PAFP Camp I NEVER LET ON = [ gift-giving ]

[THUNDERFLASH]

There's a little pep in his step as he walks back into camp, a bird laying between his jaws. It was an impressive catch, and one that was surprisingly easy, the fat jay between his fangs bouncing a bit with every movement he made. There was a plan in his mind. Even if Ghost was still intent on leaving at some point, he'd give him a piece of Thunderflash to take with him. He couldn't forget that way, if there was a gift that Thunderflash gave him.

A soft hum leaves him as he settles on the ground, working on defeathering the bird. Delicate tugs of pin-feathers and downy and flight all alike, lain in a pile next to him. He was sure a pawful of the kits or the apprentices would be likely to take the ones he would discard, but there was specific feathers he had in mind for this task. A good natured grin was settled on his lips as he started to sort through the feathers, the de-feathered jay lain upon the pile for someone else to eat. No, he was too excited to think about his stomach, lifting a feather to the sunlight and tilting it about before nodding in satisfaction.

He stands now, stretching his body out- still mindful of the deep scabbing on his side- with the feather clutched in his jaws. It was brilliantly blue down one side of the stem, fletched with deep blue every half inch. The other side of the stem were a deep black, and the tip on both side of the stem a soft white, unmarred by blood. Thunderflash had ensured it was a clean kill, after all- he would not have something that was supposed to be a memory marred by that of crimson. Blue eyes searched camp, doing a once over. Finding Ghost during the day felt like.. well, just that- trying to find a ghost. A snort nearly left him at the thought. His paws moved him towards his.. his friend- his savior? He had no idea what to call him.

"Ghostie!" He called, grin on his face spreading. Seriously, that nickname amused him. Ears perked, hoping the other would stop. "Ah' have a gift for ye'." He proclaimed, accent thick on his words. The feather was settled near his paws, then passed over to Ghost, ensuring that it didn't gather dirt. "Want y' to have this." I need you to know how much I appreciate you. Thunderflash couldn't bring him to say those words out loud, vision rising to meet darker browns finally, perhaps sheepish under his sharper gaze.

___________________ YOU'VE GOT MY BODY ☆ FLESH AND BONE, YEAH ___________________

• "speech"
  // please wait for @GHOSTSTRIKE
  

• 

• THUNDERFLASH he/him, thunderclanner, twenty moons.
  ☆ a sh/lh chocolate tabby with low white and stunning baby blue eyes. stands of average height with a 'mohawk' and spiky-shaped mane.
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[GHOSTSTRIKE]

WE SLEEP SAFELY AT NIGHT BECAUSE ROUGH MEN STAND READY TO VISIT VIOLENCE ON THOSE WHO WOULD HARM US

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---

Ghost didn't bring up leaving anymore, though if someone else were to broach the topic, he still maintained he was going 'soon'. It remained a vague answer always, though. He could no longer use his injuries as an excuse, and with Thunder back on his feet the blue-eyed tom was also no longer a viable option for the brutes lingering,

Luckily, most cats seemed happy to leave it alone. Ghost slept still in his threadbare nest in the wallscrape near the medics den. Still caught his own food and typically ate by himself. Didn't partake in the near nightly tradition of grooming and sharing stories.

But he joined the morning hunting group now and dropped whatever he found in the prey pile before going out for himself. Dragged clusters of thorns and bracken he spotted elsewhere in the territory back to line the top of the ravine, when really he could have just deepened his own den to make it easier to defend. Even then, he'd been about to go stalking around the thunderpath– again– to make sure none of Sables cats were lurking about, when a familiar voice brought his paws to a reluctant halt.

"Ghostie!"

Thunder.

Ghost hadn't been avoiding him since their release from the medics den– his nerves still wouldn't allow for that– but he'd come a long way from those first few days of finding the camp, where he'd lurked outside of Serpents den like a clawed spectre trying to ward off death themselves. The masked feline had chalked the sudden burst of intensity up to a long overdue mental breakdown of sorts, but with each passing day he found himself more and more comfortable with wandering farther away for longer periods of time. He could hunt again, and patrol, had taken up his morning routine of stretching and training. It felt good-- but his paws still found themselves compelled to halt when he heard his name, bringing him to heel when called like the very mutts he'd grown up hating.

Ah' have a gift for ye."

