pafp WITH A SPRING, FAERY RING [PROMPT]

[HOPEPAW]

⊱⊰ Hopepaw has yet to experience a full turning of the seasons, so when the days begin to grow shorter and the nights colder, she doesn't notice it at first. It's simply… something new, nothing concerning to a young apprentice. But the adults talk of winter and the chill that's certainly coming on, sometimes. ThunderClan is preparing for the worst, when prey will be scarce and herbs will be dead. To her, it sounds terrible, like something that just shouldn't happen. Without prey and herbs, how will the clan survive such harsh times? She's heard of the great journey that her father and Gentlestorm had gone on alongside cats from the other clans, because they had to save all of the clans. Will… will things get bad enough for a journey like that to happen again? And is it selfish for her to say that she doesn't want to go, even if it could save her clan? She isn't as brave as so many other ThunderClanners…

What draws her out of her thoughts is the sound of a crunch beneath her paw—red and brown leaves coat the forest floor, dry and crackling underfoot. The forest around them stiffens like a prey animal caught in the claws of a warrior (or, perhaps, the jaws of a wolf), and already it seems so much more lifeless. Yet even still, some things survive, and the clearing that Hopepaw stumbles into is proof of that. The grass is still green, tickling at her silky-furred ankles, but right in the center of the clearing sits a ring of pale mushrooms. They almost match her pelt color, a shade or two darker, and they're arranged in nearly a perfect circle. The grass beneath the ring of mushrooms is dry and brown, as though the life has been sapped right out of it.

"Oh, wow…" She murmurs both to herself and to the cats around her, taking in the sight. A pale tawny paw hovers just above the line of mushrooms, not yet touching down in the center of the circle. Logically, the mushrooms shouldn't pose any threat, but this is so strange. She's never seen them arranged like this before—and the grass around them all seems to be dying. Is there something wrong with this spot? The girl turns curious copper eyes on the rest of the patrol, knowing that at least a few other apprentices who are likely to share her curiosity. "How do you think this got here?"

an ancient spirit’s song 【❖】 will heal our wounds

• ooc: FOR PROMPT: MUSHROOMS !! pls wait for one of the following to post!! @LITTLEPAW @shroudedpaw @DEERPAW.
  
  also mentor tag @lovelight
• 
• HOPEPAW ❯❯ she/her, thunderclan apprentice
  ⊱ skinny, thick-furred lilac molly with deep copper eyes. soft-spoken and sleepy, but can be a bit of a grouch.
  ⊱ daughter of batwing and leopardtongue (adopted by roeflame) ; sister to braveheart, hazepaw, cardinalpaw, coalpaw ; adoptive sister to beetlepaw, dovepaw, littlepaw
  ⊱ mentored by lovelight
  ⊱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ; does not typically like physical contact from anyone besides her family
  ⊱ penned by foxlore

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[DEERPAW.]

He has experienced the whims of the cold before, remembering Mother planting him on Thunderclan's land while she hunted for them both. He had waited... She didn't come back. That was fine. The fluffy chill of melting snow under his paws, his voice squeaky and frightened. He has yet to wonder about the shifting seasons of Leaf-fall to this Leafbare, it makes him curious about it. It's something new... exciting to the older apprentice. The adults chatter on and on about the weather changes, and the incoming chill that's coming. Prey scarce, herbs wilting before coming up dead, and predators alike scavenging for food the same as the clans. It sounds... like a drag.

A swirl of red, orange, and yellow hues crushes underneath dark paws. Long ginger - painted tail dragging along behind him, as the creature held his head down. Feathered ears twitch as each step causes leaves to crinkle inward. Lagging behind the small group of... the younger pests, with a bored look on his face.

The faux tortoiseshell halts when... Hopepaw murmurs at something in awe, and raises a brow in confusion about what the thick-furred apprentice thinks what's so amazing, that the apprentice had to stop walking? He slithers next to the younger one, hazel eyes narrowed with a frow curled upon dark bitten lips. He peers down at the circle thing. Mushrooms are curious little conundrums that pop up here and there, plants held upon stems and blossom foliage or flowers. Oh, he is fascinated... feathered ears twitch and swivel up to their full height, head leans down to curiously look at the mushrooms. Mushrooms are also at the lower end of the neverending flowing plant life, their presence around the forest doesn't really hold as much interest to him as the bones he keeps and the spiders he watches. The arrangement is all too precise, in comparison to other's he'd spot here and there.

