camp Cultivating civility | reflections

[SMOKESTAR]

If you wanted a cat to console you or otherwise offer you a helping paw and kind smile, you did not look to Smokethroat. He was callous at times, emotions incomprehensible and expression one always of indifference or even silent fury. He was improving, as far as one could tell. From the first day he would be barring his teeth and scowling at any who attempted to engage in conversation, but overtime he had gradually softened so that his first impulse upon being approached was not the rising of hackles and rumble of a growl. He worried, at times, of being too soft. He did not want to lose the edge that had kept him alive for so long, he feared becoming something else because he was all he knew.
Smokethroat's tail flicked idly from where he lay on the cold stones in camp on his side, that dawn patrol had taken an alarmingly long time to get started and get finished due to some disorganization and tired complaints and it had left him feeling mostly unmotivated today for once but his idleness left him restless. It left him feeling useless.
The puddles from previous rain had dotted the camp like slivers of sky, at an angle it looked as if the ground was filled with clouds and blue sky; like segments of it had fallen and now lay before their paws.
With a sudden impulse he pushed himself up to stand, black coat a glossy sheen from the clinging water droplets, and he perhced himself at the edge of one of the many pools to peer down into. What looked back was nothing new to him, scarred muzzle and burning orange eyes, the light speckling of white near the corner of his right eye. The warrior shows his teeth, black lips pulling back and canines front and center for visibility; the look was threatening enough without effort, the faintest flash of white on his face that was not his spotting was an alarm going off for any who saw it. It was almost agonizing that the clan had been in a lull of peace recently, he wanted nothing more than to thrive in his environment once more, speak in the only way he knew how: with tooth and claw. There was no fighting occuring although he dearly thought there should be, if they had just cut down that WindClan leader for her actions then they'd have sparred several more cats grief than not. That they had heard nothing of SkyClan lashing out for vengenance prickled his nerves, perhaps it was true that Blazestar was a soft fool. He doubted Cicadastar would be so careless with the loss of one of their own, he'd have sought retribution in blood; Smokethroat was sure of it.

He found his face naturally drifting back into a scowl at the thought and he turned sharply down to the puddle to try and force it back, to try and make his face twist into something more neutral before attempting a rather strained smile. It was hard, frankly. He felt quite silly going through the effort but maybe if he practiced enough he could force himself to present less intimidating.

​

 

[Bounceheart]

bounceheart ✧ she/her ✧ riverclan warrior (=˃ᆺ˂=)
Monotony was the way of life in the clans. Excitement for them came from battle and devastation. Everything had a cruel sense of irony to it; kittens played joyously in the first snowfalls, only to catch whitecough and die less than a moon later. There was pain in everything, and yet they all found the joy in it. Like her excitement to hunt when her stomach began to rumble, or the adrenaline and ecstasy of getting the stars beat out of you.

Now was not the time for existential dread. Blinking away the unwanted thoughts, the tabby rolled over. She sat up then, eyes peering around the camp aimlessly. 'Guess I should add to that fresh-kill,' she thought. It was difficult for her to contribute when she was such a pitiful fish hunter. Imposter syndrome was really kicking in. On that note, she stood and began her trot towards the camp exit. Squish. Squish. Bounceheart then grew distracted, purposefully plopping her paws into the puddles to make a splash.
This is when she made the mistake of getting a bit too close to the brute. She flinched, a bit startled. "Oh, dear, sorry," she laughed nervously. Hopefully she didn't catch Smokethroat at the wrong time.​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

His reflection shattered, warped and rippled out into dark rings and it was his only split second warning to the water that burst upward from the motion of lightly treaded paws to splash him in the face directly. Smokethroat closed his eyes to the torrent but did not lift his head immediately, instead he remained facing down as the droplets drizzled back upon the puddle, sliding down his face and whiskers.
"...s'fine."
The dark tom inhaled slowly with an exasperated sigh, he really was allowing himself to be too distracted lately and it was costing him valuable degrees of dignity. With a quick jerk upward he raised his head and then promptly began to shake his entire head from side to side in quick rolling motions, sending water flicking in every direction.
If Bounceheart got caught in it then he was simply respond with a blunt 'Oh, dear, sorry.' of his own but if she avoided it he would only shake his head now. Regardless he rose to stand once more glancing at the direction it seemed she had been heading and lashing his tail, "Not going to the river to hunt?"

​

 

[Bounceheart]

bounceheart ✧ she/her ✧ riverclan warrior (=˃ᆺ˂=)

Carelessness created unforseeable problems, such as being sprayed by scattering droplets. Accepting her fate, she would simply close her eyes. This was karma in action. A small headshake did not free her - there was too little water, and it somehow clung to her ‘moisture wicking’ fur. In absence of wit, she mimicked his response: ”’s fine…” She supposed she could afford to give him a better apology. ”I had it coming, anyway.”

