camp blood moon love .. reveal !

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Hazecloud had never seen within the willow den before. It was a sacred home to only those star-touched could inhabit, always had been since the dawn of RiverClan's days. It had taken a breath, a second, a glance to a friend, her kits, and they moved forth to amend what had been abandoned.

The scent of salt spray had grown stale when they first entered. Tufts of black and white-tipped fur tucked between ancient bark and old, dry moss. The kittens did their best to hush their excited laughter, parading berry-stained pads against the earth while their older siblings stamped their own colorful designs into the rooted hollow walls. Salmonshade had carefully tucked away the old moss, now withered and decayed, into the tall grasses behind the willow tree. And the queen, knowing best how to weave the reeds and shells, built a proper bed to fit within.

Perfect timing had been swept away the same moment Hazecloud had been plucked away, following Riverpaw, then Eveningkit, and only two had returned home. Chaos still took hold over the Clan after- Robinheart sustained injuries so severe, she wondered if she would be able to return to the nursery. Midnightpaw's mother unfortunately fell to the talons of an eagle. Were these omens for her? The only creatures to have laid harm on her throughout the journey, now terrorizing her Clanmates!

The feeling of desperation only grew, gnawing for a relief, just a moment of calm. There would never be a perfect time, not anymore anyhow, and so the queen gathered her kits and Salmonshade, summoned her mate forth and led her towards the dim entry of the willow tree. "Don't open them just yet." She warned in a lighthearted tone. A few waves of her paw motioned for the rest to enter first, then parted the tall sedge patch to allow more light within. Colorful pawprints dotted around the den with each distinct shape of their childrens.

Riverpaw's bulky pads and toes. Pebblepaw's careful, perfect placements. Shellpaw's smaller, dainty prints. Twinklekit's excitable splatters. Eveningkit's clumsy smears. And Horizonkit's gentle stamps. All surrounding the center of a large nest that had been dressed in shells and deliberately placed stone at the edge. Their nest. "Okay, you can open them now!" Hazecloud held her breath, her tail-tip twitching rapidly in anticipation.

  • @lichenstar @salmonshade @shellpaw @PEBBLEPAW @EVENINGKIT @HORIZONKIT @TWINKLEKIT, but no need to wait for them! everyone welcome to take a peak :)

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    Hazecloud
    —⊰⋅ Queen of RiverClan
    —⊰⋅ She/Her
    "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
    —⊰⋅ LH blue smoke with green eyes.

 
Seeing so many clustered around a den long abandoned catches Cicadaflight's eye as he's dumping his latest catch onto the fresh - kill pile. He pays little attention to the den he'd grew up in—an intentional gesture, meant to soften old hurts and keep him from dwelling on . . . other things long lost. Still, he can't help but wander over when he spots the excitable bundle of kittens and apprentices bobbing around the unusual trio of adults; Cicadaflight lurks awkwardly behind the happy family, easily able to see into the den from his own formidable stature with some careful tilting of the head.

When he'd inhabited it, the den had smelled of smoky salt and damp moss, bringing with each breath the scent of a thunderstorm over green fields, clouds waiting to break—familiar scents that had enveloped, then gone stale, then disappeared entirely. Perhaps he should have thought to retrieve some of the old bedding, but it hardly seemed worth it, and while he didn't want to intrude into the little family's joy, he can't keep a small frown off his muzzle. He has too much to mourn.

" It looks . . . nice, " he manages in low tones to anyone who happens to be listening. Certainly it'd never glowed so when he had inhabited it, splattered with colorful markers of the love that held the tightly - knit family together. His throat feels tight, almost choked, as he watches; what kind of cat would he be, if this had been how he'd grown up? Three more moons of childhood, all of it spent safely in the camp he'd been born in, two living fathers instead of memories quickly fading—one more rapidly than the other.

" It certainly never looked that good when I slept there, " he finally chokes out, tamping down the grief, refusing to destroy the obvious joy of the impromptu gathering. This isn't my home anymore. This isn't my family, he thinks, and turns to go.

