pale & unforgiven ⸸ fortune telling

[Magpiepaw]

He is tired in a way he isn't sure how to describe. Life was not difficult for Magpiepaw until now, he had been blessed to be found by cats who cared for his wellbeing after being tossed aside as waste. He had not suffered leafbare's cruelty, ShadowClan had ensured the nursery fed first and foremost and he was left to his own devices and play. It was only now, somewhat older, was he realizing how truly blissfully ignorant he had been; plenty of cats had nearly died, some even had. Magpiepaw survived by virtue of his age and age alone. Kittens needed to be protected, the thought crossed his mind as he passed by the nursery often enough; peering in at Betonyfrost's kits and the expecting torbie queen that was mate's with their deputy. Life was cyclical, endless, vast like the stars. Sometimes he wondered what other burdens were soon to be his as he got older, every passing moon he is less of a child; such was the cruelty of life. Play was not as often, duties needed tending, was this truly all their was to be had? To live for? Was it enough? Was it what he wanted? And if not...what did he want?
Violet-tinted eyes cast upward, he marveled at how large the sky could be yet how small his view of it was; it wrapped around the world in its entirety yet he could only ever see this small portion at a time. Needed bigger eyes, perhaps. Hard to say.
The black and white apprentice wandered forward, broken tail bound and dragged like a corpse at the heels of a hearse cart; useless and burdening. His attention focused in on the first cat he saw, ears flat curiously and expression blank, "It will be dreadful...I hope you survive it." The cryptid boy chirped out in his warbling birdsong voice, tone faintly cheerful despite his words.

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[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornadopaw lay upon her belly. A single dark paw holds her miniscule prey as she picks at it half-heartedly. She wasn't hungry, not really, and she had half a mind to either save it for later or simply give it to someone else entirely. Snowmask's tattered body and the grotesque vultures that encircled her flickered across her mind's eye again, causing her face to twinge with an unreadable expression. She felt haunted by the horrible loss most days, drowning in a pool of guilt and regret. Her brows pull taunt as she flicks her meal away altogether, leaving the feathered bird to roll awkwardly away. With a huff she lays her head across her paws. The gathering was coming up and for once she managed to allow her mind to focus elsewhere.

It settles upon a large dark apprentice that unfortunately lives a clan away. Why couldn't he live here in the shadows? Or maybe if she lived there...was that wrong to think? Fate was a cruel beast, but at least she could see Burnpaw at the gathering soon. Her expression softens, eased by the thought alone until Magpiepaw saunters forward wearing a blank expression. The words that follow are like ice in her veins as she lifts her head warily. "What are you talking about?" Tornadopaw voices softly, tone low and hoarse. Was it about the gathering? Most were dreadful, all the leaders did upon their sacred rock was argue and threaten one another. But the last bit, about surviving something, that left her uneasy. Did he know about her meeting with Burnpaw? He couldn't have, no one should have known. She was being careful. "What is that supposed to mean?" Caution flickers within her yellow gaze as she stands and takes a single step back. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — This last and current wave of apprentices were surely more peculiar than Sabletuft had expected them to be. Before the foundation of mentorship and apprentices were established, it felt easier to just pull whatever cat was lazing about and drag them along to show them what to do. Learn different skills and tacts from all sorts of different cats. Sabletuft had picked up a lot of secrets behind skills that way. He wondered if maybe that was what kept so many of their heads straight and focused. Now it felt more like herding... cats frogs.

Magpiepaw's strangeness wasn't entirely all that strange considering the personalities that filled ShadowClan now. The tuxedo was curious, though, what it was they were going on about. "Lets hope it's about how brutal the marsh gets in greenleaf." The older warrior grunted from a few paces away. Quick to undermine whatever odd, prophetic game Magpiepaw was performing. Now wasn't the time to start scaring cats, not when so many dreadful things had happened so recently. — tags​

 

[smogstar]

A swathe of moons ago, the tom had his fortune shared from the maw of a particular Hemlocksight. In a vision of the future drawn from scattered bones, the eccentric fellow spoke of great change for ShadowClan, and that Smogmaw himself would be the individual to herald it.

