pafp essential mercy of pain ✘ riverclan visitors

[SMOKESTAR]

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He was familiar enough with the territory, his memories would not allow him to forget the long trek here from SkyClan and while the route changed at the beginning it all converged into the same place once they had traversed Fourtrees further into the marshy territory. Smokestar wouldn't deny he dreaded being here, a weight fell over his shoulders reminiscent of a body once strewn across his back and every step grew heavier as ShadowClan's scent grew stronger. The dark tom did not speak much on the way there with the exception of explaining what had happened idly, informaton Houndstride was already well aware of but perhaps without as much detail. It was hard to relive it, but he grit his teeth for the brown tabby's sake, he owed that much at least to the warrior who had served his mate so faithfully before being taken from them. Houndstride deserved to mourn properly too, he couldn't deny him that right.
"-came here with SkyClan and ThunderClan joined with WindClan, they put us all at the Burnt Sycamore further in the territory. We buried them all nearby." So many of his clanmates rested there, more than should be outside the edge of the river where they had deserved to be buried properly in their own homes but fate deemed otherwise. He had debated early on to dig up bones to relocate but the idea of desecrating a grave for his own selfish reasons didn't sit well in his heart and he had let the feelings go. This is where they lay, this was where they stay.
Three black paws and a single white dipped one linger at the border before he carefully sits to wait. It was near noon and a patrol surely would be coming along this area at some point.

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• PAFP - @HOUNDSTRIDE.
• 
  
  
  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

​

 

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

This place was close enough to home it'd make him feel sick, if he didn't already feel that way just from the nature of their visit. Standin' here's like an overlay. Like the ghost of who he'd once been is walking right on through his bones. If his eyes unfocus just right he can nearly see it. Himself. That low-head walk, the ever-present grimace 'cross his face. Cicadastar had named him Houndsnarl for it. And he'd changed it just as easily. Both of those he carried with ease. But no matter what suffix they tacked on, he'd always first be Hound. The scrap of fur Flint had pulled into the marsh. The cat raised by a colony sheltered in the dark, stretching out for food but returning home to the quiet silence.

The river had been an outlet then. He'd taught Cicada to swim. Tried to give him some measure of peace. But no matter what happened, his bones were returned back to where it'd all started.

Now they stand here begging admittance. Asking to see the place he'd once walked freely across; to mourn the cat he'd known for so many moons. The others have had their time to mourn. Smokestar got to bury him. Now there's no saying if he would even get to visit. It makes his jaw clench and his claws bury into the dirt. Even if his body language is stiff and straight, composed as always, his skin seems to vibrate with unease on a frequency shared between the two of them. "Wasn't burnt back when we were here," he murmurs. "Just another one'f the trees." It was hard to imagine them all curled up there in wait. Dying. "Weren't that many of us in the whole colony." He huffs through his nose. "Keep the peace my tail." If only things were so straightforward as StarClan had once told them.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 03.11.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. —
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. PRODIGAL WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ————— mauled by a fox moons ago and has the scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

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[hitch]

Mud and marsh grass cake his broad paws. He stares at them dimly, hazy-eyed, counting the wispy, green blades plastered to each toe until they blur together and he can't distinguish them or his paws from the dark, wet soil. The droning buzz of insects and chattering birds bleed into one inscrutable chorus, and the sun scraping away at exposed skin becomes sound more than touch, and it's the hot swell of blood in his ears and the smell of damp earth and stagnant water.

And then it isn't. Focus returns. He doesn't know how long it was gone. Blinking away the indigo spots from his eyes, he pulls his paws free from muddy suction and walks, muscle memory leading him to the border. Is he on patrol? He doesn't taste blood; he doesn't think he was hunting. Not successfully. He must have just...gotten distracted, and the other warriors are around here somewhere— but first he finds the RiverClanners: tall, dark-furred, tired-eyed, and he stares at the one-eyed cat, feeling that he must know his name. He squeezes his eyes shut once, then twice, and flexes his paws. A disturbed tree branch frees a sharp spear of sunlight into his periphery.

"What—" He clears his throat. "What brings you two here?"
​

​

 

[smogstar]

A fanciful notion to preoccupy him on occasion is the matter of forging ties to distant clans.