// Emo ass. In and out unless stopped!


" speech "

 

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  • She swears she's stubbed her toes far too many times for her liking in the whole parade that Hazecloud has taken her on... She can hear the scuffle of feet smaller than hers collecting around her ankles and brushing past with barely repressed giggles of delight. Whatever this is... it is something they seem more than proud of...

    A sigh rushes past impatient lips, amusement at her mate's persistent 'don't look yet' stealing the frustration out of the thoughts that suggest this is a waste of time. Foliage shifts under gentle touch and she can count them... One, two, three, four, five... A sixth that smells of citrus and cloudy skies... And then permission at last.

    They stand before the willow den, sending a seizing panic through her chest to behold it, even without having pressed inside- they're in there. Those six sets of paws, and now a seventh as Hazecloud herself presses the brush aside to invite her in. She'd told them to leave this den alone. A heat simmers uncomfortably in her belly, makes her teeth clench in a thoughtless reaction of bereaved anger.

    Whatever piece of him was left here- "What did you..."

    Brushing past her mate with a confused glower, pale eyes do not first notice the additions to the den and instead, flitter towards the gaping absences. There is no shadowy pelt in a messy nest... None of the stones or flowers or gifts that had littered his den as gifts from his family and friends. Even the scent here... nothing lingers to be remembered.

    Colors along the walls strike her as unusual, catching stinging eyes by surprise as the realization of their purpose dawns on her. Three sets, smaller than the others... and three more, round and softened by youth that doesn't match the more rugged prints of adults who have walked paths far outside modern clan territories.

    "Oh..."

    The soreness between her ribs flutters with a swell of relief... Carefully, as if fearful they will disappear, she wanders closer to the berry-painted markings to trace her paw over a rugged stamp representing a missing son, trailing over the others to compare how tiny they are when set beside her own. All of them were here... It would not last forever, as nothing ever did... but for now...

    Cicadaflight's voice is a hollow sounding thing... like a child looking back on the shattered stained glass that had once depicted his great legacy. She doesn't remember what it had looked like when Cicadastar had kept himself here, wrapped up tightly around Smokethroat and their tiny triplets... Had it been as messy as their affections...? Complicated and twisting...

    She doesn't know what to say to the echo that steps away, growing fainter in his departure from a moment that feels decidedly not his. Lichenstar doesn't blame him... for all its beauty and the tender care and love that went into this project, it still burns to be reminded of who slept here before. The nest is carefully tended to, woven with delicate trinkets and a single river rock that isn't plain enough to be dismissed as decor alone.

    "It's lovely... really..." but even in her sincerity, her voice wobbles to confirm the end of an era. "I think... there's enough room... just this once... for us all to share." A part of her doubts that Shellpaw and Pebblepaw would want something so childish as to cuddle with their mothers and younger siblings like they had when they were smaller but an even more selfish part of her hopes they do.

    "What do you think... a sleepover?"

    A new memory... a last chance to hold them all in the same place before they are too grown up to do so. And maybe... in some small way, it means having Riverpaw with them too in the form of phantom stains of his paws along the walls.
  • about

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    penned by tieirlys
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Eveningkit would not dare admit, but she had sneaked into this mysterious den with its mysterious veil of remembrance: a leader not yet forgotten. Even the big, brave Eveningkit did not manage to really enter it — it felt wrong, like she was intruding on something private despite how empty the willow den has been —, only let her head pass through the invisible barrier when nobody was looking. She can't even claim she doesn't understand why Lichenstar hasn't already moved in... their rightful place even if it's further from the nursery, but one that no doubt screams of dear (and bitter) memories.

Now, with Hazecloud's guidance, the family transforms it. Eveningkit almost feels out of breath by the time they're done, frolicking with her siblings and giggling at her own jokes. It looks all but perfect. She's secretly thankful Salmonshade had been the one tasked with cleaning out old remains of Smokestar- and the thought almost strikes her as guilty, but it felt even more weird to keep the fur around. Lichenstar definitely does not need more sad reminders.

