camp DIVINITY ⠀╱⠀ APRIL MEETING

dark clouds roll over the evening sky, newleaf breathing life into the swaying willows, small leaves overturned and rattling against the wind. a storm is rousing, but he is thrilled. it shows upon bicolored features, a smile pulling at sharp cheeks — the gathering had gone well. beyond well, chilledstar’s pleased expression in his direction, soot’s rampant nerves, claiming smogmaw threatened her with attack. she was frightened, and it was a good look, far better to look at than the gnarled ripped of flesh ribboned over her chest. the man ascends the gnarled root, slim paws keeping him steadfast to its chipping bark, ” all those old enough to swim, gather before me for a clan meeting. “ cicadastar settles, angles his paws and stands tall above the accumulating crowd, " cindershade will be assigning patrols this evening. keep your ears open, as lakemoon has reported, the waters have receded in camp. she will be sending a group to begin clean up. " his head lifts, proud, ” in only a short time, we will be able to return. once again will we nest where we belong! back home, back where the waters protected them at all sides — where windclan never would have reached them.

ripples of cheer and howls of excitement sound from the flock of riverclanners and the man pauses, before clearing his throat loudly, ” now.. before we continue onto gathering events, some more pleasant news. gillpaw. iciclepaw. it is time for you both to become warriors. “

the first. the child who’d witnessed his mentor fall to the claws of some windclan mangepelt, his eyes soften just slightly as he finds him amidst the crowd, @GILLPAW . as one of my dearest friends, i know clearsight trained you well. he taught you bravery, compassion. he taught you the ways of riverclan, the noble ways of starclan, and i commend you with your warrior name in turn. “ the blue - swirled tom should be here. he should be pressed to clayfur, watching the ceremony with watery eyes, ever emotion - ruled, ” for your perception and quick decision - making abilities, running to skyclan for help despite their lack of it — and in honor of your late mentor, watching now from the stars. “ perhaps it didn’t hurt as much as it did clayfur, but his chest burns, feels his throat do the same. he would be proud of you. when i see him — when i see him, i will tell him. starclan, let me see him, i name you gillsight. may you continue to watch over your clanmates. “ cheers. woops and caws of congratulations, before his tail lifts suddenly, tapering the sound off into a steady silence.

@iciclepaw . smokethroat has trained you hard, and i have seen you grow stronger to match. when my lead came to me in recommendation of an early ceremony, i had my worries.. but your assessment put them to rest. “ the tortoiseshell has grown beyond that tuft of multicolored fur, writhing at icesparkle’s belly. the first of many riverclan kits to come — pride wells within him, ears perked and chest puffed. a true riverclanner, born and raised beyond the waters. time never stops, never lets up.. he hoped mudpelt was proud, wherever he was amidst the throng. he wondered what it felt like, to watch one’s child become a warrior when even this felt so golden, ” you have fought in many battles, have handled yourself against enemies, have aided our allies when in trouble. for the combat prowess passed down from your mentor, for your sharpness — “ sharp tongue, sharp claws, sharp wit, ” i name you iciclefang. may starclan always guide your paws in battle. “ his head dips, letting the crowd roar once again. gillsight, iciclefang! gillsight, iciclefang!

as the yowls fade, he begins again — onto darker news, " as those present at the gathering already know, windclan is suspicious of an attack. their leader is paranoid, with only a pawful of her mutts in attendance. they are scared. she is right to be. “ his tongue whisks over his agape maw, slips into the healed dip where frost had eaten at rubberblack lips, ” we’ve suffered much these past moons, but riverclan will not be showing its belly. windclan has taken precious herbs from us, stormed our camp, taken our warriors. it is only fair we return their favor — but we are recovering still. beesong works hard to replenish their stock, and as much as i would like to storm them now, we must be patient. we must be smart. “ his throat clears, head ripping upwards — condifent, despite the wild glint in his eye. “ with soot already keeping her warriors from the gathering’s neutral ground, we will have time. we will have time to prepare, while they burrow in their hidey holes like the frightened rabbits they are. so let them! let them cower and hide! his voice rises, casting over the reactions of those before him, pallid eyes searching for hesitance — defiance, ” she has destined her warriors to their fate. so rest, recover. you will know when it is time. “

slitted eyes scan them, carefully, individually. wouldnt they all want those dogs punished? wouldn’t they all like to fill the places divine intervention had failed? were they not starclan’s warriors, bound still to this mortal coil? they should be so honored to work in their favor, to shoulder the discomfort of the heavens, just as he did, " they will come to the surface eventually, and by then, we will be stronger. we will be prepared. will you lie down now and be fed to the dogs, will you lie down now and let them storm us again — will you let them raid skyclan, shadowclan, let them run amok in a forest they’ve stained with blood? ” and smogmaw, for shadowclan’s credit, may have had the right idea. “ skyclan. skyclan. shadowclan was a liability, a risk, @CLAYFUR , @Snakeblink , and gillsight. you will be attending a patrol alongside me to skyclan’s border. after our incident, blazestar is owed a little conversation. “

the tall felidae searches for those he’d called, all chosen for a reason, " moving forward.. from soot’s paranoia of an attack by skyclan, riverclan and shadowclan — stars know why — and subsequent attack on smogmaw, chilledstar has introduced a new code that all leaders have agreed upon. do not hunt or trespass on another clan's territory. murmurs. murmurs from the crowd, to which he nods slow, ears tipping backward at the implications. oh, he felt the same, ” if you believe this hypocritical of most, i am with you. even howlingstar stood and agreed to these terms with her warriors bellies full of stolen prey, from stolen land — so let this be a reminder, sunningrocks does not belong to them! we are not to blame for thunderclans shortcomings, we are not to blame for our strength and their weakness! “ how the plump tabby had claimed them well fed, as if they’d not toiled beyond the iced river for moons, as if they’d not seen the way it had frozen over, forced them from their home, ” sunningrocks will be cleared of those vermin soon, let them enjoy the scraps they manage to steal from our kits bellies.. but you are not to treat these rocks as thunderclans. you are to hunt this stretch just as you do the rest of our riverlands, leave your scent! “ its nearly snarled, an unsheathed paw stomping against a jut of root, shallow scrapes of claw raking into chipping wood, ” know that thunderclanners are lurking, know that they will spit and fight and accuse you of trespassing, accusing you of the very crime they are committing. be safe, but do not tuck your tail!

