pafp THE CHARM OF A SNAKE — flattering

[GHOSTMASK]

†—— ghostkit moves across camp, as quiet and cold as her namesake, thinking without feeling; today she has a destination, a mission, a purpose. she finds she likes the idea quite nicely. a bundle of sad marsh-flowers is clutched in pale jaws, an ugly gift but a rare one; a speck of beauty in the starving wasteland her clan calls home. granitepelt had unwittingly posed the idea for her, unknowingly settled deep in her thoughts an idea that will be the foundation of her life's gift; the idea that one did not have to choose between bold-faced lies and brutal honesty. the idea that one could be nice and not mean it, the idea that favor was something that could be earned by mock-kind words and easy obedience.

she plans to entertain that idea today. to test it, if you will.

weaving around muck and ferns, dens and rocks, small legs finally carry her to her destination. the moon-masked kit stops before today's target, the limp blossoms held carefully in her jaws before she sets them at needledrift's paws. she smiles up at the gray warrior, trying to find the perfect balance between smiling not enough and smiling too much, both of which she's figured out are bad. passersby might find this strange for ghostkit, uncharacteristic for a she-kit known only for rude words and thrown rocks. "needledrift!" she chirps, bright, vivacious for once as opposed to the gray apathy or dark annoyance of her usual interactions. one dark paw nudges the flower bundle forward as she coos, "it's for you. 'cause you're such a good warrior, and stuff."

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┏━•†˚୨୧⋆ OOC ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ INFORMATION ⋆୨୧˚†•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ༘*.ﾟ

• ooc: please wait for @Needledrift !!
  

• 

• † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right? —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten) —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

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[Needledrift]

A giggle passes by the warrior's misshapen lips - a present? For her? She was used to gifts from Primrosethorn and Chittertongue on occasion, but she had never expected to get anything from the greater clan, especially not from Starlingheart's brood. That was not because of any wrong-doings, of course, it was just that Needledrift had not made much of their acquaintance since their birth. Starlingheart and Granitepelt were a private couple at the end of the day and Needledrift was sure that they would have liked the most quality time possible with their new family.

It was courteous to give them that, of course.

Now, she is presented with flowers by the youngest girl of theirs, Starlingheart's closest attempt at a clone of herself. If she squinted, she imagined she could see a bit of Briarstar's tenacity, perhaps a little of Amber's softness - traits that the kitten could share with her uncle as well. Ghostkit would not know Briarstar and Amber for a very, very long time, but the small inklings of resemblance left the stout warrior feeling warm in the chest. She smiles as widely and as genuinely as she can manage with her misplaced jaw and brrrrrrrrrws as a thank you.

She extends a white-capped paw to collect her gift, hesitating only a second to pull them close to her chest. It was a shame that she had nothing to give in return....

"Ghostkit," she begins, removing her paw from the blossoms to brace the one side of her jaw, "do you have a favorite food? Why don't I get that for you when I go hunting?" It is the least she can do and the easiest explanation for her surprise - no child would spend so much of their precious kitten time on a single gift without thought for retribution.​

i will never leave your room, tell everything that bothers you​

 

[Emberpaw]

“Woah, those are so pretty!” Emberpaw mewed, the dark grey tabby trotting over with an expression of interest. As far as she had seen, gifts were not commonly exchanged around Shadowclan, but she liked the idea that it still happened. And started by someone not much younger than her, a child. Needledrift looked quite thrilled, and it made her happy to see the older she cat happy. I could give gifts too. I wonder what I could give someone? The marsh was really dark, and muddy, and messy, like a tornado of mud passed through every other day. But there must be something. Emberpaw just needed to look.

 

[FERNDANCE]

Watching a little kitten carry around things was certainly entertaining, even the littlest worm was moved with a pride that made Ferndance glad that she'd been able to keep that same level of confidence in the face of a lost innocence. Interested, the Lead Warrior's head peered up from the frog she'd been gingerly chewing on and, within a fraction of a second, she'd completely abandoned her half-eaten prey. Her eyes shined like Silverpelt at the blossoms, pupils expanding enough to where the greens of her eyes were thinner than a rat's tail. She was silent as she approached the three, belly hovering just above the mulchy earth. Mischief ebbing through her smile, she eyed Needledrift intently, Ghostkit's compliments were an accurate assessment of the two-toned warrior, she found. A good warrior, a good friend, but would she be a good sport? The impulse to steal and add to her hoard of useless items took over the restraint that friendship offered. Believing the other party to be distracted enough, the cinnamon tabby slowly reached forwards as Needledrift's grip on her gift loosened and, with the precision of one who'd done this many times before, she attempted to sneak a flower away for herself from the other's bundle.
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[Needledrift]

Bap! Her paw moves on instinct, aiming to strike the top of the cinnamon tabby's paw. Green eyes narrow into playful slits as the gray warrior turns her head to face Ferndance and her thieving paws. It is a rare thing to see Needledrift so possessive over an object, even in jest, but then again, it is a rare thing to see Needledrift be the giftee and not the gifter. By tradition, the stout she-cat is usually the one seen picking out silly leaves and bobbits to hand out to her clan-mates. So rare is it that Needledrift receives anything in return that she hazards a challenging snort at the lead warrior. Paws off or I'll fight you for it!​

i will never leave your room, tell everything that bothers you​