And Ghost could only stand there watching, feeling like an outsider in his own body as his dark eyes shifted from blue eyes to the equally blue feather set carefully atop their paws.

A gift.

"Want y'to have this."

He remained a statue, living and breathing, but still and silent as the stone it was carved from. Eyes tracking each movement, expression carefully blank as the tom tried to process what this exchange actually was. Something else freely given, like the food, and the company– but there was always that 'why' that sat there looming over everything, something that infected the entire clan but that festered within Thunder most of all. A kindness Ghost just couldn't understand.

But it was getting hard to deny the strange little thrill he felt each time he saw it in action, each time it wasn't stomped out by something ugly or cruel. Almost like he was watching something he wasn't supposed to, a secret he hadn't thought would ever really be shared with him.

A gift.

When he slowly moved to accept the offering, he still felt like he wasn't in control of himself. Like his body was just acting in accord while his mind was left in the dust, struggling to catch up.

"What do I do with it?" he asked at last, gaze returning to a more familiar hue, and perhaps not the most elegant response to what would surely be viewed as a kind gesture by others, but Ghost was trying.

He just.. Didn't know what he was supposed to do with it. He'd seen things gifted to cats in the Coalition before, among mates and friends, but he'd never understood the intricacies of that part of the community. Was he meant to wear it in his fur? Put it in his den? Would he offend Thunder if he got it wrong?

Can't get mad if I ask. he reasoned, if said 'asking' was done a bit bluntly.

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future thunderclanner - male - a large, grey tabby with dark amber eyes and several scars​

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[serpentberry]

Ohh... Serpentberry is glad that she's decided to spend the afternoon in camp. Ever since her kits have gained the ability to walk and wander, she's gotten the urge to do the same; to escape into the wilderness, visit Thornstar's grave, or hunt on her own. She didn't obey that whim this day, and as she watches Thunderflash abandon his very personal endeavor to pursue a different one, she grins. She supposes that she could laze about for another long minute, watch as her kits play in the snow and wait for them to complain about the cold.

Serpentberry does not do well to obscure her eavesdropping; her ears twist directly towards the toms despite her gaze falling on her snakelings. Ghoststrike's eagerness to leave has noticeably left conversations at hand, the molly thinks as Thunderflash bestows his gift to the other. Something, surely, the tabby tom has noticed as well. Something smug, but equally annoyed, fills her chest as she bats at one of her children - and then cracks when she ears the white-masked tom ask, "What do I do with it?"

She can't help it; she laughs, something short and abrupt, and she relents, turning her countenance towards the duo. "You cannot be serious...!" Serpentberry's voice is low at first, a whisper compared to her following, "You act as if you've never been given a gift." Hawthorne used to spoil her senseless, she thinks. She still has some of the many gifts he offered her in their admittedly short time together; feathers not unlike the one between the toms that she intends to gift away to his kin. The sorrowful thought does not sour her exaggerated expression, especially not as she quirks an eyebrow, "Have you?" Oh, that'd be so sad. Rich, laughable indeed, but sad nonetheless.

 

[THUNDERFLASH]

Ghost doesn't move at first, and for a moment, irritation- no, fear- burns at his heart. He's moments away from his grin dropping from his face, but he remains steady on as Ghoststrike stares back at him. His shoulders are starting to itch where he's holding his stance, his face kind of hurts, but it's okay. It's fine, Ghoststrike would say something soon. He's almost unaware of other sets of eyes on them. He thought this would be a semi-private moment in a semi-public area, but he was wrong, he thinks to himself.

Finally Ghoststrike is moving, and finally Thunderflash is breathing again. He's fine, it's fine. Innocent baby blues blink up at the larger of the two cats, deeply curious as to what he was going to say. And it's... honestly not that surprising, what Ghoststrike does say. From what Thunderflash knows of him, and what he's grown to know as the days continue to go on, he isn't too stung by the fact he doesn't understand what kind of gesture it was. At least, that's what he believes.

Smiling maw opens to respond but snaps shut with a CLACK! as Serpentberry begins to giggle. He turns his head, mock-anger present on his features. "Oi!" He calls back to the caretaker-medicine-cat, ears angling towards the other. "Shut yer yap." He shoots back, though there isn't anger in his voice, necessarily. It was more of a irritation towards a teasing friend layered in his words. A huff leaves him, ears flattening against his skull briefly before meek eyes shifted back towards Ghoststrike.

