camp OFFICIALLY MISSING YOU &. [ 5/6/23 meeting ]

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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"meeting time."

chilledstar doesn't dare yell this time, but they throw their voice enough to reach the very ends of camp. there is a heaviness in the air that hung with the clouds, as a light drizzle rained down upon them. their gaze is dark, tail twitching behind them. they miss the touch of their mate already, but now wasn't the time for this.

"i will make this meeting quick. during the last gathering, sootstar and windclan were called out for the attack upon smogmaw. as a result, all of the clan leaders have agreed upon a new warrior code which prohibits cats of other clans to trespass within other clan territories. keep this in mind when crossing borders. and in midst of her delusions, sootstar has decided that every clan, other than thunderclan, wants to attack and declare war upon them. do your best to stay away from those borders to prevent them from attacking. stars know what sootstar is telling her clan."

they twitch their ears before sighing.

"halfshade has moved to the nursery and in her midst, sabletuft will be taking over loampaw's training. on top of that, please welcome young mottle to the clan. you will now, from this day forward until you receive was true warrior name, be known as mottlepaw. your mentor will be NPC( until given one ). train well. these forests are not kind.

granitepaw, goosepaw and siltpaw. please... step forward. do each of you promise to do right by shadowclan, and bring glory to its ranks? to fight well, and die just as well for your fellow clanmates? then by the blessing of the stars I give you your warrior names. granitepelt, goosechase, and siltcloud. hold your tongues for the night, as you fully settle into your new lives as proud warriors."

there is a long pause. a silence that is not good. they don't want to keep doing this. they don't want to keep losing cats within their clan... they cared more than they ever showed and right now it hurts. they take in a deep breath before they speak once more.

"lastly... ghostpaw has returned to his place within the stars. his death is a reminder that our homes are just as unforgiving as any. he will be missed, and hopefully he can continue a much more plentiful hunt and pleasant afterlife within the stars... we will hold a vigil for him tomorrow evening... clan dismissed."

they turned away and made their way to geckoscreech, nudging her to follow them into the leader's den. they just needed to be alone with their mate for a while. they needed to grief without being bothered. was that too much to ask?
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[✧ Siltcloud.]

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 12 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d

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Siltpaw listens with rapt attention as chilledstar calls the meeting forth - dull green gaze lnding upon the felines chest rather then their gaze. She waits patiently, save for the tick-tick-tick of her flicking tail, an outlet for the anxious energy that coils taut within her chest. Today is a busy day - this meeting an eventful one. A fragile frame, a dust-toned pelt, lifeless eyes - she makes such a pitiful sight as she stands, limbs carrying her forwards when she is called. She nods and hums along, gives a perfunctory "I do," and receives her warrior name. But her mind is elsewhere.

Ghostpaw's loss is yet another tally upon shadowclans consciousness - really, not even a moon goes by without a loss within their ranks. One which she will mourn but not miss. She's beginning to believe that starclan truly has turned their backs upon them. But even still... The moment the meeting is over green gaze lands upon an all to familiar ashen pelt, narrowing. Siltcloud cannot help but wonder - cannot help but be suspicious. She does not believe in coincidence - could he really have-? She will have to find out later. For now she immerses herself in the crowd - basks in the praise, in the call of her new name, and seeks out familiar faces. Best not to start trouble with so many around.

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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — There is a noticeable lacking of command and morale in Chilledstar's voice. Sabletuft's gaze looked to where his leader sat, approaching while glancing toward the other warriors that gathered. He wondered what could have them in such a gloom. Had something occurred at the Gathering that he hadn't caught from the local gossip before? He waited quietly as he curled his tail around his paws to protect them from the rain, ears flat against his skull while droplets dripped off his whiskers.

