private your designated air | celandinepaw

[downyfur]

The most paranoid of tunnelers smell rain in even the lightest of cloud cover. The leader of Downypaw's sunhigh patrol was one such tunneler, as well as the reason for Downypaw's temporarily purposeless existence. They don't mind, for the tunneler had to have their reasons, but it meant all their efforts to avoid a midday nap were wasted.

Seeking something to do with their wakefulness, Downypaw snags a small lark from the fresh-kill pile and pads towards an unexplored area of the clan: a sleek, wheat-hued tabby. Sootstar's war had shaken them too much to venture outside of their clan during their stay at the Horseplace, and with a pang of guilt they realize they really had no excuse since the fires. "Celandinepaw?" A soft smile glimmers through the mouthful of feathers. "I don't know if the Horseplace cats did this, but would you like to share tongues?" She's friendly enough, from what they've seen. Almost too friendly, but nothing could top having Pinkpaw as a sister.

@CELANDINEPAW

windclan apprentice | "speech." | tags​

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[CELANDINEPAW]

Celandinepaw? A voice, just as soft and flossy as their name professed, called for her. Brilliant eyes caught upon the almost swanlike figure of Downypaw, a face she had seen a few times around the camp. If Celandinepaw recalled correctly, they were also Pinkpaw's sibling - and any family of her friends was family to her. Grain-hued face glutted itself with an easy beam, as though the essence of the sun had roosted within fae features, and taken root in the young molly's nourished frame. They had even brought a small lark, of which the prosperity of springtide's graces had surely brought, like a celebration of supple nature itself. "Of course! We Horseplace cats did it quite a lot, actually. Though, I don't believe we called it 'sharing tongues.' In fact, I don't think we called it anything." The spotted tabby purred and sat down, tapping reedlike tail against the ground as if to invite the other to follow, as the newleaf rays doused upon cream-colored pelt. It was nice to simply sit down and enjoy oneself, even in the midst of the day. Many would proclaim she was lazy, though Celandinepaw simply believed in the utter importance of relaxation. To work herself to death was not a life she was content to lead.​

 

[downyfur]

Celandinepaw's returning smile is impossibly brighter, guileless as a kit's. Delicate brows lift at the remark, a genuine note twitching onto their jaw. "If you didn't call it anything, how do you do know to do it then?" she muses, neatly settling into the proffered side. Her gentle, cloudy hues are somehow stark against the rolling fields of Celandinepaw's flank; even her spotting is a brilliant staccato against the rolling gradients of her fur.

Downypaw pries off a leg of the lark, then pushes it towards the other as she quietly chews. Fowl is still a relatively foreign taste to them. Birds couldn't till the hard Leaf-bare earth for seeds as they did in the warmer seasons, and the taste of Leaf-fall game is lost to the bitter tang of war. "How are you liking WindClan?" she ventures, after the taller cat said her piece about "sharing tongues."

windclan apprentice | "speech." | tags​

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[CELANDINEPAW]

"It's like a feeling, almost. You know what it is, but there's no name you call it by. I'm sure you Windclan cats also have things that you don't name... Like the wind! Wait, you did already name that..." Celandinepaw chirped back to Downypaw, like the pulp of the morning softened by the sun, light and sprightly colors against the mire of wildgrass. While the barncats were content in their ignorance of the world, it seemed that the wildcats had some sort of explanation for everything. The pinpricks of light in the sky were Silverpelt's doing. The breeze was the idle breath of their ancestors. The prey that ran beneath their claws also bore feelings just as the cats did. Wheat-tinged eyes glanced at the lark's leg, almost serene in the way the small talons and knee curved back, with no fleece tendon or bone to mar it. Like Downy, Celandine also hadn't grown used to the taste of avians. Feathers seemed grainier and harder to push past, and the flesh seemed almost tougher than that of the earthbound rodent. She knew better than to complain, though, especially in the presence of those that revered even what they consumed. Triangular ears twitched ever-so-slight at Downy's next question, though the mellow-tempered molly still focused her attention on her piece of the prey. It was a question ripe on everyone's tongue, an open invitation to conversation with the stranger from the Horseplace. "I love it so far! I just worry about... getting used to it, if that makes sense. Sometimes, I feel like I'll never get used to all these customs and expectations. You guys make it seem so easy." She turned her head to the silken-hued cat then, giving them an eased smile that had already painted itself on her facial features.

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 .° ✿ °. 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘠 𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘙𝘊

• OOC:
  
• ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
  
• 

  —— CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 9 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.

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[downyfur]

Celandinepaw's tongue runs like Pinkpaw's, a weighted thread spooling endlessly into the depth of thought, stopping for nothing but absolute exhaustion. Downypaw's easy smile is buried beneath a mouthful of feathers, letting the golden creature run for as long as they please while they chew. She finds a familiar comfort in hiding her own words behind theirs, only too happy to let the burden of exposition fall on another's tongue, though her own was no less capable. "I think you have a point..." they ponder, the sooty tip of their tail twitching. "There can't be a name for everything, I guess. There must be something no one knows about, so it could never get a name." Marina eyes give the feline a mild glance through fawn-colored feathers.

