pafp UNKNOWN SONGS | two truths and a lie


If there was anything that barncats were good at, it was raising the spirits of their fellow kin. At least, her family had always tried to do so. There was a saying that her mother would always weave into her ears, as easily as rhyme and rhythm - a happy cat is a hard-working cat..

Forenoon sun of greenleaf shone tenderly upon the moorlands, as though it lifted away the dejection of the night, watching it dissipate like plumes of steam. Only mere marginalia of the twilight besieged the sky, indigo darkness soon faulting to give way to the day. Celandinepaw hated to see the stars go but met the dawn as one would meet a hospitable guest. The gravity of the plague had not graced Celandinepaw's mind yet, as it floated above her like an exaltation of larks, swimming just in the overhead sky. She had simply been focused on her moor runner training, for her mentor had told her that the eve of her 'paw name was nigh. Thoughts of her new name burgeoned in her mind, like ivy that clambered through the crevices, and yet the future still hung above her like a weighty shadow. The wheat-tinged tabby greeted the morn with her usual ardor, as the dew collected itself upon the drooping leaves, like beads of merry light. Windclan had not been as eager the past days. Bright gazes seemed to dull and taper and groomed fur seemed to whittle and wane.

There was little that she could do, so she did what she could.

The peppy molly managed to rope some of her fellow clanmates into a game, for none could resist the cordiality of the former mouser - or, rather, they were far too embarrassed to decline her offer. She figured that greenleaf would be the perfect time to raise the spirit, for prey ran prosperous and light rained abundant. There would surely be another hour to hunt, to train, to live. As she glanced around the mismatched group of cats who she had gathered for this, she couldn't help but feel it was incomplete... Wildgrass-hued eyes darted around the Windclan camp, from each string of chatter to tangle of pitter-pattering feet of a patrol. That was, until she caught upon a bark-striped and sand-spotted feline that she didn't entirely recognize. "Hey! Hey you!" The chirrup of Celandinepaw's voice tore through the crowd, as though her claws tilled gaiety through the mire, and it was likely her most identifiable feature. "We need one more cat to join us in our game! Won't you join us, pretty please? We're playing 'two truths and a lie'! Don't worry I'll teach you how to play. You should go first!" She practically funneled Cricketcry into the mawkish circle that a few cats had created, as though she had fettled involution from the (unwilling) warrior, digging them out through divots and ditches alike. The molly had that tendency to never ask of another's directive, and unfortunately for the rest of Windclan, it was a slippery slope that even the deftest hunter could not avoid at times.

  • Please wait for @Cricketcry !
  • ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
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  • —— CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 11 Moons
    —— Moor Runner Apprentice of Windclan / Mentored by Dimmingsun
    —— A shorthaired golden spotted tabby with yellowish-green eyes. Somewhat pudgy, though lean and able to hold her ground in the wild.
    —— Extroverted and unafraid to speak their mind, she is a friendly and affable face in Windclan. Though ditzy and somewhat cowardly, she tries her best to help her clan.
    —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.


 
𓆧 Supposedly out of sight from leering eyes, Cricketcry crouches with his limbs tucked beneath his long fur, chin resting on his dirt stained chest. He watches camp with a strangely detached expression, tail swaying passively to and fro. The tom has been attempting to socialize more and more, one small step at a time but it is a draining task, it eats at his energy and spits him out so he is less than a husk of his usual self. His maw's twisted into a bitter frown and his muscles are tense. It has been a draining moon, a draining day, it'll be a draining rest of the season.

He's spiraling down into a pit of his own self pity when a young cat approaches him- the shadows must've betrayed him to the beaming apprentice (maybe their cheerfulness radiated the area around them?)- and it is them that pulls him out of his mind, forcing his head to lift from his chest and cock to the side in interest. "Y-yes. C-Celandinepaw?"

Join us, pretty please? Him? Join a group of exciteable clanmates? No. "Th-thanks... but s-surely there's..." Cricketcry attempts to decline Celandinepaw's invite to join the circle they have gathered, but this is ignored as he is forced up to his paws and forced forward, limping quickly as he's essentially pushed. The gawky tom's tail twists around his haunches protectively and he huffs, "Two truths and a lie? A n-nur...nursery game..." It'd be rather impolite if he slid away and they were his friend's apprentice and (he'd never admit this) he were quite intrigued to hear the group's lies and truths.

"Ok...okay," Cricketcry relents, an ear flicking demurely. "H-h-how.. do you pl-p...play?"


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  • OOC—retro to celandine becoming mca!
  • CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
    𓆧 he/him/ 28 ☾
    𓆧 petite, reclusive, & wistful
    𓆧 has a slight limp
    𓆧 lh chocolate tabby/fawn chimera
 
✧₊⁺ ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ Sunstar had not been wrangled into this game– that, he knows, is for the best. There were similar ties in this game to those that he had played in his childhood, but to hear it from an apprentice's maw is enough to startle him with stirring memories. The very ground beneath his paws seems to shift as his past comes crawling back. Where he lounges, the burnished tom cannot help but begin to smile. A nursery game, Cricketcry says, and it makes sense then: kits will be kits, no matter the time or distance between them. (They had played with the spirits that roamed their snowy land; sought guidance from them to find the cat among them who stole a memory from another and spoke as if it was theirs.) Perhaps one day he will teach them this way, or again roll stones towards sticks for a fragment of peace.

For now, at least, he does not. Instead the golden tom laughs. "If it is a nursery game, why would you need instruction?" he teases lightly.
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  • 68618436_niWt9hIm1ktdzou.png
    ✧₊⁺ ️️️ ️️╱ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ OOC.
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    ᯓ✧ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑. SUNSTRIDE. SUNNVAR.
    ᯓ✧ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ MASC ️️️ & ️️️ AMAB, ️️️ HE – HIM – HIS.
    ᯓ✧ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ SECOND LEADER OF ️️️ WINDCLAN.
    ᯓ✧ ️️️ ️️ ️️️ NINE LIVES: ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ️️️ ⋆̴͖̻̌͛⋆̵̼͈̐̿̓̏͝ ⋆̶̬́̀
  • 82190121_9CSsSGfEk2LJ5dF.png
    a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or boxy build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.

    a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has much to prove.
 

˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖  Nursery games... Vulturepaw never much cared for them, but at least this one is more interesting. It's less childish than mossball or pretend clans, a good way to get to know his clanmates. It's painfully obvious now that they've left the nursery just how little they know. And so, the lurking shadow of the apprentice creeps closer, tilts his head in contemplation. "It's puh... p-pretty simple," he mutters, shooting Cricketcry a side eye.

The apprentice takes their seat among the small group. He flicks an ear at the leader's comment; he makes a good point. But if the warrior needs explanation, then that is what he will get. Best he does it to avoid the loudness of the new medicine cat apprentice. "You t-t-t... You - you say t-two things that are t-tuh... t-true and one that's nnn - not," they explain slowly and plainly. "Th-then... Whoever figures out the lie first g-g-gets to go next." They've played before, roped in by the other kits. They keep their eyes traines on Cricketcry. "You g-go first, she said."


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    "SPEECH"
  • VULTUREPAW he / they, apprentice of windclan, six moons.
    a spiky-furred dark tabby with amber eyes.
    skittish and dour, with a superstitious sort of pessimism.
    micheal x npc, adopted by periwinklebreeze. sibling to dustpaw and bilberrypaw.
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNIDsaturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.