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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Aug 26, 2013 0:05:58 GMT -5
Someone once had told Peeperpelt, as an apprentice, that cats lose 40% of their ability to feel emotion by the time they became adults. She couldn't remember who had told her that, or if it was even a true statement – but as a child it sure had reassured her. Lost in her childish days of youth, blinded by emotion, that statement had been all that she needed to pin herself to the ground and not lose it. She wasn't being irrational, she was just feeling emotion. She was older than she'd ever be again, and younger than she had ever been, and all those warm quotes had inspired her. She didn't question those words because they were what she wanted to hear – but as she was growing older, she began to wonder.
Was she feeling all that she could feel? Was she experiencing the world as a child or as an adult? She didn't feel like an adult. She didn't want to lose emotion, to become something less than she had been as a child. She didn't want to leave the depths of her newfound joy to something drab and dull, like being a senior warrior and bossing around young apprenetices. Unlike the many warriors she had spoken to in her apprenticeship, she wanted to know. She wanted to understand what others were going through and not succumb to using petty reassurances like it'll get better, because she quickly learned that those words weren't enough to get her through. She needed someone to be a mother to her, not a lousy psuedo-medicine cat who didn't know what they were talking about.
And so, as she scarfed down the last bit of bread that she had stolen from the young twolegs basket, she tried to lose herself in the moment. She remembered quite clearly that day in her youth that a twolegs child had thrown stones at her in an attempt to scare her away (giving her various cuts and bruises that all eventually healed on the surface) and how she had savored every last bite and breath that she inhaled before trundling, bleeding, back to camp. There was something so lively, so fragile about all of that. And now, as she mirrored that action of her past, she felt nothing. Boredom, maybe? Stimulus generalization truly was a burden. She needed something more to appease her appetite for excitement; but what?
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Post by PIGPAW on Aug 26, 2013 22:54:34 GMT -5
It had been Pigpaw's solitary bit of luck that he had lost most of his baby fat as he aged; granted, he was not anywhere near skinny, but the rolls that once tumbled under his thin orange pelt were now existent only as lines where his skin had stretched. No matter how much he ate, he stayed exactly at the pudgy, wide build he now occupied. This was one of the reasons Pigpaw had loved growing up; everyone had always told him not to get older, that the fun was lost, you couldn't do as many things, blah blah blah. What they didn't understand, was that Pigpaw couldn't really do much anyway. While his body had shifted, his physical allowance had not budged an inch beyond lower than average, and even walking along the beach Piggy was beginning to feel out of breath.
He had surprised himself greatly with the decision to even come out walking at all; or perhaps, he hadn't planned it, and had merely wandered off, lost in thought, and ended up on the beach. He couldn't really remember, but he liked to think that he had chosen to take a step forward with his health by any means. Perhaps he would find a shell, a really pretty one, to give to Mayflypaw. After all, shells were given as signs of affection, and there was no one Piggy loved more than his littermate.
And besides the fact that walking was healthy, and not as difficult as running, the waves were really very pretty. Their kaleidoscope blues, and greens, and golden shimmers played out evenly across the sand in cascades of white bubbles, and Piggy, even as a young kit, had always liked to watch their repetitive crash onto shore and their solemn return to the water- at a distance, of course. No way in Hell was Piggy going near those glorified death traps; he knew far too well that when they made their return to the churning black currents of the sea, they would have no trouble dragging his pudgy little body along too. And besides, the slopping and roaring sounds the waves made irritated his ears and made his tail-tip jitter in nervous anxiety.
Lost in thought, the tall orange tabby almost didn't recognize a lone figure on the beach ahead. Narrowing his eyes in curiosity when it finally grazed his vision, the apprentice continued forward until he decided that the form was none other than Peeperpelt, one of BeachClan's many members that he had never spoken a word to. Hesitant to move any closer to the ocean, but knowing he would feel guilty the rest of the day if he didn't stop to say hi, Pigpaw crept cautiously forward until he was what he deemed a close enough distance from the femme. "Um... H-hello?"
Sorry this sucks I'm not supposed to be online right now. D:
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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Aug 27, 2013 14:15:25 GMT -5
Just as she had decided that she was missing company and that she'd prefer to go back to camp and yammer along with some of the more friendly apprentices (she always preferred socializing with the apprentices; they were youthful and so much less likely to be bossy or stiff), she had been approached by a small ginger tom; none other than Pigpaw. She didn't know the tom well, and what little she had heard about him - shy and introverted - didn't quite match up with the apprentice standing before her. Feeling lucky to be graced by the tom's presence, she sat up straighter, leaning forward with a glimmer in her eye before the tom even began to speak. "Um... H-hello?"