Say the day comes where aligning with RiverClan gives a strategic edge; a mutual opponent is shared in WindClan, and were Smokestar willing to grovel hard enough about it, Smogmaw is thoroughly convinced a joint effort could recover the usurped Sunningrocks. Ignoring how far-removed the concept is from contemporary needs or what either side would agree on, there exists a barrier that weakens such an agreement beyond its utility altogether.

Communication. Or, rather, lack thereof. In what way could a message - distress or otherwise - be carried to a clan with whom they have no common borders? Per ShadowClan's disruptive history, Sunstar and Howlingstar would have every and any right to deny an envoy from passing through their lands.

Diplomacy cannot survive on once-a-moon interactions at gatherings, not with how fast the forest moves either, and so a long-distance alliance by its design is futile. An out-there hypothetical if he ever did consider pursuing it further.

Accordingly, Smogmaw has long refrained from expecting the leaders of SkyClan or RiverClan to present themselves at the marshland border. Hence his surprise to spot Smokestar not a whisker from where the bracken swallowed up the territory's margin.

"Oh, greetings." The deputy's airy-spoken salutation comes on the heels of Rosemire's own, whom he arcs widely around after a glance his way, ensuring he can hold both visitors fully in his sightline. No recognisable name can be ascribed to the ravaged tom loitering in the leader's shadow, but given the odyssey both he and RiverClan's figurehead have underwent to get here, curiosity trumps his usual fidgetiness. "Can't imagine the two of you are lost," he adds on, propreity infusing his relaxed words, "so to what do we owe the visit?"

Chilledstar is still languishing in camp. Let him hope Smokestar will not trouble himself over seeking their presence. ​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

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"I would hope we weren't lost, between the two of us the marsh colonies former territory is not so unfamiliar." Houndstride moreso than he, Smokestar had not been the most sociable of cats during the colony days, keeping to himself with his mentor and adopted mother-figure on the outskirts and rarely moving too deep in to the loamy area outside hunting. He tilts his head as he regards the pale white cat, stuttering uncertainty born of surprise; it was not every day RiverClan scent reached this border - they were far enough apart that he rarely saw ShadowClan outside gatherings and even that was too much at times. He didn't have much of an opinion on Chilledstar, but Smogmaw had left an impression - good or bad was hard to say, he felt the older tom a bit too small for how big his mouth was but sometimes forwardness was appreciated, such as right now.
"When our clans converged here during the rogue invasion we lost several of our own. I wanted to ask permission to visit the place near the burnt sycamore that we buried our dead if only for a moment." If he recalled correctly, the ShadowClan deputy had been on the journey at the time and was not as familiar with the horrors the clans went through in his absence but surely he would be fine with the request. If not, well, they went home and he made a future point to hold a petty grudge about it. Houndstride deserved to say goodbye, his own mixed feelings aside.

✘ I've got a reputation and a name to uphold. ✘ Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Smokestar
  —⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
  

​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

there is a larger part of chilledstar that doesn't want to allow it. to allow riverclanners upon their territory, when the last time cats were allowed here, they conspired with one of their own to steal kits right from under their nose. but... there is another part of them that realizes this is bigger than them. grief is a hard thing to deal with, and for that reason, and that reason only, chilledstar can understand why they're here. being polite nonetheless, even they're only doing so to get their way. but that does not mean chilledstar needed to return the sentiment. they remain as cold as they ever have, blue gaze unwavering and frigid. their eyes move from cat to cat before they flick a torn ear, monotonous answer being rather short and quick to the point.

"very well. you will be escorted then. come along. you cannot stay forever, as we must finish our patrol."

they turn on their paws, tail twitching with slight agitation but otherwise their body reveals nothing. maybe starclan will reward us for being kind to our fellow clans. somehow, they doubt it.

———————---***ALL OF MY FEELINGS ARE GONE***———————---​

I LEFT 'EM ALL ON THE FLOOR✧ MAN WHO'S TO BLAME IF YOU DON'T LOVE ME NO MORE

•  
• — black feline with a white marking across their face, a white chin, a white right front paw, and blue eyes. chilledstar is covered in scars, the most prominent ones being the one across their face, and the one across their neck.
  — 44 moons old; ages the 3rd every month
  — they / them pronouns
  — aromantic / homosexual ; currently not looking / looking
  — child of JAGGED and RAVEN
  — shadowclan ; loyal to shadowclan ; other info if applicable
  — mildly difficult to befriend ; trusts barely anyone; trusts no one outside of shadowclan
  — "speech", thoughts, attacking
  — peaceful powerplay allowed

​

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[Alderblossom]

Alderblossom's slim, tortoiseshell form slowly approached Chilledstar. ''Shall I show them the border?'' The ShadowClanner growled softly, a whisk of her tail showing her irritation. Her orangish-amber eyes didn't leave Smokestar for a second, though her words were aimed at her own leader.

