camp army dreamers | questions

[sneezeduck]

Sneezepaw's first sight of blood was the rogue on the border, whose name he never knew. He had stood with Starlingheart then, pressing pale paws into crimson to hold a poultice in place. In his shock, he went about his duty automatically with little thought.. for if he stopped to think, to truly see, he would've ran away.

He tried not to think about it. He tried not to remember the image of blood that stained his clean mind. It was going well, it was almost easy.. to spend his days in a dream, as he always did, but this time deliberately. This time, forcing his ignorance. It could not last, of course, and it didn't - he then bore witness to a skirmish on the border, the way Halfpaw so easily launched herself at a WindClanner. The Gathering, a night he had assumed to be a moment of peace, something he had always looked forward to for the boy loved making friends - tainted, by Chilledstar's swipe at Sunstar, and the spits and hisses that followed.

"Why do we fight?" the boy asks from where he sits, in the clearing as cats go about their own days around him. He asks to no one and everyone at once - he seeks answers, but fears what he may get. "Why do we hurt others? Why do the others hurt us? Why.. do we hate each other?" If spilling blood was what it meant to be a warrior, was he cut out for warrior life as well? What else was there for him, anyway? He feels lost these days, and lost so quickly. Life has swiftly proven to be more than big dreams and chasing frogs. In a most horrific way a child could witness, his world came crumbling down..
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• sneezekit SNEEZEPAW
  ━━ APPRENTICE of SHADOWCLAN | 7 MOONS ,, ages every 2nd
  ━━ DUCKSHIMMER xx NPC | SIBLING to SINGEPAW and SWALLOWPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | MENTORED by SHARPSHADOW​
• 
  
  
• speech is #ffcc8a
  open to anyone <3 he's a little shook​

 

[FERNDANCE]

In a world like Ferndance's, there was no moral argument against fighting - for right and wrong was so fluid it might as well not exist at all. She had never hesitated when claws found flesh, couldn't, because if she did not kill, she would be killed. Though, had she fallen in some fights, it would be her own fault for poking sleeping dogs... the gathering was one such pooch. Her clanmates had started a battle they lacked the spine to finish, scared away by storm clouds, but under the impression that such a choice made her kitten's lives worse, she'd quietly given Lilacfur and Chilledstar a cold shoulder. It was another such day of frigid peace when she heard an apprentice's voice speak up, her head turning towards Sneezepaw as he asked the world why it fought. Ferndance blinked slowly, processing the question while slowing to a halt. ShadowClan, aloof as she deemed her home to be, would likely not have a proper answer for the other but then again, neither would Ferndance. Battle was amoral, it did not hurt or hate, it was as natural as breathing, truly, she believed only friends could do such things.

But, Sneezepaw calls it what she cannot see it as, and a sincere lack of understanding enters her serene frown. "Well... it's not hateful. I like living, and I like being happy, and I don't want either of those things taken away." Because there would come a time when both would be gone for good, she owed it to herself to have as good a time as possible until then, even if StarClan had other ideas. "And... if someone tries... then I think it's fair to turn their insides out." Some may call it selfish, but she doubted anyone could truly deny that they'd do the same in her paws. Everyone, at least a little bit, was scared of the finality of death - if given the chance to have an enemy confront it instead of oneself, who wouldn't take it? "Why... are you looking for a way to be fightless and alive? Only trees can do that... and you're not a tree are you, Sneezepaw?" The question, harsh as it may have seemed, was spoken softly.

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

NOTE: mobile post!

It's the kind of question that Sneezepaw should really know the answer to already. If you asked it at all, hich Sharpshadow wasn't sure if you even should since the answer was obvious, it'd be best for kithood. For a queen to explain to you plainly, or otherwise. What good would you do as an apprentice if you walked around going... why fight?

Sharpshadow refused to have an apprentice that was useless — that cats would whisper about and wonder what good - for - nothing mentor had them turn out that way. Or the only thing worse, an apprentice that was dead. A killers claws would not find their way to Sneezepaw's belly. She wouldn't let him roll over for the first cat he feels sorry for. The only one he should feel sorry for is gimself.

...Was that what Smogmaw thought, all those moons ago?