No, it was the same he had heard from the others. Sootstar descending further into her delusions, the new code. Halfshade was heading to the nursery now, and-

-Sabletuft will be taking over Loampaw's training. His steeled gaze hid the ignited displeasure that dragged through his chest. How had they come to that decision? He wandered if this was some flippant decision or if there may have been some underlying message, but they continued on so quickly he assumed the former. Sabletuft merely nodded his head in acceptance to his new assignment and continued his silent listening. New warriors, a fresh wave to pull the full weight of a warrior- good. He thought to how Sunnyday mentioned having to take on two apprentices. The more warriors ShadowClan had, the further they were from having to double up like that.

And there came the news that assumedly shook his leaders spirits. He hadn't known Ghostpaw very well outside of being Geckoscreech's mentor, but truly an unfortunate loss to the Clan. Young life sent to the stars, as they had described. Sabletuft imagined Ghostpaw would live his spirit further as the whispering rustle of trees in the wind. Leaves fluttering in the breeze guided by Rye. The dark tom hung his head in a moment of grieving before following the dismissal to his next assignment.— tags​

 

[Halfshade]

Chilledstar’s meetings left something to be desired. Not that ShadowClan ever had really formal meetings since Briarstar but a little more flare or enthusiasm would be appreciated even if they were discussing WindClan which was a mood sourer if anything. She was so tired of hearing about WindClan, she hadn’t liked their alliance to begin with but that somehow the moorland had turned on them so aggressively was ridiculous.

Her tail tucked around her belly protectively as she thought about those rabbit eating fools and her apprentice was given to Sabletuft, a careful smile was offered to the tom; hopefully he wasn't too hard on Loampaw. Maybe she was too soft with her training? Who could tell. Either way nothing she could do about it, she had kits to prioritize.

The announcement of new warriors was always good news, she remembered their last properly named warrior: Forestshade she believed and how long ago that was. A momentous occasion. That was done in mere seconds. She blinked, surprised at how quickly it was rushed through and had to choke back a snort of amusement. Ah, she understood. She wouldn't want to waste time making a meaningful ceremony either...for that rat.

It was a shame poor Siltcloud and Goosechase were made warriors alongside Granitepelt, the fact Chilledstar rushed through that in one breath almost as if to rid the taste from his mouth was extremely telling. She had no fondness for that little gray bastard herself given he was happy to leave Pitchstar and the rest of the patrol to die to save his own hide. Perhaps the name was suitable then. Pelt, cause his own pelt was all he cared for.
Honestly, the fact the leader didn’t even explain the meaning of the names was almost more insulting than calling Granitepaw a mangy mongrel to his face. Kudos to Chilledstar for being so flippantly cruel without any effort at all. It was deserved in this case. Well, Granitepelt’s case. Shame about the other two but sacrifices had to be made to make a statement. The smile that crossed her maw was stifled with a flick of her tail to his lips, covering it from sight. "Congratulations Siltcloud, Goosechaser-" A pause, eyebrows raised, "Granitepelt." Wretched thing. He should be grateful he even got named at all, let alone that lackluster ceremony.

Ah. Alright, now she understood the somber mood. Ghostpaw was dead? When did this happen? Where? Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around, assumedly a body was lying in Starlingheart’s den for a vigil soon and her busy cleaning in the nursery had kept her from noticing. Poor dear, how unfortunate. When the leader and Geckoscreech wandered off immediately she sighed. She was a queen now so supposed she was to help the elder's with the vigil. Better go ask Starling about it...
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[GRANITEPELT]

"Meeting time." Said without feeling, without ceremony. Granitepaw has come to expect nothing less. Sometimes he regrets killing Pitchstar just so a milder version of the crazed rosette tabby could take his place, but the slate-pelted tom feels as though his former mentor would have never made him a warrior. Despite the lack of enthusiasm in their voice, Chilledstar calls him, Goosepaw, and Siltpaw forward to receive their warrior names.

