Border SC loves me loves me not ───〃† herb 'theft'

[Magpiepaw]

& I don't know what's got its TEETH in me

He smells it before he sees it, a speck of white flowers clustered together with small curled leaves and a golden dewdrop center; they huddle against the roots of a tree just beyond where the scent of neutrality ends and SkyClan begins. Magpiepaw feels his pelt bristle as the wind shifts and he catches it directly, it is something tainted and unclean, drenched in his mother's blood. Swallowbreeze was always a kind face during their moonlit meetings, but outside of her every cat in that clan made him wary - made him scared. His fear, however, was not so strong as to deny his pursuit of knowing. The star-spotted apprentice danced from paw to paw, glancing around with violet eyes wide before prancing in his hobbling way across the border to the flowers where he snatched them up between his teeth in one hasty bite before retreating back. With his 'prey' now lain before him he could look at them more closely, the petals soft and lightly tapered at the ends, the stem somewhat fuzzy, the scent it made was richer than most flowers and was oddly comforting in a way. It sang of mother's milk and warm nests, a comforting lick across the head, tails curled around cold paws; he wondered if it was a ploy of poison. Sometimes the prettiest flowers were the most deadly, he remembers the red berries rolling through Cicadabuzz's den and understands that beneath their shimmering and lustrous layer of color and enticement lay something deadly as a coiled snake waiting to strike.
The young cat settles on his haunches, paws tucked under him as he looks down at his pilfered petals still, taking in every pollen dusted surface and frayed leaf as if simply looking could grant him all he needed to know. He pays no mind to the border, he is in the safe space between clans and fears nothing in this bubble.

Ooc- Lil'man took a chamomile flower

I dream in phosphorescence - Bleed through spaces

MAGPIEPAW

— medicine cat apprentice of shadowclan
— He/They
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
— Solid black w/low white & blue-violet eyes.
— Has 'wobbly cat' syndrome.
#9272ee

 

[SWALLOWBREEZE]

every plant used by a medicine cat is a gift, and should be treated as such. skyclan is blessed with an abundance of herbs in their territory, and if the molly is feeling crafty, she can slip to the twolegplace and pluck from someone's garden. it's a gamble, however, and she knows better than to rely heavily on the help from twolegs. swallowbreeze still needs to make sure everything's growing in their respective spots.

at first, she thinks something else must've gotten to it first. a larger prey animal, or a twoleg kit skipping along with it's parents. no, unfortunately, the dark form of the medicine apprentice is difficult to ignore, along with his shadowclan smell wafting over as the wind shifts. "magpiepaw?" she asks, her brows furrowing together in confusion. they're a very long way from home... hopefully, it's just them.

they've grown a lot since their first meeting, but in her eyes, they're still the same kitten that was barley old enough to be an apprentice. she can't see any malice behind this little thievery, although she hopes this stays a one time thing.

"what are you looking at?" swallowbreeze's voice is gentle like it always is, although her gaze moves between the chamomile flower and their face, as if to ask do you know what this does?

 

[starlitpath starlitpath]

(˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗) the graceful warrior pads after their medicine cat, ears flicking as she takes in the birdsong and the buzz of insects weaving their way among late-summer wildflowers. she had volunteered to come along on swallowbreeze's herb gathering patrol as an opportunity to stretch her paws, and one to learn more about what her clan's healer actually does. since kithood, the patched point has been vaguely interested in medicine, but her heart lies firmly in the path of knighthood. still, she appreciates the fawn she-cat's presence, and hardly minds a foray into a different path.

the earthy scent of shadowclan reaches the warrior's nose and he feels a prickling at the back of his neck. the king's child has not yet learned to appreciate the new clans within the forest. nor, it seems, have many of his clanmates. these rogue-groups call themselves clans, with little to no knowledge of the sacred code that binds them to the stars. to the heavens-named feline, it's outrageous. as swallowbreeze greets the little shadowclanner with a confused but not unkind chirp, and the warrior keeps back, wary.

skyclan do not share a border with the marsh dwellers, so for their acrid smell to bloom here is suspicious. the black and white apprentice sits in the safe space between borders, examining a strew of white petals at his paws. starlitpath glances around, noting the presence of more of the flowers surrounding themself and their medicine cat. the boy had stolen, although very little. still, fire laps at the warrior's throat. hawkstar will likely hear about this, if swallowbreeze doesn't get a good explenation out of the shadowclan apprentice. they brush against the medicine cat briefly, as if to say be careful, before padding a few tail lengths away, keeping sea-blue eyes on the two. just in case.

