birds dont sing // intro

[salmonshade]

It’s a particularly hot day, the sun is beaming overhead and there isn’t a single cloud in sight. It’d be beautiful- if there were a breeze, if there were any shade at all… But unfortunately, being mid-day, long shadows are only casted directly underneath the willow trees in their territory. Salmon flutters her eyes shut as she begins to feel the sweltering heat build beneath her fur, a headache already forming at both sides of her head. Her patrol had ended quite a bit ago, and with being on the hunting patrol later, she had leisure time…

Too hot, too much- she feels sweat start building on her paw-pads. Irritation shoots through her much like an erupting flame and whenever she opens her eyes she finds herself near the dwindling river. Mud and sediment cakes the sides of the banks where it once lapped at, causing an irritated sniff to come from her, ears swiveling back just slightly. It’s at least enough to beat the heat and so she starts forwards, hastily taking no time to dip herself in. Her paws tread water for just one second before shes immediately out, a frown on her face. Even the river is hot, the realization causes both ears to go back again. Her pelt drips with uncomfortably warm water and shes not even sure what to do. It’s miserable out here… She’s sure the dens are even worse and so she opts to just groom her pelt, her tail lightly lashing back and forth. The heat irritates her and all she wishes was that it was time for her evening patrol.

₊˚.༄ info

• -> salmon ,, salmonshade
  -> cis female ,, she/her ,, 30 months
  -> warrior of riverclan ,, former marsh grouper
  -> fluffy & dainty chocolate tortie smoke with low white and blue eyes
  -> “speech, ff91a4” ,, thoughts
  -> lesbian ,, single
  -> smells like warm flowers & freshly cut grass
  

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[FALLINGLIGHT]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⸻ It's days like this that Fallinglight feels sorry for Saltsting. More so than usual, anyway; his dark pelt isn't ideal for skies with few clouds and a strong sun, and if Fallinglight's hot, only partly black as he is, he can't even imagine what Saltsting must be feeling. He considers himself lucky next to RiverClan's darker warriors, which is really the only reason he's still going about the day with his usual energy. As bad as it is, it could always be worse, and the only clouds a sour mood brings are metaphorical.

He splashes his face in an effort to cool down, smacking the river surface, though even the water's feeling warmer than it should. Still, he splashes himself some more in what is probably an attempt made in vain. It's clear he's not the only one who's found that the water isn't quite a refuge: not far away, Salmonshade grooms the river-dampened parts of her fur, everything about her speaking of discomfort.

"Sun's in a brutal mood, huh?" He trots closer, fur beginning to curl. It does so more awkwardly than usual— the moisture's enough to loosen it, but it's drying a little too quickly to properly set the waves. "At least we're pretty light, you and me. Think the black cats might've melted; have you seen any lately?"
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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 / / \ \ 𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙰 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 / / 07.25.23 \ \ 𝙵𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙴

• —ooc:
• — FALLINGLIGHT / / 11 moons old / / amab and uses masculine pronouns; will be startled by the use of any others.
  — warrior of riverclan / / earned warrior name early at 10 moons / / skilled but not experienced / / mentoring [n / a].
  — npc parents / / father died in the great battle and mother left when he was apprenticed / / no contact w / siblings.
  — flirtatious & disastrous bisexual / / fairly indiscriminate (even when he should be) / / closed to long-term romance.
  
  a fairly trim, athletic cream tabby and black chimera with high white. fur is thick and a bit sharp, though tends to soften and curl primarily around his face and tail when wet. eyes are a bright, gleaming blue at home with the river on clear, sunny days. he is rarely without a devil-may-care grin, though despite his daring personality, has yet to accumulate noticeable scarring.
  
• dear shell, starclan, it was hot, and salmonshade was clearly agitated because of it. i thought i'd try to distract her at least, but then i started thinking about ravensong and saltsting again.

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[SALTSTING]

It is kind of Fallinglight to worry after him, but in truth...Saltsting frequently prefers these days. Both for the comfort of burning heat upon shoulders that had for too long been bathed entirely in darkness, and for beauty of RiverClan's territory glistening beneath the golden sun. Most of RiverClan would think him incapable of such thought– they would think it unlike him to see beauty in anything. But it is objective fact. The light glitters silver across the water's surface, and Fallinglight's fur curls like its very waves. On breezier days, there is little that could bother him at all when it is warm enough to truly rest. And though he is not so melted as the other young warrior assumed, it...does not surprise him that he had seen so little of him. It felt best to avoid him for reasons he could not name. Finding him speaking to Salmonshade forces something to spark and curdle before it can be adequately suffocated.