Tradition means little to Granitepaw, but he listens to Chilledstar's words with a blank expression. "Do you promise to do right by ShadowClan, and bring glory to its ranks? To fight well, and die just as well for your fellow Clanmates?" He does promise to bring glory to ShadowClan. "I do."

Granitepaw is named Granitepelt, and his sister Siltcloud. He sits a little taller, posture straighter, and his dark green eyes roam the crowd for Starlingheart. Is she proud? Does she remember the vows they made?

Soon, they would be mates in the eyes of ShadowClan, in the eyes of StarClan, and none would ever try to take her from him again.

The rest of the Clan is cheerless, dull-eyed. He has come to expect nothing less from his Clanmates, who let the news about Ghostpaw overshadow any excitement they might have otherwise had for new warriors. Halfshade, whom he especially cannot stand, gives him a pointed look. Perhaps she's remembering their time in the Carrionplace, Pitchstar swarmed by rats, his temptation to run and leave them to die.

But for once, he isn't bothered. There are few cats in this Clan whose opinions matter to him.

He bumps his flank against Siltcloud's. "Congratulations, sister," he says, his voice cool. He says nothing to Goosechase. He doesn't particularly care for the cocky tomcat. He's more concerned about leaving the life of the forgotten, tread-upon apprentice behind him. He's a ShadowClan warrior now, and he will never be walked on again.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[DOGFUR]

ShadowClan was a spiteful place, so Dogfur had been prompted to believe. Chilledstar's flippant meetings and ceremonies only solidified that muddy taste in his mouth. But Dogfur made an effort to be present. That was his apprentice being named after all, even if he only had him for a moon or so.

He expected the names to be shared with some sort of meaning. Dogfur himself was surprised by the lack of character given to each warrior. While he had not had Granitepaw for long, nor shared any radically new techniques from what he may or might not have learned under Pitchstar, he still loved the grey-pelted tom in his own strange way. He was very glad Granitepaw did not die like Ghostpaw did. How embarrassing that would be.

Dogfur slunk slowly up behind his newly named apprentice-warrior. "Granitepelt, for your swipe at that fox's fur. And of course, after me, too, maybe!" The scrawny tortoiseshell chuckled, twitching with delight. Despite his words, his sulpheric eyes gleamed with misplaced pride.

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[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart gathers with the rest of the crowd, though her paws feel numb. Another cat she cared for ripped from this world. Ghostpaw had been a friend. He should be here today, with Granitepaw, Siltpaw, and Goosepaw. It's not fair. She thinks to herself that perhaps she is cursed and she cannot help but wonder how long it would be before she runs out of cats she cares for. Until she is the only one left. Still, she finds it in herself to try and be happy for Granitepaw's sake. This was a big day for the gray pelted tom. It is not his fault it is clouded by sadness. Not Siltpaw's or Goosepaw's fault either. Chilledstar could've put a little more effort into the words though, tried a little bit harder to be there for his clan, to raise the mood. But they rush through the ceremony, through the entire meeting. Her eyes are hard, cold even as she watches them rush off to be with their mate. Is that the only thing they cared about? It seemed like it.

For Granitepelt's sake she calls out the new warriors names "Granitepelt! Siltcloud! Goosechase!" she chants, for once not caring if her voice is the only one. She loves him, wants this moment to be special for him and all the other cats she had grown up with. After the meeting has concluded she moves from her place to give him an affectionate bump on the shoulder "Congrats" she says softly, a smile on her face despite the heart that weighs heavy in her chest. Their would be time for mourning later, though.
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[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt had not expected cheers to come from his Clanmates. Not only had Chilledstar not inspired any, but he has no illusions about the relationships he has with the other cats in this dismal Clan. So he is quite surprised when Dogfur, his ill-gotten mentor, slinks just behind him to congratulate him. "Granitepelt, for your swipe at that fox's fur. And of course, after me, too, maybe!" The gray tom's eyes are round with surprise, and though he can't say he appreciates the tortoiseshell's words, Granitepelt does give him a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you," he says, which is almost warm coming from him. "Pitchstar certainly wouldn't have gotten me here."

