camp MY INFALLIBLE BELIEFS \ fortunes...ish


The sun had staining properties- it was maddening, almost, the way it lingered in your eyes even after you looked away. But the flowers seemed to like it, never flinching from its brightness- oddly, that interaction reminded him of his mother. The dazzling shine around her that drew everyone in- that ability to hit it off with anyone, really. She had lead by example when Mallowlark was young, though- his grin was still a pale imitation of hers, an unfaltering effort that still did not quite hit the right niche. It was a blinding day, flooded with sunshine- that was why he was thinking of her.

Mallowlark's games were often a dreaded thing, but... this, today, was rather less gory. He lay, bleached against the green grass, with a flower squashed between his paws. With each petal he ripped, he murmured afterward. "Safe... not safe... safe... not safe..."

The centre was almost bare, now- a sentinel petal stared him in the face, its intentions kind. "Safe!" As he plucked it, that ever-present smile grew a little warmer. Sharp fangs, joy curved, gave way to a purr.
PENNED BY PIN
 
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  • orangeblossom.png
    orangeblossom. tags.
    — she/her, skyclan deputy.
    — mentor to eveningpaw.
    — attack in #e08550. uses trees as an integral part of her fighting style.
    — mean enough to note that her thoughts don't reflect my opinions as a writer.
    — penned by mercibun; @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots. :]
    — fullbody by merc!<3

Mallowlark's games are very often to do with bones or viscera, an unfortunate trend which sees Orangeblossom avoid him for the most part during downtime. He's weird for it in her mind, which is pretty rich coming from the cat with an uncanny knowledge of raccoons, but thankfully those horrible little hobbies are interspersed with some socially acceptable ones, like ... shredding flowers? Sure, why not. She hopes those aren't herbs that Dawnglare needs, specially after Tallulahwing...

"Fine, I'll bite. What are you doing, Mallowlark?" Orangeblossom queries, half to snap herself out of her thoughts. There's a heartwarming lack of hostility to her voice as she regards the ex-WindClanner, replaced by a bemused sort of curiosity and hardened by her usual frown. Time truly does heal most wounds, and Orangeblossom's resentment of Mallowlark pales in comparison to her resentment of his mate.

 
Like her mother, Cherrypaw isn't particularly fond of Mallowlark or his holy mate. Mallowlark's tooth-choked grin is enough to scare the daylight out of any kit, and though the girl is bolder than most, she remembers shrinking away from his blinding maw all the same. He's not her favorite cat in the clan, to say the least, but his size and strength might make him someone Slate could seek out for training. The thought of sparring the tom, intentionally letting those sooty mitts and wideblown gaze touch her, would send a shiver of disgust down her spine if it was ever brought up.

She's empty-pawed right now. Slate is off on some lead warrior business, or maybe just a lone patrol he didn't want her interrupting. It's all fine by her, anyway. On her way to nowhere in particular she catches Orangeblossom standing near Mallowlark, which immediately strikes her as odd. Her mother defaults to treating everyone with a curt and courteous tone, but she's heard the way it grows gruffer with Dawnglare and his white shadow, whenever she can be bothered to interact with them in the first place. The calico strays towards them, curiosity thoroughly piqued. Was he...whispering? To the flower? It was more stem than flower now, but he seemed pretty happy about it. "That's weird." Cherrypaw cocks her head and wrinkles her nose. "Why'd you make it look so awful?" she meows, like he should be sorry for offending her, even though she doesn't quite know what part of this she should be offended by.​
 

He'd not been entirely prepared for anyone to approach him, especially during what was largely entertainment... most cats gave him a wide berth during certain activities, but to attract Orangeblossom's attention seemed staggeringly unlikely! Oh, he understood why, though! Some just couldn't handle the sight of ichor and gore, immediately recoiled, faces scrunching in disgust. To some it just wasn't pretty; and neither would this be! It wasn't arbitrary destruction, though- not for prettiness, like Cherrypaw suggested, or needless shredding...

Clueless to any disdain, his perfectly-rounded eyes snapped up to the deputy- and then, lightning-quick and disturbingly exact, pivoted to Cherrypaw. Two seldom-seen blinks fluttered over his eyelids. "Oh! HAH-" Cherrypaw set him off, a laugh star-bursting out of him before he could stop it. An odd choking chuckle crackled behind his dog-sharp teeth then, dressed with the self-perceived most pleasant of grins. Widest of all- but oh, no, couldn't break eye-contact! That'd just be rude. "Nooo, it's not meant to look good," he sang, that discordant melody.

