camp monkey-wrench my side view mirrors || dirt

Mousepaw loved being a tunneler, it's what he wanted to do his whole life and he considered himself to be very lucky to be one of the few that were chosen for the job, even if it meant he had been picked for being small and thought never to grow to big to fit into the tunnels. Although he didn't appreciate that thought much, the apprentice tend to not dwell on it, he had other things to worry about when it came to his appearance - his ears being one of them, which seemed to be causing him a lot of issues at the moment.

Earlier in the day while in the tunnels with his mentor, there had been a slight shift in the earth above them, and the two of them had been caked with dirt. Mousepaw's mentor had been fast enough to pin their ears to their head, while Mousepaw didn't have that luxury. His large ears helped him to be able to track things easier, sure, but they were also giant magnets for getting stuff like dirt stuck in them - especially now that all that had fallen on top of him while tunneling. It wasn't enough to cause issues, just a little bit of annoyance, but if someone were to ask Mousepaw what had happened, the whole tunnel had collapsed and he dug himself and his mentor out all by himself, saving both their lives.

All he had to prove of his tall-tale though would be a very itchy ear with dirt stuck inside it, and although the apprentice tried and tried, he couldn't get all of it out. So sitting in camp the male was shaking his head over and over again, pausing every now and then to scratch at his ears and let an annoyed grunt out before shaking his head again. The whole time an annoyed expression plastered itself across his face.
  • [ooc]
  • windclan (sootstar) loyalist
    dirty fighter/will aim to kill
    will bully anyone (some more than others)

    likely to attack first
    powerplay peaceful actions okay
    ping if needed in a thread
  • 67979049_MZITqZdFire2IhL.png
    8 months old
    ftm calico -- he/him
    tunneler apprentice

    large ears
    always looks grumpy
 
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"Why are you itching so much?" Milkpaw asked, quite bluntly, his small form keeping distance just in case from the other apprentice. Surely if you had an issue with itching, one would see the medicine cat, right?

Milkpaw was a simple moor-runner. He didn't go in tunnels, didn't deal with the dirt in his ears. Sometimes bugs would bug them, but they'd usually go away with a flick of his ear. And he was rather happy with being a moor runner. Well, as happy as one could be.

He wished, however, Dewmist would stop nagging him about everything he did wrong, and helped him better. But he was not one to complain to others about it anymore. He wasn't allowed.

"Making me want to itch," he said, his ears flattening back.
 
It was no secret that tunneling was a highly revered job in WindClan, especially in the eyes of Sootstar (though clearly she was biased). Snakehiss had always felt some petty feelings of jealousy toward the underground diggers because of the recognition they received in comparison to moor runners. He relished attention and praise, but not enough to want the job of a tunneler. Ah yes, he would love to spend his days under the earth getting soil beneath his claws and in his fur in a cramped, dark space while hardly being able to breathe from the stuffiness! That sounded so very lovely... not.

No, he was perfectly content with his position as a moor runner. So what if Sootstar held a bias toward the specialty; Badgermoon was next in line to rule the moors, and maybe then moor runners would receive more recognition!

StarClan, it was odd being a warrior now and everything. No more training sessions, no having to do tedious duties like nursery cleaning and elder grooming. He had gone out on a border patrol earlier that day and now he could relax in camp. Of course, when there wasn't much to do, Snakehiss was highly susceptible to eavesdropping. Milkpaw asks why Mousepaw is relentlessly itching, to which the moor runner comments, "Mites, probably. Tunnelers don't necessarily work in a clean environment."

He sneers, a creepy-crawly feeling tickling his skin as he imagines his fur being invaded by bits of soil and critters and such. Snakehiss was glad that he hadn't been born so small; he would never be able to keep his pelt maintained as a tunneler. "It must be easy to get all sorts of things lodged in those big things, after all." A wry grin slithers onto Snakehiss' smug features as he eyed Mousepaw's rather sizeable ears.
 