"A d-death circle... a l-lone grave." He finds himself speaking up. Eyes flicking to the grass next to the soft fungus, head cocked to the side at the brown grass that had spread from the stem of the mushroom. Dead then. Tail twitching on the ground, he darts his gaze to Hopepaw. "Don't t-touch it..." He clicks his tongue, as his brows knitted before he lifts his head away from the plague ring or should he say death ring. He could take care of this little death ring he had dubbed, maybe he could bring a mushroom to one of the friends he tolerates. They'd probably like it.

﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑮𝑶𝑨𝑻'𝑺 𝑬𝑮𝑮 ᯓ★ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃

•  

• temp deerpaw reference

  

• ( I-I CAN'T H-HANDLE IT! ) ˚₊‧ ♰ ‧₊˚ DEERPAW. ╱ thunderclan apprentice
  ⸝⸝ AMAB ; HE / HIM ; CURRENTLY 10 MOONS OLD. AGES EVERY 26TH.
  ✶ homosexual, ace / not actively looking — mentoring none.
  ✶ a scrawny longhaired black/dark ginger tortoiseshell tom with low white and hazel eyes.
  ✶ thoughts ; "Speech, 4d4344" ; attacks only
  ✶ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✶ smells like mud &. damp earth musk

  all opinions are ic! he's morbid and he sucks </3 ♱

  
  → biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone

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[Dwindlingpaw]

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ The patrol shuttles by the sound of leaves rustling barely deserves a twitch of an ear. The forest is hardly quiet, with all sorts of dead tree debris that chatters in the wind. Leaf-fall's arrival had brought much more than just the cold. Strange things keep happening that haven't happened before.

A part of her wants to cling onto this odd and unusual. For a while, the sight of red and brown splattered on the floor brought her mind back to the battlefield and sent her heart racing. Sometime between now and then the fear of red being blood dwindled away to simply red unthreatening leaves.

And mushrooms apparently. Hopepaw's voice joins the chorus as she hovers over a circle of rotted grass and a circle of mushrooms. They tended to be solitary plants growing in the nooks and crannies of the territory, and yet from some reason these ones decided to grow right out in the open. She turned to Deerpaw and grimaced at his morbid explanation. "That doesn't make much sense; it's clearly a protection circle." Why else would they come out of their hiding spots?"

The cream and red apprentice strolls over to the other side of the ring to get a better look. "The mushrooms are guarding something in the middle. Maybe some baby mushrooms," Dwindlingpaw says with a tilt of her head.

ooc

• ooc: —

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[FALLOWBITE]

ˏˋ*⁀➷ The forest smells achingly familiar as leaf-fall takes its hold, nostalgic and earthen. Fallen leaves coat the ground, crackling and colorful. They looked so much bigger, in her memories.

She feels the leaves crunching beneath her paws, dusty scraps clinging to the tangles of her fur. She draws closer to the group of apprentices, craning her head to see what they're looking at. Mushrooms. She had been fascinated by them as a kit, tearing off little pieces of the one her mother brought her. She remembers them popping up through cracks in the soil, vanishing only days later. She still feels a fondness for the strange little plants(?), nowhere near as garish as Newleaf's blossoms.

With a small shake of her head, Fallowbite attempts to anchor itself in the present. The apprentices speak of some strange superstitions: death and protection. She snorts. "They're just mushrooms," the warrior says flatly, drawing closer to the circle of dead earth. She crouches down, hooks jutting teeth into one of the circling sentinels. With little gentleness, the mushroom is pulled from the ground - and no misfortune befalls the dappled molly.

She takes a step back, deposits it at her feet. "See?" It leans down to sniff at the thing, intrigued despite itself.

