camp Echoes in the Ruins | RTA

[Firefang]

They days blended together in a fog; a proverbial smoke that followed her through the moon encompassing her in a darkness that staunched her pain and made her forget her responsibilities. The poppy she'd been spared had aided in that, had made her more docile when she'd normally be restless and yet as languid as her body was her eyes always glowered out the entrance into the ashen camp that she no longer recognized. She still dreams of the blaze that tore through peat and heather, remembers the hellish caterwaul of a hound with stripped fur and burnt flesh. She remembers how even against the brightness of the embers how white those fangs were before they buried themselves into the flesh of a proud king. She remembers the heat as ghastly as it was against her fur, remembers the cinders twisting her whiskers and burn through soot stained fur. Most of all she remembers the taste of his blood and fur in her mouth and the heaviness of his body and then the taste of her shame of retreating over the pain that lanced up her paw. Those who didn't know any better would claim she sought redemption with a single selfless action, but she hadn't thought at all she didn't seek salvation in immolation but she was burned in his name regardless.

Time moved on, more then a moon had passed while she spent her days staring at her paws wondering when she'd be able to run again. She'd hated the loneliness, the isolation and as her mind cleared no longer exhausted with fighting pain and possible infection she longed to return to the life of a warrior - to return to the moors. She did have visitors - had noticed their gazes though farm from warm didn't cast down on her like executioner blades like they had before - and yet she wonders how long she'd be given grace before she was lumped once again with rat-droppings like Snakehiss. It doesn't matter to Firefang they could speculate all they wanted to, she was finally healthy enough to leave and with better health the blaze in her chest and the sting in her words would return.

She is not ginger with her steps as she leaves the medicine den for what she hopes is the last time, her paw is no longer wrapped in cobwebs revealing the scorched flesh that trails up her foreleg, blunt bristly fur has already slowly begin to 'smooth' it's edges and the fur she'd lost from the cinders on her back and flank looks much the same. Thankfully she never thought herself the most pretty cat in the first place, little has changed now Icebreath wouldn't see her like this and it'd only been her opinion on her looks that she'd ever cared about. She stands proud regardless, walks as if unimpeded by her injury - it doesn't hurt much she wouldn't be hobbling around like a poor ole lopsided badger like Sunstar so she counts herself lucky. She'd still be able to return to her duties as a moor-runner, she just needed to get used to the odd almost-numb feeling to the damaged skin on her leg.

She approaches the prey pile (as pathetic as it may be compared to the early fruitful moon of newleaf), mouth opening to take in the fresh scents only for her nose to crinkle and a growl to permeate from her throat. The heavy scent of their destruction still was in the air and though it was much fainter it still was not appetizing "Eugh, still smells like ash" she complains.

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 23 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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[dimmingsun]

"Smells wonderful, right?" Placid mirth arrives on four legs, carried by the wind towards Firefang.

Her lack of a presence has not been lost on Dimmingsun; he had gotten all to familiar with her blunt retorts and headstrong nature, providing something to bounce off of during daily duties. Heroic deeds have put her into the medicine cat's den, just like himself, but he's been freed from its confines and Wolfsong's searching gaze faster than her. Of course, she got to do what he couldn't; stepping in to do everything in her power to save Sunstar. While her bravery wasn't enough to keep all his limbs and lives intact, admiration still finds its way into Dimmingsun's heart when he looks at her.

Some days, he had doubted her loyalty to the Clan. Now he doesn't dare question it anymore.

The patch by his eyes crinkle as he watches her come near. "I've just been holding my breath while I eat lately. Works like a charm." Sarcasm drips from his voice, not unkindly. He wriggles a mice free from the other fresh-kill, pulling it out by its tail and presenting it to Firefang. "Here, I caught this one near the gorge. Maybe it smells a bit less like fire."
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[Bluepool]

There was once a time that Bluepool trotted after her sister like a loyal dog following it's twoleg master, close on her heels, salivating for any chance she could get to sink her fangs into the throats of her enemies. All she had to do was speak the command and she would have jumped into action. There are others who had remained loyal even after she herself had turned away from the ashen molly, but among them, only a paw-full had stayed. Her niece, her nephew, Firefang. Every day she wakes up she is surprised to see these cats still here, surprised when they do not follow the lead of their once deputy and leave this place for good. Even now, after the molly had been brandished a hero for saving the life of their new leader did the suspicion not entirely leave her mind. She would not allow the wool to be pulled over her eyes again so easily.

"The smell will go away soon" she says matter-of-factly. She does not state the obvious, that they should feel lucky to have any prey at all after the fires had swept through their home, that they could not afford to worry about the smell of what their eating and that instead they should try focusing on worrying about the fact that the prey-pile loomed on dangerously low every day when right now it should be at it's peak. They are both adults though, competent ones at that too, so she does not feel the need to spell out for them the trouble they would be in if the moors could not supply their demand.

