camp CAN WE JUST TALK &. civil discussion

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 Her pelt prickles with awareness as cats whip their heads towards her. While she is sitting, she has not back downed- head lifted proudly, ears forward and face painted in a neutral manner. No, she does not allow the very thought of their assumptions and words scathe her skin. If Scalejaw would have ended up regretting what she was saying, she would have never spoke to begin with.

She listens to cats speaking, voices welling with disagreeance to her- to all of them?- and she feels a target painted upon her chest. No anger was in her vision, even her typical solid confidence wholly wilted by the exhaustion in her body. The kits. The trial. The chase, which she had the time to wash the blood from her paws in the marshes. Her ears twitched as she remained silent. Her words were soft as she spoke. Even as she spoke, she didn't pretend to not notice Serpentgrin approaching, or Starlingheart's head snap towards her. "I never said I knew. We are all to blame, yet none of us."

Magpiepaw's vision is piercing, and Scalejaw lifts her eyes to return it. Weary was her soul, and weary was her eyes as their vision dragged away. Tears fill their vision, and Scalejaw's heart breaks a bit. It really does- if this place was so terrible, why were any of them here? Loyalty? Some shared bond- no, that couldn't be it. It couldn't be, considering the fact that they were all at eachother's throats, for the most part. Needledrift's words come like a pinprick shock that comes and goes like the flight of a bird. Stepping down as leader... she could not imagine what to feel at the thought of Chilledstar leaving their mantle for Smogmaw.

Visions of Granitepelt's body shaken visciously in the jaws of the tom caused her ears to twitch. Vision shifted towards Starlingheart, meeting her anger with lack of movement. She stared at the medicine cat who welled with fury, fury that should have never had a chance to take root in Starlingheart's.. well, heart. "Would my apologies change the situation? I have not mocked you." She finally questioned as Starlingheart's vision dips away, exhaustion clear on the she-cat's face. Scalejaw's voice had a level of softness to it, even as she spoke what some may consider cruel or cold words. "I have lost my mate in moons past. I know some of what dwells in your heart now."

She pushed to her paws now- Serpentgrin is setting in next to Chilledstar as she moves. Standing before Starlingheart. "I have place in my heart for Flintpaw as it stands- my apprentice, who I hope I'm molding into a strong warrior. I feel for you, and your kits. I do." There was no 'but' following, her tail flicking. She did not feel a need to explain the pain that had pierced her heart when Shadestep was killed. She did not need to explain how hard it had been to be a single queen, to raise her kits without fraternal guidance. She did need to explain to Starlingheart that she knew betrayal hurt more then death, so she left it.

Vision turned towards Mirepurr- she did not move far from Starlingheart for a heart beat, then put distance between them as her former apprentice spoke. Wisely, too. Now her vision shifts towards Chilledstar's younger kin, and she lifts her chin. She may not have been taller, but fuck if she couldn't try to be imposing. Serpentgrin hadn't a clue what Scalejaw had said to Chilledstar, and that was fine. It was for them, and no one else. Any argument died on her lips as Chilledstar spoke, Smogmaw finding his way from the shadows now.

Eyes like dying coals shifted towards Chilledstar. She stepped away- hopefully those eyes that marked her like prey turned towards their beacon instead. Shadow took over her inked shoulders, and she sat quietly. Her body burned and her throat ached like she wanted to sob. She could not permit that, swallowing her heart back into her stomach and lifting her chin again. Both Chilledstar and Smogmaw deserved their respect. They were their guides for a reason, right? Scalejaw's ears twitched, all thought of foundation swept from beneath her momentarily.

Eyes drifted back shut, akin to how she had been when Chilledstar first left their den, listening quietly. And when she spoke, her voice was somewhere between exhaustion and acceptance. "I'll do my best to be better." She murmured, eyes sliding open to fix upon the deputy-leader pair. Perhaps she had more words to share, something else to bring to the rigorous and intense conversation. She felt double her age, and she closed her eyes again, lowering her head to grant them fealty. And finally, perhaps Starlingheart's demands caught up to her, for she fell silent. Scalejaw remained present, physically at the least- her thoughts were elsewhere.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Flintpaw feels much like a devil; has felt like that for much of his short life, but tenfold now that Satan himself has been cast out of Heaven. He hwishes he could rip his pelt off his flesh and trade it in for something softer, kinder. Something not so reminiscent of a cat who had murdered four ShadowClanners (though, increasingly, Flintpaw wonders what it must have felt like; when his anger ripples through the vast ocean of numbness that has become him, Flintpaw can't get the image out of his head, and it makes him sick). Even now, the weight of Granitepelt's crimes have not hit the boy, though maybe he ought to know: after all, he'd killed Halfshade, hadn't he?

