scrapes on our knees ⸸ omens


The freshkill pile was cleaned often, checked for prey that might be spoiling in the sun or anything out of place that shouldn't be there at all; often delivered by kits attemtping to be helpful and contribute before their time. Today was no different, though it was slim pickings as he approached and Magpiepaw found himself staring at an empty pile with only a single lone bird lay upon its center. Hunting patrols were out, would return in time to fill it, but for now it was devoid of anything than this single avian. His blue-violet eyes are wide as he peers down upon the frail and broken thing, a dark bird with iridescent feathers that shimmered like the midnight sky and a pristine white throat exposed to the heavens. A magpie.
He had seen his namesake bird several times before but never once like this, many birds had died to fill their bellies but the lone magpie at his paws was not common and if it had been placed upon the pile prior it had been at times when he was unaware. To see it here now as the only thing resting limply across the ground on its back made his fur prickle with unease.
The magpie were active birds, he watched them often flit from tree to tree in rapid succession and dive for any shimmering bits upon the marshland ground; escaping with baubels and trinkets alike from the carrionplace they often clamored about.
The apprentice swallows the lump he did not realize had formed in his throat at the first sight of the bird, takes a step back with a quiet inhale of breath that escaped in a murmur of unease.
"I'm going to die soon." He states simply, matter-of-fact, how dreadful. What an awful thing to find out on such a lovely morning.
 
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Rosemire doesn't know how somebody got their paws on a magpie, but clearly they did, and he eyes it as he drops a frog onto the pile of...mostly other frogs. It's tempting to take it, to have something different for a change, but he realizes Magpiepaw's staring at it with an expression that makes him a little uncomfortable. He watches him step back and assumes he'll go on his way to the medicine den, but then he's talking and alarm slams into bewildered amusement.

"C'mon, kid," he starts, shaking his head with a helpless chuckle. "That doesn't mean anything. I've seen broken roses before and I'm still here." Somehow. He clears his throat and prods at the frog he'd just dropped. "What about someone named Frog? I know you'll probably say it's different because we don't have magpies in the freshkill pile that often, but the point stands. Nobody's dying because of what's in the freshkill pile, unless it's rotten or something."
 



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Her apprentice was a strange sort, of that she could be certain. But long ago, when she had found him among the rubbish at the side of the thunderpath, Starlingheart had developed a fondness for the odd black and white tom. She looked at him as a younger brother of sorts, wanted to protect and guide him ever since she had first laid eyes upon him. Even before he had assumed the position of her apprentice he had prattled on about death and she wonders if the darkness that was settled into his brain was due to ShadowClan or perhaps something from his past. From before. Regardless, she wonders about it.

She is coming to get prey from the fresh kill pile, something to share with her kits or her mate no doubt, but the black and white toms words give her pause. She looks at the magpie with a thoughtful expression. Was it a sign from the stars? If she is being honest, she, like Rosemire, doubts it immensely. "If you look for- for signs everywhere you will go mad" she adds softly, appreciating the older toms words of wisdom as she comes to stand next to her apprentice, flicking him gently with her snow-capped tail as she does. "We will kuh-keep a uh an eye out for others though. If the stars- if the stars really want to tell us something they will make it clear with time" she will not dismiss his concerns so readily and instead she passes a paw over the magpie in the pile and she bows her head, saying a silent prayer for guidance.

 
🕱 NO I DON'T MIND YOU ARE A BEAUTY 🕱

maggotpaw & 09 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan apprentice

Maggotpaw is never really sure when to believe the words that fall from magpiepaw's lips - really, he seems to come up with such strange absurdities, and yet... sometimes, she wonders if he isn't actually starclans voice, a prophet who speaks of omens and warnings they should heed. Turquoise gaze is cold and thoughtful as he speaks, her large form padding over to peer down her muzzle at the prey pile. "Thats a shame," she says, words sounding dull and lifeless even to her own ears. There's a surprising lack of fun in this taunt, no, instead she feels a growing sense of nerves she refuses to acknowledge. Certainly, his mentor must be right - he's only seeing omens where there are none. "Starclan will have to get past me if they want you though," she adds finally, the only comfort she can offer - and it's and awkward thing, pale head ardently averted, as though that will be enough to hide the embarrassment that flushes her cheeks when she realizes what she's just spoken. But... it is no less true - magpiepaw is her friend, strange though he is, and she is unwilling to see him dead so soon (or at all really).