And then he sees her in her periphery. Sadness becomes her, her beauty like a flower swollen with rain. Gray paws carry him swiftly to where she sits, cheering for the new warriors -- for him. "It means everything that you were here for me. I know how hard it is for you right now." There's a touch of well-placed empathy in his tone. Inwardly, he seethes -- even from the grave, Ghostpaw is interfering with his relationship with Starlingheart.

Nevermind. He touches his muzzle to hers and holds it there for several heartbeats. "Thank you. I couldn't be here without you." It's true. StarClan knows where he'd be.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[GECKOSCREECH]

tip. tap. tip. tap. tip. tap.

rain pitters evenly across the camp creating what would be considered a soothing melody to most but for geckoscreech it sounded like a gradual upsurge of beating drums that pound loudly against her ears, effectively drowning out any meaningless dialouge being shared. from an outsiders perspective she appears as she normally would, properly sat with her shoulders slightly squared and head angled upwards at a small degree to show a sort of attentiveness as chilledstar delivers the latest news to the clan but anyone with a keen eye could pick up that not everything was being taken in.

soon enough there are scattered cheers coming from the crowd as they welcome three—it should be four, new warriors into their ranks but she remains mute. such an event was made to be celebrated with much more enthusiasm but it fell short, fizzled by the despairing atmosphere that hung heavy over them and those that didn't understand why the attitude was so bleak were quick to be filled in as the final message uttered from ivory jaws was about the unfortunate passing of ghostpaw who was found faced down in their very own bogs with little to no reason behind it.

geckoscreech hardly reacts and she isn't sure why.

the meeting ends and everyone begins to depart and if it weren't for the nudge from chilledstar she would've very well just been glued down to this spot, staring off into the distance with a glazed expression. the molly eventually picks herself up without a word and follows after her mate before disappearing into the leader's den perhaps to grieve where no one could see. ​

∘₊✧ ONE LAST LIFELINE, I'M HANGING HIGH. ✧₊∘​

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornadopaw is last to arrive, the ceremonies nearly ending by the time she takes a seat to listen. She was sure he could pick up on whatever she'd missed as others simply talked around camp. Her tail curls tightly around her paws, dull yellow eyes flicking up to focus on Chilledstar's voice. Her attention then pans to the newly named warriors, listening as celebrations and chanting filled the air. Starlingheart congratulates Granitepelt and a rock seems to form in the pit of her stomach as she realizes this marks him as an official superior over her. One that she could not mouth back at should things go sideways. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[RIBBITLEAP]

The rain usually brings comfort, but Ribbitleap can only find solemnity in the metronomic noise.

A happy day, this is supposed to be, and perhaps for some it is, but Ribbitleap can only see the empty spot where Ghostpaw should be standing amongst the other three who receive their names. Ribbitleap can only see the empty spot that'd been next to him in his own ceremony, can only think of how unfair it is to have a fate that falls short of a clan cat's destined rank.

He can only think of his mother, who should have seen both her sons become warriors, who should've seen the same for her apprentice, too.

He can only wonder why. Out of the three of them, why had Ribbitleap been the only one to survive? Why must his mother feel the heartbreak of another loss, another child taken from her? Why couldn't Ghostpaw be granted a life of a warrior? Why couldn't Leaping Toad?

It isn't fair, how the stars take from the shadows. He's known this for a long time now.

As the meeting ends, he turns to seek out Geckoscreech. He wants to make sure his mother is okay, wants to see if there's anything he can do to ease her grieving. But, when he finally spots her, a black-and-white form is beside her, instead of where a leader should stand during meetings. Chilledstar is nudging at her side, beckoning her away. And as he watches them lead his mother to the leader's den, he can't help the confusion he feels.

Lead warrior business, he tries to believe, despite the uncertainty that guides his gaze.
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