She shakes her head, needing to nip her apprentice while she stood could. That didn't... make her Smogmaw. (If it did, would that be a bad thing?) Of course it would be. Sharpshadow trods forward. Maybe she'd make a show of stomping, if she wasn't used to keeping her paws light. She comes to stand beside Ferndance. While her gaze was something adjacent to... kind, Sharpshadow looks down her nose her nose at him. Narrowed, silver hues spell the kind of warnings she was expected to give at her age - right? You'll get yourself killed, thinking like this.

Lately, she's found herself a bit surprised by tavt Ferndance is capable of speaking with, so much wo that she doesn't even bristle at the molly being the first to answer her apprentice. Sharpshadow cranes her neck. " She's right. " the following question if are you a tree? is more in line with lessons for kits, but whatever. If Sneezepaw was thinking like this, maybe he should still be treated like one.

...What is wrong with her? The warrior shakes her head.

" ...Look, " he grouses, frown pinched deep. " If prey ran plentiful year round... if disasters didn't happen, like... fires and storms, then all five clans could share tongues with eachother and we could roll around in the flower fields. But it isn't, and they do. " His blink is slow. A sigh makes his shoulders sag. " ...You don't even have to hate anyone. Just keep yourself alive. "​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Bloodshed, it was a necessary way of life. Land and resources were finite, and their population was ever-growing. Skunktail had rarely mused gloomy topics such as that- still, Briarthorn had known that fact since she could hardly walk. Another reason why her generation had been the last good one.
Sneezepaws question would be enough to make the molly throw a forepaw to her temple if not for her trained composure, in the place of a disappointed gesture, a charcoal ear angles itself back. Fernsongs answer is kind, and the mollys tone is maternal, patient. Briarthorn pins her gaze to the approaching Sharpshadow, watching as the lead warrior tries his best to nip this pacifism-like talk in the bud. Briarthorn doesn’t find she agrees with her, either. "Fighting is in our nature. We’re predators, Sneezepaw." The poor apprentice had been doomed from the beginning with a name like that, it slid off her tongue with a faint disdainful edge. "Fires and storms or no, the mind is wired to be territorial. That's why territories exist. Only the strong fight for the right to lands, shelter, whatever. The weak die out in those storms and fires. " Whether her thought helped Sharpshadow drive his point further or not, Briarthorn would end her statement with a whisk of her tail, pointed hues steady on the apprentice.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[mockingbirdcry]

She arrives late to the discussion, the barest wisp of herb - scent clinging to her fur from toting a kit in for a check on a runny nose. A massive plume of a tricolor tail trails behind her, collecting bits of fern and mud where she can't be bothered to expend the energy of holding it off the ground. Mockingbirdcry feels a little like this might be a conversation she should abstain from, given that she does not, in fact, do any fighting on a day to day basis—except arguing with kittens who don't want to go to bed.

Before ShadowClan, though, she had fought—scraps for wisps of food and warm places to sleep, for water that ran clear and fluffy bits of bedding. So she feels at least . . . semi - qualified? She hopes so, anyway, as she pads over, steps silken - light, to the trio of warriors clustered around Sneezepaw, having just caught the last scraps of his questioning.

Why did they fight? If you asked Mockingbirdcry, which you weren't likely to, Sharpshadow had it the best; not that Ferndance and Briarthorn were necessarily wrong, but . . . she doesn't think she would have quite put it to Sneezepaw that way. No doubt some would say that her time in the nursery has softened her survival instinct. She pauses mid - crossing of camp, half - turning to face the conversants, tilting a head hanging heavy with thick curls of pearl - white fur, the scent of milk and softness clinging to each tuft.

" I don't fight, " she offers in low tones, timidity at earning Briarthorn's ire overtaking her despite the other cat's comparative youth. " And some cats might say that what I do isn't as important as the warriors, but . . . " Mockingbirdcry trails off into a whispery sigh and a shrug, unable or, more likely, unwilling to complete her point in front of this crowd. " On the other paw, I wouldn't be able to stay in the nursery without the warriors defending our borders and hunting prey, so . . . "

A small frown tugs at the edges of a pale - furred muzzle as she lets her voice fade once more. Perhaps it's simple intimidation, but she supposes she didn't really add anything to the conversation, huh?

" speech "

​

 

[smogstar]

It'd only taken a slew of questions to turn this little swampy glade into a public forum. Smogmaw eavesdrops, a crinkle in his brow, mulling over the deeper implications behind it all.

