pafp put your emptiness to melody — bone collector club

[CRAPPIEPATCH]

In the wake of WindClan’s attack of their temporary camp, Crappiepaw has a lot to think about. Was WindClan’s attack justified? Did RiverClan deserve to lose such a good, kind warrior? An eye for an eye and the world goes blind, right? But RiverClan did not strike first, because WindClan’s warrior crossed the border—trespassed, making himself a threat, and was put down like any other trespasser would be.

They have been thinking a lot recently. Morality has always seemed so black and white for them, with cats falling clearly into the categories of good or bad. But maybe… it’s not that simple? Surely WindClanners don’t see themselves as the villains, and Sootstar doesn’t lead with the intent to harm others. And surely RiverClanners don’t all consider themselves heroes, and Cicadastar doesn’t view himself as some kind of perfect role model for his clan to follow in the pawsteps of. Situations can make cats act good or bad, but is anyone inherently either good or bad? The thought makes the calico’s brain hurt.

They’ve just woken up, blearily sitting in their mess of a nest for a few minutes—staring off into space, apparently, as one of the other apprentices waves a paw in front of their eyes. Crappiepaw blinks, startled, and says nothing as they stretch, then stand to leave the den. Their paws take them, almost without direction, to the entrance of a different den. They stand at the opening, poking their head in to ensure they’ve found the right one, then take hesitant steps inside. Just in case the cat they’re searching for is still asleep.

But they aren’t, thankfully, and the calico marches right up to them. Watery green eyes are locked onto Quietstream, a steady stare, as they stride over to stand before her. "Do you want to come with me to find more bones, or other stuff?" Other stuff, as they so eloquently put it, being shiny pebbles and birds’ feathers and other interesting items. Crappiepaw’s collection has surely been washed away in the flooding, but they are eager to have at least some sort of hoard built back up before the clan inevitably moves back onto their island camp.

// pls wait for @QUIETSTREAM.
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[ FORTUNE LOVES THE BOLD ]​

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[QUIETSTREAM.]

CO-COMPARSION IS SLOWLY KILLING ME, I THINK I THINK TOO MUCH​

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quietstream sat up for most of the night. it was common with them, yeah, but tonight in particular. there was just so much happening, all the time. riverclanners deserved some peace. cicadastar deserved some peace. peace they feared that their father would only get in death. a peace that her biological parents had already reached. her eyes squeezed closed at the image of her parents laying slain, her paws reaching up to press against her head. they needed to get out of here, before their headache got any worse.

their ears perked up, however, at the sound of an apprentice nearby. she'd recognize that scent anywhere. their gaze lifted, folded ear flicking slightly as they watched the apprentice approach. seemed like they had been looking for her anyways. they waved their shortened tail in greeting, before their brows raise. ah. they wished to collect more things... good thing too. she was getting restless in here. standing up, she gave a nod and a smile, before gesturing for them to head out. they did wonder if anyone was going to join them this time. she wasn't the best fighter, and stars forbid anything happened to them while they were out. she wouldn't be able to defend the apprentice properly. they shook their head at the thought before just following after crappiepaw.

sun's out. feels nice today. wish you could feel it too, mom and dad.
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[CRAPPIEPATCH]

The warrior agrees to their idea with a nod of her head, and Crappiepaw offers her a pleased flick of their bobbed tail. They and Quietstream are similar in many ways—from their shared short tails, to their quietude—and they are glad for that. If Quietstream was able to become a warrior, then surely they can too, right? "Good. We can go now, if you are ready." The stump-tailed warrior trails after him, and Crappiepaw smiles to himself. He is so good at having friends.

They begin their walk, pace leisurely as they make their way toward the riverbank. They are, much like Quietstream, hoping that it will be more than just the two of them out on this collectors’ trip. It is not that Crappiepaw has no trust in the warrior, but he is no fighter, and doubts that Quietstream could hold their own against an attacker larger than both of them. It sets them on edge, the threat looming over their every action, but they do their best to shake it off as they look out across the dirt in search of interesting trinkets.

"My favorite kind of bones are mouse ones. I like the shoulder bones, because they look weird. Not in a bad way, but they are shaped differently and it is intriguing," he prattles on and on, as though once he starts talking he cannot stop.
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[ FORTUNE LOVES THE BOLD ]​

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