Open Event Territory ThunderClan RiverClan ShadowClan SkyClan WindClan kissing bugs and getting our heads stuck in tin cans ִֶָ☾.⭒ — APPRENTICES

[Fleapaw]

{$title} tin cans are the new trendy fashion statement says experts

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(Open to apprentices from all clans!)

Fleapaw trotted through the boggy undergrowth, her paws kicking up damp crumbs of duff. The shack rose up through the thicket like a carcass, half-strangled by ivy and scrub. Its walls sagged inward, battered by seasons of rain and neglect. Twisted scraps of two-leg junk were strewn all around it, poking up from the mud—small treasures just begging to be rediscovered. She grinned to herself. This place was awesome.

She padded closer, weaving around broken bottles, rusted metal, and other soggy garbage. Her ears jerked at the faint dripping sound that echoed from inside the shack. She peered into the dark outline of the shack's interior before something else caught her eye.

The mounds of stuff piled up around were hard to resist. Cause maybe there was something cool buried in all this crap! She kneaded a reflective piece of wrapper before poking through a smaller trash pile. Carefully, she poked at an old, battered can with her paw. A stale, meaty scent wafted from inside—familiar. Reminded her of the chunky stuff that the twolegs used to bring her in a silver bowl. It wasn't nearly as good as fresh prey, but it had been tasty. She'd liked it a lot.

Fleapaw squinted into the bottom of the can. Was there any left? Sure, it was a little old, probably, but it still smelled good. She squished her cheeks against the metal sides, pushing her twitching nose further toward the bottom.

The can—slick with old grime—slipped further up her muzzle and got stuck right over her head. "Mmnph?!" Fleapaw reeled back in alarm, head wobbling with the new weight on her head. She swerved left and right, trying to shake it off before stumbling backward, knocking over a tall pile of junk with a loud crash.

Hush, let's kick it in to touch

FLEAPAW

8 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

And wash away the sludge that's withering our minds

 

[Stoatpaw Stoatpaw]

——————————————— Together, we'll make our way home ✦

The ivory apprentice had been given a free day from training, so of course, she used it to trot at her best friend's side. She didn't often leave camp unless it was for training, patrols, or the occasional flower picking, so when Flea picked herself up to go wander off, of course, she was more than curious. Especially since it seemed she was gunning for a specific location.

Blue eyes widened a little at the sight of the shack, nervousness about the cat they saw there last was washed away a little as she sniffed the air and seemed no one had been there in a while. Tentatively, she tailed Flea, eyes flicking around as if something might leap out at them again.

Her eye was caught by some shimmering object amidst the piles of rubble. A gentle paw dug at the trash and unveiled some sort of dulled orangey brown ring. It was hard against her paws and tasted metallic when she tried to pick it up. Her head tilted a little in confusion, trying to pick it up as it slipped over her paw, and realised it settled comfortably around her wrist. Loose enough to wiggle a little but not enough to fall off when she stood up.

She hadn't said much, wandering alongside her friend, frankly very exhausted and humming along to when Flea did speak to her, but her eyes glittered at the new treasure. So, of course, she raised that paw and grinned, looking to her friend. "Look! It's the same colour as you-" But as she turned to look at Fleapaw, she couldn't help but snort with laughter,r she didn't even try to stifle. She hadn't seen the others attempt to nose about for food in the can, just the amusing sight of the other bumbling around with her new hat.

Even as Fleapaw took a tumble into the rubble, she couldn't help but keep giggling as she trotted over to the other, rubble now scattered everywhere as she stood in front of Flea, head tilting. "I'm not quite sure that's in style, Flea." The apprentice teased, before realising this was a rather familiar conundrum. The last time her friend had made a fashion statement in a hat of sorts, she couldn't see what the other was saying, and this time was no different. "Uh... Actually, that really doesn't look like a good idea...." The smirk dropped from her face, especially as she realised Flea may be stuck in the can.

