OUROBOROS | apprentice den shenanigans

[CHRYSALISWING]

The winter leached through every opening of the apprentice den, as though a heaviness that seeped into each crevice of the area, a mercurial presence that waited upon the sides of littler beings. Chrysalispaw could feel it whisper in his bones, as the drafts dragged along the bounds of his vessel, tugging sordidly at the ends of neat perms. The oncoming blizzard howled its melancholy dirge, a rhythmic hum that circled through the hollows and the walls. It was an echo almost angelic, but not quite. If Starclan had blessed them with this gracious weather, then Skyclan must not have tipped the scales in their favor. Nevertheless, Chrys continued to listen to the reverberation of the storm, a sanguine sweetness that he sought no comeliness from. All he could really focus on was how the wind nipped at him, disturbed him, annoyed him to no end. He couldn't understand how others survived in these conditions - merely breathing in such air felt as if there was a burden on his windpipe.

The chimaera-coated cat found sleep eluding him, no matter how much he tried to grab it for himself, which ranged from counting fleece-faulted sheep to forcing his eyes shut. It was to no avail. He rolled from side to side, the nettles and fronds underneath him protesting as he moved about, though he paid no mind to brittle snaps and doleful crackle. No warmth from bygone summers came to greet him, and he figured out sooner than later that they were approaching the heart of winter, so he found no solace in that fact. It would be quite a while before new-leaf would even begin to show its face, so he would have to contend for the uglier visage of this season.

"Uh, anyone else awake right now?" Chrys' voice rang through the silent den, as an interruption from the snowstorm's song, as if he aimed to break through the noise itself. He made sure to raise his voice enough so that it would rise above the din, though he moreso wrested with the sounds than gracefully perched upon it. Nighttime's shadows casted upon furled and balled bodies, whom were just trying to soak up what remaining heat there was. Some snuggled against each other and some braved the frigid by themselves. Well, if he had to suffer, he might as well suffer with others.

"... Does anyone want to hear a scary story?" He followed up with a trill, unusual for the morose elements of the outside, with his tone like a star dappled upon a grim black. A toothed smile adorned his face, which was unlike the usually collected feline, who veiled himself in the countenance of stony apathy and needled antagonism. He hoped this, at least, would make the midnight more bearable for him. Besides, who doesn't like scary stories in the dead of a leaf-bare's night? He could afford to lose some of his coveted reputation for tonight (not that he had much to speak of). As much as he hated to admit it, he kind of liked telling stories. An exercise of the imagination was always welcome to Chrysalispaw.
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[Honeysplash]

❝ INSTEAD OF WORRY ABOUT WHAT YOU CANNOT CONTROL ✧°.☀ ————————————
The blizzard outside raged onwards and left many stranded in the camp for who knows how long; one of them being young Bananapaw. She hadn't been back to her humans in the last few days due to the winter masses and had to take up residence in the apprentices' den for the time being. It was strange, sleeping outside, and she quite enjoyed it. The low hum of her clanmates breathing, the wind that howled outside past the fronds of the den, and it made her feel like more part of the clan. Like she belonged here despite everything that came with being a daylight warrior. It was nice to say the least.

Then a voice called out in the midst of the silenmt den, and she could hear a couple of groans of annoyance or displeasure of being woken up. A pale yellow head lifted up from their place in the apprentices' den and these green eyes looked over to that of the chimera-pelted apprentice of Chrysalispaw. He asked if anyone else was awake at this time of night, and then about scary stories and she perked up her ears in interest at the subject.

Bananapaw got up from her nest to pick her way across the sleeping bodies of her fellow apprentices' and settled beside the tomcat, "I'd love to hear a scary story," She responded with a warm smile across her cream-furred muzzle, "Maybe one about Sootstar eating kittens for breakfast? Oh oh or maybe the ghostly cat that haunts the rockpile," Those green eyes alight with wonder at the prospect of a scary story. There was so many good ones to choose from!

speech

[penned by wolf - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ SHIFT YOUR ENERGY INTO WHAT YOU CAN CREATE ❞ ​

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[TWITCHBOLT]

Right, well, this was- perfect, wasn't it? Just perfect, peachy, hunky-dory, whatever. Already did he have such an issue going to sleep, knowing what waited for him on the other side- a gamble of flower-spangled fields or the gnashing jaws of a ravenous beast. More often than not it was the latter, some- terrible shadow rising up, up- chasing him until he woke up, usually in the most ungodly hour in the morning, leaving him with no other option than to go back to sleep and brave it again.

