pafp COLD BELOW ╱ PESTERING

[SALTSTING]

"If I may," he asks, a half-stride behind and his head slightly cocked, following along with precision and readiness, entirely immune to whatever Smokethroat's body language is trying so desperately to tell him, "I have questions that I would ask of you." Camp bustles around them as it always does, yet half-lazy as the patrols have been sent out. His name was not among them for this round, a fact which he tries to take at face value yet cannot resist feeling ever so vaguely frustrated by. His chasing of their deputy is not some desperate bid to make him pay for that, but if they are both to be bound to camp for this time, he may as well take advantage. It does not occur to him that Smokethroat may not feel the same.

Regardless of his reaction, Saltsting presses ever onwards: "At the bridge. What was it like, once the battle commenced? Did your tactics change any, with land for them to stand upon?"

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

• ooc: please wait for @Smokethroat !!

• 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"

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He has been so lethargic lately its a wonder he had the energy to leave the den, but he craved warmth and the sun would have to suffice while his mate tended to his duties still; always stalwartly off galavanting about rather than delegating tasks. Normally it was an admirable trait but he found himself uncharacteristically bothered by it for purely selfish reasons. Loneliness, he supposed. It was hard to get any kind of social interaction when he did little than sleep all day, leaving the den to poke about the camp when his exhaustion allowed it. Smokethroat had not gotten very far today, still perched just near the willow den but in the open of the camp where he could lay comfortably and watch the clan continue to exist without him with a begrudging acceptance.
Patrols had gone out and he's risen to stand at last to go survey around the camp to make sure no apprentices were left behind without a task to do when he is called upon and a pause stills his steps to turn. Saltsting, young and a bit too talkative at times, but he was willing to humor it for lack of anything else to do.
"The bridge..? Ah, the skirmish." His last good fight before he'd been nest bound and unable to do much while carrying kits; Smokethroat gave a quiet hum in thought, "...it was a useful tactic, forced them to put what was obviously a hunting patrol to use in battle with no reinforcements. The apprentice will learn to be more mindful of borders going forward and I got a good lick in on Weaselclaw. I consider it a victory."
Really, WindClan should thank them for such a dedicated lesson that didn't involve slitting one of the upcoming warriors to-be across the throat as Sootstar herself would have done to any trespasser. A smile tugs his whiskers, "I got the idea from Snakeblink, we had considered their medicine cat at one point but...I'm not sure I could abide by that." Sacred as they were, "...the stars chose them, laying a claw upon them seems almost blasphemous."
Not that the moorland cats needed help losing their medicine cats from what he heard. Already on their fourth, if that wasn't a sign of damnation he didn't know what was.
"You've an interest in tactics do you?"
​

 

[FALLINGLIGHT]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⸻ Did his mom look like Smokethroat before he was born? He tries to imagine her and realizes that he's forgotten the color of her eyes. Are they blue, like his? Or– maybe they're green? It doesn't matter, really, but he can see why she wasn't permitted to go with his father. Smokethroat looks like an accidental bump into a sharp rock would just...pop him, and maybe it's less startling for other RiverClanners more familiar with pregnancy, but he's never spent much time around the nursery. He certainly hasn't been this close to a cat with kits so ready for the world they'll probably start making Cicadastar-speeches as soon as they're out.

He scratches at a pale ear, gaze flitting between the deputy and Saltsting. "He's got an interest in everything," he says with a grin, sauntering closer to Saltsting and digging his shoulder into his leg. It's as much playful camaraderie as it is curiosity for how obliging Saltsting'll be of the trespass. "If rocks could talk, he'd never leave the river." But Fallinglight can admit he was curious about the bridge, too, and Smokethroat has named Snakeblink as the plan's creator.

