storefront cemetery ⸸ snow burial

[Magpiepaw]

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A light snowfall blankets the area in a crisp layer of white, and the air is filled with frozen flecks of moisture, Magpiepaw moves along swiftly to the last remaining patch of comfrey he knows the location of with an eagerness. The pine trees have a thick covering of ice crystals hanging from their branches above him, looming like the maw of an open mouth and its teeth are the slender spikes if frost dangling high - it feels very much like he walks into death itself as he wobbles along on his uneven steps. The ground crunches underfoot as the snowflakes continue to blanket the area. The sounds of the birds and small critters are quiet at this moment in time, as if the whole forest is holding its breath. Too early in the morning for even birdsong, but not late enough still for insect - not that he has heard many insect as of late with how cold it has gotten, he's sure they have all died out by this point. The only benefit of leafbare is the lack of buzzing flies the carrionplace often brings.
Disappointment dances across both eyes, blue-violet slits narrow as he regards the barren patch of earth before the thick elm and he flicks his tail in irritation. The plant had probably died already, he should have expected as much but he had been wistfully hopeful; maybe even naively so. It would be a waste to have walked out here for no reason, he might as well make sure.

Magpiepaw digs at the ground as if maybe he can find the plant buried beneath the snow, his paws rocking against the edge of the tree as he does so with just enough force it dislodges the blanket of snow draped above him and it crashes down to bury him beneath its white embrace. For a moment the world is quiet, still, the chill seeping in through his fur and he thrashes in a panic to escape his frozen prison.

————— ⸸ looks like the stars won't shine much longer ———— ⸸ so give me your hand

• OOC can go here.
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  Magpiepaw
  —⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
  —⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
  
  

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[PATCHPAW]

Purple sky had called her from the camp - it was far too beautiful a sunrise to ignore. A pine tree had become her perch that morning, giving her a partial overlook of the territory. The snow had fallen heavily that night, contrasting the darkness usually enveloping the thickets near camp. Convinced that she was safe after surveying the area, Patchpaw laid down upon a low-hanging branch.

At first, she had not seen Magpiepaw - their pawsteps must have been muffled by the snow. It was the crunchy sound of claws digging through the snow that caused her to stir; green eyes darting around in search of the disturbance. Only, there was nothing - "Oh." Magpiepaw was searching for something in the snow, below her. The calico hesitated making herself known, but it was too late. Snow fell from above them. Patchpaw trailed after it, watching black cat disappear under snow.
She sighed. "This is why we don't leave by ourselves!" Irony shrouded the scolding - pot calling the kettle black. Patchpaw rolled off the branch, expecting to land gracefully in the snow; she did not. Willowy limbs buckled into the snow and she toppled over. After a brief groan of pain and righting herself, she plopped her head into the pile to try and drag Magpiepaw out by his scruff.

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎⁀➷ of all the colors that you shine info ・❥・ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• PATCHPAW ✩ she/her, apprentice of shadowclan ⭃ dilute calico with white markings and green eyes. 9 moons old. clever and calculated. glory-seeker. devout shadowclanner, by any necessary means. ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking. heavily practicing combat atm. ⭃ penned by jules ↛ @comfinesse on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[SHARPSHADOW]

His head snaps toward the sound. A heavy toppling of snow that definitely wasn't made from natural causes. She remembers Magpiepaw. It'd be hard not to, with his bug eyes and a pelt black enough to stand out from the powder snow. The thing was: he's very suddenly not here anymore.

When Patchpaw seemingly drops from the sky, and then has the gall to do something akin to scolding Magpiepaw after landing worse than a ThunderClan kit would, Sharpshadow forms a vague idea of what was happening. Or rather, what has already happened. Muttering curses beneath her breath, she shuffles toward the conspicuous snow - heap amidst the swamp. The warrior would shoot a poorly - hidden glare at the apprentice. " What exactly are you doing, then? " Maybe it's the first real warrior thing she's done— scolding an apprentice. She pauses for a moment, wondering at herself before she continues. " The cats we've just exiled weren't exactly the gift - giving sort, " she grouses.