Flametrot had taken him out earlier and he's exhausted, though he wont voice it. He's collapsed in a heap, unsurprisingly near the nursery that had once brought him immense comfort, his head down on the ground. She had him do laps, laps for Stars sake! How was it training? It felt more like torture to him, someone who didn't quite like to over-exert himself unless absolutely necessary.

Theres a scratching noise that has been going on for the past... however long, and it's driving Parsnip insane. It stops every so often but starts up again. Finally it drives him mad enough to snap his head up and search for the source of the noise, dragging himself upwards as if the very noise was something he could stop. When he stumbles upon the gathered group he is anything but happy.

Mousepaw is itching and doing a weird ritual with his head, shaking it between scratching. Milkpaw is there, says that it makes him want to itch. Parsnip finds himself agreeing. "Ew." he comments, ears swiveling backwards as he stares in disdain. Snakehiss speaks on how it must be easy to get things stuck in the others apprentices ears, he nods slightly despite the meanness being lost in translation on him. To Parsnip it was just another fact of life, if you had big ears you could probably hear more- but with all good things theres always a downside. As always, though, he's just there to observe. Perhaps this would have been him if he had been assigned to be a tunneller instead. He frowns at the thought, perhaps being a moor-runner wouldn't be too bad even if he was still jealous despite the itching.
"speech"​
 
CAUTION TAPE AROUND MY HEART
marmotpaw | 08 months | female | she/her | physically easy | mentally medium | attack in bold #9ab973
If she's being honest, marmotpaw could care less about the petty battles of wit going on around her, had the black-furred tom not insulted tunnelers as a whole - which meant herself, which meant their queen. The tiny blue-and brown frame pauses in her own grooming, tongue swiping away the last bit of dirt from her pelt, and she stares. "Ya saying tunnelers ain't clean? D'ya really think so lil' of us, so lil' of sootstar, that a bit of dirt is mites?" she asks, voice cold and flat, and head tipping to the side. Scars twinge faintly as he pelt prickles, but mismatched hues remain deadlocked. she toes the line of just enough respect that she hopes her remark will be seen as a simple question - but really, they all know it's not. She'd just rather not be scolded. Its just an annoyance she does not need.

 
( 🐍 ) Venomstrike had returned from hunting and just do happen to end up overhearing the commotion with the younger cats, the older moor runner standing there awkwardly for a moment before hearing Snakehiss make a comment about mites and another mean one about Mousepaw's ears. A frown present on his maw as he briefly (and self consciously) flicked his own large ear before deciding to step forward so there isn't further arguments or it doesn't escalate into a fight of more than just words. They were still clanmates even if some of them were intolerable than others.

The large tomcat would turn his gaze to Snakehiss and spoke in a low voice "It's best to not t-try and pick fights with y-your clanmates." Moor runners and tunnelers were both important to Windclan. His stern gaze would soften as it focused on Mousepaw who seemed to be itching and shaking his head repeatedly due to whatever was irritating his ears, "P-perhaps you can see if Wolfsong has a-anything to help you with that..." He suggests gently knowing that the medicine cat would probably have some knowledge about removing dirt from the ears.
( ME GUSTA LA MAÑANA; ME GUSTAS TÚ )
 
When voices began to be heard, Mousepaw stopped, eyes flicking over to look towards those who had gathered. He should have known that the moor-runners wouldn't know to mind their own business, especially since there's nowhere in camp to go really for privacy in times like this. He was about to answer Milkpaw's question when he commented about needing to itch as well and Snakehiss came through talking about mites. "I don't have mites," He grumbled, paw reaching up to scratch at the inside of his ear once more before he finally brought it down in temporary defeat, "It's just dirt, one of the tunnels fell a little bit." Too many warriors around to share his embellished version of the story, too many cats that could easily prove him wrong.