"Listen, ye' can do wha' y' want with i'." Thunderstrike says, peering at him more seriously now. Despite him yelling at Serpentberry to stop poking at the two of them, he does wonder if Ghoststrike had ever recieved a gift. And it stems from there- had the larger ever recieved things that were nice? Physical contact? Sharing tongues? He's getting too far into his own thoughts and shakes it away. "Y' can stick in yer nest, or in yer fur, or.. throw it out, if you don't wan' i'." Even though that will hurt. I get it. I understand. I know. Thunderflash struggles keeping the sharper thoughts out of his mind.

His paw moves, letting Ghoststrike take the feather if he wants it.

___________________ YOU'VE GOT MY BODY ☆ FLESH AND BONE, YEAH ___________________

• "speech"
  

• 

• THUNDERFLASH he/him, thunderclanner, twenty moons.
  ☆ a sh/lh chocolate tabby with low white and stunning baby blue eyes. stands of average height with a 'mohawk' and spiky-shaped mane.
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[Heartkit]

HEARTKIT OF THUNDERCLAN

" That's a really, really, really pretty gift. " came a soft, high-pitched voice from below Thunderflash.

Heartkit had somehow managed to sneak her way into the conversation, her big, curious eyes fixated on the feathered offering. She tilted her head, utterly unaware of the tension in the moment, her innocence shielding her from the gravity that hung in the air.

" If he doesn't wan' it... can I give it to mama? To cheer her up? " she asked, her tiny voice hopeful as she fluffed herself up, making her look more round and endearing than ever.

She turned her gaze from Ghoststrike to Thunderflash to Serpentberry, her eagerness shining like the sun. " Can I? " she repeated, her tail flicking as she waited, utterly oblivious to the weight that lingered in the gathered cats' expressions.

Here I am, so young and strong——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— Right here in the place where I belong

 

[GHOSTSTRIKE]

WE SLEEP SAFELY AT NIGHT BECAUSE ROUGH MEN STAND READY TO VISIT VIOLENCE ON THOSE WHO WOULD HARM US

​

---

It was the sound of laughter that reminded him of where he was– of who he was, and just how simple it was for these cats to spot him as the odd one out. The outlier among them, playing pretend even though he was as out of place as a hawk trying to be a swan.

If the cold pit in his chest felt like''disappointment', he didn't let it show. Remained unbothered even as his shorter counterpart barked out a warning to the shecat.

"You act as if you've never been given a gift. Have you?"

"Sure. Got a whole pile of 'em sittin in my den." he replied as dark eyes met her own, blank as the mask of white on his face.

Thunderflash went on to tell him he could do whatever he wanted with the feather, and for a brief moment he did entertain just getting rid of it. He'd never kept trophies or sentimental things around like others had, and the only 'gifts' he'd been given were the multitude of scars along his body. Personal belongings were just things to lose to other cats when your back was turned, and he'd never cared enough to fight for any of it.

But the situation here was different. Cats weren't stealing from each other left and right anymore.

" That's a really, really, really pretty gift. "

Ghost glanced down at the kit standing beneath Thunderflash, having failed to notice the tiny brown scrap of fur until they spoke up. Her interest in the gift was rather obvious, and as she turned her hopeful eyes on him and Thunderflash to ask if she could have it instead– for Serpentberry, of all cats– Ghost failed to find himself charmed by her innocence. Instead, he found himself quickly growing uneasy at the idea of the feather being taken away and given to someone else.

"Can I?"

"No."

His paw came down firmly on the blue and black offering, setting a clear claim on it. And he wasn't glaring at a child, but it was close. Claws carefully hooked around his prize and pulled it closer, where it could sit more safely between his paws.

A gift.

For him.

Wearing it felt like too much– and he couldn't explain it better than that. Besides, the idea of it getting lost or damaged didn't quite sit right with him, and so he quickly decided that he'd take the suggestion to put it in his nest. Somehow that seemed like the less intimate option.

And 'thank you' felt wrong on his tongue, tasted too much like vulnerability in that moment, so he kept those words to himself and tried to convey it another way instead. "I'm heading out to spar after lunch . you can come, if you feel like getting your tail handed to you. "

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fthunderclanner - male - a large, grey tabby with dark amber eyes and several scars​

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