private DIMMING LIGHTS ╱ PATROL

[CICADASTAR]

the sun is high, dawn not yet risen enough to cast greenleaf's bitter heat upon them all. water still slicks the curls at his sunken form, early morning mist slipping through strands of bicolored fur ; he sets out early because today, they head up along the gorge. he starts the long walk towards where the rocky wall gives way to a short, skipping bound downwards towards where the water rolls ferociously towards the falls with a single goal : trail upriver until he brings home harvest. the rivers continued to dip and the prey has taken notice, refusing to stay in the shallow waters where the sun burns through the top most layer of shimmering river. but he knows the fish are rampant here, collide against large stones in the water and make themselves known in wide, flailing leaps.. but the path was dangerous for the inexperienced and quick - moving, despite how the ground slopes to allow them down. water rushes just below, and the mottled leader keeps an eye out for where the grass gives way just a bit, surrounded by the dirt wall separating them from prying windclan eyes. " keep at my heel. you know how treacherous the gorge can be. " a loose paw hold, a desperate scrabble for perchance. a single wide, pleading eye flashes in his vision and cicadastar whips his gaze back to settle on hazepaw instead, never breaking his easy stride along the water - damp grass, " watch your paws, and remember that any discolored stone is.. most likely.. ""

slick, he would say, if icicle eyes hadn't flicked back forward upon pushing through a patch of sprouting cattail leading down into the divot of rock and lazily rolling waters at the pit of the gorge. his voice trails, clips as pawsteps come to a slow, steady still as he spots it. a jutting surface of sticks and twine, tightly woven despite the streams of water still pouring through small gaps. it resembled a bridge of sorts, swarming with large, dark - colored figures with shaggy, water - spiked fur. the air smells of drying fish and humidity, mingling over mossy odor clinging sharp to the beasts fur. they do not see them, busily bustling along the edges of what the mottled feline could only assume was a nest. for a moment, he merely stares ; a blind dismay, wracking of thoughts for a plan ; none come to mind. they are big, he can see from here.. and once again, their patrol is too small to run these beasts from their territory -- and how could they, as strangely as theyd made their home, " is this.. " where the water block is coming from. the subject of their hunger. body stiff and chin high to watch where the flocks of sleek brown bodies swim about the dam - stopped waters., he knows his options are limited large heads pop from the surface, bobbing lazily, socializing amongst themselves in awkward sounds, " .. turn back. " more warriors, maybe.. but could they run this entire family from such perilous waters, even then?

he turns, but turning does little good.

there — sitting hunched, holding remnants of debris it had clearly intended to patch to its stick - woven home, is one of them. it is a rounded thing ; like an otter but thicker, with a big, dark nose and long, chittering forefangs. its fur is slick with riverwater, dripping down to the flat tail slapping aggressively at the ground. it is bigger than he'd imagined, seeing them float about in the waters. this.. this was what his patrol had found. that corpse, large and long dead.. the creatures sniffs, wide, flaring nostrils parting it’s large, powerful maw — before snapping forward, disregarding the stick it had been holding for falling down onto all fours. a family, he could only assume ; they’d been building this bridge, far along the gorge. cicadastar’s ears snap, casting a glance back towards where more swim in calm waters behind the lumber creation.

when the beast crouches, bears its long, yellowed teeth — and aims a snap low at the nearest cat, petalnose.

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i. objective: overpower it without alerting the others or avoid it altogether !! remember that they’re bigger & heavier than a cat, but slow! @iciclefang @Petalnose @Hazepaw
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
  
  no character opinions represent my own.​
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  

​

 

[Petalnose]

A mission of such was enough to distract her busy and downed mind of yellow cough. Eagerly she took this opportunity even if it worried her to be pulled from her weakened mate fighting their own battle within their body. She hoped to come back, see them perked up within their nest in result of perishing symptoms. For now, this would pass that time.

Lungs pulled and expanded steadily but quickly as paws maneuvered the gorge, keeping her long stride within the patrol but careful of where her paws were placed. There was an occasional glance to the waters, searching of what the river king was scouting, attempting to follow his eyes and more some. Her brows creased in focus, squinting to make sight of something.. anything.

