a drunken sailor // intro.




Bright laughter and the sounds of splashing fill the air, joining the early morning birdsong in a joyful melody.

Kelpie has always loved the water - she's been swimming nearly as long as she's been walking, and the elders had always said she was practically a fish with how at home she was in the depths. Sleek pelt and strong muscles ripple as she dives through the currents, reemerging with a fish clamped tightly in her jaws. Paddling back to shore with an absent minded hum, she's quick to return to the shallows once her catch has been tossed to land, ignoring the helpless flopping of her prey, instead content to let the waves simply crash over her as she lets her limbs paddle idly, keeping her head afloat. A sailors tune is hummed idly, a song to which she's never known the lyrics but with a tune so catchy even the youngest mouser hummed along when the twolegs sang. The sun warms her skin as her mind drifts, and she wonders idly how her shipmates are doing back home. She'd traveled many places, seen many sights, met many new faces. But her favorite memories are always of being aboard the ships, with the steady rock of the waves under paw and the taste of salt in the wind. She misses it, even now, when she's of on another adventure - this time one where she'd been reunited with her siblings.

A quiet sigh slips past her lips, and as the sun rises higher she finally leaves the riverbed lest she turn into a prune, or some other soul come and steal her catch out from under paw. Her pelt is carefully shaken out, her tongue wringing the rest of the water droplets from her coat as she quickly grooms herself into neatness once more, and with one final glance at her reflection she snatches up her fish and begins the treck back to the camp, humming the whole way and a bounce in her step. "Mornin!" she shouts cheerfully when she emerges, all chipper sunshine and smiles despite the early hour, paying no mind to the faces who are still asleep. Life on the ships waited for no one - if you didn't rise early with the sun, what use were you?


Willowroot’s family sure is odd. Between Raccoonpaw, Buckgait, and Willowroot themself, the group was already entertaining; with the additions of Willowroot’s siblings, all of them seafaring in one way or another, Clay’s curiosity about the family only continued to grow. He’s intrigued by them all, wants to know everything that they’ve been through. Hearing the stories of others never fails to make his days brighter. And in times like these, brighter days are always appreciated.

When he hears the enthusiastic call from Kelpie, Clayfur turns to grin at them. They look like they’ve just finished up a fishing trip, with one hanging from her maw. Equally chipper, the hazelnut tom chirps back, "Heya! It’s a pretty nice morning, huh?" He bounds over to stand only a couple tail-lengths away from the black and blue dappled RiverClanner. "How’s the fishing today?"


riverclan warrior. 32 moons. tags

Clearsight has spent the better part of the morning at Clayfur's side, bantering back and forth or brushing affectionate flanks with the cheerful tom. (Always so cheerful. That worries Clearsight, sometimes.)

Clayfur bounds over to meet Kelpie, sunshine on soft brown fur, muscle rippling underneath. Clearsight follows at a walk, fond eyes following the other tom.

Clayfur asks how the fishing is, and Clearsight notes the prey Kelpie's brought back.

"A fine catch," he praises the sea-legged molly, tail coming to rest on Clayfur's back as he approaches the two. "And good morning. Doing well, I hope?"

It'd seem so. She's absolutely glowing. Clearsight leans closer to Clayfur, a contented purr rumbling from his chest.

the entrance of caraway's dear kin was an unexpected one, but buck was never one to turn away family. if they had any wish to, there was always room for another wayward soul. this, however, doesn't mean that the dark buckskin was close with any of them. they had all appeared within staggered days, and it's not been too easy slipping form @LIGHTNINGSTONE and his ever-watchful gaze. although, she was growing a bit more tolerant of the storm-painted man. she even seems to find that he has no longer wished to throw her in any large bodies of water recently.

perhaps the woman is chipper today, despite the heavy atmosphere. "finally, some cat can appreciate some morning fish. they seem fresher, don't they?" she ignores clayfur's and clearsight's affection, it is far too early for her to watch with some sort of new-found envy. her attention is focused solely upon willowroot's kin. some funny name, but it had a smoothness to it that buck could appreciate.
Dutiful in his task, Lightningstone is not far behind his assignment. He strides behind her, fluffy tail flicking to and fro as an expressionless gaze wanders over the cats present. No longer does he feel the bitter jealousy upon seeing a cat with a freshly caught fish in their jaws. After his very first catch, his confidence has been restored. He is once more the prodigy, the cat who can pick up anything and everything thrown at him. In his free time, Buckgait continues to help him hone his skills, and so he can now stand tall and praise a cat's catches without that gripping envy. "Good catch," He echoes his clanmates, dipping his head.

The first to return her greeting is clayfur, a tom she hasn't spoken to much yet but can already tell she'll get along with well. Another dazzling grin, it's effect muffled by the fish obscuring her maw is flashed his way, and she turns about to join the cuddling toms, internally thrilled at the casual display of affection. Her own parents had been nice enough but absent, and tough love and endless responsibilities were often more common in her line of work than casual touch and affection. She supposes that's another reason to enjoy her time here - another new way of life to learn, one where she already feels at home.

Settling herself down nearby, with only a small wince at the twinge in her shoulder, and easily responding with a chipper "Absolutely stunning day. Plenty of fish, cold water, what's not to enjoy?" That's one thing she prefers about land - as much as she misses the roar of the waves and the tang of salt, it's nice to swim in water that doesn't leave her feeling dirtier than before her swim - not to mention the taste when it's time to groom!

Two others join the conversation, and she nearly preens at the continued praise. Of course, she knows she's a good huntress, but there's a difference in knowing and hearing it from the mouths of others. "The freshest," she agrees, though her time on the ships had taught her to never turn down a meal, regardless of how long ago it'd been killed. "Would you like to share-?" she offers, head tipped to the side as her mismatched gaze flits from face to face. She's not sure what the custom is here, but though the fish isn't all to large she can always hunt again later if need be.