Now, the deputy views himself as a rational thinker, one who grounds his understanding in practicality and real-world experiences. A cat's future, nor their fortune, cannot feasibly be predetermined when this clan lifestyle has proven itself to be chock-full of variables. However, it would be untrue to suggest Hemlocksight's words on that day hadn't sown the seeds of curiosity in his mind. "Bringing about great change" was certainly a way to illustrate the nature of Smogmaw's ambitions (if a tad modest), and hearing such prophecies from another clanmate had stoked an interest in the craft of fortune-telling. While the accuracy of predictions remained questionable, they served as an intriguing means of gaining insight on how others perceived him.

It is with this minimal knowledge of prophecies that Magpiepaw's prediction strikes him more as an omen than a mere fortune. The oddball apprentice's warning carries in the breeze, and finding himself equipped with little else to do for the moment, Smogmaw embarks on a deliberate path towards him. As he walks, he notes the recipient of the ominous premonition. Making mention of vague threats on the life of someone who's just lost her mother is a bit bleak to say the least.

"Sounds like it's about a stomach ache," meows the ashen-toned tom as he pads forward, grinding to a halt not too far away from Sabletuft's flank. An askew glance is spared towards the older warrior. There's been enough seasonal experiences in this damn clan. His gaze then shifts to Tornadopaw, who (justifiably) seems to have become taken aback at the forewarning. "Magpiepaw's brain is a bit shaken up," he says, "so take his words with a grain of sand."​

 

[Wolfpaw.]

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ give them no reason to stare ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

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Wolfpaw could probably be considered one of the more normal apprentices of this generation. He had his head on straight at least and that seemed to always be of value to the clan. Perhaps his most strange feature was his brother Magpiepaw. Wolfpaw adored him, but to pretend he wasn't strange and on occasion a little much would be silly. So when his ears caught wind of what sounds like a threat come from the black and white tom Wolfpaw felt the need to go check on him.

He joins in to the little gathering in time to see the nervous reaction of Tornadopaw "What are you talking about Magpie?" there was a mix of annoyance and concern. He had noticed a bit of the spark that Magpiepaw had held was slowly slipping away every so often. He seemed to have been finally catching up to Wolfpaw's own more grownup worldview. Even before Wolfpaw was made an apprentice he didn't feel like games and kithood were worth his time, so the transition had been smooth, he filled his time now with valuable things and made himself in turn more valuable. Now is when Magpiepaw was understanding the warrior world, and it seemed to be hard, if the strange things he was saying were anything to go by.

He stood by his brother's side, and the comment from Smogmaw rubbed him the wrong way, "His brain works fine," it was a comment he made under his breath "he is just... odd" That was all. He was an enigma surely, but he wasn't broken. What Wolfpaw really wanted to hear was what Magpie meant, rather than excuses that his clanmates made up for him.​

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✧ ✧ ✧ no slipping up if you slip away ✧ ✧ ✧
✧ "speech" ✧

 

[FERNDANCE]

"It makes perfect sense to me." Ferndance blinked slowly, following soon after her apprentice as Magiepaw's words attracted a diverse audience. She reclined on her haunches, smile more ghostly than usual but still present, her tail lashing to and fro from worries she expected most were aware of by now. To know a friend was missing was to know a part of you had left alongside them, but she'd never been the one to grovel in the face of adversity. Two dead leaders, the deaths of apprentices young and old, nothing should have been able to ruin her mojo, she couldn't let Dogfur's disappearance be the straw that broke the camel's back (though a part of her grimaced, believing the wobbly apprentice's words could be related to the tortoiseshell). Stretching out limb after lanky limb, Ferndance's eyes settled upon the one who'd once called her a cicada, offence long since lost at the comparison to such an insect. She knew she was more like a moth, she didn't scream hardly as much as the black and white apprentice believed even if a small part of her wanted to prove him right and screech to the heavens for the fun of it.

Speculation ran rampant through some of her group and, confident she'd found an answer, the blank-stared she-cat mewed "Death sounds so painful, but some of us can survive it. How else do others walk among the stars if not for being alive in some way?" The mortal body was like a caterpillar, dead was a cacoon, StarClan was the butterfly stage. Silkbreath's side of the family seemed to think so and she was beginning to do the same the more she rationalised it. She turned her head slightly to Tornadopaw, trying her best to avoid cringing at the thought of Snowmask's body. It was too late to turn back now and take back her perception of Magpie's prophecies, she could only hope the apprentice wouldn't take the comment as poorly as Briarstar had taken a hit from a monster. "But, maybe don't tempt death yet, alright? There's been enough of it already these past few moons," she urged softly, taking time away from the conversation to groom at a coarse patch of fur just behind her forelimb.


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