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 Scalejaw had only left camp on the paws of her best friend- silence had gripped the body of the chimera, glowing coal eyes sweeping the marsh as it slowly came to life. Insects would be soon to descend upon them, as soon as frost quit during the dim of night, and she was loathe to recognize it. Perhaps much as she was to see Riverclanners, just as much as she was loathe to see Thunderclanners, or any other opposing clans. Alright, she was being a bit pessimistic, but she couldn't help it.

Ears twitched as she stopped beside her best friend, shoulder bumping them gentle- permission uttered softly. She opened her mouth to prompt if they needed an escort to the burnt sycamore, but a grating growl arose. Orange eyes rolled thickly, head turning to utter sharp, pin-prickle dotted words to the warrior. "Seriously. They just said they're allowed. Were you listening?" Scalejaw stated, before turning to look to their leader. "I'll stick with the escort." She murmured.

Feathered paws moved to pad after the Riverclanners, a gentle glance given to Smogmaw, a tilted noggin in greeting.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​

 

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

"Rose," he greets, though there's something. . . all too off about the word. He's a bad habit of slipping back to their marsh names with some. Cicada'd rarely been a star, and Rosemire, more often than not, got stuck on the first half. He knows he should use it all, just like he should call himself more than Hound and his father more than Flint, but old habits die hard, and he'd spent the last few moons in quiet exile. Now wasn't the time to do more than get himself reaccustomed to his clan. To grieve and grow up again. Being here's a good step towards it, but he knows it's an open wound for everyone else. He's clawing at Smokestar's scars, and standing before Rosemire, at the very least, is prodding at a bruise. 'Cept the pale tom doesn't look quite right, and he squints softly 'fore the other cats pull his attention.

Smogmaw seems curious, Chilledstar a little cold. The grating of their words nearly pushes him to raise his hackles — like they didn't care for the cats buried in this marsh; like this was nothing more than passing over a frog for another warrior to finish off. But the other cat startles him out of his anger. Indignant, his maw opens. Scalejaw snaps it right shut. "Right." The hell's goin' on with border patrols as of late? Feels like anytime RiverClan sees another clan, they're losin' something or another. He glances at Smokethroat (his mind's stuck moons ago) and snorts. "Lead on, then. We'll be out'f your fur soon enough." Sorrow already starts to close up his throat.

𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐓: 𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊.  ╱ ( 𝑬𝑿𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑨𝑴𝑳𝑬𝑻 ) 〚 03.11.2024 〛 𓆟༝ ˚ ｡ ⋆｡˚ ༝ • .𓆝

• OOC. —
• 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄. HE - HIM - HIS. PRODIGAL WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. ————— mauled by a fox moons ago and has the scars to prove it. though his wounds are healed, nothing can rid him of that pain.  ╱ PENNED BY REVELATIONS
  
  a lean chocolate tabby with lime green eyes. the scars that had once been limited to the bridge of his nose now shatter and expand across that entire side of his face, up to a ripped ear and down to his shoulder and front right leg. it is somewhat difficult for him to put his weight on that paw at odd angles, and he gets grumpy after a long while of walking, but it does not inhibit him terribly.

• "speech"

​

 

[lilacfur]

"Perhaps you should continue the patrols original path, Alderblossom. That is enough." Lilacfur's suggestion was gentle but gave little room to argue against. The Lead Warrior was not particularly one to jump in excitement in allowing outsiders into their territory, but her thoughts mirrored Chilledstar's. These RiverClanners arrived for an respectable reason, to honor their late leader beneath the sycamore. An unfortunate loss that could not be held close to the river they called home.

After a more dismissive twitch of her tail towards the prickly warrior, Lilacfur gave her attention to the two toms.

