𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟 𝗦𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗘 ↷ [MOONSTONE RETURN]

[smogstar]

Compassion. Courage. Love. Resolve. Sensibility. Remembrance for StarClan. Brotherhood. Strength.

And a final life, willed unto him by the snow-streaked leader ShadowClan called its own until this very moon. A final life to entrench him in the crux between life and death for eight times over, and a new name to herald his reign until his ninth and ultimate passing. Touching noses with Chilledstar in the world beyond may have been the first time they'd interacted on a phyisical level. But when they did, and Smogstar assimilated their supreme blessing into his being, their parting words to him shall always echo the clearest within the dells in his mind.

Not the loudest, though.

Tears dampened the edges of his eyes when he awoke. A smothered sob, a shaken and ragged breath through grit teeth. It was the same hurt that'd dislodged its seed in his chest at the turn of Leaf-fall to Leaf-bare. Renewed, and growing again and more alive than ever, threatening to choke him then and now.

Starlingheart knew. She needn't hear him recount who'd visited and sanctified him while in his dream state. That Halfshade emerged, touched his nose, and gave him the farewell denied to him by circumstance; it was flagrant, palpable in how Smogstar wrestled himself back to his waking senses. And throughout the walk back, as he spoke on what'd occured, the medicine cat served as an anchor point he dearly needed. Support not demanded-for, but offered all the same.

The thicket thickened, the humid air returned full-fold. ShadowClan's threshold had never seemed less daunting or far-removed in his travels. Returned, reaffirmed and replenished, the newly-anointed leader and his companion trotted side by side back towards home. With the sun cresting the horizon now, it is safe to assume Mirepurr's precautionary patrol and the guard held by Forestshade have long retired. Drawing near the chief opening in the pine wall, flickers of activity signalled the early risers readying for the day ahead.

"Again, thank you, Starlingheart," Smogstar repeats when the territory's heart and inner workings open ahead. "I'd have gotten lost in Mothermouth without you. Get some decent rest if you can, you have my permission."

Amber eyes don a tint of sensibility when he harks his focus back to camp. Heavybranch's gift to him. He must continue this trend of no hesitation, forward movement only, into his future as leader. No quarter granted to grief's metal yoke. Steeling himself, Smogstar makes towards path through the brambles. Towards where he belongs.

Passing camp's outer limits, he surveys ShadowClan proper. Here, he will be greeted and acclaimed as Smogstar for the very first time. One name, two syllables, and a mantle weighing heavy yet fitting just right upon his pelt. It is with the dawn breaking behind him, the nine new lives blessed by the ancestors resting in his bones, muscles, sinews, ligaments, that he resumes his purpose to his clan.

"I'm back," he meows simply. "StarClan—well, Chilledstar specifically—has endowed me a new name." Elaboration seems superfluous. Precedent should inform them on how to refer to him now. His tail flicks, and he turns his attention to a cat whose demeanour reflects fatigue born from vigilance. "How did the night go while we were away?" he asks. "Is the clan alright?"​

 

[mockingbirdcry]

The stars look no different tonight for the gifts they've newly bestowed; the same smattering of silver pinpricks, kit toys cast aside. Darkened eyes watch them, heavy with sleeplessness . . . an occurence that results more from some innate defect that any particular emotions Smogmaw's departure had summoned. This is far from the first night where she lies alone with the stars, nor will it be the last; its significance is merely coincidental, Smogmaw's journey inconsequential to the whims of her subconscious. She bears no ill will toward him ( unlike many of her Clanmates ), yet she also cares not of his well - being beyond the convenience factor ( much like many of her Clanmates ).

Still, as the tabby tom makes his so - called grand return, the timid form of Starlingheart his unlikely flank, she feels compelled to rise to her paws. Perhaps it's only so that she might testify that she truly bore witness to the very moment a cat left mortal and returned sanctified . . . although it's hardly a tale worth telling. There is no obvious change to Smogstar, at least not one she can perceive; he does not glow with the blessings of the dead, nor has his ever - disgruntled countenance suddenly transformed into one of sanctified pride. He remains as rumpled in the face as ever, like a moss - scrap tossed aside, heavy - boned and lacking in much visual interest.

