that you made with plastic power ✦ trinket trading

[Galepaw Galepaw]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

There was a particular sort of chill in the air, and so Galepaw found himself in camp rather than out swimming. The tom carefully sorted through various piles of little things he had set out in the middle of camp, meticulously organizing them by a pattern only he could see. There was a variety of things—and among them, a small pile of strangely round and flat twoleg things, each adorned with two or four holes, a clump of neatly fluffed feathery down from some poor bird's nest, a pawful of various shapes and sizes of shells, a variety of feathers the tom had scrounged up from the floor and other's meals, and most notably a mountain of shimmering fish scales he had meticulously sliced off of many, many fish. Gale hardly bothered with much else—he didn't understand the obsession with rocks some of the cats in the clan had, but he did his best to cater to them as well with a small pile of stones, mostly dull and gray though some with white lines crisscrossed through them.

Over all, the tom was pretty happy with his haul, and his gaze peered around camp in interest as he tapped his never-still paws in earnest. He wasn't alone, at least, with the little ambulatory ball of mixed dark and orange fur surveying his stockpile next to him. With a raised brow, the lynxpoint looked down at Salmonkit. "...Many cats prefer a more ornate nest, or perhaps they wish to shimmer like the river during the setting sun, or perhaps... perhaps they simply want a feather to play with." He let out a little huff of amusement, reaching out with a delicate paw to gently pick a feather up, one that was dark and iridescent, much like a fish scale. "It hardly matters what they want it for. I'm more than happy to provide it for them."

With a strange glittering look in his eye, the tom glanced back over to Salmonkit, a smile forming on his lips. "...For a price."

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• this is OPEN!!!! come one come all to offer your odds and ends, your woven reeds and your shiny rocks for gale's collection of Things!
  @Salmonkit
• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 10 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC

 

[Salmonkit Salmonkit]

—————————————— All I wanted was to be seen, and to see. ✦

When the kitten learned of Galepaw's plans, his eyes lit up, excited about the prospect of actually trading with the clan. Even as he tried hard to help with Gale's collection of scales, his tiny paws were still far from as steady as his friend's. More often than not, he mangles the poor fish in his attempts.

So, instead, as Gale was setting up for the day, Salmonkit raced back and forth with his meagre collection of pretty rocks. On the occasions Mama took him and his littermates outside of the camp, Sallmon had taken to collecting rocks, much as other clanmates did. But learning of Gale's plan, he was willing to give up his treasures to help the older cat.

As his small pile of stones was delicately laid out, Salmonkit smiled up towards his friend. "Now you've got more to trade!" He purred, warmly, sat at Galepaw's side like a tiny salescat. He nodded emphatically as Galepaw explained his plan, trading trinkets for... Uh... Woven reeds?

The chimaera was rather confused as to why the apprentice needed such boring things, but he was happy to help. Gale would do most of the talking. Salmon was there to help move things when they were traded; otherwise, he was just excited to see the others' plan come to fruition.

————— Is it magical thinking,

or is it magical realism? —————

• 
  Salmonkit
  ✦—Riverclan kitten | 2 moons
  ✦—He/him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A tiny black x chocolate broken mackrel tabby chimaera with bright, too knowing eyes.
  #4B7CE4

 

[CHITTERHUSK]

You sit a little ways off at first, watching the piles beneath Galepaw's paws. He is deliberate, though not in the same way you are—his paws twitch, his whiskers flick, his tail is never still. But there's order in it, a rhythm that seems to matter only to him. The scales catch your eye most of all, gleaming like a river when the light shifts. They remind you of things you would rather not put into words. You rise and move closer, paws soundless on the ground. The collection spreads wide, a strange little hoard, and Salmonkit hovers beside it like some bright-eyed guard. His pebbles are clumsy, mismatched, but he sets them down with all the seriousness of a cat twice his size. His pride is plain, swelling in the way his chest puffs and his tail quivers. You watch him and wonder if he even realizes how easily those little treasures could slip back into the mud they came from.

When the younger ones speak of trades, of prices, of feathers and stones made valuable by wanting alone, you tilt your head. You study Galepaw—not with the easy curiosity of the others, but with the kind of scrutiny that digs beneath fur and bone. You wonder if he believes in the worth of these things, or if it is only the game that keeps his paws busy. You crouch near the fish scales, letting your gaze linger until the shapes blur, silver giving way to the suggestion of water, of current, of weight. You think of how easily things shimmer before they sink. "You're building a river in the middle of camp," you murmur, low enough that it might not even be meant for their ears. "One made of scraps."

