caught in the undertow | vanishing/leaving

[Dewfrost]

After her confrontation with Roeflame close to the border, there was a strange sense of relief that washed over Dewfrost immediately afterwards. Finally, somebody knew the truth. The whole truth. Granted Roeflame had not taken the reveal well - not that Dewfrost expected her to - but to finally have someone know the truth and for Dewfrost not to keep it in anymore was so freeing.

Unfortunately, for Dewfrost her feelings of relief were brief. She was granted only a few days where her spirit seemed to brighten before a familiar dark cloud began to loom over her once again. Grief and regret that she truly had condemned her children to die (two of them at least) were overwhelming. When she closed her eyes she was haunted by the kits she had given up. Their eyes so full of curiosity and wonder. Trying to convince herself that she gave them up to protect them no longer comforted her as it once had.

Dewfrost wished she could ignore the feelings that plagued her mind, to simply put her head down and ignore what was going on as she had for moons. But in the same instance she had finally felt relieved of her secret burdens, she had a new weight pressing down on her. That Roeflame, her only daughter, was still alive. That she had always been alive and Dewfrost had convinced herself that she was already dead and lost to her.

The decision to leave was not an easy one. She told no one of the sudden plan formulating in her mind and made no indication that she was considering leaving. It is for the best, she mused to herself, as she stealthily slipped out of camp for one final time. Time alone and away from the clans would be good for her. And would be a fitting punishment for the pain she had caused herself and her children.

When morning came Dewfrost would be gone, her nest cold. If her scent was followed it would lead to the Thunderpath tunnels before disappearing, almost as if she hadn't been there at all.

/ yeah dewfrost is leaving to become a self-imposed exile/loner! had a pleasure posting here with you guys however <3​

 

[hitch]

┌──═━┈━═──┐
────── R O S E M I R E ──────
└──═━┈━═──┘

He can't say he'd blame someone for wanting to leave the clans. Part of him...envies it, really. Rosemire misses the simplicity of the days he spent on his own, even if so many were aimless and fruitless attempts to remember what he's forgotten. He could leave, he supposes. Comfreypaw would find another mentor, one probably better at talking to kids, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that no, he can't. Rubble's buried here. His mistake, his fault, and there's no real measure of penance where a life is involved.

So he has compelling reasons to stay, and some people have compelling reasons to go. Might be easier to keep bellies fed come leafbare with more of the latter.

"Has anyone seen Dewfrost?" He asks, poking at her cold nest. "Thought she was going on a patrol." There's a stale scent they could follow if she doesn't turn up, but that feels...nosy.
​

​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Long ago, as an apprentice suffering under Pitchstar’s wrathful tutelage, Granitepelt had dreamed of running away from ShadowClan. He’d take Siltcloud, he’d take Starlingheart, he’d take nobody, but he would go, and he would be free. The shackles their duty have on them all are unique to the cat wearing them, however. Granitepelt feels middling loyalty to his Clan and his superiors, but his beloved mate is here, and she cannot leave because Bonejaw had tainted that path for her. She is now anchored here by the kits he gave her, and so too, he has ensured she cannot leave him. He’d given his own freedom away more than once—and he has no desire now to go find it. He belongs to Starlingheart above all, Sootstar second, and ShadowClan third, and he will die somewhere in the middle of all those fealties sworn.

Granitepelt blinks irritably at Rosemire’s inquiry. “She was. She was meant to go on dawn patrol with me.” He tastes the air, a grumble in his throat. “I somehow doubt she forgot the rest of us and chose to go to the WindClan border alone?”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[Magpiepaw]

He did not know Dewfrost particularly well, but if Magpiepaw was being honest he could not claim to know many clanmates beyond a surface level comprehension outside perhaps his beloved mentor herself. Maggotpaw and Eeriepaw were perfectly fine friends too and though he begrudged them at first he had developed a quiet tolerance for Starlingheart's kittens though he could hardly claim it was out of endearment more than it was survival itself.
Still, to have a clanmate simply vanish into thin air was something to worry over and he hobbled forward with his tail twitching curiously to the discussion being had. A cat leaving ShadowClan was not something he expected, though he had figured many had the thought at times. They were a secluded clan, locked away from most the others with a small territory, limited prey and not a lot of places herbs grew; it would not surprise him to know some wanted more greener pastures.
It was just upsetting when, after the dreadful leafbare of starving and struggling, it was during a more plentiful time that a cat would go as though the issue were otherwise - or maybe Dewfrost was planning ahead.
Or maybe he was overthinking it and she was just dead now, grabbed by a predator perhaps.
"She is lost to us." The apprentice trills, a statement and a query that does not tilt into a question and a little more ominous than he intended.
​

 

[HONEYJAW]

Running away. Well wasn't that just a thought. He thought about it sometimes too, but not the way that others did. His wandering paws just wanted to take him far away, back to how things had been all those moons ago. This place wasn't filled with hatred to him. No bad memories to carry around. It was, however, a place, a monotony, a stable promise. He wonders how many of the cats here are just as bothered by that as he is. Sometimes it occurs to him that he could just skip out on a day. Run off into the territory, say he didn't care about patrols or...anything else. Then he thinks about Dragonflypaw, and maybe– maybe, if Dewfrost had ever talked about her problems, he would have understood it. After all, there's not much he wouldn't have done for or because of his little bug.

