- Sep 29, 2023
- 94
- 22
- 8
˚₊‧ ⛧ Beneath the looming brightness of the full moon and the watchful stars of their ancestors, Ashenfall's slinking around and weaving through the crowd of strangers may have appeared as something akin to graceful. The reality of the situation was not impressive in the least, though—he'd somehow managed to lose the cat he'd been standing right next to in a matter of about point-two seconds and now he was left alone to either wander around looking for them or to fend for himself in some droll conversation—not that she would be much help in the conversation department anyhow, but that was beside the point...
His forceful milling about brought him no closer to finding them, but as his crowd-scanning brought him to find a familiarly tall, protruding set of ears, Ashenfall figured he could settle on socializing for now if only to catch his breath from all the toe-stepping he was dodging. "Cicadapaw," he said, in lieu of greeting, "You're here again. How're things with Riverclan, hm? The fishes are being fished and whatnot...?" The pale torbie spouted off the small talk with a bored drawl, eyes still flicking around for a familiar cat—Was everybody and their damn mother gray?
He focused his mismatched gaze onto the other once more, a pang of irritation making him nearly bristle at the reminder of Cicadapaw's face. Why did he get to be hot now? Fucking annoying... Ashenfall acknowledged that he was jealous of how stark a turnaround the Riverclanner made while his own dreams of a surprise growth spurt slowly puttered out and died. His odd display of annoyance would go unacknowledged by himself, smoothing down his chest fur and speaking again with the same casual drone, "Things look fine beneath the Burnt Sycamore, by the way. Plenty of little shells stacked up and the ferns are shading everything nicely... Found an orchid there once or twice."
Obviously, reporting was not a part of his (self-described) job description, but Ashenfall was gracious enough to offer something to the tom who couldn't simply mosey on over and see it himself.
His forceful milling about brought him no closer to finding them, but as his crowd-scanning brought him to find a familiarly tall, protruding set of ears, Ashenfall figured he could settle on socializing for now if only to catch his breath from all the toe-stepping he was dodging. "Cicadapaw," he said, in lieu of greeting, "You're here again. How're things with Riverclan, hm? The fishes are being fished and whatnot...?" The pale torbie spouted off the small talk with a bored drawl, eyes still flicking around for a familiar cat—Was everybody and their damn mother gray?
He focused his mismatched gaze onto the other once more, a pang of irritation making him nearly bristle at the reminder of Cicadapaw's face. Why did he get to be hot now? Fucking annoying... Ashenfall acknowledged that he was jealous of how stark a turnaround the Riverclanner made while his own dreams of a surprise growth spurt slowly puttered out and died. His odd display of annoyance would go unacknowledged by himself, smoothing down his chest fur and speaking again with the same casual drone, "Things look fine beneath the Burnt Sycamore, by the way. Plenty of little shells stacked up and the ferns are shading everything nicely... Found an orchid there once or twice."
Obviously, reporting was not a part of his (self-described) job description, but Ashenfall was gracious enough to offer something to the tom who couldn't simply mosey on over and see it himself.
- OOC: @CICADAFLIGHT
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ashenkit.ashenpaw. ashenfall
— he/him. 15mo warrior of shadowclan. formerly mentored by smogmaw
— smogmaw xhalfshade. littermate to applejaw, swansong & garlicheart. older brother of thornpaw, halfpaw, and laurelpaw
— a stout, longhaired blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
— sarcastic, sharp-eyed, sulky, nostalgic, faithful, impulsive, candid, provocative, remorseful
— "speech", thoughts
— penned by eezy