gravity's centered / herb training

  • ★ ★ ★ 

    With each change in her position came new responsibilities which served only to tie her down to this land which could never truly be her home. Yet, for the moment, it was close enough.


    The patchwork feline sits quietly on the beach, her silver striped tail flicking distractedly upon the sand as she watches the waves rhythmically approach and retreat. She had found a wandering clanmate and asked them to spread the word in camp of her makeshift lesson on herbs out here by the ocean as she had no interest in going door to door herself. Her satchel lay on the sand beside her, books on medicine and anatomy neatly stacked inside. Her one white paw reaches out to adjust the piles of flowers and leaves and roots spread out in specific ways at her feet. She was meant to find an apprentice soon and though the idea of doing so wasn't particularly appealing to her, she would follow directions for now while it suited her. So she sits in waiting on the beach, blue eyes fixated on the movement of the waves, her mind a million miles away with no true intentions of returning.

    ANOTHER MIRRORED IMAGE CORRUPTED AND DISTORTED

    the sky is overcast and i'm sorry ∘✧*

    ONE MORE OR ONE LESS NOBODY'S WORRIED

  • ✧ // the good are never easy, the easy never good

    In her life, she had never been particularly good at anything. Stealth was the exception, but this paled in comparison to other peoples' strengths. Her knowledge in herbs was very limited, and the tabby had never had a knack for battle. She had always found herself around people who were inclined to one or the other - yet she fell nowhere. The only skill she had was in stealth, after all.. but it only helped her with running away or hunting. Homewrecker was a very swift runner as well; she had combined these two. Running along the tree tops, quiet and quick, was something she had always been fond of. There weren't many others who took this up as a 'skill' or hobby. So how was she supposed to gloat or be recognized for it? Maybe she would always be this way.


    Sparkfire had been the medicine cat. It was something she hadn't expected from him, and she wasn't sure many others had either. Yet he had taken it up and let it consume him; it had become his passion. Pyresong was a brute. Everyone knew this to be true - he was a fierce warrior who protected himself and his own. He had always fought for her, and he would wreak vengeance on anyone who crossed her. When Hostesscupcakes had tortured her and maimed Home, her three-legged mate brought the ShadowClanner's head on a stick. Even though it was impossible to always keep her safe, he had taken up the role of guardian in her life. He had crossed the world in search of her; given up his past as a DarkClanner after fleeing RiverClan because of her. His strength in battle was so well recognized, and she admired it.


    So where did that leave her? Perhaps she was a bland person. Someone without any useful characteristics. All she had was an icy tongue and nimble paws. She was getting older now, and yet she had hardly anything to show for her age besides stories and some scars lacing her pelt.


    Nothing would ever beat the river. The smell of the ocean was overwhelming and nothing like the crisp scent of cool rushing water. A defeated sigh left her. Change had always been difficult for her to accept, even now when she was either forced to embrace it or sink back into nothingness. There really was nothing left for her, so she had to start somewhere. Her white paws had left tracks in the sand as she padded closer to the ocean. She could only spot one other person out here; the girl who had claimed to be Brooklynchaos in some past life. So she came, and sat herself in front of her. The warrior looked down at her herbs and satchel, sky blue irises flickering up and down from them to Chaotictides' face. "Hi," she greeted lamely. "What are you doing?"


    her eyes and words are so icy
    oh but she burns

  • ★ ★ ★ 

    This woman - whose name is familiar from the stories of her father she vaguely remembers half-listening to as a child - draws near and Chaotictides angles her sharp features in Homewrecker's direction. There was a time when she could relate to that feeling of uselessness, of being so completely average and unworthy of notice. She had tried so hard to make a name for herself, to prove that she didn't need anyone else, that she could become something great all on her own. She'd even been subpar at best. Just another name and face to fade from the history books without much effort. She used to miss the river, too. She used to miss her home and all the things she took for granted when she had focused her attention on the unimportant. That was why it was easier to separate herself from all of it, rather than attempt to deal with the past. She'd rather just ignore it, push it deep down until the memories became stories of someone else. Someone who wasn't really her.


    Still, she must have known that wasn't a long term solution. That something like this - a resurfacing of memories - was bound to happen, and it would drag her back despite her stubborn resistance. She'd much rather stay hollow and broken and unaffected and forgotten. It was easier. "Hello." She says in spite of the pestering thoughts. "It's a lesson. She gestures towards the herbs at her paws with an indifferent shrug. At least, it's supposed to be. It depends on how many are interested in learning." And how many were still wandering around this ghost town. Tic wasn't sure how she was meant to find an apprentice, but she would try. Or, rather, she would make an adequate show of trying.


    ANOTHER MIRRORED IMAGE CORRUPTED AND DISTORTED

    the sky is overcast and i'm sorry ∘✧*

    ONE MORE OR ONE LESS NOBODY'S WORRIED