Nose wrinkled when Venomstrike spoke of Wolfsong, and Mousepaw shook his head. "No, I can do it myself I don't need smelly plants going near me it'll stink up the tunnels." No one wanted to smell whatever herbs Wolfsong would use to help Mousepaw with his ears. He liked Wolfsong, just couldn't understand how a cat could stand all those smells, let alone tastes when he had to use whatever like that.
  • [ooc]
  • windclan (sootstar) loyalist
    dirty fighter/will aim to kill
    will bully anyone (some more than others)

    likely to attack first
    powerplay peaceful actions okay
    ping if needed in a thread
  • 67979049_MZITqZdFire2IhL.png
    8 months old
    ftm calico -- he/him
    tunneler apprentice

    large ears
    always looks grumpy
 
The dark-colored tom only offered a flick of his ear to Marmotpaw. Ever the one to try and get in the last word, Snakehiss decides in a rare instance to simply ignore Marmotpaw's challenging inquiries. In general, he thought tunnelers to be dirty and smell of soil, but had he said so aloud? No! The she-cat was simply contorting his words to try and make him look bad. It wouldn't get under his skin, not this time. She wasn't worth his frustration.

Narrowed eyes fixed on Venomstrike, if only for a moment, as the moor runner stuttered a word of advice to him. Snakehiss was notorious for antagonizing his peers, so such advice was akin to throwing a droplet of water onto a wildfire — useless. If there was one thing about him, it was that his opinion would be heard whether his clanmates liked it or not. However, he seizes the opportunity to make a pass at the apprentice giving him attitude. With a smug grin, he cast her a glance, "Wise words, Venomstrike. Wouldn't you agree, Marmotpaw?" It had never been his intention to break into a scrap. Get a rise out of Mousepaw perhaps, yes, but not tussle (although he wouldn't back down if challenged). If Marmotpaw wanted to start something with him, then that was completely on her. She could be the one to get into trouble this time. In fact, he'd welcome the idea.

He surely had better things to do than sit around and watch Mousepaw fail miserably at removing dirt from his ears. "Well, I'll be heading off. Good luck with your 'little problem.'" Snakehiss meowed toward Mousepaw with a clearly insincere undertone to his words before standing to his paws and trotting toward the camp exit.

// out c;
 
── .∘°°∘. ── It is fortunate for Wolfsong's patience that Snakehiss departs just as the small gathering draws his attention. He does not watch him leave; his gaze is for Mousepaw alone, clearly agitated, and from what Wolfsong has overheard, very reluctant to visit the medicine den for help. "I did not realize I offend the nose so greatly," he remarks dryly, glancing at then nearby WindClanners. With Snakehiss gone, Venomstrike is the sole warrior present.

Humming noncommittally, he leans closer to inspect the apprentice's ears with his remaining eye. "If the scent is so bothersome, you can wait outside the medicine cat den and I will treat you there. Removing the dirt will not be as swift or thorough without help."
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 36 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.
  • ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
  • ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
  • ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
  • ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.
 
Maw opened for a moment to say something after Snakehiss had left, but the other had left too quickly for the apprentice to think of any words to say back, and so he simply sat there for a moment, staring at those around him as he painfully resisted the urge to scratch at his ears once more. Will was breaking and just as he was about to reach his paw up to try to scratch at it once more Wolfsong came forward and a small sigh left Mousepaw's maw. "It's not your fault the plants stink, just gotta find ones that smell better, that's possible right?" He'd huff out the first part, looking over towards Wolfsong for a moment before ears flicked when the older tom came closer.

Sigh left his maw as he was told where to go, and ears finally pinned to his head. After this, he was going to forever keep his ears down in the tunnels unless he was absolutely sure he needed to try to hear something. He didn't need the humiliation of others watching him try to clean his ears - nor did he need them seeing him constantly going to Wolfsong to get it done either. He should be able to do it himself. As he walked the steps over towards Wolfsong's den, he couldn't help but think about how stupid of a situation he was in, and only hoped that no one would mention it after today.

  • [ooc] out unless stopped
  • windclan (sootstar) loyalist
    dirty fighter/will aim to kill
    will bully anyone (some more than others)

    likely to attack first
    powerplay peaceful actions okay
    ping if needed in a thread
  • 67979049_MZITqZdFire2IhL.png
    8 months old
    ftm calico -- he/him
    tunneler apprentice

    large ears
    always looks grumpy