do not run, simper and hide. weakness bleeds from their tragedies, drained from the lacerations born of misfortunes they’d suffered in moons past, ” riverclan has never been weak! riverclan has never rolled over, has never allowed another clan to steal from under our noses — i will NOT allow it to start now! we are not thunderclan, we will not ask! we will not whine and beg for territory that is rightfully ours! “ he shouts, hopes the determination in his voice rouses those before him, “ do not forget, even soot had come to us in the beginning, crawling on her belly and licking our paws for forgiveness! why do you think that is? “ his teeth clench, drag together, grins a wide, toothy grin, ” we are strong. something to be feared. they all know it, just as we do. if they want to attack us while we’re down, flooded from our camp, we will remind them that our weakness was only temporary. theirs is not.

  • i. activity shoutouts go to @Lakemoon . @LILYBLOOM. @Catfishpaw @Smokethroat @ravenpaw @Snakeblink and @Cindershade !! thank yall so much for everything you do < 3
  • ˖ ⁺ 。 ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    58782460_YqlZfgzWBE3fACI.png
    m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.

    gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
    penned by antlers

  • cicadablueoutline.png


  • "speech"
 
Her leader's call resounds throughout the makeshift camp that has begun to feel like a hollow second home. The tortoiseshell drifts close to where Cicadastar calls them from, wincing with every step. She does not complain. The bruises she's earned from her warrior assessment are like badges of honor; each one, tender as it is, serves as a reminder of how far she's come. Icechip eyes scan the gathering crowd for her mentor, Ashpaw, or her kin before the RiverClan leader begins his meeting.

Her ears prick. Cindershade is to assign patrols. She's still curious about Cicadastar's choice to prolong his deputy selection, but she supposes with so many capable warriors, he's not desperate to seek one out.

Iciclepaw sits with her tail curled around her white paws, a gleam in her eyes. Yes, soon their camp, her birthplace and RiverClan's true home, would be cleared of debris and ready for them to return to. She nods, relishing Cicadastar's vow. This place is a war-torn battleground. Will she ever be able to see it the same way?

No, it turns out. Cicadastar calls Gillpaw forward, and with him -- with him he calls Iciclepaw forward. She looks up at him sharply, wondering if she's misheard. Had the assessment been -- had it been for this moon? Aimlessly, Iciclepaw again looks for Smokethroat's single flaming eye, wondering if he had recommended her to join the warrior's ranks after all.

Cicadastar confirms. "Gillsight." Iciclepaw's fur bristles with excitement, newfound adrenaline. She looks excitedly to her denmate, tasting his name on her tongue. Named after his late mentor, her uncle's mate, a warrior who had given his life to defend their home. She looks at him meaningfully. "Gillsight! Gillsight!" What an honor, she thinks, to be named for a warrior who died for RiverClan.

Cicadastar continues, and Iciclepaw diverts her attention back to the monochromatic river king. As she'd suspected, Smokethroat had recommended her to become a warrior early. Hearing this, the pads of her paws tingle with unexpected warmth. It floods the battered feeling her body still wears from their spar. He believes in me. She looks behind her, hoping to catch her father's eye, her mother's, Ashpaw's, her siblings', but she must pay attention lest she miss her naming ceremony.

"You have fought in many battles, have handled yourself against enemies, have aided our allies when in trouble." She remembers every instance, every slice of claws against her pelt, ever battle cry she'd sang to Silverpelt. Iciclepaw holds her breath. "For the combat prowess passes down from your mentor, for your sharpness, I name you Iciclefang. May StarClan always guide your paws in battle."

Iciclefang. She dips her head to Cicadastar, feeling a new power, a new responsibility, flood her veins with electricity. She's a RiverClan warrior now, and even her leader has recognized her skill in battle, her willingness to fight for their home.

Now, ceremony concluded, she finds Smokethroat's gaze again. As she had to Cicadastar, Iciclefang dips her head. The white-flecked tom she had butted heads with as a kit, the cat she'd learned everything she knows about hunting, fishing, swimming, and fighting from -- she gives him a smile, one that's uncharacteristically filled with glee. Secretive, quick, it's gone in a flash.

Iciclefang struggles to listen to the rest of the meeting. A meeting with SkyClan over their reluctance to help -- good. She can only hope the kittypet comes to his senses or is left behind in the dust for ShadowClan. Cicadastar's rousing speech about their Clan, their strength, brings the sharp glimmer back to her pale eyes. "The next time we meet WindClan, we'll fill the river with their blood," she hisses, newfound fervor in her voice.

The next time she meets WindClan in battle, it will be as a RiverClan warrior.

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 
Hyacinthbreath listens from the medicine den as Cicadastar announces Iciclepaw's new name- promoting her to Warrior. A deserved promotion, in her opinion- Iciclepaw fought like a Warrior in the battles she'd seen, and Smokethroat had taught her well. She smiles as he continues, head on her paws. Clearsight's apprentice, the little Gillpaw, is given his Warrior name and a wave of guilt washes over her as she watches him. If she had done things differently, if she had controlled her temper, Clearsight could quite possibly be alive right now.