Sneezepaw's inquiry serves to probe the primary influences which govern their lives as clan cats, and however simple or straightforward that some answers might sound, they all converge on the same central truth: a cat must stand their ground to protect what is theirs. This concept doesn't inherently suggest that violence is inevitable or a foregone conclusion, but there are additional variables at play which combine to make violence as common and necessary as breathing air and drinking water. To illustrate one, when independent clans' territories touch one another, border friction is bound to ensue. Violence is daily life, and up until now, it's yielded a certain degree of order and stability.

Smogmaw has revisited the idea frequently. He's pondered it and probed it and chewed at the core like a dog gnawing on a bone. Ferndance, Sharpshadow, and Briarthorn all speak true when it is a defining factor in their nature, and yet that isn't the catalyst which spurs conflict or the root cause which keeps it going. The deputy can see beyond it. He's never been a 'bigger picture' sort of tom, but he can see that the most prudent conclusion for Sneezepaw lies past the immediate and apparent.

"We don't hurt and fight because we have to," he pitches in his typical, croaking manner of speaking. "We do have to, mind, but we wouldn't have to if things were the tiniest bit different. Things that we have no power to change."

Haunches settle on the sun-warmed earth as Smogmaw folds his tail across his paws. He casts a thoughtful glance upward, summoning those distant memories of the most important event in clan history. "StarClan intervened the Great Battle with a prophecy," he goes on, speaking at a snail's pace as he recalls it. "Their answer to the war between colonies wasn't unity, or even an agreed peace; they ordained the creation of the five clans, splintering us apart to prevent a greater conflict from ever breaking out."

Peace by means of separation. Isolation. Division. It'd never ended the fighting; it only served to limit its scope. "Five clans. Five territories to defend. Five leaders to constantly butt heads. Five fractured parts of a whole. And yet we all share the same ancestors, the same code, the same problems."

Smogmaw lets it sink in, tailtip twitching. He hopes he's explained it well enough thus far, so that his own rebuttal sounds valid enough. "But I've seen peace." Amber eyes find Sharpshadow immediately. "It exists, well outside of these territories. I knew it throughout the expedition for lungwort. I don't think it can exist in the clans; neither did Clearheart, if you'll remember, and that's why he never returned." ​

 

[sneezeduck]

Ferndance, as usual, doesn't quite get through to Sneezepaw. He didn't mind her input ever, but she had a way of speaking that seemed to confuse him more than anything. This time, she seems to be only proving his point. "But - that's the thing. Why do they take?" he protests at her first statement. Didn't every cat want to live and be happy? Why did some need more than others? Then, comes her tree comment, which is lost on him. I'm not a tree, he thinks bitterly, but holds his tongue. It doesn't need saying.

Sharpshadow's disappointment pierces him like none other. Not even Duckshimmer could instill such a sense of failure in him with that hardset frown. Sneezepaw lowers his gaze as she speaks, and feels his ears burn as more cats gather. He feels like a kitten being lectured on lessons he should already know.. lessons that were already taught to him, again and again. Briarthorn, too, doesn't quite earn his gaze when she speaks to him - she scares him, actually. "I don't wanna die," he admits meekly - it's all he can manage to say right now, between the thoughts of shame and fear that torment his mind. He knows he is weak - any cat who does not fight is vulnerable. If the alternative to causing death is suffering it, then, well.. perhaps he has no choice, does he?

Mockingbirdcry tries to provide comfort, but like the cats before, it doesn't seem to apply. It's a little comforting, he supposes, to know that there are cat that don't fight - but not when defined by their profession. "No," he answers stubbornly, in more than a mere whisper this time. "That's different. You're a queen. I don't want to be a queen." But there is no in between, is there, from queen to warrior? From lazing about in the nursery and watching kits play to hunting, patrolling and battling. He can't just.. be.

When Smogmaw appears, Sneezepaw tenses. The deputy garnered a similar reaction to Chillestar and Sharpshadow; intimidating, powerful, someone who commands respect and is to be listened to. But this time, his croaking voice offers some solace where the others have not. Though Sneezepaw still feels stubborn and scared, Smogmaw seems to explain things in a perfect harmony of empathetic and realistic. Briarthorn's sternness, the absolute of it all, and Mockingbirdcry's perspective of her own peace.