" You didn't manage to lose all nine on the way home, I take it? " she mrrows, a humor perhaps inappropriate in the light of how quick some of their previous leaders have been to throw down their blessings for the slaying, baring their necks to the dull blade of the guillotine. She abstains from letting his new name spill from white maw ( ha! ), though whether it's out of simple phrasing or some flight of distaste is impossible to discern. Feathery white ears flicker backwards momentarily, the issue of a homecoming now addressed . . . until he has to open his trap once more, as per usual.

" Fine, as far as I can tell, though my perspective's limited, " she allows with a flicker of thick lilac - brushed tail. It is not her he wants the news from, she's certain; perhaps it's not even her he addresses, but Mockingbirdcry ought not to be known for her benevolent silence. Her undesired news thus delivered, dark eyes rove past Smogstar's shoulder as if he were no more than another mud - splattered frond; a choice opportunity for excusal quickly presents itself. The lilac torbie flutters away in a flurry of wispy white and a hoarse - voiced scold, " Eelkit, no biting! "

OOC : —

♡

​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Leaders were... shockingly normal-looking. Before she joined ShadowClan, had someone told her that there were creatures with nine lives, she'd have pictured them wearing their power somewhere on their body, be it in the form of giant ears or even nine-pointed antlers. Smogstar is not the exception to the cinnamon tabby's perspective. Walking into camp, all the marshland group has was his word that he had been accepted as a successor, but seldom faithful outside of what was necessary, Ferndance had no reason to disbelieve the grey tom. Emerald eyes blinked blearily from sleep as she moved closer to Smogstar, nostrils flaring at the smell emanating from his fur, an ear twitching at the sounds emanating from his maw (it would take some getting used, not uttering the name she'd known for over thirty moons). When he asked if anything had befallen ShadowClan in his absence, Mockingbirdcry quickly answered with her self-proclaimed 'limited perspective'. The tepid pleasantness of the cinnamon tabby's features disappeared with the queen's sentiment, her maw slowly draping open and eyes filling with an otherworldly horror. Her tail lashed as if disturbed by something she could not see, a graveness setting in her soft tone that suggested the end of the world.

As the other made her exit, Ferndance's neck craned forward. "Actually... something did happen...." She near-whispered, shuffling even closer to Smogstar. "I caught Mockingbirdcry sniffing butts. It's not just me, Smogstar, it's a clan epidemic." The sincerity of her fear contorted into an expression near-pained by trying to hold back a toothy smile. Leadership would not change their back-and-forth game of tormenting, briefly, something warm in her heart stirred at the realisation that she could consider the creature before her as a friend. Sure, she would never forget the feeling of abandonment at the ThunderClan raid, but should the opportunity arise again, she could not say she wouldn't do the same. Reclining on her haunches, the faint fondness within her chest was replaced by a desperate need to retreat to the warrior's den and into the world of slumber. Standing guard was not the she-cat's strong suit when her mind wandered to hunting or mischief at any given moment it was unoccupied, even now, it had taken a great willpower not to cry wolf just so something would happen. "Other than that, the night's been as peaceful as a grave."



​

​

 

[scalejaw]

★ The patrol to Windclan had been tasteless as normal. Mirepurr had lead, and Scalejaw followed in faithful step. Upon their return, did she wait up, glowering oranges settled on the mouth of camp. Perhaps she had nodded off at some point, dreamt of bats soaring overhead that she wished to catch some day, head tilting down and eyes slid shut. She was missing his initial entrance- but his statement, and Mockingbirdcry's greeting, had her eyes sliding back open.

Pushing to her feathered paws, muscled body stretched before she stepped closer, just in time to catch first Mockingbirdcry's departure, then second, Ferndance's 'joke'. Both cats had skewed answers, ones that did not play at his exact question (at first, anyways). Scalejaw exhaled softly at the final statement from Ferndance, feathered ear twitching as she lifted her vision away from the two she-cats, finally, to Smogstar himself. Her eyes shifted, inspecting him for damages, attacks that he was not willing to speak upon, and when she couldn't find anything did she finally speak to him.