She shuts her eyes then, going quiet. The rest of the meeting fades into the background of her mind- Sunningrocks was going to be warred over, blah blah.. Hm.
❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

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Patrols, Cindershade’s turn to handle them while they continued on without a second; further proving a deputy wasn’t needed when they had such considerable force in their leads alone. The dark tom moved to answer the call expectantly, for once not caring about the actual news but only there for one thing and one thing only. His ear flicks to the news before and he turns to focus more intently as Cicadastar continues. Already he can see her in the crowd, confused, seeking him out, but he keeps his expression calm as can be; giving nothing away.
Gillpaw is named, in honor of Clearsight, and he feels a lump in his throat followed by an intense anger that fizzles out just as quickly as it lit. Clearsight should be here to see his apprentice named, that he wasn't was a debt soon to be repaid if he had his way. Then finally he hears her called forward, watching from the crowd and struggling to maintain his neutral visage.

Iciclefang.

His chest puffed out, heart swelling with pride. He was not a tom who spoke highly of many, nor of himself but there was no denying the gratification that struck him upon seeing her standing there receiving her full warrior name. It felt as though not long ago he laid eyes on the squirming tortie kitten at Icesparkle’s side, she was of the first litter born to their new clan lifestyle, one of RiverClan’s first apprentices back when none of them had any idea just how to go about handling the training of the youth and it had been a lot of trial and error. The clan’s beginnings were rough, she fought him from the start, petulant and indifferent; rolling her eyes to everything he said.
Now here she was, nearly as big as he was now and a proper warrior befitting RiverClan; tenacious and loyal to the core. He could ask for nothing less.

Smokethroat’s voice rose up, loud as he could muster among the throng of cats cheering names, for both Gillsight and Iciclefang but he would not deny his voice rang more powerfully for hers; call it bias and it was, he’d not deny it. Seeing that firebranded face at the forefront brought a rare placid smile across his maw and for a moment he felt something akin to longing tightening in his throat, choking him. No more little ember spotted shadow at his heels, no more lessons between them, no more long and arduous training sessions, it was all over now. A part of him felt almost unsure of how to move forward from this, already he felt the absence and disliked it.
He’d had an apprentice for as long as RiverClan had existed practically, sparing the few moons before when the mentor and apprentice pairings did not exist; when the clan was still freshly formed. Surely not having an apprentice anymore shouldn’t affect him this much, but as he stared forward at her and Gillsight both he could not help but imagine the image of younger, curly furred black kits wriggling in place awaiting their new apprentice names. Smokethroat blinked that lone orange eye sharply, the odd bubble of a thought popping and dissipating as quickly as it’d come.
But it had certainly left a mark.

Rising to stand he pushed his way over to the newly appointed warrior, nose dipping down to rest briefly on her forehead like the day she’d been apprenticed before he raised his head with a grin. He had seen the look-quick as it was; a lingering remnant of kit-like delight. It was allowable, of course. He’d not begrudge her that.
The tortie’s words are sharp as her new name, biting and cold and he can not help the glimmer of satisfaction in hearing them and the show of teeth across his maw that displays in reply.
“That we will, Iciclefang.” I'm proud of you, he doesn't say. You did well. You deserve this. It's all unsaid, he's never been a very forthcoming cat with his feelings, but he knows she can tell and that's almost enough but he does let one slip for amusements sake, "Still room for improvement but...that'll do." It's coy, almost teasing. Can't let her off that easy still.
 
Aspenhaze is joyed to hear just how close the clan actually is to returning to their proper camp. They don't attempt to hide their excitement, especially when after that announcement, Cicadastar moves onto naming two new warriors. The clan is growing more and more each passing day, and RiverClan would show those other pests. "Gillsight! Iciclefang!" they cheer alongside the rest of the clan.

Their joy grows ever higher at the mention of attacking WindClan in the future, as well as giving Blazestar what was coming to him. Their grin oozes malice as they think about how ready they are to give the other clans a taste of their own medicine. They can be patient, as their collective energy gathers. The clan is strong, and they will be victorious.

After Cicadastar finishes off the meeting with talk about getting back Sunningrocks- which is rightfully theirs- they wait for Smokethroat to finish talking to his now appointed apprentice to saunter over themself.
"Congrats on becoming a warrior, Iciclefang." They make sure to emphasize the suffix, giving a genuine smile for once to the fellow tortoiseshell in praise.
 
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The leader’s call for a meeting is met with a tired smile, and the brown tabby strides over to sit in his usual spot. Cicada wastes no time getting down to business, speaking of their island camp and how they will soon be moving back into it. Without thinking, Clay lets out a sigh of relief; finally, he’ll get to leave this place, this copse of trees permanently stained with the death of his mate. It’s just crushing, to think that Clearsight won’t get to see the island again. He hadn’t even gotten the privilege of dying in their camp, in their home, somewhere comfortable and familiar. The temporary camp had overseen his death with an uncaring gaze, unused to defending its inhabitants. But soon, he won’t have to look around the temporary camp and see blood in every corner. Soon, he’ll be home, even without his mate at his side.

The dappled leader continues speaking, announcing two new warriors. The name of his mate falling from Cicadastar’s mouth is to be expected, but it still strikes him in the chest like a physical blow. Gill is receiving his full name, his warrior name, and it’s in honor of the warrior who trained him, the loyal, kind, considerate tom who saw everything so clearly—a mentor who didn’t get the chance to see out his apprentice’s journey to warriorhood. Gillsight. He straightens minutely, feeling the telltale prickle of tears at his eyes.

