SHE EYES ME LIKE A PISCES | heart-shaped box

[SILVERSMOKE]

Being so close to the Twoleg border always felt like a betrayal of his better judgment. Every patrol was marred with expectations of the worst, and going by himself was practically a death sentence yet... there he was. Mismatched eyes scanned the stone walls and disturbed grasses, looking not for something but someone. It seemed so, so unlikely that she would escaped the twoleg's vicious paws, but he wanted to see her again to tell her that her child was safe, that she had a place alongside the newly named Doekit where the two could be a family free from the scrutiny of humans (and the responsibility wouldn't be on him). She was a ghost, his nose tried to find her scent but he came up empty no matter how far he ventured. No matter how angry he got, she was gone. A titanic bundle of furlessness and fear barrelling towards someone never seemed particularly charming, briefly, he watched for the Daylight Warriors who'd have justified such a thing. 'Damned traitors.' He inhaled loudly, almost retching at the overly bitter scent that entered his nostrils alongside it. Silversmoke whipped around, fearful an odd-smelling dog or badger had found him, instead, he was met with a filthy box.

Shaped like Hailstone's mark and crumpled to a point of being near-flat against the earth, it was clear within an instant to Silver that it was some sort of twoleg contraption. Creases and wrinkles marred the top like large scars, and what looked to be a thin layer of mud had congealed the whole thing together. He leaned in, realising it was the 'mud' that was giving off the rancid odour. His fur stood to attention and, as if coming to a conclusion about the purpose of the object already, he froze in place. His pupils shot upwards at the presence of another SkyClanner coming towards him, his tufted ears pinning back and a loud hiss escaping him. "Don't come any closer!" Silversmoke was careful to lash his tail above the ground, careful where his paws were kept. Too recently did the memory of a Twoleg kit loose in the woods plague his mind, even if it had long since left (likely with the queen in tow, he concluded), its presence could've still remained. "I think it's a trap, but I don't know where the rest of it is. Don't move unless you're certain you're not going to step on anything."



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[VIOLETNOSE]

violetpaw practically leaps out of her skin when silversmoke hisses, loudly, to not come any closer. the fur along her spine bristles, and she freezes, one paw hovering with its claws now unsheathed. "what?! what is it?!" violetpaw strains her ears, seeking out whatever danger silversmoke could see; but the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart. there is a foul odor in the air, one of which she'd come to investigate in the first place. she's never smelled it before- how could she ignore her curiosities?

silversmoke thinks it's a trap, and violetpaw huffs as he tells her not to move unless she's confident she won't step on anything. "right. okay. i'll just watch where i put my paws, then." the snarky response comes easily to the sharp-tongued molly, like it is her second language, her blind eyes narrowing. "so what am i supposed to do? stand here?" staying still doesn't come easily to her; especially when there's the threat of unknown danger. it turns her into the one thing she doesn't want to be; useless. tentative, violetpaw places down the paw suspended in midair. she almost expects the impact to cause an explosion, from the jumpy way silversmoke was acting, but nothing happens.

growing more confident from this fact, violetpaw risks another step toward the sound of the warrior's voice.

"is this trap, or whatever it is, the thing that's stinkin' up the air?" she wagers that it is; maybe violetpaw could sniff out the rest of the trap since silversmoke seems to be having trouble finding it. it would sure be a hell of a lot better than doing nothing like a helpless kit. ​

 

[SLATE]

Slate halted in place once Silversmoke hissed back at the rest of the group, mentioning something about a possible trap. He wrinkles his nose and peers down toward the peculiarly-shaped thing, trying to judge it based on the many twoleg items he's seen already, but he cannot come to a solid conclusion. It doesn't look particularly dangerous upon first look, but it would be unwise to assume anything about a twoleg contraption.

The apprentice with them, Violetpaw, possesses a snark that is well-appreciated by Slate. Silversmoke could stand to be challenged — or at least questioned — so that his head didn't inflate to the size of the sun.

