a side character ]​

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[Dandelionwish]

Mismatched eyes starred hard at the insect suddenly drifting downward, settling upon the young tabby, he watched the quiet hush fall over the cats around them as they all looked upon the insect with delight, but he could only feel his throat tightening in unease at the sight of it. Was this a sign? No, his connection with StarClan was severed so there was no way they would settle his nerves this way; still he wanted to be hopefuly. This had to mean something, it was even similar colors, spotted white; regal and soft. Butterflytuft was okay. She had to be, because he had told her the others would be okay too and deep in his heart he knew he hadn't lied.
The tortie had been nothing but kind to him from the start, moreso than any cat; her wariness had not made her avoidant or dismissive and he wished he could have been there to do something to stop her being taken..even if he didn't know what.

Dandelionwish wandered over, smile across his maw but gaze morose and uncertain; "Goodluck are they? Ah can accept that, ye know...lotta things are good luck, can be ladybugs too...dandelions are sometimes...clovers. If ye need luck, thankfully its real easy to pick up!"

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[SHRIMPY BOY]

In a bygone age, Shrimpy Boy would squat at the base of his twolegs' screen door for the majority of each and every day. He remembers peering through the fine grid and contemplating all of the nature that lay even in his back yard. As the seasons waxed and waned, all sorts of nature ebbed and flowed, and the dance of butterflies became a well-acquainted sight. They moved with more grace than the topsy-turvy moths, flitting from flower to flower in a mesmerising display of elegance. In the days since then, he has found himself more connected with the nature he used to admire from afar; but in an odd way, he longs for the days of just watching. It is a shame he cannot return for good.

Sparrowpaw's words tear him from the abyss of self-pity, and as he surfaces, Shrimpy Boy's gaze scours the camp in pursuit of the apprentice. Upon spotting them, he notes that their outline is a smidgen different than usual. Jutting out from their flank is a petite object, and quite the colorful one at that.

Closer inspection would reveal the object as a butterfly, much like the ones he used to observe through his twolegs' screen door. Weighty strides bring him into the midst of clanmates surrounding Sparrowpaw, whereupon he catches snippets of the ongoing conversation. A dumb smile is made manifest on his maw at the prevailing theme of 'good luck'. If such a thing exists, there ought to be a good reason why he'd never been exposed to it. "Good luck, bad luck," parrots the ginger tom, an absentminded tail-flick brushing into Dandelionwish's ankle by accident. "Whatever it is, at least we can agree that it's pretty!" ​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Evil is a concept that's existed since the dawn of this very world. And as more of it came, the more forms that it could take. Crawling in the form of an insidious color, walking amongst them in the bodies of loved ones, skittering about on six – eight – a hundred little limbs, sprouting more as if it gives the leverage they need to latch onto a host and drain them of all that they're worth. He is blessed with the all - seeing eye, friend in the form of partial creator, Her Earthliness.

That said, he is not so easily fooled by fluttering wings and splashes of color. His ears flatten against his skull as a small group gathers to mumble in aw at the pathetic little devil. Already touched by the kiss of death, perhaps they choose to cope by crooning of beauty and grace. His ear flickers; annoyance at these few. He is effectively fed u] by the time WindClan's infidel mews of good luck and fortune. The beauty, oh, dandelions. Dawnglare's jaw ticks.

He is quick as the wind as another one, almost if on cue, comes flittering toward him, a putrid lime green. There's an audible click as his jaws snap for it, in the moment, not fearing the taint of insect - muck, instead excited for any welling of blood and the chance to peel it apart one by one.

Unfortunately, it manages escape, and Dawnglare looks on with eyes blazing fury. He abandons the staring match only when it is sufficiently far, threatening to join its accomplice in the sky. Wretch. Dawnglare bites a word to the rest of the group, tone harboring a low - rumbling growl. " All of you are easy prey before its waiting maw. You are believing just what it wants you t - o. " he remarks with words slightly broken, a paw rapping neurotic against the ground. He pointedly glares at Dandelionwish, a grimace threatening his lips. What he would like you to as well, goes unsaid.​

 

[sparrowsong!]

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Having been too absorbed in their own little butterfly chase, Sparrowpaw hadn't noticed that others seemed to share the same interest. The voice that spoke up was unexpected, the brown tabby twitching and slowly turning their head. Thankfully, the insect was undisturbed for the time being. "Good luck?" they echoed. They looked back to it thoughtfully.

Around them the others began to chatter, debating on what brought good luck and what didn't. The apprentice was doing their best to remain perfectly still. Butterflies, ladybugs, dandelions, and clovers. They knew about clovers being considered lucky, but not the rest. "I thought dandelions were for making wishes," they commented quietly. If one could grant wishes, though, why wouldn't it be good luck? It made sense.

Luck aside, the others said, it was pretty. A statement they could agree with. "Very pretty." They enjoyed watching butterflies. They were graceful sometimes, other times silly and chaotic.

From the corner of their eye, they could see Dawnglare nothing short of scowling up at the sky and, following his gaze, they could see another butterfly fluttering in the clearing. As soon as it drew close enough, the cinnamon tom snapped at it. Sparrowpaw drew in a sharp gasp, startling the yellow butterfly upon their flank to take off and join its friend up in the air.

A frown settled upon their maw then, a mixture of confusion and appall. He was growling, his words strange nonsense to their ears. Easy prey before its- what? The medicine cat's glower was fixated on Dandelionwish, then, and they looked in turn. What did he do? "The... the butterfly?" they asked hesitantly.​

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