ETERNAL LONGING ❆ hail

[SOOTSPOT]

Leafbare had well and truly begun. Beyond the blizzard, things had been peaceful, the weather had been as mild as one could expect and blood had not shed upon the snow as easily as it had done before. But it was cold, so cold that old scars screamed at him and any soft parts of his body felt like cubes of ice whenever he'd finished patrolling. Though the sky above was clear and the sun shone low on the horizon, the chimera's predictions for the day were clear. He'd weaseled his way out of a patrol, fearing being caught out in something dreadful and losing his tail as Periwinklebreeze had.

The sky seemed to turn dark with time, and with pride surging in his chest, he realised he may have been right again.

As he lifted his head, he expected more snow. Instead, something stone-like was dropped upon him; immediately, Sootspot recoiled at the pain. Another and another came soon after until eventually, the tom fled to the closest burrow he could find, staring out at the world as if it had wronged him personally. Paws came clattering towards him, seemingly adamant about taking shelter in his space and his eyes narrowed. "This spot is taken." It had been a cold winter, finding only his adopted kin to rest with, but the skin of many of his comrades was poisonous; he'd be damned if he let them contaminate him with their false affections.

​

 

[Daisywatcher.]

THE CORVIDS ARE CALLING
WARNING THE FOREST A PREDATORS APPROACHING​

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daisywatcher & 24 moons & feminine & she/they/it & windclan tunneler ​

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The molly has always disliked this part of clanlife, of the moors - being exposed to the elements, in all their forms. The sunlight is tolerable, even if it's pleasant rays oft leave her vision impaired, making newleaf and greenleaf easy enough to bear. Cloudy and windy days are fine, even if her small frame is buffeted about. The snow is an annoyance, sending shivers down her spine despite the fact she is blessed with a thicker coat then most. But no, it is weather like this - rain, and sleet, and hail - that leaves her most distressed, fur spiked up in a rather good impression of a porcupine.

She hisses as the first pellet pelts her, and then another - fleeing swiftly for the nearest tunnels maw Unfortunately, she is not alone - two-toned eyes blinking blankly when Sootspot speaks. ' This spot is taken. ' " Surely now, you can share? " she asks, though she's not entirely sure it'll be worth the fuss should she be rebuffed again. While she hold no particular disdain for Sootspot, irregardless of parentage or past loyalties, he's not exactly the nicest cat - and even the strange tunneler is not that unobservant.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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A M - I - I N - D A N G E R - ━ - O R - A M - I - T H E - T H R E A T - ?

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[downyfur]

More dangers of the aboveground. The tunnels were brimming with them too, but it seems there was always something new to be had with the grand open wilderness. Downyfur squeaks with alarm as a thing thuds against their back, bristling and cowering away as if it'd been someone's frostbitten paw diving between silken gray hairs. Another pellet embedding itself in the ground between their paws quickly proves them wrong, yet they scramble away on instinct, puffed-up tail quailing over their back.

Paws clatter around them, each a mad dash for the tunnels. Daisywatcher hovers in front of one of the tunnels. Downyfur's approach is stifled by the catch of an acidic green glow within and the sleek bite of, "This spot is taken." They swallow their frustrated sigh. Sootspot, please, she wants to growl.

Instead—having nearly forgotten about her in her panic—she seeks out @heatherpaw. with eyes squinted against the worsening barrage, and calls as loud as she can, "Huh-Heatherpaw! Sootspot's taking this tunnel; we'll find another one!" She gestures to her with an exagerrated motion of their tail, scampering off in search of another wonderful divot.​

 

[Wraithwail]

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ Never in her life would Wraithwail have ever considered that being a tunneler would have its advantages. Dirty, confined, dark and dingy spaces were never something she would willingly force her lithe body into if she had the option to do otherwise. She craved the windswept moorlands, the sky overhead and the oxygen that came with it. To be trapped down below where you relied on nothing more than physical sensation, your eyes and ears clogged with dirt making everything around you sound muffled and your vision momentarily stolen away...it was something out of her worst nightmares. She would never understand why so many of her clan enjoyed such a job, and she thanked the stars every day that she had been made a moor runner instead. Bless her long legs and towering frame for it, as much hardship as it may have caused her in her youth.