It's what Ashenpaw had told him. It's what he is certain Smogmaw believes. The apple must not fall far from the tree. Flintpaw and Granitepelt, similar in more ways than one; it eats at him, rips claws through him, coaxes bile into his throat and clamps his jaw together. Ever since the elder tom had been chased out of the territory, he has been counting each parallel: they share blood; they share fur; they share anger; they share a sickness with how ShadowClan has treated them; they are killers. Would ShadowClan exile him next?

Maybe. Or maybe they're too busy bickering with one another to notice. Flintpaw flies under the radar, tucked into Starlingheart's side with dull, dual-toned eyes. Only Frostbite speaks with reason; everyone else spouts stupidity, or old grudges that need put to rest. Flintpaw sits there and hates them all. He hates his uncle's loud, abrasive mouth. He hates Ferndance's assessment of Granitepelt's character (right though she has turned out to be). He hates Forestshade's defense of their impassive, uncaring leader. He hates Scorchedmoon's claim that he does not belong. You don't belong? Flintpaw thinks, incredulous. If he doesn't belong, then what does that mean for me? But his tongue is heavy, dull, tired. He hates Scalejaw. He hears her: Do you remember what I said when Granitepelt was promoted? and he hates her for it. What had she said? Surely nothing kind. He hates that Starlingheart must beg for sympathy, that this is what his family has been reduced to, that this is what has been made out of the small splinter of pride or trust that Flintpaw had ever been afforded by his Clan.

Chilledstar speaks and begins blubbering. Flintpaw hates that, too, they think. And Smogmaw, speaking of unity among their clan... Flintpaw has not forgotten the way he had passed over them, ignoring their desperate plea for acknowledgement to condemn their father to a horrible fate. A deserved fate (Flintpaw is supposed to understand that it is deserved, at least), but one that had been undoubtedly sickening and hurtful to watch in action. Where is my apology? they wonder, half-absent as if underwater. The water simmers. Where is my apology?

But it's so easy to brush over her. Flintpaw is little more than a pebble in the bog, despite the way the fur at her shoulders prickles with stewing anger. She doesn't want to be Granitepelt. But, really, who would blame her for embracing the role? She looks the part; she understands the wrath he'd spoken of before his exile; she hates her Clan; she loves by ripping claws through flesh. Dull eyes, ringed with weary, black shadow, flick up to Scalejaw as she approaches Starlingheart and himself.

"Don't condescend to her," Flintpaw hisses at his mentor when she speaks. I have not mocked you. But ShadowClan has. His lips peel from his teeth as he spits his venom, though when she speaks of him he loses his edge slightly. Still, the small spat of anger and disgust has empowered him (if only slightly) to speak some of his feelings in true.

Flintpaw makes his presence more known at Starlingheart's side as he rises to white-dipped paws. Patinated muzzle points to Smogmaw and Chilledgaze, and sweeps across the rest of those gathered, gaze darkened with resentment. They can hold paws and sing kumbaya all they want — but Flintpaw will not forget their mocking, their disparaging, their total lack of care for his family and himself.

"You can talk about unity when you believe everyone deserves to be here — everyone, including my family," Flintpaw hisses. His whip tail lashes ferociously behind him. But his ire extends deeper than Granitepelt's exile. He has never felt as though he's belonged; never felt as though he's been given a chance here, all thanks to his resemblance to the traitor who'd borne him. When Starlingheart had given him spare lungwort, the feeling had cemented itself further in pointed glares and expressions of hatred. He'd killed Halfshade. He'd killed Heavybranch. I didn't mean to. And had Starlingheart's reputation ever recovered from that day? Flintpaw's chest pulses uncomfortably. "Not once... not once have you considered us!" Me! He sets his jaw. "Not an apology... nothing. And I... I hate you all for that!"