"So...if medicine cats are too blasphemous to touch, what's different about leaders? Would StarClan give somebody lives who doesn't deserve 'em?" It's a tricky question. They have Cicadastar on the one paw and Sootstar on the other. If Sootstar's a mistake, could medicine cats be, too? And if she's not, then— shit, huh?
​

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ 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 chocolate lynx point with low white. fur is thick and wavy, and tends to 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, i'm a little scared to be near smokethroat. he looks like the kits'll come any minute, and i really don't wanna know what happens if he's not in his and cicadastar's den when they do. saltsting'd probably agree with me.
  
  anyway, is it blasphemous to talk about starclan if you're just...a regular warrior? there's a lot we don't know about them, and i just wish they'd communicate more often. maybe they can't.
  
  maybe her eyes were yellow.

​

​

​

 

[Mosspool]

As she quietly ate her mouse, Mosspaw's ears perked up as she heard Saltsting's questions. She had been at the bridge skirmish, but she had never heard Smokethroat speak of the tactics of that battle. Her eyes shone with curiosity. Padding over, the apprentice quietly listened in, eager to learn all she could from their deputy.

Mosspaw listened intently to Smokethroat's every word, nodding along. His comment about medicine cats got the most emphatic nod from her. Of course, even against a foe as damnable as Windclan they had to take care not to slight the stars. He was so wise. In her eyes, he was the exact picture of the perfect warrior; dedicated, loyal, strong, and intelligent. Cicadastar was lucky to have a second-in-command as capable as him at his side. He was the type of cat all of Riverclan could aspire to.

The kind of cat she could aspire to.

The thought that she could be like Cicadastar had never crossed her mind. She knew he was above her. He was the founder of Riverclan, blessed by the stars, it would be hubris for anyone to think they could be as great as him. Smokethroat, though? He had achieved his station by virtue of their leader's trust in him, and that was something that she felt she could achieve as well. More than that, it was something she wished with all her heart to achieve. The smallest seed of ambition planted itself in her heart.

The only thing he said that caught her off guard was that it had been Snakeblink that came up with the idea for the attack. She blinked For some reason, that surprised her.

Fallinglight's question stuck her, and she glanced at him sharply. If what Smokethroat had said about medicine cats was true, than the idea that leaders would be the same only made sense. Yet, Mosspaw couldn't help but mutter,"Sootstar certainly doesn't seem deserving..." It was a question she had never considered before. Her ear flicked in contemplation as she turned her gaze to Smokethroat for answers.​

 

[SALTSTING]

He stiffens. There is no helping it. The sudden pressure of a limb against his own sends a prickle along each hair of Saltsting's pelt. Like a lightning strike, his gaze is pulled towards Fallinglight. There is brief alarm there, quickly soothed. Uncertain, certainly, yet– ever so subtly, he leans back into the weight. Permission, perhaps, quiet as it was. To any other, his body language should remain as stiff as it had ever been.

"Though I am certain the rocks would have much to say of interest to me, you are correct that I am here to learn of your tactics. It was an admirable play. You led us to an excellent victory, and assured that WindClan would not forget our strength. If the rest of us are to protect our clan just as well, it would seem that we must learn from you." That it was Snakeblink to suggest it to begin with is accepted and filed away– were the other tom not so terrible a conversation partner, perhaps Saltsting would seek him out for information as well. If the lead warrior is amenable to a truce, all the better. Smokethroat will prove a more than capable replacement during the interim. "My mentor did all that he could, but the pursuit of knowledge should not end with a warrior name."

Yet as quickly as he finds one question answered, another blooms in its grave. Fallinglight speaks of medicine cats, and Mosspaw tacks on in her approach. His eyes narrow subtly as the apprentice's ear flicks. "I do not know that any could predict precisely where one's path might lead. As I told Boneripple not so long ago: all we may do is make sense of what is offered."

＞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"

​

 

[Snakeblink]

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

Ah, Snakeblink had thought the events that unfolded upon the bridge sounded familiar — it figures, if it were his own thoughts, shared to the rest of the council, that inspired them. ”Your confidence in my idea flatters me, Smokethroat,” he hums as he slithers closer to the little group of cats, nodding a greeting to his fellow lead. ”Though that it led to a victory was definitely your doing alone.” Plans are only words in the air: it takes a particular kind of warrior to see them to completion as smoothly as Smokethroat did.