Donning a smartass smirk, Slate cocks a figurative brow toward the tabby tom and snorts, "Go on, see what's inside." His smirk seems to grow in size as he finds enjoyment in teasing his rival, "You can be SkyClan's hero, Silversmoke. Isn't that what you've always dreamed of?" Truthfully, Slate doesn't know squat about Silversmoke's aspirations nor does he care. He just figured that, since he has made such a fuss about proving his loyalty and whatnot to this clan, Silversmoke would jump at the opportunity to show what he was worth. Hm, maybe Slate could do it himself if Silversmoke was too much of a chicken. Showing his rival up in front of everybody would easily outweigh the potential risks associated with approaching this twoleg object.​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

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  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• —— decided to officially remain in skyclan as a warrior
  —— participated in battle with windclan, currently recovering from belly scratches and a bite mark on hind leg
  

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[Orangestar]

"Whatever it is, it smells disgusting." Orangeblossom wrinkles her nose, but ignores the plea to stay back and takes careful hobbling steps forward; she only stops when she's close by Silversmoke and able to peer into the box. The smell is strongest here, making brown eyes water, and after a heartbeat she recoils back like she's been slapped- a sneeze follows suit shortly after, and a single dry, revolted retch. She isn't familiar with the rancid mud, though it smells like nothing she's ever smelled before: too sweet, sickly almost, and it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"You probably don't want to come near it anyway, Violetpaw. Definitely don't eat what's inside," she determines, addressing Slate as well. She'd ignored the snappish rogue until now, irritated by his constant prodding at Silversmoke, but it's beneficial to loop him in on her thoughts here. "If that's how bad it smells it'll probably do worse things to you if you eat it. We'll get the patrols to steer clear of it until it's gone. Maybe the twolegs will come and pick it back up soon."
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✦ ooc ✦ info

• Prompt 2
• 
  ✦ orangeblossom, deputy of skyclan
  — mentor to eveningpaw
  ✦ 26 moons, she/her
  ✦ fluffy white and ginger cat with brown eyes. torn ear, scarred muzzle, scarred right legs. walks with a limp.
  ✦ bi, single. @ on discord for plots.
  ✦ "speech" — thoughts

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[angelpaw]

TAGS — "It smells sweet," Angelpaw hums as he approaches after Orangeblossom, plumy tail flicking. If it's anything like Wyrm's sugarstuff, Angelpaw would wager to guess that he'd adore it- but it's different somehow, the cubes in this box. He appraises the things, gaze half-lidded. He's fairly certain his twolegs had a small version of these, but really, he doesn't pay enough attention; maybe they did, maybe they didn't. Either way, it's a sort of exciting discovery, isn't it? More excitement than he's been afforded in the clan thus far. Not that that was anycat's fault but his own.

Angelpaw's hazel gaze flicks to the deputy when she speaks. Don't eat it? "I want it, though," the apprentice murmurs, pink lips falling into a half-hearted frown. And with that, he paces forward, tufted ears twitching, stretching out a paw to bat the lid off the box- only to reveal nothing of particular interest. If he didn't know any better, he might think these were cubes of dirt, but they still smelled like sugar.... Well, it might be too much effort to go against Orangeblossom's wishes, so he supposes he can stay in line for now. He retreats to the edge of the small patrol, tail curling tightly around his thin paws.

"Nothing bad happened. Can I eat it now?"​

 

[GREENEYES]

Keeping close to Violetpaw, Greenpaw arrives to investigate too.

Though he lives within the pine forest full time, the boy has seen plenty of twoleg things - strewn about, as if it all crossed the thunderpath itself. But, this is nothing like the giant moss ball Daisyflight and Sheepcurl had led a patrol to, or the stringy, shiny sort of stuff Winterwink had brought in once.

No, this twoleg object is kind of... strangely shaped. Almost like Hailstone's white patch. Silversmoke finds the object alarming, says it's some sort of trap.

"Maybe it's a trap for Hailstone?" he suggests. It looks kind of... muddy, whatever it is. Smells kind of funny too. Orangeblossom tells Violetpaw not to eat any of it, and, though Greenpaw feels the urge to go against the deputy's orders - to investigate the object before the patrol - he doesn't think he'll like this mud.

But, Angelpaw's adamant in eating it, even going so far as to interact with the so-called trap. Doesn't seem like much of a trap, if Angelpaw can just knock it over like that.

Now that it seems safe, Greenpaw steps forward to investigate. He has no interest in the mud cubes within it, though, he takes interest in what the apprentice knocked off of it. There's something... shiny on it. Sort of like what Winterwink brought, but thicker, curled around itself. Kind of like what Sheepcurl wears around her neck but different. The apprentice leans forward to rip the shiny cloth off the object's lid, holding it up between his teeth.

