- Aug 20, 2023
- 30
- 5
- 8
Many of Chervilkit's days were spent in a honey-like sort of regret, as though she were trapped within the relegation of her own misfortunes, a sea of tar to swallow her up and never digest her. She simply floated around, day by day, anticipating the chance to breathe and to swim. It was hard for stiff limbs and a numb heart to reach the surface, where the sun kissed the shadowy surface and all of her family and friends waited for her with a smile on her face. And yet, she had fallen behind. Whether it had been sheer misfortune or her own undoing, the porcelain-featured feline had been at bay within her own garden of brimstone and abraded leafage.
Little Ghost's trancelike pondering had only broken because of the gentle stirrings of another presence beside her, as though a lepid and light wind blew upon her, a sweeter machination of faerie to lift her out of her torpor (if only for a momentary second). Moss-green gaze settled upon Caterpillarpaw, whom she had recognized. Faces tended to blur together, like an ocean of whiskers and snouts and unremarkable colors, and it was all too much for a fragile frond like her. Still, she took the time to recall each cat in Shadowclan and, if she could, one distinguishing feature about them. What kind of ghost would she be if she simply walked the earth and did not study it as a scholar would?
The dilute tortie turned to the feline who had, just like all the others, left her behind. How is your apprenticeship going?, the question bubbled upon Chervilkit's balmy tongue, but she swallowed it back down like a bitter poultice. Perhaps she should not jump to such conversation so quickly, especially since it often acetified into that saccharine pity that she so hated to see coat the strings of words and edges of faces. She just wanted to be like the other kits, so that's what she would try to do. "Hi. Do you need help with anything...? I promise I can do anything you need me to." Rehearsed words, regurgitated from the mother to the child, but they worked. It was always better to be polite than unkind. Cats liked someone who was always nice and did what they were told to.
@CATERPILLARPAW.
Little Ghost's trancelike pondering had only broken because of the gentle stirrings of another presence beside her, as though a lepid and light wind blew upon her, a sweeter machination of faerie to lift her out of her torpor (if only for a momentary second). Moss-green gaze settled upon Caterpillarpaw, whom she had recognized. Faces tended to blur together, like an ocean of whiskers and snouts and unremarkable colors, and it was all too much for a fragile frond like her. Still, she took the time to recall each cat in Shadowclan and, if she could, one distinguishing feature about them. What kind of ghost would she be if she simply walked the earth and did not study it as a scholar would?
The dilute tortie turned to the feline who had, just like all the others, left her behind. How is your apprenticeship going?, the question bubbled upon Chervilkit's balmy tongue, but she swallowed it back down like a bitter poultice. Perhaps she should not jump to such conversation so quickly, especially since it often acetified into that saccharine pity that she so hated to see coat the strings of words and edges of faces. She just wanted to be like the other kits, so that's what she would try to do. "Hi. Do you need help with anything...? I promise I can do anything you need me to." Rehearsed words, regurgitated from the mother to the child, but they worked. It was always better to be polite than unkind. Cats liked someone who was always nice and did what they were told to.
@CATERPILLARPAW.
