- Jul 10, 2022
- 421
- 120
- 43
❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
camp behold the jester ;; open.
- Thread starter hyacinthbreath
- Start date
CLAYFUR
[1/23/24] ✦ I GOT JUST ONE LIFE
- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
RiverClan’s newest warriors have caused much less trouble than Clay initially expected—like, he expected betrayal or fighting, but both she-cats have been relatively… normal. It’s weird, kind of. He feels kind of rude, actually, for thinking so lowly of Bonejaw and Hyacinthbreath and their families. Bonejaw even put moss in her mouth for him! There’s no doubt she’s a real RiverClanner now!
Hyacinthbreath is still a mystery to the chocolate tom, though. She seems to care a lot for her apprentice, and Clayfur can respect her for that. But besides that, he hasn’t been around the ex-WindClanner enough to learn much about her. As long as she isn’t a threat to his family, then he doesn’t mind her presence, but it seems some of his clanmates do. He catches some of the stares directed her way, and his own pelt prickles in sympathy. Ugh.
He’s settled down with a feather and some reeds, trying frustratedly to force together some reeds and a feather. He’s making a gift for his sweetheart, and he’s beginning to get frustrated because it’s just not working out. So when the she-cat settles in front of him, Clay is grateful for the distraction. He’s also confused, though, because what? What made her choose him? "Uhh," he says. Then, with more confidence: "Uh. I’m not really doing anything. I guess you could help with this, if you want." He gestures to his pile of scraps and shrugs. It’s not like he’s been actually getting anything done, just halfheartedly playing around with them.
Hyacinthbreath is still a mystery to the chocolate tom, though. She seems to care a lot for her apprentice, and Clayfur can respect her for that. But besides that, he hasn’t been around the ex-WindClanner enough to learn much about her. As long as she isn’t a threat to his family, then he doesn’t mind her presence, but it seems some of his clanmates do. He catches some of the stares directed her way, and his own pelt prickles in sympathy. Ugh.
He’s settled down with a feather and some reeds, trying frustratedly to force together some reeds and a feather. He’s making a gift for his sweetheart, and he’s beginning to get frustrated because it’s just not working out. So when the she-cat settles in front of him, Clay is grateful for the distraction. He’s also confused, though, because what? What made her choose him? "Uhh," he says. Then, with more confidence: "Uh. I’m not really doing anything. I guess you could help with this, if you want." He gestures to his pile of scraps and shrugs. It’s not like he’s been actually getting anything done, just halfheartedly playing around with them.
[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]
- Nov 17, 2022
- 401
- 80
- 28
Being a former kittypet, Ravenpaw had been shown some mercy and generosity in having a place in RiverClan. However, that had been at the dawn of the Clan, so he did not feel as if he didn't belong here, just that he had been given sanctuary that he was forced to accept because he would not lose his brother.
It was hard to justify Hyacinthbreath's arrival with that logic. Watching her sit idly made him irrationally furious. She had chosen to be a drain on their resources by coming here, and was continuing to be one—through no fault of her own this time, this time it was the high positions—by her apparent sentencing to camp.
He was sitting not too far from Clayfur, resting his sore paws after a hunting trip, and looked up, eyes narrowed. He could not help but shoot the former WindClan warrior a glare, wrapping his tail closer to his body. A snarky, Ravenpaw-esque remark was just barely restrained past his lips.
It was hard to justify Hyacinthbreath's arrival with that logic. Watching her sit idly made him irrationally furious. She had chosen to be a drain on their resources by coming here, and was continuing to be one—through no fault of her own this time, this time it was the high positions—by her apparent sentencing to camp.
He was sitting not too far from Clayfur, resting his sore paws after a hunting trip, and looked up, eyes narrowed. He could not help but shoot the former WindClan warrior a glare, wrapping his tail closer to his body. A snarky, Ravenpaw-esque remark was just barely restrained past his lips.
There he saw Uncle Clayfur, and sparking within him lit a twinge of disappointment in himself that he had failed to get him some sort of gift. He loved to bring his uncle rocks, especially those that looked like his pelt or eyes, but... well, since leaf-bare had started he'd had little luck in finding stuff that was good enough to give away- and yet, not too good that he wanted to keep it. But- well, he wouldn't refrain from talking to his uncle just because he had nothing to give him- even if he was talking to someone else, too. He was asking for help from, uh- Hyena- Hyacinth-something, that one from WindClan.