"You look in good health, Smokestar. Is this another friend from the journey?" That had been the reason for their last visit, she wondered what took so long for this one to arrive.​

[ i need the clouds to cover me ]​

 

[smogstar]

Second-paw accounts made Smogmaw heedful to the happenings back home during his quest in the mountains. Foreign invaders had foisted carnage on the struggling clans, culminating in a whole forest's worth of cats condemning themselves to the paltry area surrounding the Burnt Sycamore. A nightmarish scenario if he ever did know one. Such, understanding ebbs and flows amid the meagre exchange, with the ShadowClan deputy nodding in accord to Smokestar's statement. He finds no shock, nor does he pursue it, in the fact that a couple refugees here and there hadn't returned to their chosen soil. They remain untouched by the tom's empathy, the RiverClan cats, though he nonetheless acknowledges the duty vested unto them. Closure beckons them to these lands, and closure they shall receive.

That his leader's prerogative is in harmony with his own is a boon. Were there any benefit in denying such an earnestly asked-for request, it'd be lost on him. Rosewater eyes pivot, a coaxed incline in his head directing Smogmaw's sight to where Chilledstar was headed.

As he starts to plod along, ears remain turned Rosemire's way for but a fleeting second longer, seeking reciprocation from the pallid warrior's end. Recognition had flickered between him and the RiverClan leader's cohort, albeit brief, and the cause leaves the deputy inquisitive and curious. Star-crossed souls, once intertwined, torn asunder by heartbreak? The opposite, perhaps? Kin-slayers, even? It must be confessed, Smogmaw was not the most sociable of cats during the colonial times, which renders him ignorant to past affairs.

"Welcome, then," he speaks up, walking alongside Lilacfur as a rare beacon of hospitality in the patrol. "Those stories I'd heard about the clans' stayover weren't flattering. Hurts the mind to just think about it, all four'a you clans crammed together like warts on a toad's ass." A solitary expiration escapes the ol' nasal passageways. Unflattering, indeed. "I'd hope the other clans were courteous enough to leave their problems back home." ​

 

[ASHENFALL]

˚₊‧ ⛧ Ashenpaw had remained mute at his father's side. In the company of Deputies and Leaders and Big Guys With A Bunch Of Fucked Up Looking Scars... he was fine with remaining little more than a moth fluttering awkwardly beside them. As he stood at the border, he thought to himself that he wouldn't be caught making a fool of himself by opening his mouth. (He was so very clever, so very intuitive, the most well-versed in vibe-reading boy out there.)

They all got to walking, though, and Ashenpaw wracked his brain briefly as to who the Riverclan leader (and plus-one...) could have cared so much about as to make the trip all the way out to the swamp for it. Only one came to mind, and Ashenpaw recalled the awkward interaction he had with one fishy-cat the evening following the oh-so-tragic retrieval of the now corpse-ified leader of Riverclan, one of his children — the ugly freakazoid one with the awful social skills. Ashenpaw had asked if he was 'the Cicadapaw with the dead father', and indeed he was. It was an awful moment, in the throes of his own grief, to look at someone so destroyed and pathetic and know that he was gazing upon his own reflection. He now, upon seeing Smokestar up close and personal-like, wondered idly where Cicadapaw got his unsightliness. Bad luck, maybe?

Something itched at him, the knowing (probably) who they had come to see, while everyone else said nothing about it. Smogmaw had not been here to know, and Ashenpaw itched more at the thought that his father wasn't privy to what remained unspoken. And so he could not resist muttering with his incurable big mouth, as if upon just now realizing, "Oh, right. Cicadastar."

Another thing squirmed around in his insides now, though. Had anyone been tending to Cicadastar's grave? Should he have been doing that? The standoffish nature of the born-and-bred Shadowclanner in him shrugged at the thought of tending to a Riverclanner's grave. But the stars, though now unseen in the sky, whispered down at him in disapproval. Clan leaders, gifted extra life and divinity-fueled prowess, should be respected in their places of bone-rest... He twitched his eyes away from the Riverclanners now, anxious and filled with dread, though perhaps not for the reason they would assume.

YOULL ASK WHAT CAN I DO? ⭒☽⛧☾⭒ AND THERE WILL BE NO ANSWER

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — ashenkit . ashenpaw
  — ftm transmasc. he/him. 12mo apprentice of shadowclan. mentored by smogmaw
  — muted blue torbie w/ pale blue and amber eyes
  — smells of rainsoaked fern and swamp milkweed
  — all ic opinions!
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — pfp by meg , fullbody by antiigone, sticker by saturnid
  — penned by eezy
  

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