pafp what trouble can we find? || late night gossip sesh

[Wormwatcher]

✧*:.｡. Wormwatcher’s internal clock was not the most reliable, he has realized in recent moons. Since kithood he has been an early riser, but his body has decided dawn was not early enough to awake and every day he seemingly awoke earlier and earlier.

It was around midnight when Wormwatcher’s eyes crack open, dilating as they adjust to the dreariness of the den. He attempts to go back to sleep by shoving his nose within the braided moss of his nest, screwing his eyes shut and adjusting with huffs of irritation. However, this attempt fails and with a huff he flings his angular head upwards in frustration. To his surprise, he was not the only feline rousing in their nest, from across the masts of sleeping cats he caught sight of Mirepurr. With a hushed groan, Wormwatcher unfurrows his spindly limbs from beneath himself and stands, inclining his head upwards in a gesture for the kind-natured warrior to follow him.

He exits the den cautiously, mindful of any appendages which may have fallen out of nests, but frankly he was feeling quite pissed he would not catch another wink of sleep tonight and would not mind if he accidentally woke up some more company. When he pads out of the den into the cool night air he stretches, raising his head in pleasure and inhales the comforting pine scent into his lungs. Satisfied that Mirepurr is following, Wormwatcher trots away to the outer edge of the clearing in which gatherings occur and he plops down unceremoniously once he finds a spot satisfactory enough. He yawns, exposing his ivory teeth, spittle connecting his top and bottom jaw and then he shuts it quickly with a clack. He gazes evenly upon Mirepurr, gesturing for them to sit down with him before cocking a catbrow mischievously. “Sleep well?” He asks sardonically before chortling quietly, his whiskers quivering. “I am glad you, of all cats I could be stuck with was awake,” Wormwatcher mews, a black tipped ear flicking in amusement.

Wormwatcher indulges often in his fair share of eavesdropping, sauntering around camp from clique to clique quietly to hear bits and pieces of information. But lately, Wormwatcher has been neglecting this hobby of his, trading it in for a one way ticket into the deepest crevices of his mind. Not often would Wormwatcher go out of his way to ask another about the goings on of camp, but he would not mind to do so with Mirepurr, a cat he was especially fond of in his admiration for them. “So… any news?” He inquires heartily, his tail gesturing about the clearing to indicate he would like to know of any gossip that Mirepurr may be privy to-- of course, there was much going on in Shadowclan with the lost of Chilledstar... and all, but Wormwatcher was interested in the more minor information.

✧*:.｡. ~ aren’t i enough? ~

• ooc- wait for @MIREPURR !! //takes place shortly after chilledstar's death
  
• wormwatcher —— ✧*:.｡.shadowclan warrior, he/him, homosexual, 28 ☾

​

 

[MIRESTAR]

✦

It is an entirely orchestrated ordeal... excluding the part where Mirepurr's body and mind have decided — together, the two of them, without consulting them first — not to allow easy sleep today. No amount of counting sheep would be enough to lull them into the land of the unconscious, and so Mirepurr accepts their fate, head resting atop their paws, eyes wide awake. Wormwatcher's obvious (and unwilling) comradery is the reason they decide to actually move, a silent but persistent signal of: I am awake.

They are up in a flash when Wormwatcher invites them outside. Night chill caresses Mirepurr's face, finds its way into their lungs, and it is decidedly more comfortable than within the warriors' den. Crowded with strong cats ready to defend their Clan; a good thing. Crowded enough with nests and bodies that it's difficult to tip-toe around them; a not-so good thing.

"Slept better than a kit," comes their response to Wormwatcher's glee, plush fur brushing the ground as they settle beside him. It warms them up from the inside to have been requested- to have their presence be requested, rather.

Pale whiskers twitch in thought. "News?" Mirepurr often associates sharing tongues with a late afternoon or early evening; sun lazing on the bottom of the horizon and painting the land orange, warriors apart from the night-time patrols already settling down, having been busy all day prior. They can make an easy exception. There is a need for mirth amidst all this gloom and doom. "You've seen the new kits, haven't you? Or at least heard them, if nothing else. We will need to expand the nursery at this rate."
​

 

[Wormwatcher]

✧*:.｡. Wormwatcher laps at some fur on his forepaws while Mirepurr informs him of the most recent news, an ongoing saga which Wormwatcher has been keeping tabs on, admittedly. He glances up and pauses his grooming to muse, “I haven’t seen them, but definitely smelt them.” He gave the kits a wide breadth, not due to the fact they smelled, although that was a consideration when they first arrived, but due to the ping of sympathy he felt towards them. No stranger to abandonment, he felt a twinge of sadness everytime he caught a glance of the little innocents. It was ironic, the entire situation, considering his own savior, Ferndance, had been one of those on patrol who found them. Not only was the Carrionplace a place for trash but also those regarded as insignificant as trash.

Wormwatcher snorts as he realizes he let an impalpable silence settle between them as he thought of the trash kits. “Whoever discards kits like that are… despicable.” He murmurs harshly, shaking his head in dismay. “Quite cute things. Everyone seems to be fond of them, even Smogmaw.”

✧*:.｡. ~ aren’t i enough? ~

• ooc–
  
• wormwatcher —— ✧*:.｡.shadowclan warrior, he/him, homosexual, 28 ☾

​

[​