DIRTY NIGHT - intro

[.SUNNYMASK.]

— A WICKED LULLABYE MAKES YOU CRY IN YOUR SLEEP, BURYING YOUR HEAD IN A PILLOW

THEY'RE GONNA COME FROM EVERY CORNER OF YOUR DREAM FILLED MIND​

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On the outskirts of camp, long, lanky body coiled into itself in the shadows, Sunnymask's mismatched paws of neat clean ginger and long-tufted shadow were pushed close to her chest, propping her upon their thin points as she crouched and stared, unblinking, wide turquoise eyes watching her clanmates, as though trying to pick through them. She had a joke in mind, a wonderful joke and she needed the perfect set-up, along with an unfortunate victim to her antics. Her form was unmoving, perhaps a statue in the shadows of the few foliage the camp had if not for the rythmic ticking of her tail-tip. It was like a metronome, following a constant beat only she could hear, waving right by her haunches.

A shuffle by the prey pile made her hunch down, eyes snapping suddenly to the poor sod who dared pick their meal at this time, already her lips curling into her grin as her comically large, mismatched ears perked. Without a word, she seemed to bounce over, light upon her thin, bony legs as she dipped and bobbed. The movement would be graceful, perhaps even beautiful, if not for that large smile and those wide, unblinking eyes, boring into her target. Once upon her casualty, she dips low, head twisting to the side, making her ears flop and drape toward the ground, as she coos, barely able to contain that bubbly giggle that threatened to leave her, "Do you know why nobody ever wants to share prey with a Riverclanner?" She waits, expectantly, for them to respond, eyes never leaving their face as she sits there, silent, giggling to herself.​

 

[Bluepool]

If Bluepool were being honest, she didn't particularly care for Sunnymask. Their patchwork fur was an unfortunate cross to bare but even so, the she-cat also was not without her personality, and that personality held a striking resemblance to cat that she had once knew. Honestly, Sunnymask should have left right along with Mallowlark. Two peas in a pod these two were eh? Or perhaps they had seen the similiarities between themselves and hated each other for it? She almost wishes the shadow dipped tom was here so she could ask but she is also glad he's not. One less weirdo to worry about then.

She is headed to the fresh kill pile now, her eyes set upon a particularly juicy looking field mouse when, much to her chagrin, she is intercepted. She looks up from her target and is disappointed to see a familiar face, eyes and smile wide. She lets out a deep sigh, a clear indication that she wants nothing to do with this interaction but still, the she-cat presses on. "Because they stink?" she asks, taking a wild guess for the sake of speeding up this conversation so she could enjoy her meal in peace.

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[SCORCHSTAR]

There are very few cats in the clan who Scorchstreak dislikes. A number of her clanmates may be strange, but most of the stranger ones are tunnelers, and she loves them dearly despite their strangeness. One particular cat who she doesn’t outright dislike, but is wary of, is Sunnymask. The big-eared moor runner seems out of place, in a way, no matter where she’s spotted around the territory, and Scorchstreak normally steers clear of the unblinking eyes, the ever-smiling face.

It has been a few days since the calico has ventured out of the nursery—she’s going to have her kits any day now, she knows. But on one of her treks to the prey pile, she happens to come across Sunnymask pestering Bluepool, body twisted and curved awkwardly, looking something like an unfortunate animal that ended up being too slow for the thunderpath. It takes a moment for Sunnymask’s words to register, and she’s asking a question, but something in her smile shows that it’s not genuine curiosity. There’s some kind of hidden goal, here. But the inquiry isn’t aimed at her, and so the queen waddles past them both to the prey pile, snatching something small before returning her attention to them. She offers Bluepool a warm smile, avoiding any possible eye contact with Sunnymask as she awaits the multicolored cat’s reaction.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[SOOTSTAR]