"I do not know how the others are faring, but I for one find this weather–" A beat, where he wrangles a new word from his tongue. "Pleasant," he tries. His gaze returns to the water as well. If it were not so shallow...perhaps then this day would not be so miserable to those less accustomed. "In times like this I do not blame those that remained in the marsh. Hunting at night is easier on the paws than hot stone and sand."

＞ˏˋ  OOC NOTES  ╱╱ 07.22.2023 "𝘐 𝘋𝘖𝘕'𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌," 𝘐 𝘚𝘈𝘠, 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘠, 𝘈𝘚 𝘐 𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘋𝘌𝘌𝘗𝘓𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• saltsting. formerly named idk yet.
  —— cis male. he - him // they - them. unoffended by others. 11 moons old. riverclanner.
  —— sexuality unknown. seems rather impossible to form close relationships with at first.
  —— half pine + marsh heritage. his father being a skyclan kittypet is general knowledge.
  —— earned his warrior name early despite a,, slight disagreement with cicadastar over it.
  
  Being the son of a kittypet, there is much there that Saltsting has inherited. From the sharp, angular profile of an Oriental Shorthair to the trim, glossy coat– he may as well have been his father's clone were one to not look too closely. He is a dark black smoke with a smattering of low white, particularly on his paws and muzzle, as well as very dark brown eyes he inherited from his mother.

• "speech"

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[willowroot]

( ☾ ) "we're due for a good breeze, that's certain," the vocals ring from a few fox lengths away where the dark smoke femme is waist deep in the water, watching the heat as it warbles in the air. willowroot has never been good with warmth- growing up on the cold decks of twoleg ships, her long fur and bushy tail give her an advantage in snowy weather. she's at a loss for what to do when the days turn blistering. "we need our water back. the river's barely a puddle right now. it's almost like we're in the shadowclan marshes, what with all the mud." turning in vain from her attempt at cooling off, the former lead hauls herself up the bank, underbelly dripping with lukewarm water. she steps away to shake herself off, feeling only a slight relief in her self-created wind before the heaviness of humidity presses upon her pelt once more.

"saltsting, i don't know how yer tolerating this," she speaks to her fellow dark-coated warrior. the tom finds this pleasant, something willowroot cannot imagine ever feeling about the scorching rays. "a warm day is nice if it's got some wind to it, and yer perched on sunningrocks, but this is... eugh." whiskers twitch as the feline retreats as deeply as they can into the meager shadow of an overhanging tree.​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Snakeblink follows in Willowroot’s wake, paddling through the shallow water after his fellow lead. His face doesn’t look relaxed, honestly the expression would seem foreign there, but he does have a content air to him, eyes slightly narrowed even as they stare at nothing, the tabby distracted by other thoughts. Unlike the long-furred cats and like Saltsting, though he hesitates to voice that opinion, the heat agrees with him — far more than the cold weather, which blows right through his thin, short pelt and freezes him to the bones.

”There’s no better feeling than slipping into the river after lying in the sun for a while,” he adds wistfully to Willowroot’s mention of Sunningrock, ”But for that we would need a river, rather than this thin stream of mud.”

Despite his words, he lies down on the stony bank instead of seeking relief in the shade. Knowing how quickly the air can cool in Leaf-fall, he cannot help but wish to enjoy the sun’s rays on his fur while he still can. ”No wonder Ravensong keeps to his medicine den: with his pelt, he must be melting,” he comments idly, glancing at the two younger warriors.
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 43 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[DIPPERFROST]

Born in the thralls of leaf-bare, Dipperpaw had yet to experience a green-leaf before this. When the weather had started to get hot, the river drying up, she had been confused. Why is it so hot? She had thought to herself, and where did the water go when it was not here? Did this happen every turn of the seasons? First a flood and now a drought, would it always be something, she wonders. Was the river more of a hinderance than a blessing? She casts her multi-colored eyes to the adults present as they speak about the heat. Jaypaw had a darker pelt, like Saltsting and Ravensong and she wonders quietly to herself how her sister is faring in this weather. She had been lucky, most of her body was white, light colored. Her sister is not so lucky. Perhaps she should check up on her later.

"Does this happen every year?" she asks whoever is closest to her, her multi-colored eyes never leaving the thin stream of water. She does not specify which she means though, the river or the heat. Even she is not certain. Perhaps both. Did the beavers have a habit of doing this? She cannot help but wonder then what Beaver tastes like.
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