"Windclan seems to have lost more braincells, were it possible. Couldn't tell that four cats walking our own border was a 'patrol' without asking us what we were doing." Scalejaw said, humor in the statement but her tone on the edge of tired. Jaw split open in a yawn a moment later, ears twitching as a thought caught her. ".. Welcome home, Smogstar, Starlingheart." She said both, did not forget to mention the very cat that had taken Smogmaw up the mountain to return as Smogstar.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MESSES WITH YOUR SANITY ⋅❁⋅ TWISTING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AROUND ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, warrior of shadowclan, sixty three moons.
  ★ A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
  ★ mentoring no one
  ★ padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[smogstar]

First to tread across the muddy expanse, Mockingbirdcry receives him with a wry-spoken quip and an all-around air of indifference. Ears perk and point towards her, relieved at what they'd picked up from her 'limited perspective'. Goes without saying - but a quiet marsh is better than one on fire. The horizon appears empty for the short term, no storms brewing on distant clouds. Her exit proves as sudden as her entrance, though; his muzzle pinches in idle disappointment, for the clan's queen gossipmonger herself gave next-to-no further insight.

Cordiality beckons his eyelids to drape somewhat - his gaze now cast in a friendly shade - when his head turns to Ferndance next. Immediately, he clocked facsimile despair in her expression. Falsely contrived, an imitation; it's a set-up to something. It isn't that the tawny warrior was predictable, no, she's anything but. Familiarity with her antics warned him proceeding would just lead him into a snare, however.

Holding his tongue, the joke spills from her maw, and when it does, his mouth crooks into a small half-grin. "You need help that Starlingheart can't give you," Smogstar meows sharply. "Smack to the head, maybe? To see if it falls into the right place?" Halfway through the sardonic remarks, amber eyes flit past her doe-coloured ears and note the warrior approaching behind. "Thank you for your report, anyhow. Your input's as important as always, Ferndance."

Third to greet him, first to do so without a trace of sarcasm or irony in her words, Scalejaw draws his concentrated attention before she got him up to speed. She made it patently clear their moorland neighbours might as well have stuck their necks in the sand. His forehead declines in a nod and a pacified sigh. "Can't fault 'em too hard for that," comes a swift reply, framed by a noticeable aversion. "They turn their own patrols into raiding parties at the drop of a leaf. Only natural for 'em to expect other clans to act the same."

Watching her jaws unravel into a yawn, the salutation which emerges afterwards puts a true smile onto Smogstar's visage for the first time since returning. A satisfied smile. He is at last hailed as leader in full. No qualms raised in doubt or masked by humour, no guises to project onto him, just pure respect beheld plain as day. "Thanks. It's good to see you, too."

Immediately, he is unsure of his reason for adding the last bit. What demands him to feel grateful? No matter. Out of sight, out of mind. He looks down towards Starlingheart and allows his appreciative expression to reflect into hers as well. "Ain't nothing like being home after a long night, y'know?" Ain't nothing like it at all. ​

 

[STONEPAW]

Stonekit waited rather impatiently for his new leader to return home. The fresh-kill that lay beside him was not for himself. No, it was for Smogstar. Surely he'd be hungry. He'd heard stories on how long it was to the Moonstone. He was eager to address him by his new name. Maybe receive praise on his prompt and subordinate attitude. Would he look different? Was he changed? Well, yes, but to the eye, he wasn't sure. He'd never seen Chilledstar before he was leader, how was he supposed to know? As Smogstar reentered, donning his new name and lives, Stonekit was nearly disappointed that he was visually the same. Lame... he thought. Though, he did have to admit there were probably some advantages to it that he hadn't thought of yet.

He ran up to his leader, grinning wide. "Smogstar! You're back!" He cheered. He didn't really bother to listen to the elder cats addressing Smogstar, his interest was only on whether he'd be acknowledged. "I made sure camp was safe while you were gone," he mewed. The young tom suddenly remembered the fresh-kill he'd abandoned in excitement. He quickly ran back to his prior post before dragging the lump of fur over. "This is for you! I figured you'd be hungry!"

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  "speech"
  

• 

• STONEKIT ✩ he/him, kit of shadowclan, four moons
  ⭃ pretty lilac with low white and blue eyes. bossy, charismatic, manipulative.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Twitchtail ↛ @iliawonders on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[EAGLEPAW]

When Smogstar returns, Eaglepaw is surprised at how unchanged he looks. Oh, there's a certain weight behind his step now to be sure, but other than that Smogstar is much the same cat he was when he left. Eaglepaw isn't really sure what he was expecting to have changed mind you. Though he did have a childish notion that perhaps all newly anointed leaders had something of a glow about them. Smogstar does not.