SOOTSTAR ♀​

Similarly to Scorchstreak, Sootstar didn’t hold distaste for Sunnymask, but her disposition was one that could make any cat weary. It reminded her terribly so, of the long gone Mallowlark who had once spoiled the moors with his presence. His unblinking eyes and wide grin, his irritable shrilling laughter. Sootstar has not missed him for a heartbeat, the only time she thinks of him being when she sees aspects of him in other cats. Still, Sunnymask was far more tolerable than Mallowlark. She was not entirely insufferable and didn’t dig around in prey carcasses for amusement. She too is settled nearby the fresh-kill, glancing up as the tri-colored she-cat attempts to amuse Bluepool. Sootstar cannot help but scoff at the sheer idea of sharing prey with a RiverClanner, even just in a joke. She was a difficult to amuse cat. ”That, and because why would you want to stuff your face with any of those fish for brains fools.” Nontheless… she anticipates the punchline.

 

[VULTUREMASK]

Hmh a joke?. He was not convinced it would be a joke that would fit his taste to be honest. Ever since Mallowlark had tragicly just disappeared there was extremely few who could amuse his dark sense of humour. His lil jester...life had become even more boring with them gone. At least when Mallowlark had been here Vulturemask had watched with amusement when that black footed tom had creept his clanmates out. Aha such days had been wonderful...It was a shame they were gone. He would with ease trade one of his less favorite clanmates out just to get them back.

Vulturemask kept himself back not fond of the company who already was surrendering the joke teller so decided to not lurk around too closely. Instead he kept himself in the shades where he belonged to be, resting peacefully for the time being before he yet again had to retreat back to his den to...sulk was it right?. Vulturemask snorted.


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[.SUNNYMASK.]

— A WICKED LULLABYE MAKES YOU CRY IN YOUR SLEEP, BURYING YOUR HEAD IN A PILLOW

THEY'RE GONNA COME FROM EVERY CORNER OF YOUR DREAM FILLED MIND​

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Bluepool's disappointment to see her almost makes Sunnymask pout. If she knew everyone compared her to Mallowlark, perhaps she'd be a bit offended. Afterall, she preferred her humor to be more entertaining for all, not just herself. But, nonetheless, the show must go on. With a giggle as she guesses and Sootstar herself-oh the honor-guess the punchline to her joke, Sunnymask's eyes flick to Scorchstreak just a touch, acknowledging the heavily pregnant queen, before a giggle erupts from her. "Because they always bring their 'catch of the day' and leave a reel stench behind!" She says gleefully before giggling loudly, nudging Bluepool with an elbow, "Talk about a 'fishy affair', aye?" She erupts into laughter, gut busting and hearty, as she shook and trembled with the force of just how hilarious she found her joke.

With a wipe of a comical tear, she smiled, expectant, at her clanmates, hoping to hear her laughter mirrored amongst them.​

 

[cygnetstare]

Cygnetstare appears with a sudden clarity of presence behind Sunnymask as she's apt to do; her neck bent to peer at the cats present, it almost looks bent too much. Warped; as though she was to reek with the stench of a Thunderpath's death as opposed to the cloud of graveyard essence that lingers behind her every step. Quite a little tableau has gathered, she notices, retired in the comforting shadows from which Sunnymask had made her dealings in comedy. The chimera does not mimic her friend's overblown grin, instead lurking in a machination of limbs on the outskirts of the little group.

One viscera eye on the ever-looming sky, oversized lashes hang in Cygnetstare's bleached gaze as she listens to the hearty cackles of Sunnymask. Obligingly, the skeletal creature joins in with an entirely wrong-sounding giggle of her own; it's rasped with the raked dirt of the grave, bent and twisted spatters of amusement making their way out in hacking gouts. Cygnetstare is easily pressured, manipulated, for such an odd creature indeed; they are not moved in the natural sense by charisma or social pressures, rather, they just seem malleable. She's as easily moved as a limp and rotten corpse, long past the rigor mortis of concrete morality. Cygnetstare watches the gathered cats for a reaction, swaying behind Sunnymask, as though her skinny frame has finally toppled with the length of its bone.
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