A scent flowed through her senses, the dry fish and moss becoming prevalent. Some clans she knew would excuse it for Riverclan but to her it was quite distinct and almost unfamiliar, she was sure her clanmates would agree. She quietly stepped forward to get a better look, mouth parted to take in the scent and look for the source. It looked like a ruined birds nest, flipped over but firm enough for a large patrol to walk over. A bridge of some sorts. Then there were round brown figures, moving and she gently turned her head back to see her leaders expression. However, before she could, there was a sound in front of them and she spun her head to face this creature.

"Turn back."

Eyes quickly darted to see if she could obey but the river being was charging her direction.

I can't. I have to fight.

Claws unsheathed, she quickly aimed to take a full blow across its' face. A hiss or growl did not fall from her, well aware it could result in a bigger lump of trouble and injury. Eyes glued, the lead warrior refused to glance back at the patrol. Had they left her, she wouldn't know- although there was no fear that stretched across her face. Only one of no expression. Maybe she would even enjoy this fight.

Tags​

 

[RIVERCLAN]

little creatures, he sees. thin - boned, sharp toothed.. the beaver know this smell — it had been all over the trees, stinking and strange. he lumbers from the tall grass with heady eyes wide, fast - blinking and buck teeth bared in preparation. his mother, his father, work to put his fallen lumber to use in rippling waters ; a nest, to protect. a nest, for family. what is this little creature? stout limbs carry him slowly forward, clawed paws grasping at the grass with each step and.. smell weird, he thinks, smell bad. smell fear. there are more of them, three large, one small. he follows, and their odor rages in suddenly bristling shoulders. fear scent. fear scent.

predator? predator?

one turns, and the beaver lifts to hind limbs to grunt, low and harsh — intimidating, and one turns. long nose, big eyes. it startles, and he is pleased. a whine leaves him, claws opening, and another whirls around fast. muscled arms hit the ground hard, alarm and fear spurring him forward to latch onto the creatures forelimb in a brisk, but trudging lumber. his teeth do not make contact before pain erupts across his round muzzle. a loud, angry sound erupts from his throat as claws strike full over a sleek, but bristle - whiskered cheek. blood dribbles from the new wound, three clean claw marks striking his soil brown fur. he has felt little pain like this, and knows quickly that they are under attack — under attack, protect the dam. protect the dam, protect the nest.

a loud, whining sound erupts from his throat, mouth hanging open to let it echo about the dip in the gorge, loud where it ricochets off of the wet stone. brown heads lift from the water, bobbing lazily up and down where they inspect the commotion. two swim towards the bank — brothers. the beaver grumbles again, a long, aggressive sound before attempting another quick bite onto anywhere it could reach on the not - beavers slim arms. with its tail, it would attempt to smack any other attacker with its long, flat tail if approached from another side.​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang follows Petalnose, placing her paws carefully and mindfully along the slippery moss-slick stones. Water foams and mists the air with its spittle from the falls and the rapids below the gorge’s overhang, and fog not yet burnt away by a rising sun clings to the patrol’s pelts. She wears her half-lidded, calm expression, but her icy eyes are shining and alert. All of them can hear the strange scuttling and scraping sounds up ahead, and she is eager to see what, if anything, lies at the end of their journey today.

Like Cicadastar and Petalnose, the strange scent hits her first. Sodden wood, a heightened fish scent, and the river reach her tongue, and she narrows her eyes. They’ve found the source of the river blockage, it seems—there’s a thick, tightly-woven nest placed in the river, pressured waters dammed behind it. Iciclefang’s sleek fur begins to stiffen at the sight of the enormous creatures adding wood to the nest. Brown like otters, but thick and bulky, easily strong as a fox or a badger. Her tail lashes, but she’s otherwise still as stone.

Cicadastar, too, is frozen ahead of them, and he murmurs, “Turn back.” The mottled young warrior has to agree—three warriors and an apprentice are hardly a match for the creatures. She can see the glint of early morning sun on curved fang, and she suppresses a shudder. She does not want to see her Clanmates mauled by those beasts, and she does not particularly want to feel them pierce her own flesh, though if needed—

There’s a huff of air. Nostrils enlarged, flaring. A creature split from its group stares Petalnose down, and on scuttling little limbs, it streaks forward, its nasty fangs snapping too close to her body for comfort. Iciclefang’s instinct is to yowl a warning, but she gives a frustrated glare to the oblivious creatures still working on their nest and suppresses it. It would be easier, she thinks, to scare it off than to fight it—but it will be harder to do that when they must remain quiet.

