money, power, glory — cherrykit

[spiderpaw ✧]

The apprentice's smoke-dark pelt is as stark against the greenleaf grass as a burnt forest, sprawled near the nursery where she's somewhat sheltered from the fur-tangling winds of late. Spiderpaw rolls her eyes as another gust rustles her bangs, hoping this storm will break soon; her skinny frame had nearly been blown away during today's training, it felt like. She was still getting used to training properly, and now she rests her achy muscles and laps absentmindedly at thick white chest fur the wind ruffled on its way over.

A still-haughty pale gaze surveys the camp, jumping from cat to cat and occasionally resting on the subjects of some especially juicy gossip; true to her name, Spiderpaw runs a complex web of the Clan's latest scandals, expert muckraker that she is. Her long neck arches imperially as she peers at a windswept calico frame, the smoke apprentice tossing her thick fur with the usual air of uncaring vanity; even if she's being 'better', that doesn't mean she has to stoop. One eyebrow raises as Spiderpaw looks down at Cherrykit, throaty Southern voice emerging, "And you are ...?"
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// @Cherrykit !!

 

[Cherryblossom]

Cherrykit blinks at the apprentice with eyes squinted against the wind. Through the furious fluttering of her lashes, her gaze sprawls over the shadowy figure poised before her. Funny, she hasn't seen this face around the nursery. The kitten is familiar with a steady rotation of faces; her parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, a few family friends, other queens and their too-small-to-play kits. She thinks she would've remembered this cat if she'd appeared before. The girl has no notion of beauty beyond the praise her loved ones heap upon her, but this other girl seems to fit the definition, in her own way. She reminds her of straining to gaze past the trees at night; their thin trunks and wispy branches silhouetted in the moonlight, and the jagged buzzing of hitherto unknown creatures in the background. She makes her curious, the way flowers tumble through her fur like the ones tucked into the nursery, the way moths seem to struggle in the exhaust of her pelt.

She talks in a curious accent too, voice slipping between words like paws caught on a leaf. "I'm Cherrykit." She struggles to be heard over the wind. "Who are you?" This new cat doesn't attempt to crouch down to her level like all the others do, and it makes Cherrykit falter somewhat. She wants to ask why, why she has bugs in her fur, why she has flowers in her fur, why isn't she being nice like everyone else and making Cherrykit have to shout? Well, she could answer the first two questions. The only things she knows that have both bugs and flowers are bushes. "Are you a bush?" she asks, seemingly out of nowhere. "A pretty bush?" she adds, as though it'll make her intent more clear.
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[spiderpaw ✧]

The apprentice taps her thick tail as she waits for the kit's response, one ear twitching as if to gather the kitten's small voice from the wind. Spiderpaw watches as the kit's clear yellow eyes bounce around her fur, the carefully-carelessly tucked accessories, that one eyebrow still raised. "Cherrykit? That's cute, I guess. I'm Spiderpaw," She answers faux-regally, deigning to lean her swannish neck down just a touch so the kitten can hear; the smoke's pale blue eyes slide over the kit's own wind-mussed pelt and multicolor fur. She coils her oversized tail about her paws, yawning shortly as the kit forces more words out against the blustering winds.

Spiderpaw giggles, half-condescendingly, at the kit's questions, head tilting slightly to the side. She follows the darting kit-gaze again to her various accessories, managing to connect the rather-unclear thoughts of the kit with a slight furrow of her muzzle. "Pretty bush? Are you talkin' about my moths 'n things?" The apprentice allows a rare, amused smile to flutter onto her face for a half-second; this funny conversation with Cherrykit reminds her of her own kithood, takes a little weight off her shoulders. The drawl continues, "They're accessories. Make you look pretty; you only get one first impression, y'know."

