SILVER PILE \ intro

Crowkit.

little king trashmouth
May 24, 2023
17
9
3

𓅪 When the one named Chilledstar invited Crow to live amongst them as Crowkit, he had taken them up on the offer quickly. The three moon old had no idea what clan life entailed, but he was more than willing to agree to whatever and turn tail on the Carrionplace. The timing couldn't have been better to Crow after he had thoroughly infuriated his junkyard neighbor by running off with a little knickknack of his.

Dual - hued eyes open to a gusty and murky morning, and the feathery black kit rouses, faint alarm jostling him further awake after waking in this strange place for the first time. Blinking sleep from shiny eyes, his gaze focuses on the cobalt blue wrapper huddled up beside him. The black - furred tomkit thinks of the little shining silver trinket he had nabbed borrowed and then lost the previous morning, and to think it landed him here in this piney, mossy nest.

A long yawn splits his maw, and not very prone to shyness or fear, the emotions he feels bewilder him. Eyes locked on the wrapper, Crowkit felt nervous to venture beyond his new nest, not entirely sure what to expect. Some of the cats who approached him at the stream had kind of ... freaked him out. The other cats at the Carrionplace warned of these clan cats who lived in shadows, that they were swamp monsters waiting in the dark, ready to snatch anyone and drag them into cesspools to eat them! The two toms Crowkit met yesterday definitely seemed like they partook in that, but the others appeared mild enough. Mixed signals.

As he rose, his black nose nudged the wrapper, almost as if the twoleg trash could provide him some comfort or words of encouragement. Before he exits, shining mismatched eyes sweep the nests, but nothing piques his interest. He preferred that, Crowkit didn't want to get chased out of this place too. His paws swamp into the mud slightly as he leaves the thorned hollow they called the nursery. He wasn't very used to the muck, but he appears to not mind much at all.

His stomach hadn't known any food for little more than a day, and the rumbling wracked his skinny body as he made his way out into the opening. A sudden gust of wind throws him off his paws for a split second, and feathery ebony fur swoops with it. He looked even more bedraggled than before.

He brought himself closer to the ground, and he looked like a shiny black beetle scuttling towards the measly pile of freshkill. He looked extremely suspicious as if he were on a covert heist (like the pile wasn't in plain view.) Dual - toned eyes shift left to right, and the kit runs up to the pile and plucks as much as little jaws can carry. He drops his loot into his own grubby little pile and begins to tear into a frog loudly, fully forgetting his earlier feelings of shyness.




feel free to yell at him or snatch it away from him he needs to learn lmfao >:} he probably has like 3 items




"speech"

 
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STUMPYSPOTS

”Hungry little scrap of fur, ain’tcha?” A shadow is casted over the child as a nasally voice sounds near Crowkit’s ear. A short, rounded calico had taken quickly to observing him eat the bounty seized from the fresh-kill pile. She hardly seems the mind he had gluttonously plucked three pieces of prey from the pile, the kitten was evidently hungry, ribs near jutting from his sides. Besides, little guy wouldn’t be able to eat it all, Stumpyspots was certain.

She pads only mouse-tails away before laying down on her side, legs sprawling out to take up plenty of room. ”Nice eyes you got there, kid. I’d say its not every day I meet another oddity, but in ShadowClan it is.” Hoarse laughter escapes her short muzzle, bottom canines prominently jutting out.
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He wonders what compelled Chilledstar. Rosemire has never taken them for being especially soft-hearted, but maybe kits in need transcend things like stubborn isolationism. Kits are far from Rosemire's comfortable sense of purview, so he tends to avoid the nursery —and sometimes even the apprentice den— as a rule. It's a little difficult to avoid the fresh-kill pile, however, seeing as he's a creature of flesh and blood regrettably reliant on food and water.

Which is why he notices the newly-claimed ShadowClan kit hauling off an impressive pile of his own. He looks to Stumpyspots, hoping she says something, and she does, just...not what he'd hoped.

