Open FITTER, HAPPIER, MORE PRODUCTIVE ✦ Scales

[Frostmoth]

Frostmoth's days are simple. He enjoys routine, and further enjoys that he is able to choose his own routine. Dawn patrols go out early enough to get borders inspected and some hunting done. They are the sort that he always elects to lead or come along on. He doesn't use it as an excuse to slack off the rest of the day, but one would be lying if they said he didn't enjoy the midday lull either.

The morning goes by as usual. Borders are checked with very little to report, and prey comes back in. Frostmoth finds himself briefly wondering if they will have to worry about prey in the coming months. He is young enough to only remember one bareleaf on the ocean. He hasn't spent a winter hunting and living by the river yet. An optimistic part of him wants to believe their prey will be drawn towards the sun-warmed surface. Does moving water suffer at the hand of his namesake too?

Frostmoth's eyes lay quietly on a fat trout fished by a late patrol from last night. He's never been the sort to pluck the freshest prey off the pile for himself. It feels wrong. Like he doesn't deserve it more than his clanmates. His tail flicks as he picks it up and moves to a secluded, shady corner of camp. He moves rather unceremoniously, trying to pick his way through the scales of the fish in order to reach the tender meat underneath.

It's a meticulous process, but he gets through it nonetheless. He realizes- though he might never admit or say it aloud- why cats like Fishtongue enjoy eels over scalier prey. As he enjoys his meal slowly (his appetite never fully returned after the gathering), Frostmoth's eyes wander over the scales that are littered across the camp ground. He reaches a white-tipped paw forward and drags through them before turning over and holding them to the sky. They glitter nicely. A rainbow of white, green, and red. Someone who is more creative than him could likely find more use for this, but Frostmoth finds that he just likes to look at them.

OH, MY GOD ★ MAKE ME IN YOUR IMAGE

• "SPEECH"
• ★ FROST — he/him, riverclan deputy, 21 moons
  — penned by carat, feel free to ping or dm for plots!
  — longhair black and white bicolor with blue eyes
  — peaceful powerplay ok! all interactions ok!
  
• penned by carat!

 

[Russetfall]

FALLING FOR THE PROMISE OF THE

EMPTINESS MACHINE

.

Her solo hunting patrol had been nothing short of a disaster, with some hawk constantly sending her running for cover only to steal her catch of a perch. With her mood and concentration thoroughly ruined, the life guard had been forced to be content with what felt like scraps in comparison at her next catch. Perhaps it was better to cut her losses and head back to camp lest another lazy bird tries to make her do the hunting for it.

Rounding the corner to her favorite spot, she stops briefly at Frostmoth sitting there with a trout. 'That could have been me with my perch, stupid bird...' Clearly he'd had the same idea of eating away from the others and internally she groans. She couldn't exactly tell him to leave, it wasn't like this spot was hers alone. "Thinking of decorating your nest with some scales, Frostmoth? I wouldn't personally, you'll wake up to them sticking to everything." It's a poor attempt at a light-hearted joke, as Russetfall drops her own meager catch of a bluegill beside the deputy before sitting herself down to eat. "Maybe stick to flower petals or rocks or something. At least those aren't a pain to get out of fur."

Unsolicited advice given, she begins her own descaling of her catch, pushing aside some of the blue and orange scales toward the other. If he wanted to wake up to a pelt full of scales, then more power to him.

22 moons

◆

Life Guard

◆

she/her

◆

tags

it's been decided how we lose

RUSSETFALL

— Life Guard of Riverclan
— She/Her
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— A Green-eyed Chocolate Mackerel Tabby With Low White
#8a2c55

 

[Frostmoth]

Frostmoth's attention on the scales is shortlived. Russetfall's voice reaches him and he scoffs, planting his scale-encrusted paw onto the loamy camp ground. Decorating is probably the last thing on Frostmoth's mind, bothered instead by what they're supposed to be doing with the many numbers of scales that litter their camp these days. He glances around camp, realizing he can spot them in most places: by the nursery, littering the camp entrance, brushed across the camp clearing, and of course all around where the fresh-kill pile lay. But, realizing he doesn't have a solution, he returns his eyes to Russetfall. Though he doubts that the life guard will have much of a solution, either.

"I'm not really interested in decorating my nest," he snorts plainly, recognizing the joking tone in the chocolate tabby's voice. He's grateful for her companionship, no matter how rigid, and shuffles to give her space as she drops her bluegill beside him. Frostmoth feels fleetingly sheepish as he realizes she probably wanted to eat alone before spotting him already in one of the more solitary areas of camp. He quashes the feeling. She hadn't shooed him either.

"I was just thinking about what we could do with all the scales we pull off of the fish," he explains mildly, and moves to swipe more scales up to look at. They stick to his paw easily and glitter in the midday sun. Despite their pretty appearance, Frostmoth has no ideas on what they could do but to gather them up and dump them in the river. He frowns, thinking that his halfhearted solution would likely just scare away the fish in the river. "They've started cluttering camp and making a mess."

OH, MY GOD ★ MAKE ME IN YOUR IMAGE

• "SPEECH"
• ★ FROST — he/him, riverclan deputy, 21 moons
  — penned by carat, feel free to ping or dm for plots!
  — longhair black and white bicolor with blue eyes
  — peaceful powerplay ok! all interactions ok!
  
• penned by carat!

 

[lavenderpaw]

"Yeah, Russetfall - Frostmoth is scared of 'pretty,'" Lavenderpaw butts in at the soonest convenience, gaze narrowed in a mischievous manner. Surely her mentor won't get too hurt over the metaphorical swipe to his ego, but given how early in the day it is... the blue furred molly is sure she has enough time to tackle any chore he puts before her. In any case, she follows his gaze around camp and listens to the deputy's newest conundrum. She supposes if they don't handle the scales now... it could become an issue. How many scales would it take to reflect so much light, their camp never darkens?

"Can't we just... throw them back into the water?" Lavenderpaw posits with the tom's thoughts, near exactly. "We shed a whole lot, but our fur kinda just... Poofs. Maybe fish scales do the same in the river," maybe there's one specific fish beneath the waves that only eats scales. She can't imagine that diet is worthwhile in the slightest, but, hey - who is she to judge? She seats herself near Frostmoth, but decidedly apart from the piles of scales he and Russetfall were creating, "Or we can smear them all over some tree. Call it scale tree, or something."