Iciclepaw is next, and Clay blinks away the tears threatening to fall. The calico has trained so hard, proven herself so worthy of this promotion. And an early promotion, at that. He remembers the day she was born like it was only yesterday—time truly does fly. He grins at his niece when she’s officially named Iciclefang, tail flicking happily. The tears that hav been pressing at his eyes finally begin to fall, streaking down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw. "Gillsight! Iciclefang!" The two young cats’ new names are cheered in a voice thick with emotion, but enthusiastic nonetheless. He’s so proud of both of them.

The leader goes on to discuss the gathering, and all that had transpired. WindClan is suspicious of an attack, paranoid beneath the insanity of their leader. They expect RiverClan to strike back right away, after being injured by two attacks in a row. They must think RiverClan is stupid. They must think Cicadastar is stupid. The lanky tom is right—they need to be patient. He’ll get his revenge against the clan that took his mate someday, no matter how long he has to wait. Maybe his teeth will sink into Sootstar’s throat next, rip a life from her. Or maybe he’ll take one of her children, show her what it means to have a hole torn in her heart that can never be filled.

Cicadastar next calls upon Clay, Snake, and Gillsight to travel to the border with SkyClan, and Clay’s stomach twists uncomfortably. The idea of having to look Blazestar in the eye after such a betrayal, the idea of having to control whatever impulsive reactions he may have, it’s intimidating. But the way Cicada speaks—maybe the leaders will, like, focus on each other, and Clay won’t even be asked to speak. He doesn’t think he could be polite to the flame-pointed leader who he’d once called a clanmate, an ally. Clear had fought for Blazestar’s clan, had battled in a blizzard to defend them from WindClan. Clay had stood guard outside of camp, too afraid to move for fear that his—his warrior—might never return, his life ended at the claws of a WindClanner, all in the defense of a clan that he wasn’t even a part of. But Greenpaw had come calling for help, and RiverClan sent it. And when it came time for RiverClan to request aid in return—where was SkyClan? He nods stiffly to Cicada, focusing back in on the leader’s announcements.

A new addition to the warrior code, agreed upon by each of the leaders. Leaders whose hypocrisy is practically palpable. Chilledstar, whose clan is known, is still mocked, for their attempted hunting on ThunderClan’s territory. ThunderClan, who have trespassed and taken and stabbed RiverClan in the back. WindClan, who have lost a warrior to his own idiotic venture across the border.

But sunningrocks has never belonged to ThunderClan—it doesn’t belong to those dogs even now, as they take the precious memories of lost clanmates and tread across ground that isn’t theirs. All in the name of their supposed starvation, their hope that the rocks will somehow provide for the forest clan. Cicadastar orders the clan to continue treating the rocks as their own, because they are. He doesn’t care how it happens, or when. Sunningrocks is his—is RiverClan’s—spot and it always will be.
[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]
 

Fernpaw was quick to meet Cicadastar's call, eager aqua eyes excited for another rousing round of news and ceremonies. A smile shook slight upon his maw at the news that they would soon be able to return to their true home; this time, Fernpaw would be able to take his assortment of trinkets with him. What he had once had was beautiful, but... back in the comfort of their real home, it might turn out easier to re-gather what had slipped through the gaps in his paws before.

Even though their cobbled-together camping ground had done them good, it would be lovely to return back to his birthplace... back to what was so familiar. River-cradled, he had been raised there alongside his siblings. And all of them were so big now, even him, clear in size as the runt. Idly, he wondered whether they'd even fit...

Pulled from his stupor, a pair of names were called. Gillpaw, certainly at warrior age by now, and... Iciclepaw. For a moment confusion calligraphed across his usually jovial features- he'd no assessment, and neither had Steeppaw and Darkpaw yet. They were almost at warrior age- so why would they be having their ceremony now? And then- then, Cicadastar... stopped. Called out no more names. Thet was when the realisation barrelled into Fernpaw like an embrace of reunion.

Iciclepaw was early. His sister- she was so excellent, such a perfect example of a talented apprentice, that she was being made a warrior before the rest of them. And though deep within Fernpaw burned a green flame of envy- because how could he not wish he had been born that way, gifted and clever- what flared brighter was the shine of his smile. Above what-ifs and thoughts of alternate times where this had been him, he was happy for his sister. He was so happy for her.

She'd always been extremely able- smart, matter-of-fact, fearless, loyal. What a wonderful warrior she'd be- what an asset to RiverClan! And next moon he'd be there, he'd stand beside Steeppaw and Darkpaw and they'd all be together, the four of them, born and forged as RiverClan blades. How could he be envious while knowing he was so close, knowing how much she deserved it? And- Gillsight, for Clearsight- his chest swelled with sadness, aquamarine eyes swimming a little. But this was a happy day, and as soon as he heard Iciclefang's name touch the breeze he let it all burst out of him in a shining cheer of pride. Gillsight was his friend and Iciclefang was his kin- he couldn't dare to feel sorry for himself.

"Gillsight! Iciclefang!" He yelled, contributing to the congratulatory clamour. Iciclefang- it suited her, it really did. A true warrior, shaped by one of the best... his own sister!

Having attended the gathering, Fernpaw was familiar with the new warrior code- made it all the more clear in his mind that they had been wronged by ThunderClan's underhanded ways, by their thievery. To hear they would not roll over- that they would remain hardy in the face of adversity- it was encouraging. Cicadastar's voice thrummed with a promise for revenge- for justice, and Fernpaw nodded fervently, affirmative. He would fight in whatever battle he needed to fight. Bear his claws, and prove himself the way Iciclefang had.
penned by pin
 
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Like bees to a flower, cats swarmed around the clearing at which Cicadastar called for meeting. Her leader stood tall and imposing as he waited for his clanmates to settle; dark clouds rolling across the evening sky, whispering of a coming storm — Icesparkle sat down close by her mate and kits, her brother close by as she settled down to hear what the tom had to say.

