camp WORDS ON THE STREET - rude apprentice

[GRACEPAW.]

"There are way too many kits in the nursery! Even if I hunt the best I ever have, I doubt I'd be able to feed them all!"

"B-but, we were still in the nursery a few moons ago, Beechpaw! We're still learning! Plus, you're not the only one hunting for the Clan."

"And didn't you accidentally flatten your first ever catch, Dawnpaw?"

"That's not true, I-"

"Whatever, fleabrain! The point is, the nursery's overfilled, and I don't wanna go check on the queens and kits or whatever it was my mentor said!"

"Wouldn't it just be easier to just deal with it instead of complaining and possibly getting in trouble?"

"No way! If I went in there, I'd just die from being annoyed! I wish half of them would just disappear! I mean, look at that one! The new ones look weird, I mean... REALLY weird."

Gracekit had been listening to the apprentice's conversation - which was way too loud for something that really should have been kept discreet - near the nursery's entrance, slowly piecing together what the meaning was. It saddened her at first - it made her wonder what the rest of the Clan thought about all the influx of kits. But it was true - the nursery was full. It wasn't the kits' fault though - they had simply been born. They didn't have a choice in the matter - they just came to be.

The kicker was that final comment, where Beechpaw looked over towards her, visible disgust on his face, and called her weird looking. She let out a tiny gasp, emotions surging through her tiny mind, anger and hurt battling for dominance over which would visibly show.

Gracekit stumbled as she tried to make her way back into the nursery. Her legs were already a little bit wobbly - she had always struggled with coordination - but the intensity of her emotions made them feel weak and fragile. She whimpered softly, shuddering as she heard Beechpaw laugh at her, not at all registering Dawnpaw scolding her littermate. Her mind honed in on the negative and, with the hurt and sadness finally coming out on top of anger, she began to wail.

"Speech"​

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I CRIED IN THE SHAPE OF MY DREAMS​

​

 

[Wheattail]

As if appearing out of thin air, an autumn-hued pelt placed itself next to Gracekit. Is wasn’t long ago that Wheatpaw was wondering if she preferred the company of kits or adults, but this seemed to settle it. Cold as she was, the wanderer would always melt around little ones like this (though she’d never show it). Amber eyes looked down at the wailing mass of fur, face scrunching for an instant at the noise as she conceded that children had their own faults. Still, it was better than her peers.

Speaking of, a sharp mind turned its attention towards the two, voice raised not in anger, but only so she could be heard over Gracekit’s continued cries. “What better motivation exists than the next generation? That is why you are training, no? To protect this clan’s future?” It was telling that Wheatpaw didn’t include herself in the statement. After all, the wanderer didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to become a warrior. “Think of it this way: The faster you finish, the faster you can get back to hunting, fighting, and arguing amongst yourselves, yes?”

Wheatpaw turned her attention away from the duo as she gently urged Gracekit to her paws, wanting to clean the kit off after her tumble. “This brilliant pelt will go to waste if you get it dirty, you know.” she mumbled reassuringly. Still, she had to wonder why she was doing this. The wanderer had no intention of making Shadowclan her permanent home, so why was she wasting time comforting someone who would soon be a stranger?

“There is no harm in leaving a place a little better than I found it” Wheatpaw decided inwardly after a long moment, lying to herself just a little.​

 

[smogstar]

It is from a marked range that the deputy studies the unfolding quandary. Brows puckered and his regard blistering, paws shifting intuitively in his observance. Albeit untroubled by whatever impression the apprentice couplet's words may leave on the nursery-bound kits, for good competition was the breeding ground for dogged ambition, Smogmaw found his joints becoming more stiff and rigid the longer he watched and listened.

Their tactless slander rang off the internal ridges of his skull, harmonising with his harboured anxieties about social engagement. So long as you remain out of sight, one's inhibition goes moot; they will denigrate you, devalue you, take the piss out of you, all to create an image of themselves which far surpasses yours. Is such insincerity native to one's nature? Smogmaw thinks so. It is why he kept his head down and shoulders hunched whenever he found himself in attendance at a gathering—too many furtive glances, hushed whispers, hypercritical stares that penetrated through his guarded complexion.