However, she now craved confinement. Shelter. The hail buffeting her boney frame with a violent sting causing her to curl into herself, the only thing saving her from being blown away being the cover of a stray boulder jutting from the earth. If she positioned herself just the right way, the worst of the storm would hit the overhang as opposed to her- but not all of it. The cold seeped into her weary bones with a hunger, and she began to shake violently from the sensation. Her fur did little to cover her despite its length, for it was thin and wispy...easy to rake through and reach the tender skin beneath. She envied her smaller tunneling clanmates as they ran for cover like scattered rabbits, though the bickering that echoed out from the opening was...annoying, to say the least. But it would be a lie for her to say it was not equal parts amusing, despite her inability to express as much in such a state as this.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MISTRESS OF GRIEF ༄˖°.🕯️.ೃ࿔*:･ LADY OF TEARS ──┐‎

• 

• 
  WRAITHWAIL she/her, warrior of windclan, 18 moons.
  ⭃ tall, longhaired white she-cat with hollow olive eyes.
  ⭃ mentoring bergamontpaw, mate to none, mentored by n/a, unable to conceive
  ⭃ peaceful, healing and minor combative powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by sloane ↛ @encarcerated on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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[VIPERPAW]

*+:｡.｡ "THERE'S NO TIME TO WORRY ABOUT COOTIES, C'MON, SQUEEZE IN!" cheerful cry to rival the storm's bestial roar announces everyone's favorite loud mouth. He nudges Strawberrypaw and Frostrabbit into the tunnel, ensuring their safety from the demonic, cruel hail surely sent by the maleficent forces outside of Starclan's reach! The young man would grin, proud to have been useful as his clanmates nervously scuttle in, eager to keep a wide berth from his cranky mentor. Viperpaw holds no such fear as, despite the tunnel's gloom, chartreuse eyes illuminate his toothy smile. "YOU FOUND A GOOD TUNNEL!" he guffaws, aiming to scoot in close to his mentor, beaming at the opportunity to bond - perhaps today's the day he finally melts the older man's icy heart? From hail to healing - HAHA!

"We should tell each other ghost stories while we're here!" he adds, voice finally at an indoor level...but to Viperpaw, it's a whisper.

*+:｡.｡ Updated 10/11/24

• "SPEECH"
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☁ Viperpaw
  ☁ DFAB— He/Him
  ☁ 10 moons
  ☁ Son of Snakehiss and Berrysnap
  ☁ Brother to Rowanpaw, Snakepaw and Privetpaw
  ☁ Windclan — Tunneler's apprentice
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☁Physically easy | mentally medium
  ☁Attack in bold white
  ☁ None currently

[/u]​

 

[laurelpaw]

Windclan cats should not shy from the elements, exposure to them simply being part of their life on the unshielded moors… but, Laurelpaw would have to start lying if she were asked if she was disappointed in not being picked for that day's patrol. All throughout the day, a darkness had slowly but surely unfurled over the skies, blotting out the weak leafbare sun in a way that unsettled the molly. This was the first cold, snowy season that she was old enough to experience fully, but surely, having two terrible storms back to back wasn't how they all were. Right? The possibility that she was watching a second deadly blizzard roll in, powerless to stop it, sticks in her throat like a sharp bone throughout her day's work around camp.

When the clouds finally trap them under their oppressive dark grey, but fail to bring winds laden in snow, she allows herself to wonder if perhaps she was making herself overreact — how embarrassing, getting worked up for nothing at all; she's lucky she didn't bring it up to anyone — and then, as if she were being swiftly punished for making assumptions, something solid and freezing is dropped, bouncing squarely off the top of her skull. Her head snaps back, wild olive eyes staring up into the murky heavens — and then, when it offers her no answer, they slide over her shoulder in search of the cause of the dull ache blooming in her head. There on the ground, a tail length away, lays…

Ice? She is baffled, blinking equally in pain and confusion at the offending little thing. She guesses she should count herself lucky that it's relatively small, hardly the size of a paw pad; still, she whips around, scanning the camp for someone, anyone, that would be so bold as to hurl a chunk of ice at her — at her, the thought beginning to boil the blood in her veins. But then, all around her, more start to hit the ground in low thuds, and suddenly, every cat begins to make a dash for whatever cover they can find.

She knows the tunnels, and so she makes a break for the one she remembers is nearest, until her scramble is cut short by the sight of Sootspot planted squarely in the entrance. "Really?" she can't stop the snap of her teeth, glaring down the tunnel at the uncooperative warrior within. Even in the midst of chaos, she guesses some cats will always be difficult. "There's no point, Daisywatcher," she snips at the warrior, turning away with a lash of her tail. Another chunk of ice shortly misses her, leaving her with little time to waste before she's turning away to rush towards the next nearest tunnel entrance, searching around for some sign that the rest of her siblings have found suitable cover.

She catches Viperpaw diving right in beside Sootspot out of the corner of her eye, and stops on her heels. "Viperpaw! You need to come with me," she calls out, wincing while the icy stones pelt her back. While she would admittedly be amused to see the ashy warrior squirm while having to endure Viperpaw's antics in a tight space, she can't in good conscience leave him alone.

we are made ✦ from the sharpest things

• ooc: —
• 

  LAURELPAW ✦ she/they, 13 moons
  — windclan tunneler apprentice
  — speaking, thinking, attacking
  — snakehiss x berrysnap

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