"Smogstar," Eaglepaw speaks his leader's name cordially, before dipping his respectfully towards the new leader. "It is good to see you returned to us in one piece." The cream tabby lifts his head up, and for a moment, something akin to childlike innocence flashes in his eyes when he follows up his words by asking, "D-Did the ceremony go well?" He's not even sure if leaders can talk about what it is like to receive their lives, but the question falls out of his lips before he is able to give it much thought.​

 

[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] There was some oddity to Smogmaw... being now Smogstar, to no longer see Chilledstar stand next to him or be the one to instruct others what to do, and the new suffix of -star that claim him to be their newly made leader, it was all too strange, it was all to... fast, but it was something they all will overcome and adapt, adjust to and Chilledstar's death would all but be a bad memory, they would just be a story told on elders, queens and warrior's lips to the kits born not knowing them, just as Briarstar or Pitchstar had been. Chilledstar will be considered a legend, a story and that was it.

His yellow eyes dance onto their newly made leader's form as a soft hum came from him. "Welcome back, Smogstar" he said, the word feeling awkward on the boys tongue bwfore he dipped his head at the other. Many had already gave him their reports, and even went as far as to grab him a meal to checking up on him, yet he thought back to the ants and the conversation that had been brought on by that before a curt tilt of his head while looking at the other, "Do you think ants mourn the loss of their queen, or continue marching forward?" it was a question prompted from curiousity, it might of been silly, sure but hopefully Smogstar would muse the older apprentice with his question.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ He/Him, apprentice of Shadowclan, 11 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[mirepurr]

Mirepurr had decided not to give in to the depths of sleep long before Smogmaw assigned them and Forestshade to nightly lookouts. They need to see the safe return of their new leader, to ensure no harm has come to either him or Starlingheart, to witness the renewed light in those bright eyes as he takes the rightful throne. Sleep would not come for them easily anyway, so Mirepurr does not even need to battle their body's wishes too much.

Their muzzle, ears, head all tip down; a staring contest with the ground between their paws. Resting warriors snore and shift behind them, nestled in the safety of their den. WindClan has not given them trouble over at the border and so Mirepurr is inclined to believe no harm will fall upon them tonight — for all the bitterness they sometimes feel towards the starry ancestors, it appears the protective wings of guardian angels watch over them now. They imagine Chilledstar themself sending the order, barked as if they're still standing atop the Clanrock.

At last, Smogmaw enters camp with familiar company. There is nothing immediately different about him, but the knowledge of where he's been, of what he's seen — it all paints a picture grand enough to fit a king.

"Welcome home," they echo many of their Clanmates' greetings. Mirepurr weaves between them, careful not to bump into anyone, but eager to stand before Smogstar for the first time. "I take StarClan has accepted you."

They refuse to ask, has Chilledstar come to meet you? It is a question burning at the forefront of their mind, but it sounds intrusive... such inquiries are not meant to be voiced, not when this ceremony is so intimate and private. Still, even with Ferndance's joke making them bite the inside of their mouth to stifle a grin, Mirepurr can't help but wonder rather grimly: is Chilledstar satisfied?

Scalejaw recites the patrol's events, or rather lack thereof, and Smogstar does not appear bothered. It is a relief to see no frown on that striped face.

Mirepurr angles their head to look down at Stonekit, his eager antics impossible to miss. His promise of keeping the Clan safe is endearing, but not nearly as much as when he hurries to bring prey to the no-doubt-hungry Smogstar. "Look at that, meal flying straight into your paws."
​

 

[LIVIDSMOKE]

Lividpaw slowly approched, his leg not fully recoverd yet although it was far better then it had been a few days ago. This injury would not prevent him from doing his duties for that much longer. He already missed being out there in the marshland. It felt like he was back at being a kit again, trapped in camp he had always disliked to be. He couldn't wait to be on duty again.

" It looks like your travel went well." A rare comment for sure, coming from Lividpaw out of all cats who usual remained silent and let his opinions be unheard of. It was good that everything had gone well for their new leader. It would have been problematic if they had lost Smogstar out there when there was no deputy at the moment to take over if the misfortune would came to befall them all. Who would step up to take charge then?, all of their lead warriors together?. Had anyone of them ever thought about that?.

Like always he kept this to himself but he wondered if he had been the only one concerned over this during Smogstar's absence. " That's good." Was his final say, a mumble almost even possible to not even having heard him say. Since Stonekit already had offered their returned leader food there was no need for such assistence. Hopefully everything would go well from here on out.