He flashed the grey feline a smile- and, upon noticing Ravenpaw sitting nearby, offered his fellow apprentice a small wave of silent greeting before setting his bulging eyes upon Clayfur's handiwork. "Are you mm-makin' a nest, Uncle Clayfur?" he asked, contemplation aswim in pond-water eyes. It didn't... look like a nest, really. But it didn't look like anything else, either.
He flashed the grey feline a smile- and, upon noticing Ravenpaw sitting nearby, offered his fellow apprentice a small wave of silent greeting before setting his bulging eyes upon Clayfur's handiwork. "Are you mm-makin' a nest, Uncle Clayfur?" he asked, contemplation aswim in pond-water eyes. It didn't... look like a nest, really. But it didn't look like anything else, either.
( penned by pin )
STORMWHISKER
↣ far from home
- Sep 25, 2022
- 21
- 3
- 3
Clan politics all but escaped Stormpaw. When he had heard that Hyacinthbreath had shown up on the border asking for sanctuary he could not see the big deal. Wind Clan had supposedly attacked them over a rabbit but Stormpaw did not see cats as a group yet. Hyacinthbreath was not the one who had landed Smokethroat in the medicine cats den so why shouldn’t she be allowed to flee especially if Wind Clan was as bad as everyone said they were.
He sees her in camp now, talking to a couple of his other clanmates. The blue pelted tom comes to stand next to his den mates, Fernpaw and Ravenpaw, his green eyes looking them over, gauging their reactions. Were they among the clanmates who cared about the former lead warriors presence here in their clan? He doubts Clayfur does. That Tom didn’t seem to care about anything but getting himself killed by eating random shit.
"Why does your voice sound like that?" he asks, in reference to her strange accent. It’s a rather blunt question, but Storm had never been known for his charm or his tact.
- Jul 10, 2022
- 421
- 120
- 43
Is that little shit going to stare at me until my pelt burns off? Geez! She thinks to herself, sparing a glance back at Ravenpaw to let him know that she knows he's watching her. That she doesn't care, before she turns back to Clayfur to begin her hand at weaving. It's clumsy, and definitely not skilled- raggedy and uneven, falling apart at the seams. Her claw hooks through a reed, ruining it. A grunt of irritation sounds.
Another apprentice arrives, but this one doesn't address her with anything but a smile of greeting. She gives him a curt, polite nod in response- not really one for smiling around others. "Is that what we're making? A nest?" Hyacinthbreath asks curiously, obviously unsure herself. "I was thinking of a circle of reeds or something.." She grumbles, her ear twitching as yet another child comes up and asks her a question. This time, a bit less subtle and a bit more rude. How many fucking kids are in this place? He asks about her accent, and Hyacinthbreath has to resist her irritation. Was that any of his business?
Still, she'd give in to a little curiosity if that meant the kid would shut up and leave her alone. It's surprising she even had apprentices of her own, especially with how Coldsnap was as an apprentice. Stubborn, always rebellious, and fighty. "It's how my colony spoke, where I'm from. You do realize Cicadastar's accent is not much different from mine?" She asks in return, attempting to trip up the young tom and make him leave her alone. "My father's accent was much thicker than mine. Deeper in voice, as well." The memory of her father stings, oddly. She remembers the way he looked at her, as if she was too much for him to deal with. Her shoulder fur fluffs up at the thought.
❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞
S
sturgeonpaw.
Guest
I CAN'T DO THIS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND
Seemed to be apprentices bug adults day, huh? Shaking his dampened pelt slightly, a scruffy, spiky grey tabby with fish bones shoved into his thick tail made his way over with half-lidded, vaguely interested green eyes focused on the Windclan cat's paws as she attempts to weave the reeds, standing not too far from his fellow apprentices. His large ears were perked in mild interest as he listened to them all talk. Nest... accent... nothing of true intrigue. While his denmates were busy catching minnows, Sturgeonpaw's mind swam with bigger questions, questions that only this former grass-dancing cat could answer.
"So, rabbit-chaser, did you and your little clan do rituals under the moon or something?" He asked, the question slipping from his teeth as casually as though he asked about the currents of the river or how the weather looked, green eyes rising from her busy paws to watch her face. Perhaps he was the only one who cared, but, honestly, he knew many of them wondered the same. His knowledge of Windclan was limited to the stories and rumors his clan told of them and his father's own snide comments made after any gathering or meeting. What he knew was that Sootstar wasn't much of a popular cat to anybody and that her clan was like a bunch of minnows. And here, one of those former little guppies had braved against the current and now found itself here, and Sturgeonpaw saw it as PRIME ability to learn about those weird... grass cats.