The ex-mouser's evaluation of WindClan is a quite a bit cheerier than what Downypaw would say, though not unexpected from a cat so exuberant to begin with. Her eyes crinkle with sympathy. Whatever notions Celandine held about clan life must have been destroyed in the fire; not even a clan cat could have seen that one coming. Bearflight hadn't either. Her soft expression sags a little, and she swallows. That wasn't what Celandinepaw was talking about. "Well, it's easy if you were born here," she concedes. "May I?" they interject, bending down towards their partner's sleek shoulder with their tongue. "I don't think anyone thinks lesser of you for it..." they continue between strokes. "It's not like you're a kittypet, you can hunt and help out. It just takes time."

windclan apprentice | "speech." | tags​

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[CELANDINEPAW]

"Of course." Celandinepaw purred as Downypaw reached for golden fur upon her shoulder, soft exchanges of duly tongue upon her neck, pulps of warmth shared between the two. The wild cats had many intricate rituals, carried out with blades of honor and palms clasped tight, but this was at least familiar to the former mouser. There was commonality after all, within the spaces between words and the pauses between breaths. It was a comfort through the chaos. The soot-tipped apprentice was right, though, and Celandine mulled that she would never know the tenderness of being born within the embrace of the wildgrasses and sedges. There would always be some sort of disconnect between her and her peers, those that gazed upon her with disdain edging narrowed eyes. "I suppose so. You call housecats kittypets, right? My workfolk never really had those. Even the cats that liked to go inside the warm den would always come back out in the morning." Fondness fringed the ends of a youthful tongue, like fleece fleshed out by worn hands, so that it spread out upon each syllable. In a way, the Horseplace was much like a clan, though far less organized and dutiful than those of the open fields. Still, every cat did their part, and they rarely voiced complaints about it. "Have you ever been through something like this? I mean, feeling like you don't - or can't, really - fit in." The hay-tinged feline mused as she bent her crown down to lick a stray patch of fur on Downy's forehead.

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 .° ✿ °. 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘠 𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘙𝘊

• OOC:
  
• ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
  
• 

  —— CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 9 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.

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[downyfur]

Celandine asks if they call “housecats” kittypets, and she aimlessly nods assent. She expounds on it, then, a gentler note to her tongue than any wild-born cat’s with the mention of kittypets. ”We call any cat with connections to twolegs kittypets here, I guess,” they quietly remark, faintly wondering about the injustice of it all and dismissing it out of paw. ”The twolegs were the ones who burnt down our territory. Um, if anyone looks at you strangely, it might be because you used to associate with them.” Downypaw blinks at her kindly, the statement not meant to wound.

The ex-mouser’s next question almost makes them flinch, but they catch it and shove it further down into their chest with an internal chill. ”Um…” Yes, unequivocally, but they’d only just truly begun to know Celandinepaw. The thought of answering true doesn’t sit well with them. They’ve done it before; just one errant slip would unravel the whole drama, the sobbing, shaking entirety of it. ”I think everyone has, right? At some point or another…” They settle for a compromise, a half-truth too general to give any satisfaction. ”The tunnels were scary at first, um, and I sort of felt like they were no place for cats, you know?” They shrug, fighting the awkwardness of licking at Celandine’s shoulder, ignorant of the fact that it lay pretty much spotless now.

”Sunstar and Wolfsong were outsiders too; I’m not sure if you’ve heard.” A rueful smile. ”They used to be what we call “rogues.” Cats like those don’t live in any one place, and they follow no laws,” they meow, letting an artificial twinge of disgust creep into their voice.

windclan apprentice | "speech." | tags​

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[CELANDINEPAW]

Celandinepaw's head tilted to the side in confusion, as though she could not conceptualize that the workfolk that she had known would ever do such a thing, as though they would never leach out the moorlands until all that remained were embers. The former mouser had always viewed the Twolegs as benevolent beasts, though even she could hardly discern their motives through shrill speech and gangling limbs. I don't think it was my workfolk that did this to the moors... She had been tempted to spout, but even she sensed that such a string of words was inappropriate at best. Did the other clan cats think that she had been the one to call the Twolegs to incinerate the fields? The girl could see it within the darkest of shades, never uttered aloud though as heavy as a leaden brace. As Downypaw continued to talk in their lilting and gentle voice, the golden molly could only imagine how terribly cramped the tunnels were, cinereous hues suffocating the watchful eyes of the sun. They were small enough to navigate through the labyrinthine trails below them, but could size and one's whiskers be the only thing guiding them? It sent a shiver down her spine, uncharacteristic of greenleaf's ebb of warmth. "I wonder how you can even travel through the tunnels, anyways... You don't need the light?" She mewed.

Celandinepaw could hardly believe that Sunstar and Wolfsong once stood as outsiders to the clan, though never smothered by obligations that left one damp and weighted, and free to travel the land as they saw fit. "Wow, really?" Incredulousness sat in the place of any sort of artifice, no disgust nor consternation present in the sickly-sweet eagerness. "Why did they join the clan, then? Was it like me, and they just wanted to help Windclan some more? That's why I came to the clan. I thought that a life spent like that was better than just sitting around and hunting mice all day. I love my workfolk, but the heart wants what it wants, y'know?" Sometimes, I wonder if this all was a mistake. Another temptation fluttered upon her tongue, this one more mordant than the last.

𝘗𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 𝘚𝘔𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘒 .° ✿ °. 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘚𝘌𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘚𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘠 𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘙𝘊

• OOC:
  
• ( NOTE: Reference is a placeholder until a drawn reference can be supplied. Credit HERE )​
  
• 

  —— CELANDINEPAW / She/They/He / 9 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.

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