Your eyes flick toward Salmonkit, who is beaming at Galepaw as if he has never doubted that rocks and feathers could matter. There's something unsettling about that, something both enviable and foolish. You settle back on your haunches, the faintest curve of your mouth betraying an odd sort of interest. You will not help sort, nor will you offer anything to their piles. You watch, because it all feels like a current pulling, and you want to see where it takes them.

 

[lavenderpaw]

"Chitterhusk, you're mumbling again..." Lavenderpaw snarks half-heartedly, pacing by the trio without much care for what they were doing. She would've carried on in her stride, too, if not for a particularly shiny stone by one of Salmonkit's paws. The blue furred girl slows her gait, eventually coming to a pause and a half turn to better see it again. She gives the rest of the deliberately placed showcase a glance over, too, noting the different sizes, textures, hues, and so on of Galepaw's collection. Why the curl-eared tom chose to show it off out here, she doesn't know, but it seems to be entertaining one of Wavesong's enormous brood, so Lavenderpaw has no true issue with it.

"Did you find these on your own?" She asks little Salmonkit, with another sideways glance towards Galepaw as if to ask, or are these yours? Kittens love to put their sticky little paws on anything and claim it as theirs, so she wouldn't be surprised if this haul was all Salmonkit's doing. Yet, all the same, some of the objects seem vaguely familiar, so she would be just as unsurprised to find out that she's been sleeping near such a hazardous pile for moons now. Galepaw, at least, doesn't seem bothered by the contents of his little station. She can take solace in that.

 

[TroutKit TroutKit]

TROUTKIT

x

The commotion outside the nursery was too loud for Troutkit to ignore. A small cinnamon head poked out from the den, eyes blinking against the sun. For a while, he watched the cluster of cats gathered around something.

He shuffles out of the woven den, his breath already turning shallow from the short walk—but he was set on seeing what all the fuss was about.

"Whoa…" He whispered as he peered through the forest of legs towering above him. There were so many things! Hard to believe one apprentice found all that by himself. He looked over the glittering piles, amber eyes wide—rocks, scales, feathers. Things he knew and things he didn't.

Troutkit wanted to trade too and get something for mama. She would definitely like it if he brought her a shiny shell or a rock. Lately, sometimes she got a weird look on her face when she thought they weren't looking. Like she was thinkin' about something sad. But if he brought her something pretty, then she'd be happy!

But… he didn't have anything to trade. Wait, what the shoal? How did all of them even get stuffs when he didn't have a single thing!?

He scowled, glancing between the older cats and his brother. After thinking a moment, he made up his mind. Galepaw had a lot of things. No way that strange apprentice would miss just one little rock.

Troutkit crept forward, using the legs and tails of his clanmates for cover. He was careful not to bump them, amber eyes fixed on the nearest pile. When he was close enough, he stretched out a trembling paw—trying to drag a smooth stone from the edge.

// Troutkit is attempting to steal. Rolled a 1d20 for funsies and got an 18, but you can catch him if you want!

x

IM A LITTLE SICK RIGHT NOW BUT I SWEAR

WHEN IM READY I WILL FLY US OUT OF HERE

x

RIVERCLAN

KIT

4 MOONS

HE/HIM

𓆟 Chocolate shaded with thick dark stripes and amber eyes.
𓆟 Just a sickly little victorian child.
𓆟 Son of Wavesong and Adderfang. Sibling to Otterkit, Piranhakit, Strawberrykit, Salmonkit, and Foamkit
𓆟 Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted. For other powerplays, DM.
𓆟 Fur smells of damp and river reeds.

 

[Shellkit Shellkit]

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singin'
Funny when you're dead, how people start listenin'

.

Shellkit watched her big brother with a frown, her tiny ear twitching once. She knew stealing was definitely a bad thing to do. So why… why was Troutkit doing it? With a huff and a puff, she pounced forward, landing right in front of him. Face to face, or as close as she could get. He couldn't see her, none of them ever could. She knew that. But still… still, she hoped that if she talked enough, if she appeared enough, they might somehow know she was there. She would always be there. She wouldn't leave them behind. Even if another smaller kit had taken her place in life, she was still here.

" Stealin's bad, Troutkit! Y'should know that! " she meowed, her eyes wide with earnestness. " If you get caught, you might end up in trubble! You don't want that! " She tried to bap at him with her tiny paw, only to pass right through. Oh, what an unfair life this was! " You shouldn't steal… " she pouted, turning her gaze toward Salmonkit, her eyes shining.

" You tell brother he can't do that! You can notice! You can talk! He'll hear you! " Even unseen, even unheard, Shellkit's presence pulsed with love and concern, a tiny guardian whispering from the edges of the living world.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

2 MOONS

𖧧

RIVERCLANNER

𖧧

SONG

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