"My mom taught me this game. Fortune telling with flower petals... you ask a question with two options, so I asked, 'is my mother safe'?" Trapped in those poisonous moorlands... she had immunity to the maddening sickness, but not to the Clan's blood-hunger. "And you pluck each petal- safe, not safe, safe, not safe..." On one of the intact flowers he'd gathered, he pointed at each petal with a coal-gloved claw. "And this one said she's safe! But you can do it with all sorts of questions, like..." His tongue clicked, and he couldn't stop the torrent of giggles that occupied the silence as he thought. "Does this cat love me- or, or, will it rain tomorrow?"

Expectant eyes of steel flitted like clockwork between the two, tick-tock-tick-tock rhythm. "Wanna give it a go?" He saw no reason why they wouldn't.
PENNED BY PIN
 
Cherrypaw struggles to keep her ears upright in the wake Mallowlark's sudden-yet-expected burst of laughter. He says it's not meant to look good, which she furrows her brows at. So far she'd operated under the assumption that looking good is a flower's only purpose, aside from the few that could be of arcane use as medicine. Maybe the tom picked up something from his mate?

"My mom taught me—" "Your mom?" she blurts out. Somehow it's surprising, the fact that Mallowlark has a mother. It's hard to imagine kitten Mallowlark. Mallowkit? He's so strange that Cherrypaw has never thought of him as a cat, really. He seems more like a poisonous, StarClan-forsaken thing that Dawnglare chanted ominous circles around one day, in hopes of it sprouting into something that would love him back in the strange capacity the medicine cat was limited to.

He trundles on with his explanation, likely undeterred by her outburst. Cherrypaw's gaze flicks towards her mother when he mentions something called a "fortune" and the telling of it. From what Mallowlark says though, she gathers that it's just a conclusion of some sort, but one that doesn't come from the mouth of another cat. Mallowlark offers to let them try on his assortment of flowers. Only a few have been dismembered thus far. Cherrypaw quietly rebuffs the invitation, not because she particularly cares about the welfare of flowers already dead, but because Orangeblossom doesn't like Mallowlark. That means Cherrypaw doesn't like Mallowlark. "How does it know?" she doubtfully responds, cocking her head.​
 
"It doesn't know." Grunts the walking stormcloud on a sunny day as he stops in his tracks and looks toward the group, directly responding to Cherrypaw's inquiry about the mystical abilities of the petals. Cherrypaw was just a kid who didn't know any better, and Slate figured it was better to tell her the truth now than to let her make a fool of herself later.

He pricks a shredded ear, dulled amber stare flicking from cat to cat, before glowering down at the flower. "It's just a game, or somethin'. Flowers can't tell you fortunes." Could one even consider flower-plucking a game? It was just some dumb method of confirming truths and falsities. There was no way that any cat actually believed what the flower dictated. Even if it was just for "fun", what was the point of it?
 
❃​ HONESTLY I JUST NEED TO BE A LITTLE CRAZY ❃​

thistlekit & 02 moons & trans. fem nonbinary & they/she & skyclan kit

Thistlekit has always been an inquisitive child - and a change of scenery isn't going to stop that. No, the forest camp only provides more curiosities, more entertainment - all but bouncing over on their paws, peering down at the pile of petals. "Can you do mine? I wanna know - um... hm, oh! Am I gonna' be a great warrior someday," they ask, words coming out rapidfire with hardly a breath in between - who needs breathing when there are much more important things, like thinking and talking and making friends. Slate's words leave them frowning however, a childish pout and a glare tempered by their small stature crossing their pale features. "Just because you don't know how it works doesn't make it any less real," they echo dutifully - Thistlekits momma' had told her that once, when they'd asked about starclan once. Momma' was very smart after all, saying they were starblessed. Maybe dawnglares flowers are too.

  • Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '

    ooc: —
    tw/cw: —
  • a pinkish grey kitten with splashes of white across their frame. their fur is just as curly as their mothers, and they have a deer-like nub for a tail. they wear a purple color.

    physically easy && mentally easy
    non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not allowed
    please attack using [b][color=#fff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account