You couldn't believe the change that happened unless you saw her in that moment; one minute she was grooming her paws, obviously speculating about something - and the next she was up on her feet, ears perked and whisker's twitching happily. She had barely spoken to anyone all day, and after so long she was almost losing her mind with boredom! Seemingly without a care in the world, Peeperpelt bounded towards the young apprentice, affectionately touching noses with the small tom in greeting. She quietly hoped that he wouldn't be angry (after all, they were clanmates after all! It was only natural that she act as if they were close) and then, with a loud purr, rumbled, "Hey, Pigpaw! Did your mentor let you off early?" And with a small giggle, she winked. "Too bad I'm not mentoring you - you'd have the time of your life."
It was all in jest, of course; Peeperpelt had no desire for an apprentice, preferring to live her life by whims rather than routines that mentors usually had to adhere by. And she knew she couldn't just slack off and let responsibility slide off of her shoulders - she'd be afraid of making somebody mad or disappointed, and that was honestly the last thing she wanted, no matter how much it seemed like otherwise. She was always the type to act first and afterwards think about it - often ending up with her curling in the warriors den at two a.m. painfully regretting away the day. However, this wasn't two in the morning and Peeperpelt had better things to do than sit and wonder in the middle of this sudden conversation whether or not she had offended the poor tom.
With a giggle that seemed to fit only children (but somehow still being charming on the young warrior) she glanced out towards the ocean, her eyes narrowing slightly for a moment before a devilish grin appeared on her maw. She may not have been her mentor, but he could do with a lesson on fun - and so, with a small nudge of her paw and a purr beginning to rumble in her throat, she took a step towards the ocean. "So, Pigpaw. Are you busy?"
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Post by PIGPAW on Aug 31, 2013 10:12:42 GMT -5
Pigpaw watched with wide eyes as the seemingly quiet molly before him leapt up and bounded over with a certain spark of energy he just couldn't quite explain.She pressed her nose to his as he stumbled to back up, hoping not to get stampeded by the young warrior. "Hey, Pigpaw! Did your mentor let you off early?" "Hi- n- um- not r-" The orange tabby tom fixed his gaze on the ground, lowering his head to the ground as he mumbled. Obviously this had been a mistake; he hadn't expected the serene femme to suddenly explode like one of the chaotic flames in the sky that the Twolegs shot up on rare occasions. Then, apparently oblivious to the apprentice's discomfit and stuttered mumbles, she giggled and continued on. "Too bad I'm not mentoring you- you would be having the time of your life!" This time, Pigpaw managed to shoot out a completed response, but it was almost inaudible. "But I like Shrimpstar..."
Of course, he had meant no offense to the molly in any way; only, Shrimpstar left him alone on most cases and when they trained she usually brought some delicious Twoleg food along. Neither of them could run very far, or very fast, and the whole ordeal was just rather evenly balanced out. Yet it didn't seem like his words had any affect on the brown tabby warrior before him, and she somehow managed to keep that dainty sparkle of absolute content in her eyes. "So, Pigpaw. Are you busy?" Now he could tell she was waiting for his response, and that she was really listening. If anything, it made him more nervous than he already was. Am I busy? He wasn't going to lie and say 'yes', merely to get away from the hyperactive femme. No, Mayflypaw would have his hide for that later; she wanted him to branch out and make good friends, and Pigpaw knew that she'd probably love for him to spend time with someone as happy and outgoing as Peeperpelt. "Err... No- I mean, n-not really; I am- I was- umm, walking." Pigpaw shuffled his paws into the warm sand, his tail tucked as he blankly pondered the possibility of Peeperpelt becoming a 'good friend'.
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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Aug 31, 2013 16:48:14 GMT -5
It was like Peeperpelt was, in one moment, dealing with a strapping young apprentice - despite his clear stammer, it didn't seem like it was something that had been produced by shyness, as he had approached her after all, and Peeperpelt was noted among even OtherClanners as a warrior who would talk to anybody given the chance - but she had clearly made a mistake. The moment she pressed her nose to his own, it seemed like he went through a magical transformation; one minute Pigpaw, the overweight apprentice of BeachClan - and the next minute a quivering pile of ginger fur (and at that moment, she knew that she had crossed a line, a gesture that she couldn't take back, or at least something that would take a lot to recover from).