His eyes slide over the three younger cats. It’s nice to see that Fallinglight and Saltsting can be polite when they want to; though any who’d dare to be rude to Smokethroat would be a bigger fool than either cats seem to be. Head tilted, he listens to the way they talk of being chosen by Starclan; of being deserving of it.

”I don’t know if it is a matter of sacredness,” he muses. Gesturing to Saltsting with his tail in silent acknowledgement of his words: ”Or of deserving. Starclan gives power, and guidance when they can, but indeed they cannot write the future, nor force a leader to act a certain way.” Or if they can, they are sorely failing the clans by allowing Sootstar to run rampant. ”No more than we can make all prey fall between our paws even while taking all the precautions we can: there is always a part left for chance.”

With a shrug, he adds: ”In my own humble opinion, there is no difference between harming a leader and a medicine cat: if Starclan did not mean for it to happen, they would have made them invulnerable. But I admit it would be a little… rude, perhaps, to attack a healer unprovoked,”, he adds with a grimace.

​

——————————————————————————————————— 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
  
  
  

​

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

"Your mentor is very wise in that." It was something he respected, the knowledge that becoming a warrior - an adult - was never the end of one's journey. There was always much to learn, news things and ideas, a cat was never perfect and could strive to be but never achieve all the worldly knowledge in one lifetime but it was what they did learn and what they did with that which was most important. Fallinglight joins them and he makes it a point to sit finally, since this has turned into a discussion and his paws ached constantly for no discernible reason; might as well be comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could get when he couldn't even sit like he normally did, slightly adjusted to lean to one side so his paws tucked together but didn't hunch his shoulders. He would be grateful when the kits finally came and he could move a little easier again.
In a way he agrees with Snakeblink's assessment as the other joins but in another he disagrees wholeheartedly.
"I often wonder about StarClan's power myself but...the more I think about it the more I realize they make mistakes because they are us. A council of our dead ancestors is still just...a normal cat who passed away, flawed and with different ideas of what is right or wrong. I think they make decisions they feel best but are not able to take them back if proven wrong." It was the only way he could truly justift Sootstar maintaining her leadership, wretched as she was. "An honorable cat will not force them to be proven wrong."
Mosspaw made a very good point: if anyone deserved it then it was the moorland queen but it must be out of StarClan's power otherwise that lightning bolt would have struck after she had sat at her perch instead.
The deputy tilts his head up as the tabby lead inists on the matter that a healer was no different from a leader.
"Let me rephrase it...if we make it a precedent that medicine cats are not sparred our wrath it will be turned upon us as well." The idea of opening up the possibility of losing Ravensong when Beesong was still a fresh and mending wound was something he couldn't abide by. "A leader is granted nine lives to defend their clan, a medicine cat has only the one-they are not meant for the battle or defense of us, they are to heal. It makes them all the more important. Without them we return to the days where cats simply died under every injury, every illness."
​

 

[otterbite]

Ripplewave and Otterpaw had not been selected for another patrol, and for that the chimera is grateful. After his dive into the waters straight off the island that made camp, Ripplewave had been diligent on ensuring Otterpaw's swimming skills before testing them in the depths again. His paws were still a bit too big, too clumsy to keep his gait perfect, but his determination showed promise. The mouthy apprentice was adamant about his goals, if that was anything useful.

While Ripplewave prepared to rest some more before sending him off on another route of training, Otterpaw watched Smokethroat with intent. Both toms were meant to be his mentors. Both were scarred, muscles carved by experience. Both held a stare that made him think twice before acting (though his impulse was still hard to ignore). Both were warriors that Otterpaw wanted to be like when he grew up. Even though the deputy was not in him prime state of physicality, condemned to the work of carrying kittens safely, Otterpaw knew exactly the kind of work he did before all of that.

He was quiet, sneaky and Smokethroat and Saltsting exchanged words. They discuss the tactics of the previous skirmish between WindClan. The divine protection of medicine cats. Otterpaw's voice erupts before he can stop himself, the words spilled without a moment's hesitation.

"Would a medicine cat have saved your eye? Was it gone before we had StarClan?" ​

RIVERCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ BLUE-BLACK CHIMERA ✦ 4 MOONS ✦ TAGS​