- Oct 22, 2022
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Smogstar has taken a restrained stance ever since becoming leader. He's been playing it lowkey, allowing the impact of his position to gradually unfold without the burden being too severe. Giving his clanmates space to breathe, space to ruminate upon their losses. Time for the wounds to heal. Time for ShadowClan to come to terms with its change in leadership.
This new levelheadedness, this unobtrusive demeanour, suits him, scales well with the solemn atmosphere around camp these days. He's keenly aware of how brazen and bombastic his initial addresses had gone. Those words spoken in passion, outpoured like wildfire from within, and he doesn't regret having said them. What flames once were are now embers, still-burning with fervent purpose, but dampened into flickering coals. He'll reignite the kindling again, but he's found his purchase. For now, all his focus need be upon securing a sense of normalcy, familiarity, and routine. Day-by-day, forward movement only.
Raindrops lash against Smogstar's back, trickle into those woolly curls tucked underneath his neck. He hasn't yet groomed the morning's tussles from his fur, nor last night's, or all of yesterday's for that matter. A polished exterior isn't imperative just yet, and he can bear the feeling for a little while longer. In his thoughts, preparations for the next meeting, a mental list itemised to the last syllable, save for one article: who he must appoint to deputy.
He'll sit on the matter some more.
He sits now, facing the peaceful wind. A weighty grey mist has set its sights upon the marshland today, and he can scarcely see from one side of camp to the other. Serene. The ambient pitter-patter of droplets against his skull, his back, the surrounding trees, brings calm to nerves often shot. This rain is a blessing, this breeze a boon. Nature lends its paw in quiet assurance.
For all he's mouthed off about 'no hesitation', the new leader is no fool. A fox must find its balance before making its leap. Elsewise, it'll trip and break its own nose, and Smogstar does not like the idea much. A lazy morning is an opportunity unto itself, anyhow. It gives room for rapport building, meditating on the past moon's endeavours, soaking up the gentle pace of a slow day. "Dawn patrols'll wait a bit longer," he says to the first lead warrior passing him by. "It's all grey 'n dreary out, might as well enjoy the peace for a li'l bit."
This new levelheadedness, this unobtrusive demeanour, suits him, scales well with the solemn atmosphere around camp these days. He's keenly aware of how brazen and bombastic his initial addresses had gone. Those words spoken in passion, outpoured like wildfire from within, and he doesn't regret having said them. What flames once were are now embers, still-burning with fervent purpose, but dampened into flickering coals. He'll reignite the kindling again, but he's found his purchase. For now, all his focus need be upon securing a sense of normalcy, familiarity, and routine. Day-by-day, forward movement only.
Raindrops lash against Smogstar's back, trickle into those woolly curls tucked underneath his neck. He hasn't yet groomed the morning's tussles from his fur, nor last night's, or all of yesterday's for that matter. A polished exterior isn't imperative just yet, and he can bear the feeling for a little while longer. In his thoughts, preparations for the next meeting, a mental list itemised to the last syllable, save for one article: who he must appoint to deputy.
He'll sit on the matter some more.
He sits now, facing the peaceful wind. A weighty grey mist has set its sights upon the marshland today, and he can scarcely see from one side of camp to the other. Serene. The ambient pitter-patter of droplets against his skull, his back, the surrounding trees, brings calm to nerves often shot. This rain is a blessing, this breeze a boon. Nature lends its paw in quiet assurance.
For all he's mouthed off about 'no hesitation', the new leader is no fool. A fox must find its balance before making its leap. Elsewise, it'll trip and break its own nose, and Smogstar does not like the idea much. A lazy morning is an opportunity unto itself, anyhow. It gives room for rapport building, meditating on the past moon's endeavours, soaking up the gentle pace of a slow day. "Dawn patrols'll wait a bit longer," he says to the first lead warrior passing him by. "It's all grey 'n dreary out, might as well enjoy the peace for a li'l bit."
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