First, Gillpaw was called upon (she felt the collective sadness that swept through the clearing at the loss of Clearsight) and her gaze swept not towards the apprentice, but to her brother – was Clayfur alright? No, he wasn't, and she would not press him. The quicker they could be home, the better, right?

Next, though, overshadowing any other announcement that would fall from her leader's maw, her daughter - her precious kit - Iciclepaw, was called upon. Perhaps it was a trick of the sun, hanging low in the sky, perhaps it was the humidity of the oncoming storm — the calico's eyes shone bright, sparkling like her name sake. She was so proud. The young tortoiseshell had done everything for her clan to be standing up there, in front of the dual-toned tom. And as her daughter turned her head to search for her family, Icesparkle could barely hold her excited grin and obvious joy from her face – so she smiled wide, chest puffed out to say, that's my daughter – she's becoming a warrior today, isn't she great?

And – Iciclefang – such a strong name! Joining in with her clanmates, Icesparkle was quick to join in, yowling, Iciclefang! Gillsight! Iciclefang! Gillsight!"

Words continued to fall from her leader's lips, but she heard only half of his sentences, still caught in the excitement of the warrior ceremony. And soon - soon it would be Darkpaw, Fernpaw and Steeppaw standing up there, joining their sister as a warrior of RiverClan!

 
To her leader's beckoning call she follows, moving swiftly and with a certain urgency as she did. The news if the Gathering will soon spread to all who did not attend, and more positively — new ceremonies to celebrate. She takes a spot amongst the crowd, reclining back onto her haunches into a poised sit with her tail wrapped around her paws. Cicadastar starts off immediately, calling her up for patrols and she gives him a curt nod of acknowledgement. The lead warrior couldn't help but to feel a surge of pride flow through her like a gentle stream, pooling into her chest till a small smile etched upon her maw. As he continued, the lead warrior listened intently. Finally, they'd be working their way towards going home to the island swathed by willows and sedge, protected by the river once more they'd be. No longer would they have to suffer under the Beech Copse, where it has done nothing but signify struggles and death.
The tortoiseshell moves on seamlessly in his announcements, bearing positive news of ceremonies. Iciclepaw and Gillpaw. She nods in approval, after watching Iciclepaw fight against a seasoned lead warrior—there was no doubt that she was ready for warriorhood. Gillpaw, too, with a hardship that no apprentice should have to bear—a death of a beloved mentor. He showed quick action from what she's heard with the Sunningrocks raid. Her head falls, a silent prayer ushers from her lips. Their names have been She could only hope that Clearsight was watching with pride of his apprentice, smiling down upon him.
Their names are called and she watches the excitement gleam within their eyes, a boast of pride within their steps. Gillsight. Her heart stammers within her chest, a rare smile stretching upon her dark lips. Iciclefang. Both wonderful names. She lifts her head to join the chant, her voice echoing through the clearing. "Gillsight! Iciclefang!" Her eyes suddenly search for Sablepaw within the crowd, wondering if she'd feel this promotion as a confidence booster. It will be her one day. Her eyes then travel to Smokethroat, knowing the pride he must feel for his apprentice. She couldn't wait to feel that sense of accomplishment for her own apprentice.
As the chatter dies, Cicadastar wasn't quite done yet. The news if the Gathering was to be addressed next and she listened well, her shoulders flexing as he announces of Sootstar's ever present paranoia. She suspects of an attack, has her camp heavily guarded and Cindershade could feel an instinctual growl rumble against her vocal chords. Soon, soon. Cicadastar was right, they had time to prepare and time to grow stronger. WindClan's days were numbered. A storm was coming. A storm far worse than any rain or blizzard. He soon moves on, claiming the new warrior code that had been established. It was ironic wasn't it? Chilledstar enforcing this new law after trespassing upon ThunderClan's land twice (not that she's that upset about it personally). But no matter. As long as they others followed suit—until he announces for them to use Sunningrocks anyways. Soon as it may be, she couldn't disagree with him. Sunningrocks is RiverClan's, ThunderClan had no right to it. They never thought of using it till recently. Emberstar never once tried to take Sunningrocks, but Howlingstar was greedy. She presented herself righteous but under that mask was a molly no better than Sootstar herself. She had been proud that Clayfur stole her first life in that battle, proud that maybe next time—next time she'd think twice before stepping foot onto RiverClan's land again.

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]
 

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LAKEMOON — me and the devil, walking side by side.
When Cicadastar calls, Lakemoon has already drifted over to the ground below his temporary meeting spot, silently turning her chin upwards to look to him.
His words are laced with passionate fury, even as he names two new Riverclan warriors, there is force behind his tone, insatiable pride.
While this does not go unseen by the scarred warrior, she parts her maw to cheer for Gillsight and Iciclefang, cheering the young calicos name the loudest out of the two. Lilybloom’s kid sister, now all grown, with Fernpaw undoubtedly following closely behind. It’s surreal, to put it simply, for Riverclan to now have their first clan-born warrior in their ranks.
As silence gradually falls on the gathered clan, Lakemoons narrow eyes remain steady on her leader, her ears perked with interest, otherwise her expression remains a stone.
In her mind, something brews. Thunderclan vermin, her leader called them. Her grandmother had slashed a gaping wound between their two borders the day she lounged on the same rocks she had bled out on shortly after, the blood-stained memories still brought sickening knot in the warriors stomach.
Despite the wariness she feels as she watches her leader yell, she cannot help but agree with the facts, a war had begun.
She thinks of her sister, her mother, her cousins, Howlingstar herself, but cannot summon the hatred that radiates off of the clanmates around her, she can only watched with a undistinguishable expression.
"speech"
tags
 

Lilybloom has spent much of the last moon recovering since her life-changing injury of losing an eye. It's been getting better as of late, though Lilybloom would be lying if she said things weren't a struggle still.