Mud-toned eyes would meet Wheatpaw's auburn silhouette as she sought to intervene. It brought no solace to him, seeing her give sanctuary to the kits' dignity. Howbeit, what does put him at ease (if not by just a nominal amount) was her methods of de-escelation. How rare it is to see clanmates realise that arguing is not easily solved by arguing further. She deftly nipped their bad-mouthing in the bud, even under the weight of some kit's earsplitting shrieks.

"Well done," remarks Smogmaw, who draws near Wheatpaw and the toppled Gracekit. Not a lone trace of pity exists in his gaze. He could force it if need be, a coaxed frown with sullen eyes, but the energy devoted to straining his features would be energy wasted. "Don't let their words bother you," he then says, his glance towards the runt having evolved into a steady, intent look. "Let them motivate you, and grow up knowing that you can be better than them." He sighs, and pivots to walk away. It is far too early to tell whether this kit will embrace a mantle of victimhood, like so many of her adult counterparts, or if she will rise above the pettiness of her peers and become something greater. It ought to be noted, though, that Smogmaw isn't particularly known for having an optimistic outlook on these things. ​

 

[Maggotfur.]

🕱 NO I DON'T MIND YOU ARE A BEAUTY 🕱

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maggotpaw & 09 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan apprentice​

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Maggotpaw has never cared much to mince words - if someone looked weird, she'd tell it to them straight, but she'd certainly expect to receive the same treatment back - venomous words, vengeance, bloodshed, something. Instead, gracekit runs, trips, cries. It's pathetic, really... but maggotpaw pads over anyways, hulking frame towering as she peers down he muzzle at one of the newest additions to the clan. "Tch - why are you crying - what have tears ever done for anyone?" she says, paying smogmaw and wheatpaw no mind - they are not her focus after all. Her advice is not the greatest, but to maggotpaw it's enough that she is here, wasting her precious time trying. "Teach them you are not strange, you are strong," she doubts the blonde ball of fur actually has it in her, but it's sound advice - the kind of words a much younger version of herself once would've done anything to hear.

— not temptation, you're my creation ♛

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• — a massive tabby she-cat with striking turquoise eyes, there has always been something not-right about her. cold and apathetic, and more than a bit unhinged, the monster that is maggotpaw is a volatile presence within shadowclan. she seems strangely taken by magpiepaw, putting herself in role of both tormentor and protector.
  
  — physically medium && mentally hard
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=mediumpurple]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[HONEYJAW]

If there was one thing that Honeyjaw truly did agree with, it is that their nursery is fuller than he would ever like it to be. Not that he didn't like kits– they were fine enough, generally, and after raising Dragonflypaw from an age not much older than Gracekit's now, he was familiar enough with them that they (mostly) did not bother him. But the number of them. The sheer unending cascade of kittens. It was enough to drive any of them mad. And though he doesn't have too much sympathy for the troublesome apprentices, he at the very least shares their reluctance to approach. For some unknown reason....he does it anyway. Maybe it's something innate. Or maybe it's just a remnant of his time with Dragonfly when she was nothing more than a lump of stone given stump-like legs.

Smogmaw's no comfort, and neither's Maggotpaw. Is that what he's here for? Comfort? The tom's mind hesitated where his mouth did not. "Ah, but Gracekit's more than motivation aren't you?" He lifts one paw to nearly poke the wailing kit, though it halts a fair enough distance away that it should not remain too startling. It suddenly occurs to him that they are all so much larger. And then that once upon a time, they were just that small too. "Don't listen to them. There's no shame in crying. But they are right that you've got to pick yourself up once you're done. As soon as you accept you've failed, that's just the way it is, right? Don't accept it."

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

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[GRACEPAW.]

While Beechpaw simply stuttered in place after being confronted, and then quickly called upon Dawnpaw to leave, the sudden influx of cats made the little kit a bit more overwhelmed. She got to her shaking paws, allowing Wheatpaw to clean her off a bit.

Smogmaw and Maggotpaw offer words that are meant to encourage her to be stronger, and do better, but Maggotpaw's words about her crying made her feel a bit worse. But then Honeyjaw swooped in and told her that there was no shame in crying.

It took a bit for Gracekit to take in all the words, and at that point her crying had slowly died down. She took a deep breath and nodded at each and every one of the cats who had come to see her. "Be strong... no give up..." she murmured, tilting her head. "I... I try my best."

A new sense of determination had taken root within her, but only time would tell if it stayed.

"Speech"​

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I CRIED IN THE SHAPE OF MY DREAMS​

​