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[Cherryblossom]

Cherrykit is a cute name; she's glad Spiderpaw agrees. She remains undaunted as the apprentice looms farther over her, only taking it as an opportunity to more closer study the long black fur whipping about her face. Spiderpaw's thick tail snakes around her paws, and in the background of her mind she notices it's even larger than Ashenclaw's tail. She unconsciously curls her own tail around her paws, nowhere near as thick as Spiderpaw's but getting there.

Thankfully, the apprentice soon connects the dots between her pupils and her words, coaxing a series of nods from the girl. A smile begins to push its way into the narrow plain of Spiderpaw's face like weary paws pulling through mud, and it makes Cherrykit perk up a little. She's more pleasing to look at when she's smiling, even against the dreary background of the cloud-shaded camp. Cherrykit would know; she smiles at everyone unless they don't deserve to be smiled at, and then she makes a hopefully scary face.

"Ac-ces-sor-ies," she muses. The bits and pieces cloud her drab fur like her own tortoiseshell patches, similarly brightening what would be a featureless expanse of colors that don't deserve to be colors. "They are pretty," the kit concurs, beaming as though Spiderpaw had paid her a compliment. And she truly feels like she had, continuing on to say, "I have them too," and grasping her own multicolored tail for the other girl to examine. "See? I have them on my ears too," she purrs. "Did you grow them by yourself? I did." Moon eyes blink expectantly into icy blues, waiting for the answer she thinks could be a 50-50 tossup.
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[spiderpaw ✧]

Pale blue eyes consider the kit with some interest; Spiderpaw would be loathe to admit it, but she does hold a soft spot for the little things. Conversing with Cherrykit reminds her of bygone times in her own kithood; the simpler life and easier joys of long days of playing and easy slumber at night. Her ears twitch—ah, what an easier time that was—at the memories of times when happiness was effortless and her emotions clear and elementary to understand. She stifles a giggle at Cherrykit's face—she'd forgotten how with kits this young you could practically see the miniature cogs turning in their head when presented with new ideas.

The kit sounds out the word, bringing an amused half-smile to the apprentice's face again, and then asks her in total seriousness whether she grew her little decorations. At that, Spiderpaw tosses out a rare event for her: non-malicious laughter, stabilizing herself with her forepaws as she giggles, one humor-scrunched eye on the calico kitten. The surprisingly girlish expression brings some light to her shadowy face, if only for a moment, hinting at better days that perhaps await her sailing the turbulent sea of apprenticeship. The laughter trails gradually off, the smoky cat's posture relaxing a bit; she truly couldn't understand how some people hated kits, they were so funny sometimes even if they could be annoying.

Spiderpaw dutifully trains her eyes on Cherrykit's tortie patches breaking up the expanse of white; it's a pretty pattern, and she thinks the kit might grow up to be rather pretty indeed. She nudges the little bundle of accessories behind one ear with her paw, drawling, "I didn't grow 'em myself, I'm afraid. I go out and find 'em in my spare time an' put 'em in my fur." Spiderpaw makes an effort to keep her decorations fresh with no small effort; physical appearance is important to her, even if she currently feels a little ... ugly duckling-esque in the awkwardness of apprenticeship. The apprentice nods and glances at the kit's fur again, offering, "Yours're pretty too, though. You keep good care of your fur and you'll grow up to be a real old-time beauty."
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[Cherryblossom]

Spiderpaw's expression contorts slightly into an emotion Cherrykit can't identify, so weakly-expressed behind lips too stubborn to bend. She can only assume it's positive though, for the older girl's eyes soften just a little, like water slick on the backs of melting ice. The carved lines in her face finally collapse when she laughs, white gloved paws reaching towards traitorous mouth as though to hide the damage, but there lies beauty clear in the crumbling of smoke-tinted facade. Cherrykit just tilts her head at the little display, brows furrowing rosy shadows. What's so funny? Tawny eyes almost glare up at her, all kitten indignant in the face of her ignorance. Is she not pretty? There's not much Spiderpaw could say to dissauge her from what she knows as fact, but she considers it well within her rights to get all up in her face about it.

