Open Shipyard ☆ i smile up at the sky, i know i'll be alright

[thistle's iconthistle]

Thistle had joined the Shipyard cats little more than a week ago and already her fur was sick and tired of being drenched in icy water from trying (and failing) to fish. She was just old enough to be of use, but had no teacher to show her the way, show her how to do things that she should've already started learning near a moon ago. So far she had been almost completely unsuccessful, anger creating a deep fissure in her state of mind. She'd been sitting by the water for almost two hours, paws and fur soaked from failed attempts and a chill was starting to set into her very being.

She glanced behind her at the sound of pawsteps, ears flicking back in an instinctual response of self-preservation. She'd been on her own for one two many moons, she wasn't used to being... safe.

THEY WERE AN OPEN BOOK ☆ BUT SHE WAS ILLITERATE

• "speech"
  

• 

• THISTLE she/her, riverclan, seven moons.
  ☆ a lh solid black she-cat with high white and yellow eyes and unruly fur / broad shouldered and heavy weight
  ☆ mentored by ?
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se

 

[downyfeather]

Downy knows what it's like, though admittedly to compare her lack of skill to a she-cat less than half of her age is... pitiful. But she knows. She's spent hours, too, waiting at the shoreline for something to flicker just close enough, or at the tide pools for something to get caught. She's not gotten anything substantial yet, at least not without the direct guidance and help of someone who's learned over several moons.

The point molly blinks as the other turns to her, her own ears folding back. She has this nasty habit, she finds, of being soft pawed and too-quiet when walking by others. "Um... hey there," she hums as Thistle looks to her, the child visibly soaked on her front. Downy tilts her gaze slightly, and then offers a similarly spoken, "Having trouble? I'm... not too great at fishing, either, though..." What use is she here, truly, other than to be a metric to measure by? Downy lopes closer to the child (still leaving ample space between Thistle and herself,) and readies herself at the edge of the water. She may as well show off just how bad she is...

Moments pass and she flicks out her paw, splashing herself and retrieving nothing from the waves. A half laugh, "See?" she tries, ears still pinned to her head.

 

[thistle's iconthistle]

Thistle nodded at the she-cat as she approached, licking down the spiked fur on her chest in mild embarrassment at her unruly reaction to being snuck up on. "Yeah, sure. I suck at it. Like. A lot." She told the molly, subtly shifting her weight to another paw as she watched the fish taunting her beneath the surface. "They look at me like I'm the meal... so annoying." She mused, ears flicking in the cold wind that rushed off the water.

She watched as the other molly tried and failed to snatch one of the fish out of the water, and held back a laugh when she herself got splashed with the cold water. "Right, right. Have you ever caught anything?" and, before thinking better of it, she moved a little closer to the she-cat, wanting the body heat as the cold seemed to sink it's frozen, awful claws into her bones.

THEY WERE AN OPEN BOOK ☆ BUT SHE WAS ILLITERATE

• "speech"
  

• 

• THISTLE she/her, riverclan, eight moons.
  ☆ a lh solid black she-cat with high white and yellow eyes and unruly fur / broad shouldered and heavy weight
  ☆ mentored by ?
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @hellybear
  ☆ penned by hellybear ↛ hellycinth on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se

 

[Littlebrook Littlebrook]

⋆˚✿˖° I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive and I can't explain

Brook had been so wrapped up in her own loss, her own mourning, that she had nearly forgotten about those still living around her. Those beyond Lilac, Pine, Torrent, and Squid... Cats who were also carrying their own burdens, their own grief. Perhaps that was why, with tentative steps, she dared to step a little farther from her daughter, trusting... No, praying that Lilac would be safe in Wave's care. Not that she would be surprised if Lilac came running to her anyway. She wouldn't mind. In truth, she preferred having her daughter at her side. If Lilac was next to her, she wouldn't have to worry about her safety. She would be safe, no questions, no doubts.

But Wave had warned her against being too overbearing. That Lilac needed to learn to step into the world on her own paws, to make her own way without her mother hovering over her every moment. Brook had scoffed at the thought... Ridiculous... But to avoid another long lecture from Wave, she had begrudgingly agreed to give her daughter a little space.

A little. Just a tiny bit.

And so, she found herself in the company of Thistle and Downy. She watched them with quiet curiosity, frowning slightly as she took in their attempts at fishing, though, from the looks of it, things weren't going quite as planned. Finally, she cleared her throat, drawing their attention. " Patience is key. " she called, her bright eyes flicking between Thistle and Downy before offering them a small, knowing smile. She glanced at the water, her tail flicking as a chill ran through her. " Leafbare isn't helping either... " she added with a soft snort.

✿────────────── ──────── Brook ──────── ─────────────✿

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[HAUNTEDTIDE]

Tide sits on the outskirts of the small gathering, as always, its presence a quiet shadow, lingering at Downy's back. While its sister engages with Thistle, offering a soft chuckle and faint attempts at encouragement, Tide remains silent, watching, unmoving. Its gaze, though steady and unfocused, observes the struggle unfolding by the water's edge. There is little surprise in the scene before it—Thistle's frustration is familiar, even in its softness. It is a struggle shared by many, a rite of passage left unspoken. Tide knows what it feels like to fumble and fail, to endure the slow ache of persistence without reward. Its tail twitches absently, but it does not speak, for words are not its strength. It does not need to explain the obvious: that patience, though difficult, is the only answer here.

It watches Thistle's gaze flicker to the fish beneath the surface, as if they are the ones mocking her. Tide understands that feeling of being watched, of being judged. In the depths of the water, Thistle sees herself mirrored—nothing more than prey, nothing more than a failure. Tide can feel it, too, in the way the cold clings to her fur, that biting chill that seeps into the very bones. The unease, the desire to escape the sting of inadequacy. These are feelings Tide has known, though it would never speak of them. Downy's laughter is weak, an effort to soften the tension between them. It sounds wrong to Tide, a sound that is foreign in its sister's mouth. Not that Downy's efforts to connect are unwanted, but Tide's own presence beside her, quiet and watchful, feels like the stark contrast to Downy's softness. There is a certain balance in this—Tide's silent attention and Downy's careful words. Together, they form a whole, though no one would ever guess that. Tide is content to sit back and remain unseen, its thoughts too often a burden it does not wish to share. It is Downy who fills the spaces with her warmth, her effort, and her openness.

And yet, even as Thistle inches closer to Downy for warmth, Tide makes no move. It remains at the edges, watching with the calm detachment that it knows how to maintain. It feels no urge to speak, not to offer comfort nor advice. Instead, it stays as the quiet observer, absorbing the lessons unfolding before it without comment. The world, it knows, has a way of working through things, even when it doesn't seem fair. Its trust lies in time, in the quiet passage of moments. The answers will come to them, just as they do to Tide. It does not move when Brook enters the scene, does not flinch when the she-cat's voice calls out. It feels the sting of her words in the air, a faint echo of the past, and it wonders if she, too, has learned the lessons it is watching unfold. But the moment passes, and Tide stays with its sister, patient in its silence, waiting for whatever comes next.