The berries and other gifts of nature has already dried on her paws as she shifts her weight from one side to another in anticipation. It's quite unnecessary, but she hushes her littermates and siblings when their parents finally make their way to them... as if she isn't the loudest of the bunch already.

Her breath falters. Will mom like this?

Surely they will. It's cozy here; freshly built nest, simultaneously careful and clumsy pawprints decorating the sides, everything in a tidy order. And more importantly than all: crafted and cleaned with love.

When Lichenstar first opens her eyes, Eveningkit does not dare blink, lest she misses something within those blue depths. She does not let joy dawn on her face; that's what Eveningkit had foolishly expected despite the vague knowledge she has of how her mom feels about this den in particular. Something twists her guts- fear, maybe, that all the shared effort will go unnoticed or not appreciated for what it is.

And to make it even worse, Cicadaflight is weird about it all. "Don't ruin it," Eveningkit finds herself muttering under her breath. She thinks of Riverpaw's own marks immortalizing him despite his absence, and sees hints of tears obstructing her vision.

Whatever emotion Lichenstar is feeling turns into something akin to confusion. Eveningkit watches them come closer, eyes taking in the sights...

And she says she finds it lovely.

"Mom likes it!" The outburst is abrupt, full of glee. Eveningkit's toothy grin whips around to face everybody one by one, and- "Sleepover! Sleepover!" She encourages them all to take Lichenstar up on that offer. Sleeping in the leader's den is a privilege seldom given.
 
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() the decoration of the willow den is bittersweet now. once, it'd been a sunlit idea, dripping with saccharine berry juices and shimmering shells, a testament to lichenstar's leadership and the love they all shared for their mother. now, as pebblepaw stands with baited breath beside his siblings, there's a sourness that lingers unpleasantly in the background. they're missing a cat, missing an important part of the puzzle that is their little family. riverpaw's prints may line the walls, his fur tufts may float amongst dust kicked up from moving around, but he himself is absent. pebblepaw finds he cannot look too hard at the walls or he may cry.

lichenstar sighs, oh, and gazes around with soft eyes. it's lovely. it is, with tiny beams of setting sun bouncing off of the rooted walls, with the feather-softened nest, and tiny trinkets from time in the nursery. a choked emotion is emitted from a passing cicadaflight, who looks suddenly so small and lost that pebblepaw winces internally. this had been his home before it had been theirs, and he no doubt misses it something fierce. "cada," the young tom whispers, as his mothers and siblings pad about the enclosed space. the apprentice's white-dashed tail beckons his cousin to the side of the willow tree, just outside of the den, where he presents him with a singular lock of night-dark fur, twisted through with snow. "i f-found this. thought you or bee, or cricket... might want it." the fur doesn't smell of smokestar anymore, is only a keepsake, but he hopes his cousin feels love through the gesture anyway. blinking ghostly orange eyes at the older tom, he'll brush past cicadaflight, leaving his cousin with the gift and re-joining his mothers in the den.

eveningkit has set upon a quest to enforce a sleepover, something pebblepaw almost immediately bursts out a reply to. it's childish, this want to be close to his family- he's an apprentice, with warrior dreams and his own nest to tend to. but the willow den is so cozy, and hazecloud's fur is soft, lichenstar's tail wraps so tightly around her family. "can we really?" he asks, despite the offer already having been made. glowing eyes find yellow ones, and he'll start to chant with her. "sleepover, sleepover!" anything to appease his little siblings.


  • // quick @CICADAFLIGHT interact mwah " #848DAE"
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  • PEBBLEPAW ☼ HE / HIM, APPRENTICE OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORED BY FOXTAIL. 8 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
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    a large blue tabby with low white and vitiligo. pale blue fur covers the length of pebblepaw's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.
 
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