But cool eyes find their way upon Cherrykit's forehead and provide the obligatory commentary, allowing Cherrykit's "accessories" to lie flat again. "Oh," she says, in an un-disappointed way. The answer makes her feel superior, even; she grew these herself, but Spiderpaw has to go out and hunt for them. The dark-furred apprentice continues to compliment her, and the girl straightens up as she does, almost letting out a satisfied hmph. She is taking good care of her fur. Though, it's mostly Orangeblossom and Ashenclaw taking care of it for her, like a child begging to get a dog whose responsibility their parents know will fall to them. Nonetheless, such is hers to cherish and to be cherished by in return.

Spiderpaw does mention something that makes her tilt her head though, echoing once more, "Old-time?" Her pale nose scrunches up. "I don't wanna be old," she meows, almost plaintively. She couldn't sacrifice her fur, not even for getting old, but would she really get old? "I wanna be as old as you," the little tortoiseshell adds, with a second wind of expectation following. "But I wanna be a warrior." Perhaps Spiderpaw would tell her the secrets to getting as old as she is, but no more. She'd rather just have the secret to becoming a warrior early, if she were to choose, but Spiderpaw doesn't seem likely to know. Maybe Snowpaw...
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[spiderpaw ✧]

The kit has a certain haughtiness of demeanour that appeals to Spiderpaw; perhaps reminding her of her own better aspects. Despite popular belief, in the smoky apprentice's opinion, to be haughty isn't always a bad thing; her own personality isn't exactly her favorite thing about herself, but it's not a terrible trait to observe on other cats. On the small frame of Cherrykit, it's almost amusing—this patchwork kit behaving like a miniature leader, she seems to take after her mother (who Spiderpaw hasn't met much) in that regard. She'll respect anyone who keeps good care of their fur; her own is quite the hassle but she deals with it as best she can anyways, even if it feels hard some days (today, thankfully, not being one of them).

The little tortoiseshell questions with that burning plaintive curiosity of kittens about her wording, and Spiderpaw's reminded that her way of speaking and the words she uses aren't exactly standard; but with so many different cats cloistered in the diverse environment of SkyClan, she doesn't feel she stands out. Ah, how she recalls the desperation of kithood to be older—she wishes she could go back, now, and tell herself to slow down. Warriorhood felt all too soon these days. "It don't mean old, although I'd slow down and enjoy bein' a kit if I were you. It's like ... an old-time beauty is a cat who's always gonna be beautiful, y'know?" She tries to explain, "Someone who's always gonna look pretty regardless of where they are or who they're with. It's, uh, it's a compliment."
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[Cherryblossom]

Spiderpaw's explanation is well thought out, and almost too understanding to be wasted on kitten ears. Cherrykit continues to sit neatly before the older girl, ears still pert on her head, a feat of attention span seldom found in her age. The combination of Spiderpaw's soothing drawl and pertinent advice bestows upon the apprentice the sole focus on Cherrykit's ears, though her eyes may weave through her pelt and around camp before coming back to her face. She advises her to "enjoy bein' a kit," but the current circumstances make it so hard. The winds (and by proxy her parents) keep her confined to the nursery, where she must contend with fiends like Doomkit and Plaguekit, who she wouldn't mind if they were anything like the tasteful Spiderpaw. Said winds have been fairly tame for the duration of their meeting, but who knows when it would pick back up and force her aspiring protégé back inside?