Admirably, Petalnose extends her claws and slashes the beast without opening her mouth, and the blow makes contact. The creature bleeds from its stunted muzzle, but unfortunately for them all, it emits a keening wail that resounds within the acoustics of the gorge. Iciclefang hisses. “Foxdung! There’s more coming!” She looks to the two who approach, bodies wet and slick from river water, and unsheathes her claws. They scrape noisily against the stone—and she snarls, low and threatening. She sees the first beast snap for Petalnose’s foreleg, and she leaps at it from its other side, her claws aiming for its fat haunches.

And then the tail begins to smack about—and it slaps her, hard, in the face, whether she has made her mark or not. It stings, and she wonders for a moment if it’s misplaced her jaw. She had no idea a tail could be so powerful, so stiff. She growls, whirling to glare at one of the now-approaching river-dwellers. “Come any closer and you’ll pay,” she hisses, and she dances close to the river bank to aim a quick slash toward one’s muzzle.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

tw for severe injury in the last two paragraphs​

it is chaos all too quickly. the beast drops to all fours and strikes out with hulking orange forefangs, but petalnose is quick to lash out. it strikes, ripping blood across a short, fat muzzle and iciclefang leaps to its other side in defense — but it’s tail, wide and flat, makes connection with her white - streaked muzzle. it makes a heavy sound despite the shrieking growl their visitor lets erupts from its throat. blood, more blood drips from its haunch and it backs up in a frantic motion, nearly stumbling over itself in its haste. iciclefang is right, silent as it was : they would be easier to scare off.

he leaps over to back it further, too occupied with its newfound wounds to notice until his paws hit the ground just before it. it does not lash out just yet — instead sinking back, parting its maw in warning and instictively, his claws lash to strike right across small, round eyes. another hit, and the animal releases a low, keening whine before a large, heavy head swings ; it’s looking for an escape route, he thinks. it’s slow, seemingly unused to the pain they’d inflicted upon its sleek form. more are coming! iciclefang yowls, and slitted pupils flit over to where she is running riverside, attempting to fend off two more of the creatures where they waddle onto the shoreline.

the wounded one, however, notices. where it is cowering back on thick limbs, beady eyes lift, blood dribbling into wide, furious black. it lurches for a bite upon a single, slim leg.

it makes connection.

his hind heel shatters beneath strong jaws and he can’t help the sound he lets out, a bloodcurdling shriek that scratches his throat all the way to his barbed tongue and echos horribly through the gorge. he feels as though he would be sick with it almost instantly, bone splintering against flesh still embedded with sharp, thick teeth. it cut through like nothing he’d ever felt — unlike cats claws or fangs, thin and only so far to go. it feels as though those fangs have ripped his upper leg apart, excruciating pain rocketing up his limb and electrifying him up the spine. shock numbs him in a near instant once long teeth begin to slip from his wound, pulling at the ripped skin and bone chip.

the leader falls, and thankfully, the beast backs up further ; it's in pain, with no interest in chewing into him.. but the thought does not so much as cross his mind. he flails awkwardly against the suddenly - slick ground, ivory painted crimson far too quickly for him to realize why. he can't say a word through the pulsing, the spurt of blood that didn't seem to stop despite the creature slinking away. a single bite. he cannot feel his paw but it is there, he sees through the sudden blur in his eyes. blood does not drip but fly from him, erupting like water from a kitten's splashing paws and he does not understand why in his haze. perhaps he would not, even if pain does not stuff his ears with cotton.

smokethroat's first apprentice, now a warrior ; she would be surrounded by them in moments where they swarm towards the shore. get away, " 'cle..! " cicadastar bites out, chest and flank heaving, forelimbs aiming to pull himself off to the side -- but he is too far. he cannot. his head hits the ground tossed as far towards petalnose as possible, warmth pooling beneath him in pure, odorous crimson. he looks a beached fish now, but he makes an urgent noise to draw her attention, " nouh. nnno. " has his voice been so slurred? his head bobs back and forth, energy depleting. can't fight. a single bite and slow, dragging agony, unlike he's experienced. he knows already that he is going no where, can't be moved. they can't fight them, not just them. his head is swimming too much for anything else.

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i. it bit an artery in his hind leg and broke his back leg!! he's bleeding out and can't be moved < / 3
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
  
  no character opinions represent my own.​
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  

​

 

[Petalnose]

Contact is made, satisfaction stirred within her emotions as claws ripped through its muzzle. Hopefully, that was enough to scare it away. Enough to distract it so the patrol had enough time to turn and flee. Did they flee? Uncertainty seeped into her confident look, too focused to look over her shoulder. Shouting suggestions didn't seem like an option.