( ➸ ) test my worth in blood

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  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

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[SOOTSPOT]

Firefang was a statement against his enemies, walking proof that the cats who had been hesitant to follow a new leader were bolder and fiercer than any so-called Deputies chosen in place of himself. She had been met with venom the first time they met after the rebellion, now, the serpent's fangs were concealed, his paper-thin pupils broadened into little pebbles as he watched the Moor Runner escape the prison of her own making. His eyes fell onto the bumpy skin on her left forelimb, an inwards-aiming smile placating features he thought as unnatural. 'You wanted the leader's mark, seared in the flesh as a reminder of your duty and ambition.' She'd told him it didn't matter in the end, moments before his composure shattered into crushed shards. 'A wish fulfilled, Firefang.' Humility was why he did not raise the point again, for there was a difference between a kindred soul spotting a moment of weakness and the whole clan realising it. All the same, there was an automatic brush of the scar tissue upon his chest by a soil-flecked paw as if dusting it off before Sootspot slinked closer to the she-cat.

"Perhaps it is just you," he pointed out in a rasp, squinting at the gristle caught in his throat. The chimera, for the most part, caught his own prey, snacking on beasties lost in the tunnel before anyone from the surface could see them. Their fur often reeked of mildew and old earth, ash may have been a preferable scent, if not for the reminder of what it had done to his own health. A side-eyed glance was offered to his aunt before he twisted his own nose towards the sky dismissively. 'You should speak to her with reverence for trying to save a leader your mate deemed too pathetic to rescue.' In a world full of consequences, he loathed how easy it was for the rebels to avoid them. The fur upon his skin ruffled and flattened as he realised he had more to say to Firefang, miles more to say, but he remained semi-muted, wishing not for the vultures to prey upon him should he do something as weak as clearing his throat. "You are part fire, both in name and nature, now, in body." As was he.


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[Firefang]

Her head turns, Dimmingsun is a familiar sight she'd grown used to his presence the days they spent in the medicine den. She'd almost missed the retching cough of his when the smoke still stained his lungs with it's filth, she'd clung like a kitten to any sense of familiarity in the days that followed her injury. The constant presence of other warriors in the den had been a comfort to her when before she'd feared laying besides them, as if they'd take the chance to cut and bleed her for her impudence in showing vulnerability. She had no choice but to trust her clanmates, to trust her life in the paws of a medicine cat she'd never gotten along with and a friends apprentice who'd chosen another path. Does she trust them? Does she trust Dimmingsun? Does she trust anyone? She's not so sure anymore when before she'd proclaim no without a second thought. Trust was for fools when many her clanmates loyalties had always been malleable.

It was good to see he wasn't breathing like a heaving queen anymore. She huffs in response turning back to stare at the prey pile disdainfully, she'd lost weight (they all had) and as hungry as she was her appetite was soured. Dimmngsun's words make her ears tilt she watches as he pulls something out and her eyes glisten with intrigue and baited curiosity. She'd always found it hard to trust the kindness of others, it came with a price she'd been taught and repeated to herself like a mantra. She deliberates over an easy answer and would give in to the last vestiges of her simmering appetite. Though the mention of the gorge sends a shiver down her spine. "...Thanks. It's not all bad I guess, I did like the crunch some of the burnt prey had" she remarks as she snaps up the mouse and begins to chomp down on it.

As she does she sees Bluepool's paws in her peripherals as the lead warrior makes her way over. Her tail swishes, if it'd been her who'd offered her their catch she'd have been much more reluctant. She may not know the expectations for failure for disloyalty that line her thoughts but it's not hard to see the way she looks down on her, their is no warmth no mirth and she's used to that with her clanmates but Bluepool's rank is significant as well as her mateship to their new deputy. She'd never looked kindly on the last traitorous followers of Sootstar and she wonders if she'd ever see them as anything more then her soldiers. Firefang wonders that as well for herself, that was her identity. "Hopefully" she hums between bites, decidedly she doesn't look up to meet her gaze - the action shouldn't be mistaken as submission.

Sootspot's voice was once an unwelcome one, she doesn't usher him closer now but neither does she shoo him away or avert her gaze. She looks up as his voice disturbs her from her meal, he reveals little in the face of warriors who expect him to strike hides his intentions and beliefs behind a smile she thought was infuriating at first. The tom is clever, smarter then those who expect Snakehiss' venom to seek into his veins - that frauds departure would only drive them closer when they'd already been bound in by the same category, by the marks they bared for her metaphorically and for him in a scar across his chest. She wouldn't call them friends but they were more then clanmates, bonded by vulnerabilities that slipped through fractured masks and the blood that once coated their claws. She licks her chops, a huff of laughter leaving her at the irony of his words. She'd always been forged by fire.

"Starclan must have a sense of humor" she remarks as if they had anything to do with her charging into deaths slavering jaws into smoke and flames. She looks down at her leg, grizzly and ragged as it was "However unlike that fire a little rain won't put me out" she says thoughtfully, she'd continue to run towards the endless horizon seeking a future she didn't deserve stubbornly continuing on until the fire in her chest extinguished.

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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  text
  

• "speech"

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 24 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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