Drawing in a deep breath, the pale tom pads closer to the kit. Not too close, though; he doesn't doubt the kid'll growl at him. "You aren't going to eat all of that," he says slowly. "I know what it's like being that hungry, and stuffing yourself won't feel very good." Leafbare hadn't been kind to ShadowClan, or any clan, but they seemed to suffer the most for it. "You might've noticed already, but clans tend to have quite a few rules. There needs to be enough fresh-kill for everyone, so next time, make sure you're only taking one, yeah? If you're still hungry, you can check if anyone wasn't able to finish their meal."

 
𓅪 Crowkit's nose wrinkles out of habit at Stumpyspots' approach, and his feathered fur prickleS for only a second. He wasn't used to these clan cats, but they weren't as bad as the stories made them seem, and they weren't the type to swipe another's food. He had scarcely heard the calico over the sound of his noisy crunching and gnawing until she commented on his optics. "Thanks," Little particles of frog escape his maw as he speaks, "Your, uh, face is cool." Crow had never seen a cat with such a smooshed appearance. Unnervingly shiny eyes flit to the side as Stumpyspots lay down, glued to her for a second before resuming his scarfing.

"You aren't going to eat all of that." A fleeting wrinkle appears on the bridge of his nose once again. Through a mouthful of food he manages to caw out,
"I probably can." A bit indignant to the pale tom's words, Crowkit decided to drop any snippiness before speaking any more. The last thing he wanted was to be ran out. Besides, his seemingly endless stomach did actually feel pretty full, for once. That was uncommon. Crowkit huffed faintly before using a small plumed paw to scoot the rest of the freshkill away from him.

"What are the rules then? I don't know any." Chilledstar may or may not have told him during their short trek over, but Crowkit had been much to interested in the marshy surroundings and at the prospect of becoming a swamp monster to know. The warrior's tone wasn't mean though, just teaching, and Crow relaxed. The kit's eyes narrowed shiftily, a brief moment of trying to devise a way to haul all the food to his nest, but he decided he wouldn't do that. Crowkit had never known rules his whole life, so he was curious to learn how they did things in his new home.




"speech"

 
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Applekit can hear the other new kitten shuffling around. Apparently there were three, not just the tabby kitten and her sister. This one seemed nosy. He pokes his nose around all of the nests and keeps messing with weird, crinkling twoleg trash. He doesn't know why no one has taken it away yet. Applekit huffs, tucking her nose underneath her tail in attempt to drown out his nosiness; the crinkling and rumbling.

Eventually he leaves, and Applekit pokes her head out to watch him go. She was a little curious maybe. She didn't know if he was a good kit, or an annoying kit yet. Casting a last glance to the other kits, Applekit would push her way outside shortly behind the steps of Crowkit.

The statistics so far are pointing to the former. Applekit would narrow her eyes at him taking all that prey. Crowkit was too small to be eating all of that, even if he was older than her and her siblings. One of the warriors doesn't even seem to care at all, and Applekit would blink at the flat - faced molly with a look of puzzlement. Maybe it was because her face was so weird. Rosemire correct him, though. Maybe it wasn't a rule, but it was rude.

" I know all of the rules, " Applekit says, coming up behind him on carefully placed paws. " Kits can't leave camp, and apprentices can't leave without a warrior, " she mews. Crowkit would already be apprentice soon. Maybe that's good, so he can learn the rules quicker. " You get to be an apprentice when you're four moons, " she tells him.
 

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STUMPYSPOTS

Stumpyspots' snorts at Rosemire, if the little ball of fur thought he could eat double his body weight let him! He'd learn and half of it would've returned to the prey-pile on its own. She gives the kitten an amused yet sympathetic look for being scolded, "Enough freshkill for everyone, in ShadowClan? That's a dream!" She mrrows lightheartedly, lifting a paw to lick and groom herself behind the ears. Dual-hued eyes catches Applekit's look of puzzlement and she playfully changes it by leaning in, an invisible brow raised, "Have somethin' to say youngin'? Not old enough yet to be mistaken for a ghost am I?"