It was too late.

The creature let out a call, her long limb raising once more for another swipe to cut it off but she was too late. She froze at Iciclefang's call, they knew. They all knew. As quickly as heads turned- dread for her clanmates spiraled within. They weren't turning around, they didn't leave her. It was bittersweet; but now she had something to worry about and she was convinced this was her mistake. Time to turn around and weave slippery rocks, push the patrol away- it was too much time, she wouldn't be able to dodge the attack.

But would it be worth it? If she got hurt? If she didn't alarm the others and her clanmates didn't get hurt in result? She wasn't sure. She only could find guilt within the situation.

She flinched back as she saw a tail flying in her direction and eyes widen as she watched Iciclefang jump in and take the strike. Jaws gap to shout against it but it had already made contact with the tortoiseshell feline. "I've got it!" She insisted quickly, watching as the situation spiraled into chaos within a flash. Iciclefang was now veering to the newly approaching creatures, Cicadastar jumps in by her side.

Petalnose watches it as it slinks back, moving forward to help the river king overwhelm it with exposed fangs towards its thick neck. But she froze.

A snap is heard and fur along her spine prickled, widened eyes gluing onto her leader as he lets out a sickening shriek. One that enforced panic within her, a emotion she hadn't felt for awhile. Fear. She feared for her leader. She feared for Iciclefang and Hazepaw. But eyes flared with newfound rage as it snapped back upon the large creature, blackened lips pulling into a threatening snarl with a heavy growl rumbling within her chest. Nearly every part of her told her to finish the creature off, rip it to shreds. Kill it.

But she didn't.

Cicadastar fell and tried to rasp for words towards Iciclefang and then eyes fell onto her, locking eyes with him to express her understanding. She was now the hand of authority and voice, if she were to continue this fight it would only lead them all into danger. They would all be on the ground, bleeding out. Dying. She had to stop it, no matter how she felt. For Riverclan.

"Fall back! Flee!" She yowled sharply, turning her head to Iciclefang. Her gaze did not last long enough to see if she would obey, trusting the young warrior would follow her words of urgency.

With that, the lead swiveled on her paws back to Cicadastar, bending her head down so he could see her without strain, "I'll get this under control. I won't let you down." She reassured in urgency, scuffing him and journeying up the rocks would only cause more damage and blood loss on top of excruciating pain. Her best call to force was a messenger, "I need the two of you to leave, notify Ravensong to bring supplies. Be fast but be careful. Now go!" Petalnose instructed firmly, keeping a shielding stance in front of him. She hoped the creatures got the message that they were no longer trying to fight; all she could offer was her defensive but protective body language. However, she was more than ready to raise her paw once more if they thought to get too close to the wounded king. Unscathed, experienced, she was the best call to action to take this lone position.

Eventually she knew they still had to stop them. The fight wasn't over in reality. Water sources were needed, leaf-bare was inching closer and it would leave their clan to wither with the vegetation. Help was needed, something she planned to tend to as soon as the river king was within the safety of the medicine den. They would get justice, Petalnose would be sure of it.

Tags​

 

[iciclefang]

It happens in moments—just as Iciclefang lopes toward the swimming brown animals, Petalnose and Cicadastar begin their fight in earnest. Her claws scrape threateningly against the stone, her lips peeled away from her fangs up to their roots. She will kill them both if she has to, she thinks, never knowing how impossible a task it would be. She does not know until a shrill, chilling shriek of agony shatters the veneer of quiet confidence she crouches behind. Wildly, she turns, her eyes leaving the dripping mammals as they haul themselves toward land. Cicadastar buckles, crashes into the ground, his leg snapped sickeningly behind him.

