pafp ZENITH ╱ MORE QUESTIONS

[SALTSTING]

Early morning sunlight spills across RiverClan's camp as if it had taken on the qualities their river had lost. Slow and lazy it floods the faces of his clanmates and paints life to their foliage. He is not prone to superfluous descriptions such as this, yet when he sees this peace, unparalleled as it is, he cannot help but give in to it. Since RiverClan's formation, Saltsting had devoted himself to learning all there was about this place. The fish that swam its waters, the plants that sprung up along its shores. In understanding its territory perhaps he could grow to understand its meaning to him. The choice he had made. It is a habit he had taken from his parents. From his first conversations with his father, he knew it was something that they would share.

At Gatherings, still they would sit together, and Saltsting would murmur of the flowers, and his fathers of the ferns. It was the most they spoke without tension growing.

To be faced with his sudden lack of knowledge this morning, when the reeds are tinged golden at their tips and the breeze whistles between them– well, Saltsting's mood quickly sours. Bitterness lowers his brow. Ravensong's last herb run must have gone well. It cannot be said that he spends much time around their healer, and so rarely finds excuses to ask after the secrets he seems to guard carefully. To see what he does not know laid out now– he cannot help his approach. Irrational as it is, his curiosity is as innately a part of him as the peak of his ears. "Ravensong," he greets politely, his head dipped with a subtle smile. "Your herb gathering has gone well? May I ask what it is you have found this time?"

＞ˏˋ  OOC NOTES  ╱╱ 07.22.2023 "𝘐 𝘋𝘖𝘕'𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌," 𝘐 𝘚𝘈𝘠, 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘠, 𝘈𝘚 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘋𝘌𝘌𝘗𝘓𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: herb's up to you ALDKSFHJ salt doesn't know how to identify herbs and is Bothered™ by this
  FORGOT TO SAY PLS WAIT FOR @RAVENSONG

• saltsting. formerly named idk yet.
  —— cis male. he - him // they - them. unoffended by others. 11 moons old. riverclanner.
  —— sexuality unknown. seems rather impossible to form close relationships with at first.
  —— half pine + marsh heritage. his father being a skyclan kittypet is general knowledge.
  —— earned his warrior name early despite a,, slight disagreement with cicadastar over it.
  
  Being the son of a kittypet, there is much there that Saltsting has inherited. From the sharp, angular profile of an Oriental Shorthair to the trim, glossy coat– he may as well have been his father's clone were one to not look too closely. He is a dark black smoke with a smattering of low white, particularly on his paws and muzzle, as well as very dark brown eyes he inherited from his mother.

• "speech"

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[RAVENSONG]

He has no apprentice to talk down to, so Ravensong naturally is quick to display his intelligence to any that would listen. Those apprentices who come on herb patrols are seldom very interested in what he has to gather and although he is aloof, Ravensong hates talking to himself. To do so is a sign of foolishness and sickened-mind. No, it is much better to have conversation with another breathing cat in front of him although he cannot stand them for too long else he might lose his mind in the other way.

It is too early for him to be in a particularly good mood, but Saltsting caught him on his way back to the den. The older cat glanced over his shoulder with one raised brow. Saltsting often comes up with questions about the plants Ravensong tends, and he generally does not mind it, but today he holds a deadly secret.

He nods to his question. His mouth is full of a bundled leaf and he inclines his head to the left to beckon Saltsting to come closer. Gently he drops the bundle and the leaf unfurls to reveal a a flowering plant with broad, bright purple-pink petals.

"Do not touch." His voice is a growl, one paw raised instinctively even though he has no real reason to suspect Saltsting would be so brash. Beesong had never kept this herb in their stores before, and for good reason. Ravensong feels his heart quicken. So much power in this little thing—and Saltsting did not know. "Meadow saffron." He purrs, looking Saltsting in the eye with a teeth-glinting grin.

☾₊ ⊹ темная ночь — dark is the night

•  
• 
  RAVENSONG of RIVERCLAN
  — LH BLACK POLYDACTYL MALE (CARRYING CINNAMON, DILUTE) a tall, slender creature with pitch-black feathery fur, large ears, and a sharply angled skull held up in an aloof manner. smells of dried herb, speaks with a low and rumbly accent and walks with an elegant slinking gait.
  
  — born in twolegplace and orphaned at a young age, he joined riverclan at its inception and began training as a drypaw warrior known for a bitter temperment until beesong made him his medicine cat apprentice. after his mentor's untimely death, he had been named ravensong at the moonstone, young heart revitalized with anger and guilt. he is a somber and thorough medicine cat that guards every word spoken in the confines of his den.
  
  — secretly loves "the stars but not so much what inhabits them"
  — openly suffers from chronic migraines
  — single, but "it's complicated"

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[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw faced the early morning too, groggy but eager. As of late there had been a noticeable uptick in his training efforts- longer hours, less frivolity. He was still occupied with a smile, sat ever-comfortable on his face; but within his single eye of aquamarine lay a distinctive tiredness, the lights in his eyes a-flicker with the beginnings of exhaustion. Mudpelt was not the type to push him beyond his limits, of course- but he was trying harder than he ever had before.

He knew Saltsting was not a success purely based on luck, but... whenever he looked at the early graduate, he felt that distinctive twist of dissatisfaction his gut. It had been a feeling fresh in the wake of Iciclefang's promotion, too- but it was easily suppressed, and he'd never be unfriendly toward the other tom in the face of that feeling. He was at least intelligent enough to know it wasn't Saltstings fault that he was talented.

Ears tilted toward the conversation nearby, and- wishing to relax before starting his day- Fernpaw made his approach, craning his neck as he studied the plants that Ravensong and Saltsting had set their eyes on. "Don't touch?" he repeated, tilting his head and furrowing his brow lightly. Did it have... hidden stingers, or thorns of some sort?​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

Saltsting is a cat whose a little big for his pelt, in Iciclefang’s opinion… and one of the nosy cats, certainly. She can’t fathom why a warrior of his capabilities gives a rat’s tail about Ravensong’s leaves and grass, but she’s drawn by the uncertain look on Fernpaw’s face and by their medicine cat’s sharp tone. “Do not touch,” he instructs them, gesturing to what amounts to a thick collection of purple-headed stalks. Meadow saffron, he says, his voice curling into a purr that causes Iciclefang’s eyes to widen just slightly.

“Maybe it tastes good, and he’s hoarding it for himself,” she says, elbowing her brother in the ribcage. But she makes no move to disobey Ravensong. Jokes aside, there’s something in his expression that makes her want to back away from whatever it is he’s brought into their camp.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

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[SMOKESTAR]

"Maybe it's poison and Ravensong is plotting our demise as we speak."
His shadow fell over the cats clamored around the medicine cat and his bundle of plants, the purple and pink of the flower itself hardly threatening in appearance and almost befitting the colors of an early sunrise. The dark tom stifles a yawn, forced himself from the den for a walk to avoid his limbs growing stiff and his figure rounding further than was absolutely necessary when it came to carrying kits; he didn't want to get up but he was a cat with an iron will and a strong sense of self, not willing to waste away in darkness as he waited for the day they finally arrived. He was often tossing back and forth in his mind whether he was dreading it or excited, a mix of both and a deep awareness that was about to be a parent - something he had never once even considered an option for him in his life. Smokethroat had been content with the idea of not having his own kits, never leaving behind a bloodline to be carried, but the more he grew closer to his clan in its earlier moons the more he realized he wanted to be part of it, a pebble in that flowing river at the least.
He shook his coat out as he leaned in to observe the plant more closely alongside Iciclefang, giving her a nudge in the shoulder in greeting.
"What does it do?"
​