LIKE CONSTELLATIONS ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ IMPLODING IN THE NIGHT

• // " #dcccf0"
• 
• 
  STARLITPATH ★ tags / toyhouse
  
  ★ genderfluid (he / she / they) / bisexual, mate of none
  ★ 29 moons old, ages realistically
  ★ warrior of skyclan
  ★ younger sibling to THREETOE, BADGERTAIL, BEARFACE
  ★ mentoring SPIKEPAW / mentored by DUSKPOOL
  ★ penned by LAVS / message lavendes on discord for plots!
  
  a shorthaired dilute calico point with low white and aqua eyes. short, thick fur decorates her frame, cream hued, swooping into a cowlick on her head. their face, paws, and tail are dappled with fawn and slate gray, broken through by speckles of white. a star shaped white splotch on their forehead offers them their namesake. eyes like ocean water, a deep aqua blue, pierce out of almond shaped sockets.

​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

DUSKPOOL​

Duskpool's lumberin' form appears, jagged and misshapen, the older warrior's scars caught the dappled light, highlightin' blemishes and tattered skin. His lonely iris, molten and heavy, stared down at the medicine cat apprentice then to the herb nestled between the kid's paws. He remembered the youngster, terrified then, and rightly so considerin' how everythin' went to foxdung. Some gatherin' that'd been, eh? His thoughts dry, not at all amused. "That doesn't smell like yer territory, eh, kiddo?" He raised a brow, tone flat, not outwardly showin' aggression, because for all it was worth, he had morals, and that sure as hell included attackin' apprentices, no less medicine cats.

He side-eyed Swallowbreeze, brow raised subtly, inquirin' mentally what she was gonna do. Of course, he knew enough to know cats often traded for things, havin' overheard a few things with the apprentices. His tail flickered, not before inquirin' with a jerk of his chin, "Got somethin' ya need that for, pipsqueak? Or just a decoration? Reckon they don't go wanderin' off on their own." Yer mentor sendin' ya thievein' or what? Didn't these idiots learn anythin' from the gatherin' or was that just a distant memory now? He nearly sighed in exasperation, forcin' his paw to still less he risk draggin' it down his face. Youngsters.

we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept

ooc

information

main ref

• xxx
• 

  DUSKPOOL stands like a storm given flesh, broad-shouldered and unyielding. His frame was built from the bloodlines of a Norwegian Forest and Maine Coon, every inch steeped in the weight of a life hard-lived. His pelt is a wooly black smoke mantle, thick as winter fog and marked with faint mackerel stripes. Old scars score his flanks and shoulders like lightning carved into the night sky, with each one telling a story that was paid for in blood.
  
  One molten-copper eye burns fierce and unblinking, sharp enough to cut through lies, while the other is nothing but a hollowed ruin. A sunken relic of a battle he walked away from when he shouldn't have. His tail is a heavy, swaying banner of shadow, and his paws are silent despite their size, measured by someone who's learned patience the hard way.
  
  He carries himself with the gravity of an old war-chief, regular in ruin, yet brutal in beauty. His very presence is a warning that some storms don't pass. They wait. And they return.
  
  

  "there's two kinds of cats in this world. those who learn from others' mistakes, and those who are the mistake."​

  
  senior sun guard of skyclan during coffeestar and hawkstar's reign (mentor to sweetpaw)
  eighty-four moons; ages on the 1st of every month
  brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike; half-brother to flowercloud; father to almondpaw & cinderpaw (wolfstorm & lostmoon)
  his voice is a low, gravel-rough baritone, measured and deliberate, carrying the weight of old battles and unspoken truths
  his scent is a deep grounding mix of cedarwood and patchouli, laced with the sharpness of pine and a lingering curl of smoke
  pinterest | playlist | theme song
  speech thought action
  peaceful/healing powerplay permitted
• ​

 

[swarmswirl]

Swarmswirl does not pay too close of mind to the ongoings of their medicine cat. Ever since they lost Tigerfoot, she's felt sort of... blindsided, at best, by StarClan and it's continued (silent) musings. It only all becomes vaguer as the moons tick on, introducing other Clans into the mix but not affording them the proper laws to be Clans. Allowing cats to raise carnage and sow chaos despite it being so often against the code. Swallowbreeze, and many SkyClanners, still fold faith in the stars. In some ways, Swarmswirl does, too. But that doesn't mean her hackles don't raise at the sight of the young stranger, hunched over small flowers.

Swallowbreeze and Duskpool take to questioning the ShadowClanner, who's paws settle decidedly in the in between lands of Fourtrees. Swirlswarm stands off to the side, brows knit together with confusion and concern. Leaf-fall is upon them - all of them, true Clan or not. Should they really be entertaining this pint-sized thief? She wouldn't suggest they rend their ears from their crown but surely they don't need to handle Magpiepaw with feather-paws, either. The tortoiseshell happens to stand by Starlitpath, another moggy who she would rather offer ire than grace. But, instead of biting at the patchwork point, she offers him a slight dip of her head. Silent respect as they continue watching on.