“Cicadastar!” She is reminded of the day she’d caused his first death, anointed with her leader’s blood at three moons old. This is not her fault, she tells herself, but for a moment she’s rooted, unsure of what she can do. There are wet, slapping footsteps behind her now. “We can’t fight these things,” she says, her voice sharp as her claws. “We have to…”

She doesn’t know what they have to do, what they can do. Petalnose arches herself over their bleeding leader, her gaze fierce and her commands whiplike. The tortoiseshell shakes her head, stubborn, but she knows she has no choice. The lead warrior is now in charge. “You’ll die here with him,” she says, but with a hiss of annoyance, she runs, brushing her flank against Hazepaw’s urgently. “Come! Now! The more time we waste, the more dangerous this gets for them!”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[CICADASTAR]

bleeding to death, cicadastar thinks, has been mercifully fast for him each time. this though — his head swims before petalnose can make her way over, can barely hear past the pulsing in his ears. iciclefang approaches and even through the haze in his ears, lodging his senses to a wheezing lull, he hears the sharpness of her words cut just beneath the surface. i’ll get this under control, the molly says to him anyway and his clear blue eyes crease in acknowledgment. he does not blink slow like clearsight had at him, moons ago now ; he merely looks, allows crows feet to touch the corners of greying vision. he always has such a hard time falling asleep, this seems almost a comfort — warmth slipping beneath bloody curls, where he is too cold from the inside out. it feels golden, in a way. clouds roll overhead, i won’t let you down. no. no, she would not. of his leads, he would want her here, heeding the call as it comes. a headstrong molly, action - first. perhaps a bit brash, but smokethroat wouldn’t allow her to do anything foolish. iciclefang would not either, for that matter.

the tortoiseshell stands rigid, ushers hazepaw away towards the side and — yes. they were no fool, not truly, but headstrong ; leave. he would implore if his tongue did not feel so thick. dying is comfortable, this time. the giant creatures lumber closer still and perhaps they would decide to feast on him. would starclan heal him still? would they make him anew, replace gnawed off fur and skin? could they bite open his throat too, mangle him until unrecognizable? what stress could this body take until even the stars hang their head on him? he wonders if beesong had time to think before they hit those rolling, black waters. a part of him hopes they had, if only to share this haunted thought with a another soul. selfish, selfish. petalnose calls a retreat and — yes. yes, the creatures close in.

when the light fades from his eyes, he is facing the gorge — facing petalnose, brow furrowed. cicadastar dies silent, nothing but the sound of blood splashing quietly at his broken hind leg.

six.

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i.
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm!
  
  no character opinions represent my own.​
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  

​

 

[Hazewish]

TRAVELER, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED (AND NOW YOU MUST GO) ⋆⁺₊⋆

The slope is the one place that can still instill a modicum of carefulness in Hazepaw — that and burrows. They follow Cicadastar with utmost attentiveness, watching where he places his paws intently before doing the same.

Her eyes, focused on the ground as they are, do not wander as is their habit and as such do not notice what has Cicadastar stopping in his track. She barely notices the change of pace initially: she’s still catching up slowly. Her head only comes up at his soft whisper of turn back, ears pricked back at the odd tone of his voice. What she finds then is not just her mentor’s figure, but that of a large, rat-like thing: its yellow teeth are bared in a threat.

It’s nothing like the badger… but the sight of it strikes the same fear in Hazepaw nonetheless. She freezes, but not long: Petalnose fearlessly swipe at it and she remembers, not alone this time.

Haze paces back and forth, trying to find an opening: they don’t want to get in Iciclefang or Petalnose’s way (don’t want to fight it, like catfish fought the badger—). More appears, drawn by the noise of the full-fledged warrior going toe-to-toe with the ugly thing. They lower themselves, claws kneading the ground. They’re big, bigger than even an adult cat. Can they scare the badgers away without numbers on their side…?

Then, a shriek to shake the heavens.

This time her whole body seizes as if she had been thrown into the freezing waters of her birth season. She sees the terrible teeth, the blood staining white fur, the shattered wreck of a leg—

the badger the badger the badger

They can’t move. Not as Cicadastar pulls his miserable weight closer to Petalnose; not as Petalnose yells at them to flee. There’s so much blood. It was night last time; it showed less; there must have been so much blood too.

Then, suddenly, Iciclefang’s body against theirs; warmth chasing the cold away. Hazepaw snaps back to themself with a high-pitched, startled noise. They have to leave — and come back. They have to carry a message. They’re not blindly fleeing: there’s something Haze can do. Starclan will preserve their chosen leader; the mere flesh-and-blood actors of their fate must simply ease the way by getting the stars-appointed healer here, and their fragile bodies out of the range of such devastating bites.

They nod brusquely at Icicle and tear off after the young warrior, trusting in their instinctive understanding of the territory — well-learned through much truancy — to carry them safely and swiftly to camp.

[⋆]​

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