​

 

[ONYXPAW]

It was not often that Onyxpaw remained awake for so long, allowing her attention to stay trained upwards on the stars that were twinkling in the sky. A sea of them that had gained yet another rippling wave in the form of Chilledstar. The apprentice found herself wondering - would she be able to spot them, if she squinted in just the right way? Her head cocked over to one side, but she was given no chance to test her vision. The reason why she was up came strolling back into camp, flanked by the supportive form of Starlingheart. Immediately her shoulders relaxed, spirit lifting at the realization that their new leader had made it back to them.

Without being mauled on the way there, or having each of those nine new lives ripped away from him on the journey back. Both were unlikely, but far from impossible - especially in the mind of an apprehensive chimera like Onyxpaw.

Well, Chilledstar specifically. Smogstar's words caused a genuine grin to break out on her muzzle, searching through the inevitable crowd of cats for Forestshade's face among them. While she wouldn't begrudge the lead warrior for her opinion of what Smogstar had said, she also wouldn't deny the satisfaction that bloomed swiftly within her. Chilledstar had to at least approve somewhat of what Smogstar was doing and his plans for the future, or else they wouldn't have appeared to offer him a life at all. Not that they had ever seemed so petty as to deny his ascent to leadership over what he had said now, but it still felt like a major win to her. "Chilledstar gave you your new name? That's incredible... that's great!" The exclamation was probably more than most had heard out of Onyxpaw in some time, a newly easy grin on her muzzle.

Taking up the empty spot alongside Snowpaw, the slightly younger apprentice brushed her tail against him in greeting before looking back towards Smogstar. "Smogstar... I'm glad you got back safely." It was her way of testing the name out on her tongue, unable to deny how odd it felt to call him by another moniker. Still, it likely wouldn't be long until all of them grew used to it after their day to day lives settled once more. She couldn't help the way that Snowpaw's question lingered in her mind, even if it hadn't been directed towards her. How long would the mourning go on for, and how long until they were all trotting forward in step like usual again?

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 ✹ . + 　 ˚ 　　　 · 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎

• 

• 

  an apprentice of shadowclan, onyxpaw is inching towards warriorhood at ten moons. she is being mentored by scorchfrost, and is on track to graduate fairly soon. shy towards most other cats, she is nonetheless loyal to her home and a skilled combatant, although she struggles in the hunting department.　✦

​

 

[SINGEPAW]

*+:｡.｡ Singepaw wasn't the type easily impressed by authority - if the bites still lingering around his collar were any indication. Chilledstar was by no means an imposing figure to Singepaw. Although they had more strength behind the paw that cuffed his insubordinate ears, he still considered them to be more like a...a...pseudo-parent or something rather than a figurehead to worship. A person didn't stop being a person even if they could take a couple more chops to the throat than the average guy. Even so, Chilledstar was someone he couldn't deny looking up to. His rambunctious paws only fell in line out of a reluctance to disappoint them again - although he'd never admit so aloud - and although he didn't cling to their every word, he understood there was always a reason to heed their verdicts. Chilledstar was, in a way only a child as arrogant as Singepaw could claim, more like a friend, or a wise elder you could crack jokes with, but whose tutelage you can't help but respect.

Smogmaw...wasn't so easy to see that way.

Singepaw presented an insomniac guard at the apprentice's den, still glaring at the stars instead of sleeping, so he was among the rest when it came to jumping at the chance to greet Smogmaw's return.
Smogstar he hears everyone say.
Right.

"You feel any different?" he asks as he approaches, a pawstep behind Onyxpaw. He smiles at the tortoiseshell point as she puts to spoken word his own inner excitement. He wonders what it must've been like, to see the dead back to life. "Did they say anything cool?" he asks, his voice a little too loud in a subconscious attempt to shout over the sudden pang in his chest. It's weird talking about Chilledstar like they're dead. I mean, they are, but Singepaw...well, it ain't easy, alright! "Do dead cats keep their scars when they're dead? Was the moonstone cold? Do you feel stronger? Do you feel more...life-y?" he inquires, leaning closer and closer with each inquiry.