"You've really gotta stop saying stuff like that Magpiepaw," he sighs, though there's worry in sky blue eyes at the thought that the young healer could be right. "Do we check the border just in case? I mean– what if she did get lost out there or something?"

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — Dewfrost had been a rather unassuming cat, as far as the dark tom was aware. She fulfilled her responsibilities to the Clan, followed whatever orders she was given and mostly kept quiet. Sabletuft had her pinned for a cat that simply enjoyed her alone time like himself, she simply happened to be nicer about it in the face of her Clanmates.

"She was still here when my Moonhigh patrol returned last night." He noted, a hint of suspicion in his tone after Granitepelt's report. Like Rosemire, the aging scent from her nest caught his attention. His eyes narrow, and he has to wonder if a situation like Dogfur had occurred again. Even if that had been the case, there was no use looking to find her, would it. If it would end in the same dead-end like it had before.

His sights rest on Honeyjaw with a quiet sigh. "Continue your patrol to the WindClan border. If you happen to come across her, assure she is returned. The other border patrols will receive the same message." There was a heavy feeling in his gut. This was different. This didn't feel like Dogfur's disappearance at all. "However, should she be found outside our border, we follow our usual protocol to trespassers." — tags​

 

[GECKOSCREECH]

like a specter in the night, dewfrost had been accounted for during after hours but come sunrise she all but vanishes from her nest without a sound leaving the rest to ponder her whereabouts. cats begin to accumulate around the clearing, each sharing tidbits of information and guesses but it doesn't lead anywhere except perplexity. "for someone who's been here since the colony days you'd expect her to know atleast most of the territory by now so for her to get lost seems odd unless she did decide to meander beyond our borders which in that case-" the sentence is ended with a subtle shrug of shoulders but it's implied that whatever happens to dewfrost outside of their domain is out of their control.

: ̗̀➛ info ✧ reference

• ✎ . . .
  
• to be added.
  
• "SPEECH" ◦ THOUGHTS
  
• to be added.
  

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[smogstar]

Total liberation from the clans - their ideological framework, the absurd religion they abide by, the draconian norms and expectations that stifle one's individuality - once resided as an end-goal in the realm of Smogmaw's purpose. Their design is reprehensible at a fundamental level; five meritocratic hierarchies carved from nature itself, posed against one another to forge this farcical power struggle wherein bloodshed and bedlam became inevitable. The existing state of affairs is a far cry from the before-times, in which there was no greater scheme, no divisive pecking orders. They'd been colonies of survivors simply hoping to live another day, guided at the helm by old coots instead of quasi-immortal warriors.

Yet, the world's patterns will occasionally defy expectations.

At the twitch of a whisker, everybody became aware of a spiritual domain, StarClan, populated by their decrepit ancestors who manipulate the living's dealings in unexplained ways.

At the swish of a tail, Smogmaw had been plucked from his reality of erratic impulse and placed on the path to unthinkable power, shaping him anew at his core, and driving him forward with an unquenchable thirst for achievement.

And with a rustle of the leaves, Dewfrost has evaporated into the swamp itself. No announcement beforehand, nor any farewells. At least Bonejaw graced them with a half-assed bid of adieu before scampering off to join the river rats. If the deputy had to muster a guess, her disappearance would have to do with historical wounds that had not fully healed. Wounds which had likely worsened because of the structure of the place she called home. But, Smogmaw won't go as far as mustering a guess. It is painfully clear that Dewfrost surrendered to her own fragility and abandoned them, and those who abandon their ilk are not worth the wasted thought.

"Unless she's face-down in a swamp pool, Dewfrost is long gone by now," remarks Smogmaw, drawing on the circumstances of Ghostpaw's fate to illustrate a clear picture. He verges on the grouping with his typical sluggish gait, perma-scowl ever present in his sunken eyes and scrunched muzzle. It is a rare occasion when he finds himself in agreement with the medicine cat apprentice, and it is even rarer to hear so many willingly shove aside the obvious. "We are a hardy folk here in this swamp," he drawls on, "we know our territory well and we survive against all odds. Dewfrost is not lost, she's gone."

In a more reasonable environment, this would be the end of it. Smogmaw, however, has learned his lesson about expecting sound minds in the heart of the swamp. Thus, eyes flit towards Sabletuft and he imparts a nod in the Lead Warrior's direction. "Look for her as we looked for Dogfur, but do not expect her to be found. If, by some marginal chance, she does turn up, make certain of her safety and get her home as quickly as time allows." ​