Of course, Sneezepaw wasn't at the great battle - he never knew anything other than the five Clans. He can't fathom why separation would do them any good, when they could all live and hunt together. But then again, he'd never experienced the inner turmoil that comes with living in a large group, for ShadowClan was mostly at peace within during his lifetime: he can't imagine how large numbers leads to hierarchy, how the strong get the best picks and the weak are left behind. How so many cats with differing opinions could lead to arguments, and then to real fights. In his mind, all he can picture is a tight-knit community like ShadowClan, but on a larger scale, one where they did not fight within camp walls.

But now isn't the time to ask for stories on the colonies before. Smogmaw is already explaining enough. Sneezepaw feels disappointed to not receive the answer he was hoping for; that he could exist in a world between, that he single-handedly could solve the troubles that plagued them all and bring prosperity to all Clans, that there would be no more bloodshed at his request. An absurd request, of course, but he is only a young dreamer.

He remains quiet as Smogmaw speaks. pondering over his words. The deputy mentions peace outside the territories, and for just a split moment Sneezepaw wonders what it must be like. He wonders if he could go there, and never worry again - then realizes he must be talking about the journey itself, with cats of other Clans, who didn't have territory lines between them on their quest for a necessity. Finally, when the deputy finishes, Sneezepaw is left with a quivering frown, let-down and seething with shame. Why would he expect anything different?

There is one lesson shared between everyone, the very point they're trying to get at, and there is no other way. "So.. if I'm weak -" he almost spits the word, like venom on his tongue " - then I won't make it. I don't.. I don't wanna die.." If that's what it took to survive, to fit in, to not be the prime example of a failed apprentice that he was, then.. maybe he could learn. Sneezepaw has heard enough. "I'm going to find something to do," he mutters with finality as he rises to his paws and dismisses himself from the group, without so much as a thanks for any of their advice. It's not what he wanted to hear, but it is reality. Sneezepaw has much to think about..


// out! <3
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• sneezekit SNEEZEPAW
  ━━ APPRENTICE of SHADOWCLAN | 7 MOONS ,, ages every 2nd
  ━━ DUCKSHIMMER xx NPC | SIBLING to SINGEPAW and SWALLOWPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | MENTORED by SHARPSHADOW​
• 
  
  
• speech is #ffcc8a​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Well, as a warrior, Sharpshadow could now hate what Briarthorn says. Her words bring the bristle of her pelt to more - than - idle. A black nose scrunches in her direction. No, he didn't fight anyone because it was in his nature. He didn't want to be told that, and no apprentice should be told either. They fought because they had to fight to stay alive. The strong live, the weak die, yeah... But that's because they strong have to be that way. Did any of that make sense?

Mockingbirdcry, she thinks... Did not tell Sneezepaw what he wanted to hear. She seems nearly as aimless as Sneezepaw herself, simply noting that she doesn't fight, and that she has not died for it yet... It's lucky, what she does. A Clan without warriors could not be a clan with cats like her in it.

He's inwardly groaning, already, as Smogmaw starts. Well, he's lying already. She lets him know that she knows with a pointed look. But then it's retracted; the statement changed. A history lesson, now. Sharpshadow looks on with an inset frown. Peace. A skeptical gaze says, really? In that same moment, Smogmaw looks at him. Oh.

Well, he doesn't know what the hell Sneezepaw is meant to do with that information.

If Sharpshadow clawed a ThunderClanner's nose off in a time of peace, why did he do it? Because it's in his nature? His own spit tastes foul. Sneezepaw does not receive it much better, either. He stumbles. Falls quiet. Stares at... nothing. Is this what he looked like as an apprentice? Did he still look like this? He tries to quell the bristling of his fur. For once, it sort of works. And Sneezepaw's voice is angry: So if I'm weak... Then I won't make it. Both of Sharpshadow's brows raise, the expression spelling, Duh.

...And now he's storming off. The warrior's fur spikes again. He calls after him, " But you won't be weak, Sneezepaw. " I'll make sure of it. It's annoying. It's stupid. Storming off wouldn't get him anywhere... and Sharpshadow's turning into a crabby old warrior, isn't he? The warrior groans. " I hope you didn't just convince my apprentice to leave ShadowClan, " he mutters.​