At the sound of Cicadastar's call, Lilybloom pads forward to listen to the meeting, curious about the announcements their leader would have. Although she can walk on her own well enough, she still looks out for her mate for company, locating the silvery pelt of Lakemoon in the crowd and sitting close to her. Although there is much to be discussed in regard to a new addition to the warrior code and the continued tension with ThunderClan, Lilybloom is more focused on the two new warriors joining the clan - Gillpaw and her own sister Iciclepaw! Gillpaw becomes Gillsight - a fitting tribute to his own skills and his former mentor - and Iciclepaw becomes Iciclefang. "Gillsight! Iciclefang!" She cheers, feeling proud of the two of them. It would not be long before the rest of her siblings became warriors now too!
 
Iciclefang's fur tingles with electricity; she feels as though sparks are flying from her pelt. Every cheer from a Clanmate is another ignition. She turns proudly, basking in the recognition as though they are rays of sunlight. She looks at Gillsight, wondering if he is feeling as powerful as she is right now. Is Clearsight proud too, from StarClan?

She snaps her attention to Smokethroat, who greets her first by her new name. "That we will, Iciclefang." Her tail curls, even as he adds, "Still room for improvement but that'll do." "That's certainly one thing I've learned from you," she purrs with amusement, giving him a quick and friendly head bump.

Aspenhaze's approach is a welcome one -- Iciclefang thrills every time her new name is used. "Thank you," she says to him, simple and curt, but the shine of her light blue eyes will say all she cannot. She will soon be able to move to the warrior's den, back in her own camp. It will truly be a new start.

Iciclefang goes to her kin, then, giving Clayfur a gentle nudge of appreciation and coming to stand before Fernpaw. Her brother is happy for her in a way she isn't sure she could have been, had their roles been reversed. Iciclefang admires his good nature and gives him a headbutt, similar to the one she'd given her mentor. "You're next, as long as you don't let that first fish be the last," she says.

Her whiskers tremble as she meets Icesparkle's gaze. Mother and daughter, so alike, so different, but seeing how proud the calico queen is reinvigorates the new warrior. Iciclefang gives her mother a quick nuzzle, then pulls back, blinking gratefully at Cindershade and Lakemoon for their celebration of her successes.

And her claws flex. WindClan, yes, they will pay -- and ThunderClan will, too. Seeing the scarred blue tabby warrior, Lilybloom beside her with her newly-scarred face, causes her blood to prickle with aggression. She yearns to meet both Clans in battle as the warrior she's grown into.

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 
Burningfern walks into the crowd as Cicadastar calls for a meeting, no doubt to tell them about what happened at the gathering. Her long fluffy tail swishes behind her as she walks, and curls around her frame as she sits. Verdant gaze slowly wanders up towards the tall structure her leader had chosen as his temporary perch and listens with both interest and consideration. Patrols were to be given out, and a special one would be put together to clean their old camp she was thinking about volunteering to go and fix things up back to their former glory.

Cats were promoted next, and like the rest of her clanmates, she lifted her voice in proud cheers for the newly named Gillsight and Iciclefang. Strong names, worthy names, she felt as proud of them as she could be as a clanmate. She found the two in the crowd, basking in the cheers and she smiled softly, happy for them that they could have this moment even if a few important cats were missing, surely they were smiling down from the stars.

The calico shifted in her seat, she believed the meeting was done, but instead, Cicadastar continued, and his words would cause her spine to stiffen. War, so much talk of war and battles and vengeance, it grated against her ears as she narrowed her eyes. A war against Windclan, a war against Thunderclan, and from the sound of it Skyclan was teetering between friend and foe as well. She was just as angry as the rest of them, the desire to teach Windclan a lesson pumped through her as strongly as her heartbeat.

But she was also tired. Had they not had enough battles? Surely with the new code in place, they could just focus on rebuilding and getting themselves settled back home? Her expression would slip into its easy and confident smile, as if all the rallying to violence was inspiring her instead of worrying her. Nothing to do but see how things played out she supposed, her claws and skills belonged to Riverclan after all, and as such should her leader all her to fight then she would fight.

No matter how uneasy the thought made her.

RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ✦ MOLLY ✦ 24 MOONS ✦ TAGS
 

Though it feels like Gillpaw's life stopped in its tracks when crimson washed over the river's temporary camp and he watched its owner - his mentor, his family - take his last breath, time only marches onwards.

The days get warmer. Their territory shrinks in yet another war waged on them. His wounds from the previous battle reopen in a failed mission and then heal again into harsh scars against black fur - permanent reminders of a dark time in RiverClan's history, in the apprentice's own. He trains where he can, when he can; remembering the effort Clearsight put into training him.

Gillpaw can't let it go to waste, he knows this, though some days he'd rather hide away in his nest and sleep for all eternity. Because, if Clearsight can no longer be a RiverClan warrior, then Gillpaw must - for him.

The days go by. On and on, one after the next, creeping closer to the inevitable - a moment he feels the arrival of in Cicadastar's call for a meeting.

His warrior ceremony.

Those old enough to swim, the leader calls for. Gillpaw remembers the first time he'd heard such a phrase - the day he'd become Gillpaw, the day he'd been assigned under Clearsight. It's distant now, that day, but he remembers the fear he'd had, the worry that he'd be punished for not knowing how to swim.