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

    ooc: —
    tw/cw: —
  • a massive tabby she-cat with striking turquoise eyes, there has always been something not-right about her. cold and apathetic, and more than a bit unhinged, the monster that is maggotpaw is a volitile presence within shadowclan. she seems strangely taken by magpiepaw, putting herself in role of both tormentor and protector.

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

 

Magpiepaw turned and in silence tilted his head up to stare at Rosemire unblinking for an alarmingly long time before finally turning away and giving a nod of assertion. Maybe so, maybe so, but magpie were such rare birds to find strewn across the freshkill pile. It was either important or someone was messing with him and he had no enemies in ShadowClan except... the kittens.
His mentor arrives, notes with some concern he needn't look too hard for these things and his broken tail twitches as he sighs.
"If you are sure..." He says plainly to Starlingheart, frowning. How was he to ever know what the difference in a sign and simple existence was - would he feel some way? Would he see something different? What if he missed something obvious because he second guessed himself...
Maggotpaw's insistence on continuing to fight battles far outside her capabilities does bring a smile to his maw, maddening as it was the enthusiasm was appreciated, "Please do not fight StarClan, I think they will not let you in if you do and I would like all the cats I like there eventually."
If you didn't go to StarClan you just stopped existing he imagined or maybe you became a restless spirit - who was to say. He wonders, briefly, what might happen to particularly bad cats when they died because leaving such abberhations left unattended seemed unsafe.
 

Nettlekit knew his mother was clever- it was the way of the world, like how the sky was blue and his paws were white. A simple fact. And so, by association, Magpiepaw also had to be smart. Surely. It seemed like the only possibility- so it was odd to witness Rosemire and Starlingheart tell the black-and-white tom that he was, in fact, wrong. Unaware in his youth of the medicine cat apprentice's uneasiness around him, Nettlekit toddled on over, slaloming around his mother's legs.

Jay-blue eyes looked between them, large and inquisitive. "So how do you know what's a sign and what's not?" Surely to look for signs you had to be able to recognise them- otherwise, like Starlingheart had said, wouldn't you end up thinking everything was a sign? The idea of fighting StarClan equally brought a deep furrow to Nettlekit's brow- was that even possible? Magpiepaw certainly spoke as if the words had weight to them. As if it was possible. Visibly, Nettlekit remained puzzled but thankfully silent.
penned by pin ♡
 
Hungry was Kestrelshade, not caring for what it was that filled his stomach but knowing that it was likely to be frog. He didn't mind the taste of it, but knew that there were times where something else was desired - especially for many of his clanmates. One could only handle the same thing so many times before stomach churned at even the sight of one, but bellies must be fed and energy should be raised, and complaining would not help with either of these things. Nearing the freshkill pile, Kestrelshade noticed a small group forming, those coming to drop off or pick up, and Magpiepaw mentioning signs of omens and death, and the warrior found himself shaking his head in slight amusement.

"I can't speak to StarClan but I think it's an omen actually," The tom would start, small joking smile on his maw as he did so, "But not a bad one, one of good. What better meal than your namesake, as if it was meant for you." He knew nothing of omens or what StarClan's plan was for those living now, just that it would be hard for the dead cats in the sky to get their paws on Magpiepaw so easily as sending a dead bird his way - he was too loved by his clan.


  • [[ooc]]
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  • ● he/him || 36 moons || ages on the 20th || shadowclan warrior
    ● loyal to shadowclan || bisexual || not currently in a relationship

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    stamina ●●●●●●●○○○
    agility ●●●●●○○○○○
    hunting ●●○○○○○○○○
    swimming ○○○○○○○○○○
    climbing ●○○○○○○○○○
    grace ●●●●●●●●●●