camp dead fields under a november sky — intro

[cygnetstare]

❝ WE'LL MEET AGAIN ☠︎°.♱ ————————————
For once, Cygnetstare is actually in camp doing something besides eating or sleeping; it's a rare sight. Much of the time, the skeletal cat can (or can't) be found in the hollow underbelly of WindClan's moors; the tunnels, living and breathing their work. She sits neatly if slightly slouchily, the sharp knobs of her vertebra tenting her pelt as though about to burst forth in a mountain range of bones, tail draped over her tucked-up hind paws. Cygnetstare's head is hunched over one forepaw, at which they're absentmindedly gnawing; they have an itch in it, and the texture interests them besides. Their flesh has a not unpleasant give beneath their gnashing molars, hunting down the irritating sensation. A pleasant yield.

The tunneler has no qualms with socializing, despite her generally off-putting appearance; indeed, it doesn't take too much to curry their interest. Her heavily lidded eyes, namesakes, search the camp beneath overlong lashes. Having given up on the chewing at her paw, she settles for licking halfheartedly at it, looking about. Should any cat approach her, they'll be met with a somewhat uneasy silence while Cygnetstare ... well, stares, and waits for them to start the conversation. That, and the stomach-twisting smell of grave-dirt, sour and stale, that hangs about them.

[penned by dejavu - 𓅯]

———————————— ♱.°☠︎ DON'T KNOW WHERE, DON'T KNOW WHEN ❞ ​

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[Badgermoon]

What was it with tunnelers and being weird? The memory of Lambcurl's worm-slurping flashed through Badgermoon's mind as the large tomcat approached Cygnetstare with slightly cautious steps, yellow eyes flicking up and down the gaunt she-cat's figure. It was no business of his which bits of themselves cats did (or did not) chew on - he himself was guilty of occasionally gnawing on an especially itchy paw now and again - but something about the tunneler's scent and skeletal appearance skeeved him out. A shame Mallowlark isn't around. I'm sure they'd get along swimmingly.

"Cygnetstare, did you get a chance to have a look at that burrow I told you about?" inquired the deputy with a twitch of his whiskers. Having spotted a hole in the ground with freshly churned-up dirt earlier in the day, Badgermoon had asked if the strange tunneler would have a look at it. Truth be told, as much as he enjoyed talking with his Clanmates, this particular cat made him feel a touch uneasy, and it was only for professional reasons that he had approached in the first place.​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Creepy. A creepy, creepy creature, this warrior is. Gravelsnap does not like Cygnetstare. Much like many other tunnelers—a frankly concerning amount, they think—the thin feline is strange as can be, as though she’s forgotten how to behave as a cat should. Perhaps the stench of the tunnels has been getting to the tunnelers’ heads, driving them all insane bit by bit. Lambcurl and Ambertail are excellent examples of this tunnel-madness, offputting figures that Gravelsnap avoids whenever possible.

They wrinkle their nose at the scent that surrounds Cygnetstare, follows them around like a cloud of death. Badgermoon asks the tunneler about some burrow he’s told them about, and the young warrior tilts their head curiously. Had the deputy given Cygnetstare a special task of some sort? They don’t ask, but instead await the tunneler’s response with narrowed hazel eyes.
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I NEED YOU HERE 'CAUSE I'M A MESS ❀❀​
periwinklepaw | 10 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

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Though the nightmares have slowly begun to ease, the waking world is still not such a kind place for the boy - and so he clings tightly to what he can. The boy hovers about gravelsnaps side, though he gives badgermoon a friendly wave of his tail, before clear blue eyes land on the focus of the conversation. His own frail figure is not much better than the strange mollies, but where mallowlark's strangeness had an appealing sort of humor to it, something about cygnetstare has his fur ruffled and teeth clenched. Perhaps, it is the scent of death - all to familiar and haunting. He shivers, gaze flicking away in awkwardness, as though hoping he has not been caught staring. He shouldn't think such thoughts about someone he hardly knows but... he is truly unsettled.
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[Doverunner.]

While others observe her fellow tunneler with caution and even a hint of fear, Doverunner skips over with no worries. Sure, Cygnetstare's appearance could be off-putting to most, and sure, the smell of graves was heavy, but having grown up in Windclan, where her friend's mom literally spoke to star-gods and she scurried under the ground like a weasel and there having been many... horrifying things that she's witnessed just from the many things this clan has done/said/went through, that Cygnetstare was, perhaps, the least of Doverunner's fears. It also helped that she worked with the other, greeting her as she slipped past Gravelsnap with a friendly look on her features. "If you haven't checked that out, I'd love to go with! I'm trying to avoid Ambertail, currently, especially since... Whitepaw seems to itch to sink her claws into me," She bubbly said, offering to help with what Badgermoon stated as her tail curled over her back, eager to do something with all her energy she had pent up.
"speech"​

 

[cygnetstare]

❝ WE'LL MEET AGAIN ☠︎°.♱ ————————————
A few cats approach Cygnetstare, who does them the courtesy of quitting her general treatment of herself like a literal piece of meat and setting down her paw (even if it still looks a little ... chewed). Tattered ears flicker as wide pink eyes turn onto Badgermoon, grateful for the current cloudcover that keeps little explosions of pain from popping behind those viscera-toned irises. Cygnetstare's tufted tail taps once, twice, appearing to consider. Not appearing to blink. Their neck creaks, rolling bonelessly, vertebra visibly shifting as their head swivels to spot the new arrivals, no other part of their body moving. Their jaws part ever-so-slightly as Gravelsnap arrives, appearing to smell them as milkweed scent wafts between their parted teeth, gums pulled back a little too far.

The bleached gaze passes over Periwinklepaw, settling on him for only a moment, until she settles on Doverunner. The fur on that one white leg swings as if a wing, Cygnetstare leans forward, the movements slow and almost drunken. Leaning, as though they don't quite know how to adjust to the body she's inhabited her entire life. The chimera's maw cracks wider at the lilac cat's arrival, a face (voice, might be more fitting) familiar from tunnel-work; Doverunner had been apprenticed a few moons after them. Her voice wafts out, gravelly and grating, as though grave-dirt clogs even her throat. If a cat is especially attentive, they might notice how Cygnetstare's voice acquires the energetic cadence of her fellow tunneler, "Ayuh, just a gopher, I'm afraid," Cygnetstare's voice is scratchy, their maw twisting into a smile, skin stretched tight, a rasping giggle emerging; voice clogged with a Northeastern drawl, "Wouldn't mind goin' still, Doverunner, jus' to check it out proper. Them things spawn like rabbits."

[penned by dejavu - 𓅯]

———————————— ♱.°☠︎ DON'T KNOW WHERE, DON'T KNOW WHEN ❞ ​

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[GRAVELSNAP]

Wide, unblinking eyes settle upon them and the tunneler opens their mouth, scenting—the young warrior’s gaze shifts to somewhere behind Cygnetstare, over her shoulder. At their side, Periwinklepaw seems just as disconcerted, and Gravelsnap flicks their tail lightly against their friend’s flank. They have seen Cygnetstare around, of course, but never have they strayed this close to the tunneler who looks like death and smells like worse.

Cygnetstare speaks at last, and their voice is grating, unsettling. They claim that Badgermoon’s request turned out to be the work of gophers; Doverunner offers to help clear them out, and Gravelsnap thinks that is a great idea. Doverunner does not set their skin prickling as much as the black and white tunneler does, and her comment about Whitepaw amuses him, just a bit. "Yes, you should go hunt gophers," he agrees, nodding stiffly. Yes, go somewhere so I don’t have to see you or smell you.
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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