Stoat hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do to help if she was stuck, especially since she couldn't tell if Flea was asking for help. So with Flea still for just a moment, Stoat wobbly sat on her hind legs and tried to pry the can off of Flea's head. Though the metal slipped under her paws and sent her tumbling over, too. "Flea, this isn't funny anymore, you gotta get that off." She mewed, frustration being betrayed by the worry in her voice.

——— While you were sleeping,

Everything changed at once. ———

• ooc - She found a copper ring from a pipe and has promptly decided its a fashion statement now ! but also cats don't have thumbs and stoat has no idea how to help flea be de-canned
• 
  Stoatpaw
  ✦—Shadowclan apprentice | 8 Moons
  ✦—She/Her
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
  ✦—A slender white cat with faint lilac markings and blue eyes.
  #96d5f1
  ⤷ Written by Phoenix

 

[Fleapaw]

-

Fleapaw's head shot up—or tried to—canned head spinning toward the muffled sound of her friend's voice. The can clunked awkwardly as she stumbled forward, her whole body wobbling from the weight of her new helmet.

Now was not the time for jokes—she was gonna die in here! She spun in a frantic half-circle, crouched low, and slapped blindly at the can with her paws, growing more panicked the longer it stayed on her head.

She went still just long enough for Stoatpaw to reach her. "Ahh—that hurts don't pull it like that!" She yelped, voice echoing in the metal cove. The can remained stuck, and the two of them tumbled, Stoatpaw one way and her in the other. She collapsed into another pile of junk tin—bottles—garbage—and who knows what, fell over with a crash.

Fleapaw groaned from where she lay, half-buried in a heap of trash and regret. "You think I want it on my head?!" She barked from the can, coming off sharper than she meant. "I just wanted the food in it, dammit! It smelled good..." She snapped—muffled but still plenty loud. "Now it won't come off!" The ruddy apprentice flailed around, limbs flapping, striking the side of the can in a fit before she slumped over.

Dammit! If anyone else aside from Stoatpaw saw her, she'd throw herself into a pond. There was a long pause. Fleapaw sat there, staring blindly at the ground. "...But seriously. Get it off please. I can't feel my ears."

Hush, let's kick it in to touch

FLEAPAW

8 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson

Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.

And wash away the sludge that's withering our minds

 

[Cricketkit Cricketkit]

There was an almost cackling laugh bubbling from the little kit as she sat, tail curled and one eye sparkling with mischief. At her paws lay a few shiny trinkets she had been trying ( very sneakily ) to haul back to WindClan camp before anyone noticed she'd vanished again. She definitely wasn't allowed to leave camp, absolutely not! But… sometimes shinies were just too important not to go looking for. She had treasures to give Honeyflower and Sweetnose, after all. And additions to make to her ever-growing hoard of beetle wings, pebbles, and star-shaped bits of shell.

" Sorry, sorry! You look so funny with that on your head! " she called out, barely managing to contain a giggle as she watched the two apprentices, one of them flailing about like crazy. " Hey, stop flailing! You're only making it worse! Just sit still!! " Her good eye flicked back to her glittering hoard, then to the cat in need. Oh no. She'd have to leave the trinkets behind to help. What a mousedung decision. With the most exaggerated, dramatic sigh she could muster, Cricketkit stepped away from her hoard and trotted toward the mess with a wide grin, her broken tooth and scarred face on full display.

" I can help! " she chirped. " If your friend and me both pull, we can get you out. Easy! But if I lose any shinies over this, you're both in so much trouble. "

WITH SHORTNESS OF BREATH ☆ YOU EXPLAINED THE INFINITE

• "speech"
  

• 

• CRICKET she/her, windclan, five moons.
  ☆ a lh diluted tortie with blue eyes and unruly fur / petite and scarred
  ☆ mentored by nobody yet
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / always tag @lionharted
  ☆ penned by lionharted↛ LionheartedPhoenix on discord, feel free to dm for plots / click for toyhou.se