Tears sting at the back of her eyes. He gives Smogmaw a pointed glare — shoots Chilledstar and Ferndance similar looks. But fear seizes him now. Now that his sentiment lays bare in the open, naked and vulnerable, they must see deeper into the similarities between his father and himself. They must want to exile him next; they will, he is certain. Flintpaw's mind falls through the bottom of his skull, cold and spiraling. His stomach performs a similar trick. The stone-pelted apprentice regards his clanmates with a final, fear-pooled stare, and quickly he departs them altogether.

/ in & out!

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

• 

• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

 

[lilacfur]

So many voices follow hers as they speak their thoughts. First her brother came to stand by what she had to say and she felt the tension in her shoulders ease as his tail curled around her. She fell back on her haunches, unsure what to say as more and more of her Clan spoke out. They shared the feelings that stirred within, how they felt about their Clan. Their home. Some shared their frustrations more passionately and Lilacfur only felt heavy empathy for all of them.

Frostbite, perhaps the first and maybe only sensible Lead Warrior Chilledstars promoted to their council, speaks more reasonably. Mediating as best he could between a fiery, bitter Clan about the paw they've been dealt and their grievances with a seemingly unfeeling leader. Sharpshadow as well, supporting the cold fact that no one wanted to admit.

That Granitepelt had been good, perfect, at his game. He was no easy friend to make like Scorchedmoon or Roosterstrut. Wasn't innocently fun and sweet like Garlicpaw or Muddypaw. Didn't have a neutral but welcoming posterior like Forestshade or Needledrift. If anything Granitepelt only matched the rest of the majority of Chilledstar's council. Cold, firm, lacking any depth in their love for the Clan. He showed his love through how hard he worked, and she was right at his side to see it. To see him out under the trees for hours until he met his own standard of acceptable prey and border control to then return home.

Lilacfur held her breath at Needledrift's quiet tone. Suggesting Chilledstar step down? Could a leader even do that? Would StarClan accept? Her sisters anger is expected, though Starlingheart had never shown a single fiber of anger before there is no denying this must be a breaking point to that. The fear, the timidness, there isn't a speck of that in her littermate as she confronted the crowd and she nodded her head in solidarity. To say it was to be expected was only disrespect to how sharp her sister was. She had been taking care of their Clan well before many of them had even become warriors, she had to grow up much faster than the rest of them, and not even she could have foreseen it.

But then- now- Chilledstar is crying. Lilacfur couldn't tell if it was tears of anger or distress, maybe a mix of both but the sound of their voice breaking tells her clearly. They're heartbroken for their Clan, for what it's become. Lilacfur swallowed uncomfortably and glanced around at the faces gathered again. Despite their passion, their shouts of displeasure, this is the most united she has felt with them. They all agreed on one thing- ShadowClan did not feel like home. But they wanted to make it better!

"I think the language we use when talking about this should be more mindful with-" Her warning is too late, Scalejaw's already spoken and Flintpaw has already heard her. The tabby sighed and worried the inside of her cheek between teeth as the apprentice bared her wounds before them and fled. She wondered where Ghostpaw was now in all of this. Her nest left cold, whereabouts unknown. Seeing Flintpaw storm away ignited a spark of fear that he would disappear with her.

"There is one thing we are all united on, and that it's how unhappy we all are with the circumstances of our Clan. Whether it be from Chilledstar or our own lack of faith- doesn't matter, but we want to change it, right? We just... we don't know where to start. But it's not impossible." Lilacfur nuzzled Skunktail's shoulder before pulling away from with to take a step forward. Her bravery returning.

"I love my home. I love my Clan, I'll lay my life down for any of you because that is the vow I- we- have taken as warriors. We don't have to start braiding each others fur with swamp flowers but by the damned stars, maybe the first step is showing some compassion. Some forgiveness. Start repairing whatever grudges are being held and talk for once. I'm tired of seeing our kin lost and we're left regretting not being kinder to them, having more time with them. Start doing that now!"

Lilacfur looked out in the direction Flintpaw left and sighed. "I'm going to make sure Flintpaw is safe. For ShadowClan's sake we won't lose another apprentice, I will not lose more kin."

//out !!​

[ i need the clouds to cover me ]​