‎‎A PLACE CALLED HATE ⁀➷ THE CITY OF FEAR‎

• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  FALLOWBITE ⁀➷ she / it, warrior of thunderclan, fourteen moons.
  ➳ a scarred, pointed brown and white molly with shaggy fur and golden eyes.
  ➳ standoffish and solitary, always seems to have a dark cloud hanging over its head.
  ➳ baying hound xx npc, littermate to antlerbreeze & doepath.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[Houndshade]

The forest can be strange, unpredictable maybe? Houndshade was pretty certain there was some mysteries to it that even the elders didn't know in their seasons of wisdom. The ring of mushrooms is a testament to that, they were certain that they would have over looked this if Hopepaw hadn't pointed it out. "Have you seen one of these before, Deerpaw?" she assumes as such, how else would he perscribe such macarbe nicknames and meanings to it. To the smoke this just looked like any old thing, sure it's weird because they've never seen mushrooms just... do that before.

Dwindlingpaw speaks with authority too, does she also know what this is? Is it just Houndshade who doesn't know what this is? Maybe she's behind the curve so to say, with a click of their tongue they crane their neck to gain a closer inspection of the dead life surrounding the ring. When Fallowbite decides to take the initiave to show that they're clearly harmless the warrior seizes the opportunity to stir a little bit of mayhem herself.

"Fallowbite! Now you're cursed!" She wails with a dramatic gasp, snorting to herself once her exaggerated gasps and exclamations dies down. "Death or protection... you're either going to have terrible or good luck" she comments with a flick of her tail, taking slow and careful steps around the ring. Their gaze lingers on the more superstitious in their group to judge their reactions.

"Maybe... we could dig in the middle of it? To see if anything's buried?" They had to admit they were curious, Fallowbite has opened the gate for their curiosity and who is she to not follow its lead?

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[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Raccoonstripe had spent his youth in the territory where ShadowClan now stakes their claim, and he'd spent many a day rolling in things better left untouched. Mushrooms had always fascinated him — there's no plant, after all, that has a smell quite like them, almost meatlike, earthen, foreign. Still, he has to hide his amusement when the younger cats stumble upon a circlet of them and express various shades of bewilderment and whimsy. He misses that element of his youth — and though he secretly agrees with Fallowbite, he sees no point in discouraging the younger warriors and apprentices in their folly.

Hopepaw is the one to discover the pale ring, and Deerpaw warns them all not to tread through the circle. Raccoonstripe is about to make a suggestion himself, but Houndshade beats him to it — she suggests they dig through the center and see if anything is buried in the middle. The lead warrior laughs. "So eager to find dead things, huh? Go ahead. Maybe if you find anything good, I can take the kits a souvenir." Of course, he's not about to dirty his paws with such a thing...

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 46 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.

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[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — His large paws scatter the leaf litter that's on the forest floor and he trails after the rest of the patrol in the back with his ears twitching wildly at any noise or scuffle of small paws that move around them. The pale tom noticing that his clanmates seem to stop and he can't help but frown with confusion, he lumbers over as he stands beside Hopepaw with their pelts briefly brushing against one another and he peers down at what everyone seems to be interested in. A circle of mushrooms and his niece seems to ask how they could've gotten there, his whiskers twitch before he parts his jaws to speak "Plants... grow however they like... in the strangest... of places... or formations..." He has found several herbs in odd places but he doesn't dwell on the thought for long as he listens to the different answers that slip from the apprentices, Deerpaw says it's a death circle and that alone causes the old tomcat to narrow his eyes. Dwindlingpaw says that it may be some form of protection but whatever it is, Fallowbite is quick to pluck one of the mushrooms that had been rooted in the ground.

His whiskers quiver when Houndshade decides to go into dramatics stating that the molly is now cursed or potentially has good luck yet... it causes his stomach to twist at the idea and the warrior suggests they dig in the middle of the formation to see if they found anything. Gentlestorm remains silent only to hear Raccoonstripe encourage the younger cats and the large tom's ear flicks to the side as a frown continues to pull at his maw "'Fraid to get... your paws... dirty?" The old healer finally rumbles as he casts the lead warrior a quick glance and his whiskers twitch once more only to glance down at the formation again, a death circle or lone grave... That's what Deerpaw had called it... yet the medicine cat doesn't know if its true, a frown continues to pull at his lips as he falls silent once more as he mulls over several thoughts. Is it truly cursed?

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc —

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 60 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

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