But- maybe, on the other hand... if he put off sleep for long enough, the jolt awake would not be so bolt-like, and would not be set in such bitter darkness. No- he might wake when Daisyflight called him, or when people got up to groom, or...

It was frigid enough that he doubted sleep would find him even if he were attempt to- the initial spark of his annoyance began to snuff out, left to cinders by his mismatched paws. The rattle of his bones was ever there, but exacerbated by winter's bite- a distracting silhouette in this dim might he be, shaking erratically with no sign of stopping. He hadn't stopped in ten moons. "G-go on then, hmff," he mumbled, speech punctuated by a spasm of the neck. Oh, stupid- nerves, and not the nervous kind! Making him always look like he was frightened, flinching...

Maybe he was, a little. But it was hardly voluntarily that he demonstrated it. ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

CUZ I DONT REALLY LIKE ANYBODY​

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The groan that comes from Quillpaws nest is soft, but heavy in its annoyance. He's tired.Winter hasn't made Thistleback any less adamant about his training and his chores are always there waiting for him. He craves the unthinking, unfeeling abyss of sleep, but as the other apprentices around him begin to answer he realizes with frustration that he's outnumbered. "If this isn't the scariest story I've ever heard, I'm filling your nest with snow." he grumbles as he lifts his head, trying to ignore the fresh wave of cold that hits him as soon as he raises it beyond the lip of his nest and whatever meager body heat he'd managed to make pool there with him.

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skyclan - male - 8 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - very tall tabby tomcat with broad shoulders

 

[CHRYSALISWING]

Bananapaw was the first to awaken, or at least to acknowledge his offer, much to his dismay. Or, perhaps it was more to his fortune - he could stand Bananapaw more than most of the other dawdling cats he called his peers, which was a rather high bar to leap over. The tom adjusted his position as the molly approached to curl besides him, brittle bushels and bedding breaking underneath his weight, like marrows of mice and bones of birds. He felt her heat roll from her in soft waves, a pulse as a dim sun sat right besides him, a destitute yet ever-burning thing of nature. The actual sun showed him no commendation in this place, for it hid behind the sallow clouds of moonlit morrow. Still, he would hope to bathe in it again, even as the wintry winds would obscure its rays. The environment seemed almost delicate to him, as though the den had been tempered of glass, and the snowstorm would break through any moment now.

Then, the quivering form of Twitchpaw made itself visible, with a sniveling voice to match a plaintive form, made from fragile feather and tender twine. Chrys could never tell if the weather or his own frayed nerves made him shiver, but it was probably both. Either way, irritation panged in Chrys at such a pitiful display, as though such weakness should never be shared, or at least brought to light to grace his discerning eye. Some cats couldn't help it, but he figured that they should try more to do so.

Then, Quillpaw met Chrys' vexated cadence with a grumpiness of his own, with an exhaustion leaching through the other's voice. Though, the chimaera-coated cat knew how the temperature gnawed upon the very spirit of the feline, as the jaws of winter were a great yet inglorious force, with its strident, unbroken caw to accompany it. So, he showed no emotion to it other than his own stony stoicism, which he wore like a well-fitted mask, bleeding into downy features and clay-molded countenance. Such a masquerade had been performed until there was no distinction between the actor and acted, though that didn't trouble the feline in the slightest. He was glad to play that charade. Besides, he didn't think about it when the cold seeped into his every thought.

"Alright. Three's a good enough audience." He prepared a rime-laden voice for his tale, coughing a bit before starting. He hoped that such disturbances of the throat were merely the season and not a sign of an ailment. He looked at the other lumps upon the darkness of the den, shapeless shadows in the face of overwhelming night, eclipsed by the melancholy of the situation as a whole. The blizzard howled with no reprieve, so he figured he should start now more than ever. Frost twinkled upon scarce moonlight, as though goading him to begin.

"Well, once upon a moon, there was a Skyclan warrior. This warrior was the best warrior in all of Skyclan, and he excelled at everything he set his mind to. He could leap higher than the tips of the trees. He could climb faster than the scurrying squirrels. And he could fight better than an entire army of cats. He was so prideful that he always bragged about his achievements. He always compared himself to his fellow clanmates.

However, Starclan wasn't pleased that he was so good at everything, and even less so that his arrogance knew no bounds. They wanted to teach him a lesson that he would never forget. So one night, on a dark and dreary day just like this one, he was walking around the territory. He should have stayed inside, but he refused to listen to his fellow warriors. He was walking through the snow until he saw a shadowy figure in the distance..."
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