- Jun 14, 2024
- 86
- 31
- 18
The haunting song of a battle field still rings in Puddlepaw's ears, she thought she would know the tune on account of her very un shielded childhood. Stories in the nursery dripped in gritty realism, a parent who doesn't shy away from all facets of politics. She thought she knew it in the sparring sessions she would have with Wormwatcher and Lavenderpaw respectively. It turns out that what she thought was war was a very out of tune song, too slow and unpracticed. As Puddlepaw lingers by the Medicine Den she wonders if that's just because she was unpracticed? The chimera is no expert now, one battle does not make her an experienced apprentice but she knows it now.
There's still a pounding behind her ears, claws feel clogged even though she knows any trace of Myrtlepaw has been picked off from them. She doesn't feel wrong per say, just different. When she thinks back on that fight she recalls a flash of cream fur, a wispy tabby who had been locked into a fight of her own. It's not her first either, Puddlepaw had heard about the last when she was a kit. The chimera admired the older she-cat, her tales of glory were whispered rumours and legends. Today she will learn more, with a flick of an oily tail she lingers by the den until she can catch a glimpse of misty blues.
"Swansong" her own meow is blunted, a blade that clearly requires sharpening. Puddlepaw is nothing but insistent, when the dream-like warrior moves she decided to move alongside her in hopes to keep up step. "You have killed before, correct?" The sleuth within her wakes from it's hazy slumber, trying to pick apart fact from fiction with blood stained paws.
There's still a pounding behind her ears, claws feel clogged even though she knows any trace of Myrtlepaw has been picked off from them. She doesn't feel wrong per say, just different. When she thinks back on that fight she recalls a flash of cream fur, a wispy tabby who had been locked into a fight of her own. It's not her first either, Puddlepaw had heard about the last when she was a kit. The chimera admired the older she-cat, her tales of glory were whispered rumours and legends. Today she will learn more, with a flick of an oily tail she lingers by the den until she can catch a glimpse of misty blues.
"Swansong" her own meow is blunted, a blade that clearly requires sharpening. Puddlepaw is nothing but insistent, when the dream-like warrior moves she decided to move alongside her in hopes to keep up step. "You have killed before, correct?" The sleuth within her wakes from it's hazy slumber, trying to pick apart fact from fiction with blood stained paws.
-
The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid
-
: ̗̀➛ㅤfemale (she / her)ㅤ/ㅤunknown sexuality
: ̗̀➛ㅤ07 moons oldㅤ/ㅤages realistically, every 8th of the month
: ̗̀➛ㅤapprentice of ShadowClan for 02 moons
: ̗̀➛ㅤSister of Buzzardpawㅤ/ㅤApprentice of Wormwatcher
: ̗̀➛ㅤpenned by Juiceㅤ/ㅤmessage Ouijeejuice on discord for plots!
A slick rosette fawn tabby / rosette black tabby chimera. Quiet and calculating, struggles being able to describe or identify her own or others emotions. All opinions are IC as she can be quite harsh in her judgements.