She then sets about observing the pile for any paws, ears, or tail. Patchpaw seems to go straight forward, sticking her nose in the snow with the intent of drawing Magpiepaw out. Sharpshadow would be so quick to, lest she actually rip off an ear, instead of the scruff she was aiming for. Accepting the bone - chill she would evidently be feeling for the remainder of the day, Sharpshadow begins digging at the snow, looking for any signs of the medicine cat apprentice crushed beneath its weight.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

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• ( OF THE THINGS I'VE GOT IN MY BRAIN ) SHARPSHADOW: Formerly mentored by Smogmaw Mentoring Halfpaw
  ♱ he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms
  ♱ currently 18 moons old as of 12.19.23 / ages every 8th
  
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  
  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others. —scraping together some higher purpose— making somewhat of an effort to be " likeable "
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

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[Magpiepaw]

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A combination of Patchpaw's head shoving around the slush and Sharpshadow's begruding efforts at digging soon free him enough for teeth to secure in his ruff. He thrashes as hes dragged backwards from the snowpile, a leg kicking a mound of it in his wake before he rights himself back upright with a sneeze and a huff of a sound.
"I am not by myself, my patrol is nearby. Where is your mentor then?" His voice is sharper than it might have been normally, but he's embarrassed at his predicament and it doesn't help that it had more than one witness. Now killing them was out of the question, unfortunate. Magpiepaw shook, his dark pelt sending clumps of white in every which direction without much care.
He's terribly damp now and in poor spirits, his nose wrinkled disdainfully and he offers no thank you for the assistance; deciding then and there to pretend this never happened at all.
"The comfrey is gone...the cold killed it I suppose."

————— ⸸ looks like the stars won't shine much longer ———— ⸸ so give me your hand

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Magpiepaw
  —⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
  —⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
  
  

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[DEERPAW -]

"Oh, there you are." Deerpaw draws close upon hearing Magpiepaw's terse meow, @ROOSTERSTRUT likely also close by. They've succeeded in nothing so far, and based on the cadence of the medicine cat apprentice's meow, neither has he. Disappointing, but faultless. From what the warriors have mentioned, leafbare is cruel in its kindest form.

Pale eyes flick over the three. Frost turns the edges of Magpiepaw's fur white, a similar chill to what they can see tipping Patchpaw and Sharpshadow's paws and muzzle. The trio stand next to a conspicuous pile of snow, by an even more conspicuously snow-barren tree. An image forms in their mind. With a hesitation, some strange distaste for incorrectness making the space behind their teeth hurt, they choose not to mention it. Unfortunately, this leaves Deerpaw with nothing to say and so they stand somewhat awkwardly among their Clanmates, posture rigid as if waiting for an order. Maybe they are.

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[SERPENTSPINE]

the cold killed it, i suppose, ” as it nearly did you. “ a rumble of amusement first, too - bright eyes the only indication of him where he creeps along the bushels of undergrowth behind deerpaw. none of them were allowed far out of view and when the apprentice had turned to find them, the dark warrior had been immediately behind, lingering his tail along roosterstrut’s side when he pulls away, further breaking down their patrol. spry paws bring him close, claws curling about mud slush and stone just in time to settle back and watch patchpaw dig the feline out alongside sharpshadow. the medicine cat huffs and puffs, and serpentspine finds himself glad not to the first time that it were not his job to pick flowers.

then, the medic shakes, and serpentspine wrinkles his nose as a fine spatter of ice sprays ‘cross his maw. when he opens his eyes against it once more is it slow and narrow, snakelike where dark pupils flex to adjust themselves to the white glow of leafbare. a paw lifted, pointed, to wipe at the grey - brown painting something. explosive across the darkness of his face, ” the snows kicked your tail well enough so ill let that one slide ; i’ll even keep an eye out for some comfrey so it don’t freeze you solid, supposing you tell us what it looks like. deerpaw — “ wet fur and cold didnt mix, certainly not for their medicine cat apprentice. he beckons deerpaw forward to listen, because they are closer to the ground and again, serpentspine was no medicine cat. deerpaw would keep an eye out for comfrey. blazing eyes lower to them, warm and inclining, as if the youth would need much convincing, ” y’hear? “ you understand? you listening? they seemed to never stop listening.

𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 . ⊹ . ࣪ ˖ 𓄒 ࣪ 𝙄𝙎 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒

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  SERPENTSPINE ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𓆦 HE / HIM, YOUNG WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. JAGGED xx SHADOW, YOUNGER BROTHER TO CHILLEDSTAR. FIFTEEN MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE BRACKISH WATER & COPPER. PENNED BY ANTLERS ---------
  skeletal black tom with ghost rosettes and blood orange eyes. a disgusting, enchanting thing. born the color of old, clotted blood ; feathered black kissed russet by the sun, oil - slick and sheening. forged like the writhing insects that permeate his homelands, long and bony ; gaunt, near exoskeletal where bones push against the thinner parts of his coat. splintering fur cast in spikes along a slim, vertebrae - bumped neck towards the dark of his face. framed by a toxic orange gaze, eyelids thin - membraned, thick - veined. compact yet spidering ; broad - shouldered and thick - furred in his maturing age. broad at the shoulders and forearms from a life of crouching in the undergrowth, serpentspine makes for an alluring, revolting figure, both filth - ridden and romantic in turn.
  
  

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