*°:⋆ₓₒ Updated 6/10/24

• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☄ Singepaw
  ☄ Cismale — He/him — Questioning sexuality
  ☄ 8 moons — Ages 1 moon every month on the 2nd
  ☄ NPC x Duckshimmer (brother to Swallowpaw, Sneezepaw)
  ☄ Shadowclan — Kit
  ☄ Apprenticed to Smogmaw
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☄ Physically easy | mentally easy
  ☄ Attack inbold #b8312f
  ☄ Can be power played just ask
  injuries: none
  

​

 

[smogstar]

Again, the tom hears his newly-anointed name proclaimed in reverent tones. Adjusting to its sound should prove a long, cumbersome process, one he knows the cats around him will struggle with in tandem. Change on a mass, sweeping scale is seldom smooth-sailing. And the squeaky enunciation from Stonekit rings all-the-more foreign to him, yet it's no less endearing. Lips stretch into a full, exuberant smile when the youngster lurches forward and places a meal of dubious quality before his very paws. Dishevelled chest fur recoils against his ribcage in amusement, and he meows, "I could do with a snack after all that. Thanks a bunch, Stonekit."

Teeth sink into his lip ever so slightly, a smidge of pressure to stifle his indecision, and he cups a paw around the fresh-kill to pull it in. What counts isn't the meal's shoddy presentation nor the possibility of it poisoning him; it's the sincerity and pride beaming from this young feline, and their eagerness to see him accept. That, Smogstar holds onto tightly. He bites a chunk and swallows, head bobbing in delight. "Delish," he mews through a mouthful, before his chin lifts towards Eaglepaw.

In the sense that StarClan embraced him without a hitch, imbued unto him their otherworldly strength and magicked wisdoms, then yes, it could be said his ceremony had gone well. He'd gotten what he'd travelled to the Moonstone for. But, he's disoriented. Unsettled, like a tree branch dangling from its limb after a violent gust. That he'd encountered Halfshade - her words, her mannerisms, her scent, her face, all the same save for the spectral hue and insubstantial form - had him rattled and weak. Anguish clawed at his gut since then, its serrated talons dipping into his insides and kneading them at leisure. Her touch, even, came as a sensation too visceral. He feels her. Dread and need and loss and love. A noxious concoction.

"It went well," Smogstar replies, resuming the conversation and attempting to push aside the reminder. "Nothin' unexpected. Felt a bit strange, if I'm honest. Like I were dreaming while awake, or something," the tom murmurs next, a crease building between his brows. "Dunno how to rightly describe it."

Details are best kept private, he decides, and so he keeps mum about StarClan's lingering, their power, their warmth which felt cold. Only the salient particulars matter, and the newly-appointed leader releases them in a laboured sigh. "Well," he begins, eyes finding his apprentice's for the moment, "Heavybranch told me not to be an idiot. And, uh-" Hesitation would take root, for he was unsure on how much he ought to divulge. Then, he blinks it away. He'd given a whole speech about hesitation before setting off, remember. "Hare Whiskers, the cat who'd led the marsh colony before Briar, managed to show up. Never thought I'd see that ol' fart again, I'll tell ya that. Can't remember nothin' about no scars, but all the ShadowClan cats up there looked well-fed." As for the remaining articles in Singepaw's slew of questions, the young tom should learn in due time.

A more curious question is put to voice, and Smogstar would be remiss to not point his gaze at Snowpaw immediately. So he does, thinking for a moment, sifting through the query's implications in search of a satisfactory answer for the apprentice. "Ants do not mourn, I don't think," he answers with lips worn in a crooked smirk. "Which makes us better than them. We remember our dead. We grieve. And we honour them in a way no ant can. But we do not let our mourning hinder us, either." It's an ironic comparison, and an untrue one when pertaining to himself, but it seems to be an appropriate and relatable example.

Recognition manifests in a quiet bow, for he is grateful for the tribute demonstrated from Mirepurr, Onyxpaw, and Lividpaw. Pure, steadfast loyalty. Wholehearted support, and a warm welcome. He has yet to sense trepidation in their gestures, no ulterior motives or streams of sceptical thought. It's in stark contrast to the council meeting, where a prominent few carried themselves with unease and dissonance. His muzzle wrinkles at the memory. "This is- well, y'know, this is different," the tom admits, a little flustered and frowning. "A new normal, I mean," Smogstar adds, muzzle bowing just briefly before snapping back upwards in self-rebuke, "Different, but good, and I'm- I'm thankful to all'a ya."

Having spoken as much truth as he feels comfortable in divulging, and feeling the mounting weight of addressing a crowd and the poise such demands, the new leader looks to step away from centre stage before long. He has a new den to tidy, bedding to move in, and some time alone to collect himself in the absence. To regather his bearings, as he is at risk to drift. ​