In lieu of standing there, she began to back up a bit. Maybe she had pestered him enough. It was then that he had mentioned the river, and hunting, and a grimace appeared on her maw. Just short of despair. He was right, though, even if what he said was antiphrasis - even if she did go, she would likely catch nothing. Then, she would haul herself across the territory in search of something more her speed; a bird, or a rabbit, maybe even a mouse. ”Well.. no.. maybe?” It was as much a question as a statement. ”If I have any luck, then you could call it hunting.”​

 

[GARPAW]

"What are you doing?" Glancing between Smokethroat and Bounceheart, the girl would raise a brow quizzically as she tried to figure out what was going on. A strange sight to see, a cat staring down into the water. And he wasn't even swimming in it! Smokethroat was feeling alright, wasn't he? No need to visit the medicine cat? Waiting, the apprentice would watch to see how the pair responded before making any further comments.
​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

There was almost a smug curl to his lips as he straightened himself up proper, fur now bristling dry into scruffy spikes around his face that would eventually fall back flat as he moved around but for the time being his silhouette was one of sharpness. An eye for an eye, so it goes.
Garpaw's sudden question stopped him from speaking to the silver tabby and he paused to glance down at the apprentice with narrowed orange eyes as he considered a proper response, "Was checking my teeth. Need to make sure they're sharp." He snapped them for emphasis, bright white points on display, "Can't nip naughty apprentices with them if they aren't taken cared of." He had not actually nipped at any cat with the exception of a few times being trodden over in the warrior's den by clumsy paws and even then it was more a warning than a punishment.
Shaking his head and turning back to Bounceheart he rolled his shoulders dismissively, "If you go in with that attitude then you've already failed.", a white-dipped paw gestured to the cheerful apprentice, "Care for some fishing lessons, Garpaw? If Bounceheart would like to join us then by all means." It was not the most blatant offers, though he'd quickly detered the molly wasn't too fond of fishing he would treat it as a lesson for the child and if she picked up any useful tips on her own then so be it.

​

 

[GARPAW]

"Couldn't be me." She'd retort, unphased by his comments of punishing misbehaving children. It wouldn't apply to her surely. A quick lick of her shoulder fur would take place between the comments directed at her, wondering what exactly the point of checking his teeth was. An issue she never had, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps his mother had never properly instructed him on how to eat. "Lessons? As in helping teach her how to fish? I wouldn't mind a swim. I'll join." Moving closer to the pair, she would await further instructions from the lead warrior as to what to do next.
​

 

[Bounceheart]

bounceheart ✧ she/her ✧ riverclan warrior (=˃ᆺ˂=)

The appearance of Garpaw cut through her floundering. Her question warranted no answer from her, as she had now become distracted from her initial mission. She drank in their dry humor, ear flicking with entertainment. These two were sharper-tongued than her, so she was going to have to keep up with the snide remarks. So she stood a bit taller, preparing for any of it to be launched her way.

Mother had always taught her that bones helped to sharpen the teeth. With that and her regard to wastefulness, she found herself gnawing all remnants of meat off prey. Smokethroat's teeth snapping pulled her from the brief memory. And then he pointed a remark towards her. She nodded her head in silent agreement.

And with his proposition, she was brought back to what she was meant to do today. It occurred to her that she would now be stuck with the two until they caught something. Rather, until she caught something. The apprentice had already showcased her skills with the silvers. Her head tilted to Garpaw, eyes squinting at her question.
"I know how to fish." Not well, but she did. A tail flicked dismissed the argument she was going to give. "Alright, then, let's go."

With that, she careened towards the exit, giving one glance behind to make sure they were following.

/i can make a sep thread if you guys want, since its moving out of camp ​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

"Knowing is not the same as excelling. I'm sure Garpaw would love the practice before her warrior assessment. " His dark, formless shoulders rolled in indifference and the tom turned with a flick of his tail toward the outer edges of the camp. He had intended to go fishing on his own anyways and while before he may have snarled and turned his nose up at company now he was ever more willing to tolerate it for the good of the clan and, yes, perhaps he did enjoy the banter on occasion. There was not a lot of cats who shared his dry sense of humor, his way of socializing that did not leave expecations he could not hope to reach; so it would be foolish of him to turn down a chance to better get to know Bounceheart while also keeping an eye on the smaller she-cat; the education of their youth was something all cats should strive to ensure the best of but he especially had a vested interest in it. More warriors meant more defenses, less stress, less worry, he would not have to see Cicadastar pace anxiously at night down worn moonlit paths; having Buckgait step up to be his deputy was a step in the right direction despite his personal feelings but he would be stupid to not say she wasn't capable in her own way
"By all means...after you."

[ooc: Sounds good! :3]
​