She gave the tom a small grin, trying hard to stop herself from feeling too bad, and trying to stop the tom from stammering too much - something about Shrimpstar and something about walking was all that she heard through the storm of stammers, but she definitely wasn't going to ask him to repeat himself now that he had turned into this stammerbeast - and she took a step away, clearly feeling hurt but also doing her best to cover up those emotions. If one moment ago she was wondering if she had stopped feeling emotion, the next she knew that definitely wasn't the case; her regret was as raw as rain.
What she knew at this moment was that he probably didn't want to go and hang out with her. They were at the beach, so she had these great ideas; maybe she could have taught him how to steal from the picnicking twolegs, or taught him how to go group fishing for the season's fish (some of the larger fish required group hunting - perhaps that was why they primarily stole from twolegs as their food source). But the moment he had begun acting freaked out, she dropped the ideas as if they were stones in the ocean; trying to deduce what he was saying. Shrimpstar… walking.. unable to exact the meaning, she mumbled, "You want to go on a walk with Shrimpstar? Or is Shrimpstar waiting for you somewhere?" Clearly dejected, she continued, "Well, I better not hold you back - I'll go back to camp, I guess. Sorry, Pigpaw."
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Post by PIGPAW on Sept 3, 2013 19:44:13 GMT -5
The disappointment in Peeperpelt's eyes was literally unbearable for Pigpaw. He watched in stunned awe as the once stoic, and then hyperactive femme switched emotions once again. And really, it hurt to see her like this; she was sad, and felt unwanted, all because of him and his stupid stuttering mumbles. For a moment all Piggy could do was blink, his green eyes gleaming was discomfort and cruel awareness to his own self hatred. Was he being mean? He hadn't felt like what he had "said" should have taken so much effect on the molly, but now that he looked back, the pain that encompassed him was almost unbearable. "Wait! N- I... Did, um, you, maybe, want to- err, walk with me? Maybe?"
Was this another mistake? Somehow these words didn't feel natural as they left his maw in a jammed string, but he was looking up as he spoke. One could say he even looked confident in his actions, though his paws were still buried beneath the warm summer sand, and his tail was still curled delicately between his legs in a form of paralyzed emotional anguish. Honestly, Pigpaw did not know if he wanted to walk the rest of the chartered beach with this spazzy, overly friendly molly; he wasn't sure if he'd even walk the rest of it alone. The only thing he knew was that he had said or done something or rather that had caused a mental breakdown for the pretty femme, and that he wanted to fix what he had wronged. If slugging beside Peeperpelt along the rest of the beach, quietly mumbling and listening to her tell fantastical stories and humorous tales of chagrin, then so be it. He would do whatever it took to see that light in the molly's eyes from only a moment ago return, simply because he had been the one who made it vanish.
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Post by » PEEPERPELT on Sept 8, 2013 21:52:01 GMT -5
If there was something she wanted to do right now, it was to get away. She wasn’t sure who had crossed the line of decency into awkwardness first – she fretfully worried that it was herself, though she recalled no wrongdoings – but regardless of the outcome, there was one thing she knew; they had crossed that line and it would be best if she retreated; she knew how uncomfortable this situation would and could get if she pursued further, and so she began to pad away from the ginger tabby, freezing in mid-step as he spoke to her again. He was taking it all back – and she became confused once more. Shouldn’t an apprentice approach his mentor alone? She shouldn’t be someone to escort him, after all. Young cats needed their independence. With a dejected grin, she turned to face him once more.
She wasn’t even sure what he had said, but he wasn’t rejecting it as she suggested it (resulting in even more confusion) - and now she was feeling guilty about making him guilty. She was tied in a cobweb of indecision. If she escorted him to his mentor, surely she would be awkward and unwanted there. If she left him alone, there was no doubt that this young feline would be feeling down and dejected for the better part of the day (if she hadn’t already done that). She had made the atmosphere more awkward and heavy during every minute and it was becoming increasingly heavy, and the small tom clearly wasn’t going to leave her without an answer. She stared at him, a mixture of guilt and indecision on her face.
“Sure,” she decided in the end, not from her own urge to hang out with him (those had all but vanished) but because she knew if she didn’t she would make the rotund red feel awful. And after dirtying his conscience like she had, she couldn’t leave without at least making an effort to make things better. She wasn’t the type to vocally apologize – forever condemning them to an atmosphere of awkward angst – but she did subtly try to slip in conversation despite the very heavy air. Still believing the tom was going out to see Shrimpstar, she mewed, “So where are we headed?”
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