Meanwhile, she gives Crowkit's compliment a purr of delight, "Ain't it? Looks this way 'cause at your age, I fell and faceplanted into that very boulder." A mischievous lie, but she says it entirely seriously as she points to the lichen-filled rock that sheltered Chilledstar.
 
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NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit follows Applekit to find the new child, pitchfurred thing with the mismatched eyes like so much of his own family. To the child this makes sense, that the odd-eyed kit should be brought to the nursery with them even if he was not born there. His eyes marked him one of them, even if he came from far away. Yet his were strange; one seemed to disappear, dark like his fur, while the other peered skeptical out from his mass of black fur. After a surely quite normal length of time spent staring in silence, Swankit mumbles, "I like your eyes too..." If the adult cat said it, then he probably should too.

It's the first thing he's said to Crowkit, spending more time just watching the child born of nothing as he goes about camp. And hoards things mostly. He's like Lambkit, in that way. Collector-cats keeping treasures.

Applekit is quick to say all the important stuff, the rules Crowkit needs to know. "Applekit's good at rules. She knows a lot of things..." he affirms. She's good for this kind of advice, he thinks. Crowkit, it seems, is good at taking things. He doesn't know if that's a good skill to have or not. Bone-fur cat seems to not like it, so best to focus on the "rules" thing. "Um, but you'll know more about everything soon... When you're an apprentice..." He nods as if to affirm his own words, voice dull and quiet. Older kits are supposed to know more than the younger ones; the Clan will realize this mistake soon and then Crowkit will be the one teaching them things. Right? He thinks that's how it works...

But the squished-face cat is saying funny things, so Swankit's gaze slips to her. "You could be a ghost..." He's never seen one before, he wouldn't know. "Um. You're not very scary, though... You just have a weird face..." Blunt as kits often are, but nor meanspirited. "But that's okay, I like it. I won't be, um, falling on any rocks, though... I'll just keep my own face..." It doesn't seem very worth it, seems like it'd hurt a little too much. It seems to not cross his mind that her comment was intended as cautionary, or that such a thing could occur without his input. Rather, the young tom politely rejects her comment as though it was an offer. He hopes she doesn't give Crowkit any ideas...
RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
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Applekit's prattling off rules, and he's only sort of listening. Half - listening until she brings up apprenticeship. He didn't know what all that was about, but he did know they got to learn cool stuff. Stumpyspots' tells the tale of her smooshed face, and Crowkit sports a suspicious expression. Was she lying? "Sounds like you're pretty clumsy." His voice became overly loud and croaking cackles erupt from the kit. "AAAHAHHA — How could you HA, how could you run into a huge rock!" For an almost awkward amount of time.
Swankit's drowsy tone and appearance is almost enough to make him want to settle back in with the wrapper in his nest and snooze. How much sleep could he need!? How much sleep could he get!? It was a bit fishy to Crowkit. Swankit's murmuring compliment of his eyes made his stare at Swankit's blue ones a bit too hard. Even his eyes were pale. The feathery newcomer pondered silently if Swankit was the ghost of a gone kit instead of a real one.




  • ooc:
  • shiny, feathery pitch black fur with one silvery green eye and one nearly black one. eyes have an unsettling gleam to them. looks terribly suspicious in his body language and facial expressions.
  • crowkit named at the Carrionplace for stealing tendencies and ability to eat almost anything; and for his black and shiny pelt

    —— he / him; 3 moons, kit of shadowclan

    —— prone to thievery and gluttony, he's building a stockpile of trinkets

    —— current inventory + location

    - 1 blue twoleg wrapper

    - in his nest in the nursery
  • "speech"
 
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