absolution & . meeting 9 / 16

− ♱ ABOUT : morning after fourtrees. it comes too soon, he’s realizing — icy luminaries squint, offended, towards the blazing sky overhead. the late night had succumbed his too - active mind to sleep at least, though the white light of dawn woke him for the day before he knew it. the mottled tom makes his way towards the riverrock, blinking against the waves of gleaming ivory cast from the reflecting waves at his back. the drained island was just beginning to stir with life and as he leaps solidly upon his perch, cicadastar shakes his pelt that remains still decorated in stragglers that apprentices had expertly woven in, thinking of events from the night prior. they’d all been desperately excited, along with his warriors . . and him, in all truth. the atmosphere was overwhelming, though the tortie chimera was finding he rather enjoyed it. a pleasant sort of overstimulation, a bustling atmosphere of sights and sounds and strangers. a brief glimpse of black smoke flits back through his mind, as if he’d not spent the night prior thinking of the breathless compliment he’d given him. even now the leaders cheeks warm, taking a deep breath as he finally settles in his position above his warriors.

let all cats old enough to swim gather beneath the river rock for a clan meeting.

  • CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
    − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers

  • none.


Black ears perked up from their spot on beneath the reeds, a head lazily lifting from black paws and a soft yawn came from a young cat. Raccoonpaw had been napping in the midst of the willow tree, a comfort place for them, and they where woken by Cicadastars' words. The got to their paws softly and stretched their body out to wean out the stiffness that came from sleeping in one position. Then padded over to join in front of their leader.

There were dried petals still tangled in his fur and the occasional smear of berry prickling at his pelt from having brushed against more decorated clanmates on the walk there and back to the gathering. Smokethroat had not taken the time to rid himself of the ornaments, choosing instead to worry about it later and dropping into his nest the moment everyone else had been accounted for and dismissed. As he lifted his head to the morning light the mishapen blue bloom that had perched itself against his ear the entire night finally slid free down between his paws as he yawned, he regarded it for a brief moment; the immediate impulse to brush it away to keep his nest clear of any nonsensical decoration was there, but instead he merely nudged it to the side to tangle with bracken and moss where he would not step halphazardly onto it as he rose with an arched back and a stretch. The dark tom lingered briefly in the den, mulling over the events of the night before finally stepping out into the lit camp itself, squinting at the sudden influx of light that dragged him more properly from dreary depths. Cicadastar's voice is a welcome sound among birdsong, but he realizes quickly this was no mere call for order and patrol organizing. Surely they would be discussing that disasterous affair?
His orange eyes narrowed in thought as he made his way over to sit, paws scuffing the ground uneasily. Right before they had dispersed Hyacinthbreath caught him with a request and he was still trying to decide if he would go out of his way to answer it; after everything that had happened a small part of him was curious how the WindClan cats felt regarding it all. Did they blindly support or were they terrified beyond rationale? It was hard to say.
The tiny WindClanner he had briefly chatted with seemed the nervous sort, but he couldn't tell if that was just how he was or if their clan life was so stressful. He'd seemed polite, not all of those moor running heathens were so bad he guessed....
He did not think it was fortunate to have a leader with kindness and regard for those around him, it was the most bare minimum one could ask of their lord or lady chosen by the stars. What Sootstar was doing...he couldn't even comprehend the thought behind it. And that she had promoted the cat who mauled the dappled tom perched on the smooth stones before them? A promotion for harming their leader? It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to deliver his own justice right that at the gathering itself, stick his claws into Weaselclaw's throat and let him pay for his sins with blood upon blood.
He shook his head, pushed the murderous thoughts from his mind for the time being. StarClan help that wretched tabby if they happened across him during a border patrol though, he would 'accidentally' knock him into the gorge somehow.


Redpath almost didn't get up. She thought she heard Cicadastar call a meeting but....She couldn't quite tell if it was a dream or not. She was still waking up. It took a minute for her to realize it was real. Forcing herself to lift her head and open her eyes she yawned and stretched before laying idly for a moment. She knew this would likely be an important meeting....She couldn't pretend to be asleep...

Oh well. She got up and groggily made her way to join her clanmates. She just wasn't a morning person.
she loathes to be under him like this, for him to tower over her. to exert this power. she's near lightingstone, she always is. perhaps this time she is a bit closer than normal, a bit lost in her wandering mind to truly be paying attention to the usual space she kept between them. the thunderstorm-grey tom seems to rarely miss these, and it had forced her into these uncomfortable silences. the atmosphere is oddly tense, especially for one of these. she had no want to leave the forest and see any more land-cats, effectively missing out on the gathering and spending her time babysitting and other chores. smokethroat is tense and looks downright malicious, she assumes it is towards a third party. small rumors that buck never truly cared to listen to of windclan. the only thing she can do is await the thunderous voice of cicada.
( ᴛᴀɢs. )  ❝  Buckgait was not the only one that'd not bothered to follow the rest. That place felt forbidden to him somehow– as if it'd do more harm than good to find himself on the ground of their graves once more. Even knowing that they had so willingly made a landmark of that moment feels wrong to him. Seems he's one of few to think this way. Or maybe he's just one'f the few that chose to let it sway them so. Whatever the others think does not concern him– he has missed it, and he was here, and that was all that mattered. Tense electricity flutters 'round them now, wariness clinging to their coats like the remnants of their night before. Cicada, wreathed in starlight still, stands before them a phantom. He almost wishes that was enough to make him smile now.

  • 50335651_ibz4tSApItgOjRI.png
  • ──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
    ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
    ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.

    ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
  • "speech"

Though the black smoke is known to rise with the sun, even Tide thinks it's quite early for Cicadastar to be calling a meeting.

Yet, he follows the sleepy paws of those around him, not wanting to miss what was to be said. Tide settles below the River Rock with curious eyes, seemingly more awake than most others as he prepares himself to listen to what news may have come from the previous night's gathering. At least, that's what he assumes the meeting is for.
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Like a king calling his banners to arms, Cicadastar would call for his clan to gather for what could only be a report from the meeting the night before. Aspenfrost would answer as any good knight would, slipping from the den and making his way over to the center of the growing crowd with his usual confident stride.

He would spot Buckgait and Lightningstone seated nearby and he would sit beside his old acquaintance. Giving both warriors a friendly nod, Aspenfrost would turn his attention to his leader.

At her leaders call, Kelpie strides forwards to sit front and center, nearly trembling in anticipation. She's equal parts excited and terrified for what is to come - she'd asked to be made a proper part of riverclan, had practically begged of cicadastar to keep her name as her prefix, but she had no idea what to expect of the ceremony itself nor of her new name. She was proud however, proud that she'd found a new home, a place to belong, even after all that had happened.


Once again, a meeting is called with that awful, othering statement. Even if he has become more comfortable in the water, more capable, it still sounds wrong ringing in his ears. Of course, he doesn’t fault Cicadastar for it, because RiverClan is the clan of swimming cats, of those who know their way around the water. That still doesn’t make the phrase sit well with him, though; it grates just as it always has. Though now it doesn’t mock Clay; it instead mocks every other RiverClanner who may not know how to swim but knows how to be loyal and capable in other ways. But he keeps quiet about it. He always keeps quiet.

The tom settles down with a tired sigh, shoulder aching from the odd position he’d adopted last night as he stood guard at the edge of camp, glaring back and forth between the river and the dens to ensure that no ThunderClanner misbehaved and no outsider tried to ambush. Even after those cats who had gone to the gathering returned, the brown tabby stayed awake until the sun rose. Now, he’s regretting that just a bit, but he stares up at the leader with interest nonetheless.


The elder stretched out her legs as she made her way over. It was time for another meeting. She wondered what news the leader had to share. Chirping Bird was sure there would be mentions of the fire that drove Thunderclan out of their home. In all her moons, she couldn’t recall there being a fire. But maybe she had been lucky to avoid such a disaster. The orange and white cat found a spot to sit. Settling in as she waits for the leader to get started. ""

− ♱ ABOUT : they’re gathering. slowly but surely, groggy yet brimming with an already nervous energy. last nights gathering had gone poorly — his own former colony mate, standing accused of murder in front of a sea of angry, muttering faces. it was his job to recount it. the man takes a deep breath.

as i’m sure you’ve heard — either by being present yourself or by gossip — sootstar has murdered a warrior of skyclan. “ murmurs. little gasps, confirmation. his eyes close briefly, listening to the mumbling words and low hisses that emit from cats still - seething from the night prior. his tail lashes once, then wraps around sharp paws, eyelids finally slitting open to gaze downward towards the bustling group. he couldn’t imagine doing what she’d done — he thinks of it, feels the muscles of his heart rip, bleeding into a heavy nausea at the pit of his stomach, “ she has taken to branding her council. i will spare you the details, but know this — windclan is no threat to riverclan. the only threat they pose is to themselves. ” icy eyes find those of burning embers, white - splotched fur mussed and straggling with flora. thinks of his fury and his own is cooled ; for the clan, he stamps his nerves. the budding tendrils of ice blooming at hardened pawpads and seeping slow up the lengths of his forelimbs. dread. he does not doubt the clan’s strength . . they needed it to survive their everyday.

that being said, we cannot let out guard down. sootstar is not stupid — but she is cunning. any windclanner seen at riverclan borders are to be met with hostility. attack on sight if they cross scent lines. “ it is harsh. it will get harsher, “ until the next gathering, smokethroat and willowroot will be handling double patrols along the gorge and twoleg bridge. keep our scent strong. remember, we are defending — not attacking. “ defending their land, their lives. windclanners have been shown to attack unprompted and he will not let his warriors be as caught off guard as he was. finally, pallid eyes move away from orange depths, focusing out again on the crowd and pushing away the realization of how difficult that is to do. an ear flicks, “ truthfully, i am not concerned. with thunderclan at our side, there is little windclan to do.

that should hopefully put fears to rest, despite his precautions. the tall felidae shuffles, relaxing his shoulders before painting a smile upon his maw, “ i would like to take a moment to appreciate @CLAYFUR and @Smokethroat for their exemplary work this past moon. ” his head dips, “ riverclan thanks you.

one more thing.

the twolegs who have haunted our grounds this past moon seem to be. . leaving. we’ve seen less activity, fewer traps. “ less injury. he swallows, the hard knot of scar tissue along his throat bobbing with the movement, “ another group of twolegs have been seen, whatever they are doing seem to ward them off. willowroot’s patrol to their nest has revealed near abandonment — their kill ripe for the taking. ” he takes a breath, covers his paws with a thick, curly tail, “ i will be leading a patrol out that way this evening — we will take back what belongs to us. “ the forest, her gifts . . they do not belong in the uprights filthy paws, “ apprentices will not be allowed to attend. “ it’s final. no questions.

with that, he is finished. the mottled tom stands with a flourish, whipping his tail behind him as he rises to full, looming height, “ meeting dismissed.

  • huge shoutout to foxlore and rai for their activity this past month! you’re all doing great and i appreciate everything y’all do.

    the patrol thread can be found here.
  • CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
    − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers

  • none.