Such a funny worry, now, with everything that's happened since. Gillpaw can only wish for those days back, of worries so small feeling so big.

A solemn march of white paws leads him over to Cicadastar, and he settles among the crowd to await the RiverClan leader's words.

He doesn't know if he's ready for what's to come. Doesn't know, with his last moon of training so askew - with temporary mentors and injuries - if he's even ready to become a warrior. Would Clearsight think he's ready, if he were here? Gillpaw can only hope so, despite his own worries. Clearsight would have known better than him, he thinks, in whether or not he was ready for this.

His heart is pounding, as Cicadastar begins to speak.

Deep breaths.

He speaks of patrols first - Cindershade is to assign them in place of an actual deputy, a decision Gillpaw hardly has the capability to judge. Perhaps with the number of lead warriors they have, it's easier to choose one in place of a deputy. Perhaps they'll never have one again, if it's that easy of a change. Talk of patrols quickly shifts into going home. Their real home, marred by flooding, not this battlefield they've been sleeping upon.

They're going home. And, though the apprentice fears the inky memories of RiverClan's true home, he'd rather those recollections be brought forward, than the scarlet ones that have plagued his mind for the last moon.

Pleasant news is next, and Gillpaw's name follows soon after. Along with Iciclepaw's, an addition that only surprises him in its timing, rather than the calico's skill. She's probably more ready for this than he is - than he could ever be, really.

A sharp inhale, and the black and white tom steps forward. A tired, nerve-filled gaze looks up at Cicadastar, and, if he thinks Gillpaw is ready, then... he must be, right? Who else would be able to tell him such?

And it feels like a wound's been struck, as Cicadastar speaks of Clearsight. A pain in his chest still unhealed, Gillpaw doesn't know if it will ever go away at the mention of the blue-furred warrior, of memories of the mentor he looked up to. His eyes sting as he listens to Cicadastar's praises, blinking back tears as the leader proceeds to give his reasoning for Gillpaw's impending name change.

For his perception, and his quick decision-making skills. In honor of his late mentor.

His new name is declared, and the black and white tom nearly forgets how to breathe at the sound of it.

Gillsight.

His mentor's memory - his legacy - forever with him wherever he goes. Though he hadn't put too much thought into what his name would be, he didn't expect this to be it. But, for once in his life, the unexpected is welcomed by the ink-furred tom. Gillsight carries the name of one of RiverClan's best now, and the new warrior can only hope he can follow in his pawsteps.

Is he proud of the new warrior, wherever he is? Is he above the meeting, watching over him now, listening to the ceremony among the stars, just as Gillsight had begged him as he said his final goodbyes? Did Clearsight approve of the new name, just as much as Gillsight does?

He exhales and can feel himself standing a little straighter now. A warrior. He's a warrior, now. He's made it.

And, soon, Iciclepaw follows suit. The first of her siblings to be named, Gillsight's sure the others will be among the next group of warriors.

"I-Iciclefang! Iciclefang!" he cheers when her apprentice's name is shed and the chants begin. A fitting change, for the battle-skilled warrior. In turn, she chants his name back among the chorus of RiverClanners.

Even though he relishes in the call of his new name - in the important milestone he's arrived at - and others may not hear it the way he does, Gillsight is aware of the shift in volume over the younger cat's graduation. He can hear it as her family members join in, as one of RiverClan's first kits takes her first steps into the higher rank.

Would Clearsight have chanted that loud for him so that Gillsight would have heard his voice over the rest of RiverClan's?

As Iciclefang goes to accept her congratulations from her friends and her family members, a black and white head lifts upward, his solar-hued gaze rising to the sky in the midst of the celebration - scanning, searching. The new warrior will worry about what Cicadastar announces next later - a patrol to SkyClan in which Gillsight will take part of, a trip to speak to the leader who'd left him dejected as his first real mission as a warrior. Time will only continue its march, but for now, he closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy this moment, taking in another deep breath as it all begins to set in.

I did it, Clearsight.
 
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

For once, Cicadastar seems alight with energy as he calls for a meeting, less burdened than has become his usual these past few moons. His good mood is contagious and Snakeblink finds himself smiling easily as the clean-up of their camp is mentioned — he misses his home, his nest, and is eager to leave the uneasy respite of this transitional place behind.

The apprentices’ graduation adds a bittersweet note to his good humor. It’s half-pride, half-grief; a reminder of what the clan has lost, of the mentor Gillpaw had to grow without. He looks once at the sky heavy with clouds, wondering: is Clearsight watching? He must be proud, if stars can be proud. How will Snakeblink feel, when his own apprentice graduates? His eyes fall from the hidden stars to the ground, searching for Frogpaw in the crowd. He can only hope to still be alive when this happens, and the thought — the reminder of how sudden Clearsight’s death was, how unpredictable — weighs on his mind as he shouts the new warriors’ name: ”Gillsight! Iciclefang!”

The weight only grows heavier as Cicadastar mentions Windclan, talking of returning the favor. The same words echo in his mind, half-drowned out by the rumbling of remembered thunder; anxiety lingers, roiling in his guts, since a similar discussion held in stormy darkness. But at least this he knew about, and if his second thoughts sit like a stone in his stomach at least it’s nothing new.

Hearing his name called, as such, is a surprise. He takes care not to tense up as Cicada chooses him for a patrol to Skyclan’s border. Why…? The tone of their piebald leader, an edge in his voice pressing into the word conversation, brings bloody images to mind before rationality can push them aside. No: Cicadastar isn’t a warhawk like Sootstar, baring his teeth at every other clan. They are allies, in name if not actions: he has to believe his friend will speak before he accuses, and that Blazestar will listen.