"So, rabbit-chaser, did you and your little clan do rituals under the moon or something?" He asked, the question slipping from his teeth as casually as though he asked about the currents of the river or how the weather looked, green eyes rising from her busy paws to watch her face. Perhaps he was the only one who cared, but, honestly, he knew many of them wondered the same. His knowledge of Windclan was limited to the stories and rumors his clan told of them and his father's own snide comments made after any gathering or meeting. What he knew was that Sootstar wasn't much of a popular cat to anybody and that her clan was like a bunch of minnows. And here, one of those former little guppies had braved against the current and now found itself here, and Sturgeonpaw saw it as PRIME ability to learn about those weird... grass cats.
CLAYFUR
[1/23/24] ✦ I GOT JUST ONE LIFE
- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
The silence from Ravenpaw makes Clay just a bit nervous that the apprentice is waiting for a chance to say something rude—he’s tired of the snapping, the infighting over a couple outsiders who Cicadastar has clearly already approved of. But then Fernpaw makes his way over, and he perks up a bit more. Those big, big eyes are focused on him, and he offers his nephew a broad grin. "No, not a nest," he replies, laughter in his tone.
He doesn’t spare a glance to Stormpaw, but he is also curious about their new clanmate’s voice. Her explanation makes sense—she and Cicadastar do share similar accents. Maybe that’s why the black-patched leader is so accepting of her presence in the clan? Either way, the chocolate tom doesn’t mind her being here, as long as her loyalties lie on the river’s side of the border.
He sighs when Hyacinth also clocks his mess of feather and reed as a nest, and he lets his chin drop toward his chest in defeat. "It’s not supposed to be a nest… I think I’m failing bad enough that, like, it’s gonna end up as one." Because it’s supposed to be a nice accessory for the tom he’s so gone for, but obviously it’s not turning out as he’d hoped. At the very least, the ugly failure of a craft could be used as nesting material.
The lilac tabby settles to try her paw at it, and right off the bat she’s struggling just about as much as Clay is. Her claws aren’t delicate with the reeds, paws harsh against the materials. "You’re just as bad as I am. Makes me feel better about it, at least," he chuckles, giving the she-cat a lighthearted smile. It’s accommodating rather than pointed; greeting the tough molly with humor seems like a good way to win her over.
Not everyone seems to be interested in winning over one of the newest warriors of RiverClan, though. Sturgeonpaw calls her a rabbit-chaser and it’s so, so smooth in tone, slippery—yet, like the fish he’s named after, the apprentice seems guarded. He talks of moonlight rituals, and is it curiousity or an accusation? Clayfur sighs. He’s been having such a good day, too. But he’s the only other adult present, and he’s going to stem that rumor before it starts. "I don’t think WindClan does rituals. They’re just a clan, like us."
He doesn’t spare a glance to Stormpaw, but he is also curious about their new clanmate’s voice. Her explanation makes sense—she and Cicadastar do share similar accents. Maybe that’s why the black-patched leader is so accepting of her presence in the clan? Either way, the chocolate tom doesn’t mind her being here, as long as her loyalties lie on the river’s side of the border.
He sighs when Hyacinth also clocks his mess of feather and reed as a nest, and he lets his chin drop toward his chest in defeat. "It’s not supposed to be a nest… I think I’m failing bad enough that, like, it’s gonna end up as one." Because it’s supposed to be a nice accessory for the tom he’s so gone for, but obviously it’s not turning out as he’d hoped. At the very least, the ugly failure of a craft could be used as nesting material.
The lilac tabby settles to try her paw at it, and right off the bat she’s struggling just about as much as Clay is. Her claws aren’t delicate with the reeds, paws harsh against the materials. "You’re just as bad as I am. Makes me feel better about it, at least," he chuckles, giving the she-cat a lighthearted smile. It’s accommodating rather than pointed; greeting the tough molly with humor seems like a good way to win her over.
Not everyone seems to be interested in winning over one of the newest warriors of RiverClan, though. Sturgeonpaw calls her a rabbit-chaser and it’s so, so smooth in tone, slippery—yet, like the fish he’s named after, the apprentice seems guarded. He talks of moonlight rituals, and is it curiousity or an accusation? Clayfur sighs. He’s been having such a good day, too. But he’s the only other adult present, and he’s going to stem that rumor before it starts. "I don’t think WindClan does rituals. They’re just a clan, like us."
[ WHAT'S MY AGE AGAIN? ]