She tilts her head as she continues though, a childish show of pleasure and "tell me more." "Okay," she chirps. Wide eyes linger thoughtfully upon the apprentice's murky face, as though it'd just reminded her of some great idea, and adds, "You're an old-time beauty." She nods along to herself. The gravity of a compliment doesn't quite make it all the way into the kitten's whirling psyche; all she knows is that she learned something new and got to apply it at the same time. Still, saying it makes her pleased, in a different way than gloating over another kit or someone telling her the same things. "You're old too. It makes sense." She nods again.
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[spiderpaw ✧]

The apprentice is amused by the attentiveness of her student; it's perhaps even a pleasant disruption from the cute but often annoying other kits—some of them are perfectly pleasant, others much less so (Plaguekit and Doomkit's prankster ways come to mind). Not surprising, though, since this was Orangeblossom's daughter if she remember correctly; it raises her respect for the deputy perhaps a touch, that she's managed to mother such a surprisingly pleasant child. Spiderpaw was inclined to hold Orangeblossom in high esteem, already, though; she was the deputy after all, a powerful position indeed, and a competent one as well. She'd have respect for any cat with such a measure of confidence as the white-and-ginger queen, and by the looks of it her daughter was likely to grow into the same level. Good thing, Spiderpaw supposes, as long as you don't have it in excess (something she is quite familiar with, thanks to Chrysalispaw).

The smoky shecat smiles at the kit's childish praise; even if, as she suspects, Cherrykit doesn't entirely grasp what a compliment is, the kitten's strange childish logic and simple words appeals to her somehow. "Well, thank'ya kindly. I'm not that old, though ... didya know there's been cats as old as 200 moons?" Spiderpaw has not actually met said cats, but she'd heard of their existence second (or third, or fourth...) hand, so basically she knows it's true. After all, she has to have the best dirt on everyone in the clan; stars know she spends enough time collecting it. In her humble opinion, too many cats pass gossip off as a simple girlish activity when it could ruin whole reputations. She drawls, perhaps talking half to herself given the complicated nature of it, "Heard that from one o' the elders some time or another. Always know what's goin' on around ya, that'd be my advice. Everyone says gossip's a fool's errand, but I'd say knowledge's power. Y'know?"
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[Cherryblossom]

Spiderpaw gifts her another smile, each one more relaxed than the last. All despite the continuous wind, whipping up the long fur on both felines' backs into a semi-tangle to be picked apart later by loving tongues. Loving for Cherrykit, at least—she hadn't the faintest clue of who Spiderpaw was related to, having only just stumbled upon conversation with her. Saffron-dusted eyes widen as it continues, with Spiderpaw divulging an amazing piece of information. "Two-hundred moons?!" the girl gasps. "That is old." She could understand the burden of two-hundred sunrises, which would put her in the realm of apprenticeship, though it's more of an idea than a future to her at the moment. One moon is an eon to her young mind, an endless bounty of time to conquer, even if she can only do it from the confines of camp.

The patched kit takes a moment to mull over the drawled insight, grinding Spiderpaw's voice between little gears and picking apart the dust. It's between this thought and the next that the apprentice adds on to it, saying she'd obtained it from one of the fabled elders. "Always know what's goin' on around ya," she says, and Cherrykit tilts her head the other way. She does know what's going on around her. It's as simple as glancing at the nearest cat, or angling her ear towards a queen's conversation, or sniffing the air for a cat just around the nursery wall. "...gossip's a fool's errand...knowledge is power." What in the name of StarClan could that mean? Gossip is a foreign word to her, along with the likes of fool and errand. Knowledge and power hit a little closer to home, but they're only faint shades of their true meaning upon the walls of Cherrykit's skull. "Okay," she simply replies, nodding along as though she'd understood perfectly. Knowledge is power.
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[spiderpaw ✧]

The conversation with the kit has amused her so far, and it continues to do so. The childish surprise on Cherrykit's face is funny, and the ensuing gasp and confusion confirm that her words likely mean little within the landscape of a kit's brain. Still, even if she's half talking to herself, it's an entertaining interaction; it's provoked a good deal of thought within the dark recesses of Spiderpaw's mind. She's mulling over what to say next, whether to send the kit out of the howling wind, when a telltale call reaches her over the currents. Spiderpaw rolls her eyes lightly and gets to her paws, already half-turned away as she speaks, "That'll be my mentor. Nice talkin' to ya, Cherrykit." With that, Spiderpaw vanishes into the windswept camp as quickly as she'd arrived.
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