Lastly, the spindly tom speaks of Sunningrock, of hunting on relinquished ground. Uneasily, Snakeblink wonders how many of their clanmates will threaten the precarious ceasefire between their clans for their pride; wonders, as well, why their leader would urge them to risk themself in this way. Part of him can understand it: show no fear, do not tuck your tail. Part of him can nearly approve.

But he remembers the bloody mess of Lilybloom’s face following the last battle.

Shaking his head, he forces his attention back to the cats near him now — alive, whole, safe. He musters a grimacing smile for the new warriors as he intones, ”Congrats. The clan is stronger for having you among its ranks.”

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely

  • Snakeblink • he / him. 40 ☾, riverclan warrior
    — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
    — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo


 
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( =^• ⋏ •^=)ノ Darkpaw settles next to his family, his pebble resting beneath one forepaw as a bringer of good fortune for this meeting. Fate has not been kind to RiverClan the past couple of moons; their camp flooded, otters raiding the beech copse where they took shelter, WindClan and ThunderClan assailing them one after the other, the loss of Sunningrocks. Darkpaw prays every night before he succumbs to sleep for a blessing, his 'star-sacred' pebble pressed to his nose.

Finally, the Stars have delivered.

Cicadastar bears news of the waters receding from RiverClan's home. Soon, they would return to their beloved island. Darkpaw breathes out through his nose, a satisfied sigh, beaming like the sun. We'll finally get to go home, soon. The beech copse has served RiverClan well enough, but Darkpaw knows he is not the only one who misses the island. His white-dipped paws knead the ground in excitement.

The next announcement is unexpected. Two names are called; Gillpaw, and Iciclepaw. The chocolate tom's jaw goes slack, mouth hanging open in a shocked 'o'. Gillpaw is certainly warrior-aged, but Iciclepaw? He and his littermates are only eleven moons— so close to their ceremonies, but still one moon away. Darkpaw hasn't even had his assessment yet. He shakes his head, trying to convince himself that he'd heard wrong. Or that maybe Cicadastar had decided to promote them a moon early. But no other names are called, and Iciclepaw steps forward.

Without them.

Darkpaw hadn't heard wrong. Iciclepaw is becoming a warrior early, and the rest of the littermates aren't. He guesses it makes sense; Iciclepaw has always been an outstanding she-cat, excelling in just about anything she does. She's the perfect role model, the ideal future RiverClan warrior. Of course, she would graduate a moon early. But Darkpaw had always imagined that the four of them would receive their warrior names together. They would stand, side by side, as Cicadastar names them warriors of RiverClan. The rest of the clan would cheer all four of their names.

But fate crosses a different path. One where Iciclepaw is made a warrior, and the rest of them aren't.

Separated.

Darkpaw should be happy. He needs to be happy for his sister; becoming a warrior early is an amazing accomplishment! So why is it that disappointment and sadness swirl in his gut like a whirlpool?

He needs to be happy.

The chocolate tom forces a smile onto his face, watching Iciclepaw and Gillpaw stand before Cicadastar with misty eyes that he tries to write off as happy tears. Gillpaw is named Gillsight, and there's a different kind of sadness that swamps him. Named in honor of the black-and-white tom's fallen mentor, Clearsight. It's bittersweet. Sympathy flashes across his face, looking at Gillsight. It must be hard to receive one's warrior name when their mentor could only cheer from the stars. At the very least, Darkpaw hopes Gillsight is comforted to know that Clearsight is surely watching with pride from above.

Iciclepaw is named Iciclefang. For her prowess in combat, as well as her sharpness. It is fitting for his tortoiseshell sister, and Darkpaw does his best to swallow down the regret that's lodged itself in his throat. For his sister. "Gillsight! Iciclefang!" He cheers, rapping his paws against the earth in applause. When Iciclefang rejoins the family, Darkpaw blinks away the mistiness in his gaze and grins at her— though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Congrats, Icy! Your new name is really cool."

Cicadastar's next announcements are far less pleasant. Darkpaw's ears fall against his head, pressing down on his pebble with one paw as if it could will away the promise of war. He knows that WindClan has done nothing but antagonize them, as much as he knows that ThunderClan stole something that has rightfully belonged to RiverClan since the beginning. But he wishes, more than anything, that these problems could be resolved by words rather than weapons.​
 
At their leader's call, Mudpelt seats himself with his family, his short pelt brushing against Icesparkle's and his its nearby. However, he sure hadn't been expecting the meeting to take this turn. His daughter is called forward along with Gillpaw and his eyes stretch wide, jaw nearly dropping in thrilled surprise. Oblivious to how his other kits might feel, the tom can only wiggle in place, his shoulder repeatedly bumping his mate's as he whispers, "Is he really naming her a warrior this early?" What an honor! With rapt attention, he listens closely, everything else becoming a buzz around him.

Iciclefang.

And he doesn't need to wait even a second before he's on his paws, stance wide and chest puffed out as he yowls, "ICICLEFANG! ICICLEFANG!" Some might call him rude, and perhaps he is unintentionally being so for not calling out Gillsight's name, but this is truly all he can focus on. His daughter, his precious beautiful little girl that once suckled at her mother's stomach as he named her, has just become a warrior. When she looks to him, he beams perhaps the biggest smile he's ever smiled. And when she arrives to greet them afterwards, he is quick to wrap a muscled foreleg around her shoulders and pull her close with perhaps a little too much force. "We're so proud of you, Iciclefang!" He nearly cries, his overabundance of emotions beginning to bite him in the tail.