"Can I keep this?"
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[CHRYSALISWING]

"Eeew. It looks gross." Chrysalispaw sauntered up to the thing beside his mentor, as though was some unholy bloom sprouting from an artificial garden, a diadem of twisting alloys and twines. It looked metallic, just like all Twoleg things were. To him, metal was the antithesis of the bark of Skyclan's trees. Kittypets strutted around with their metallic flattened buds attached to their necks, and thus, they were condemned by their ties to the Twolegs. Even if they shed the leather neck-crown and abandoned the metallic bud, they would always have that distinctive stench. Whiskers twitched as an acridly foul yet sourly sweet scent tinged his nostrils, though it was nothing like a round berry nor a redolent wildflower, like the Twolegs had crafted both the brown shapes and the nest that held them. Truly, those contemptible creatures were quite mysterious. He stared at the garishly flowery box that held them, now cracked open and ajar. It looked kind of like the object that Bananapaw gave him, though much bigger. Was that the purpose of that object? To hold these little mud-berries? No, Bananapaw's gift was much smaller...

"Maybe it's Twoleg dirt. They wouldn't want it, so why should we? I'm not touching it." The boy stuck out his tongue in a flagrant display of disgust, rebuking the curiosity that his colleagues exhibited, as though he turned his face away from the light that illuminated the uncomfortable truths - or, rather, anything that did not explain itself to him immediately. He was stubborn, mulish in the way that he would rather preserve his own worldview than accept one that he had not cultivated himself. After all, he was much like an artist in that manner; protective of his craft and vision. Though, if that were the case, he wondered why they would bring it here if they knew it was Skyclan's territory they were trespassing on. Maybe one of the kittypets told their Twoleg to do this. He shot a glance at those that had their roots from outside the forest, as if they schemed behind his back with their machinations and whispers all tangling together into a mass of viscera. He just hoped it wasn't a trap.
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[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar gained little knowledge throughout the first three years of his life -- little practical knowledge, that is. He still struggles with combat, with hunting effectively, with climbing, but the Ragdoll knows a variety of Twoleg items when he sees them, and the Ragdoll's eyes soften when he sees the box that's captivated the patrol's attention.

"It's not a trap," he assures the other cats who sniff and sneer at the box warily. Greenpaw has amused himself by gathering the ribbon attached to the object's exterior; Blazestar gives him a nod. "I don't know if I'd eat the stuff inside, but otherwise... this is something Twolegs give each other." He remembers, once a year, in the cold moons, the male housefolk would gift the female with something similar.

He shakes his head gently to clear the memory. "I don't know what that stuff inside it is, but I've seen Twolegs eat it," he says, giving the contents a cautious sniff. The scent is chemical, noxiously sweet. "Might not be something cats can eat... better listen to Orangeblossom," he warns Angelpaw. He had never attempted to ingest his housefolks' food, aside from offered bits of strange, thin meat. This did not smell like meat, though...​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[CARDINALSHINE]

That smell, it's almost rancid. He has smelled it before but it's has been such a long time ago and a smell that tries to bring back memories that would only serve to crush him. He has come a long way and he doesn't want to become a mess again. With a rough sigh he makes a face and shakes his head, stepping around Blazestar to see. "It's not very good for us to eat... My twoleg wouldn't, um, he wouldn't let me have any." Not even when he tried to give him the eyes. His twoleg had such a strong will that one. He tries to keep himself optimistic about recalling him instead of having lost him and he sniffles again before shaking his head. Maybe these have gone off. It doesn't smell like the ones he has smelled, at least not that close. Flicking his tail he glances to the leader before looking at the others there.

"Maybe we should bury it somewhere so no one else finds it and decides to take a leap of faith, hm. Better safe than sorry." After all they found it so it is kinda a responsibility now and he wouldn't mind helping to get rid of it.​

 

[ThistleBack]

Lips naturally peel back, twisting above the gums. Tasting the air, finding it rancid with sugar and waxy plastic. He sidesteps around his clanmates like a wolf around a campfire. Studying in silence.

Angelpaw’s subtle attempts to bypass the deputy’s judgment casually lit the torch of casual chatter concerning the strange object of their attention. Blazestar chimes in with perhaps the most information they’ll ever know about the strange assortments.

Thistleback’s nose wrinkles, he had seen these before, himself. " I saw these in the rubbish before-… usually accompanied with strangely weaved flowers. Perhaps it’s some sort of strange ritual the no-furs take to. " his shoulders quiver involuntarily, and he chuckles to himself. " makes my skin crawl " he licks over his teeth and stalks away. Not out of fear, but of pure voodoo of it. To be able to craft things such a way and fill it with oddities.

Cardinalshine suggests a burial, and Thistleback is idly watching Greenpaw retrieve a ribbon. " on their side, preferably " he adds.
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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
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  Thirty-three moons EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan since 12.22.22
  — Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22 | polyamorous
  — Father of Coyotepaw, Pricklepaw, and Eveningpaw.
  — mentoring quillpaw & Snowpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
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