camp FILTHY FINGERS OUT OF MY PIE ☀︎ CLEANING

[dimmingsun]

"What a mess," Dimmingsun says, and adds just internally, but it's our mess. It's a miracle they still have anything to clean, given the nature of the fire that had been thrown upon them, so he ought to be a bit grateful. Certainly no thanks to those damned Twolegs.

To be fair, the Clan has been working on cleaning the camp here and there. It's ultimately less of a priority though in the grand scheme of things; there are patrols to be had, a fresh-kill pile to stock, borders to keep an eye out for... and more importantly, no cat has come out unscathed in either the physical or emotional sense. They will need time to heal just like their territory.

He had already gotten a narrowed eye and stern words flung at him by Wolfsong - rightfully so -, and Dimmingsun doesn't want to poke a sleeping bear any further. Simple and low-stakes walks are satisfactory. It's nothing compared to what a moor-runner is expected to do under normal circumstances, but a medicine cat knows much better than he does, and he'd rather speed his recovery process up instead of hinder it. So, staying in camp while still remaining productive is the next best thing.

Already there's a pile beside him. It's all debris: the strong winds have rolled them up into a ball and directed them towards the camp, scattering it and even helping smaller tufts of grass catch on fire. Big paws work on raking the sand free of ashy remains. It's all a grim reminder of what has passed, but there's a little hum rumbling deep in his chest as he works, managing to enjoy the process. They'd be squeaky clean again in no time.
​

 

[Frightpaw]

*+:｡.｡ The change in landscape was a unique twist she could not claim to feel mournful over.
Perhaps because she was still young enough to expect much more change to come along through her cycle of moons; this was just another shift in the season. Winter had become spring after all, hadn't it? Snow gave way to flowers, and flowers would be followed quickly by flames, then replaced soon after with a sea of charcoal. The happenstance of an endlessly revolving sun, right?
She didn't envy the older cats, so determined to slap the title of 'normal' only onto fair weather and then hope desperately for its return when it predictably phased out of their grip. Like a fool who clings to ignorance, Frightkit happily danced on her stage of naivety as she looked upon the destruction like it was a new coat of paint to entice her ever-hungry need for sensory stimulation.

So of course, she's happy to partake in whatever game Dimmingsun has to offer.

"What'cha diggin' for? " Frightkit chirped, popping her head behind Dimmingsun to peer over his shoulder (the middle of his leg, actually) at his efforts. Much like with the snow and the flowers, Frightkit had excitedly explored the new world she returned home to. Though she had preferred the flowers, she enjoyed playing with the ash and examining singed blades of surviving grass all the same! But eventually, she ran out of ideas and now relied upon her clanmates to help her find ways to entertain herself with her brand-new toy box.

"Are you looking for something? Making something? Can I help? "

*+:｡.｡ Updated 1/11/23

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  " Speech "
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ☾ Frightkit
  ☾ DFAB— She/Her — Unsure
  ☾ 2 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ☾ Windclan Kit
  ☾ Sister to Deathkit, Witherkit, Grasskit, Whitekit and Midnightkit
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ☾Physically very easy | mentally very easy
  ☾ Attack in bold #1b1e21
  injuries: None

​

 

[Bluepool]

The monumental task that is repairing the camp after the fire has swept through their territory, after their hasty evacuation, is not lost on Bluepool. The progress is slow going, there were still other things to worry about, after all. Like prey. The fires had made it difficult to find much on the scorched terrain and she finds that, during a time where rabbits should be practically leaping into their jaws, there were nights where she would go to bed hungry like she would in leaf bare. "Shoudn't you be resting?" She asks as she approaches, her tone more playful than scolding. Any Moor-Runner worth their weight in rabbits would be disappointed to be stuck in camp so long. At least, she knows she would be. In Dimmingsun's place she is uncertain that she wouldn't just go mad, being cooped up all day.

Still, it seems that despite being stuck in camp, he was finding ways to make himself useful. A trait that she appreciates. They would need more hard-working cats like him if WindClan was going to thrive for generations to come. "He's cleaning Frightkit, pulling up all the debris from the fire so we can remove it from the camp." She explains, talking to her as if she were much older than the small amount of moons she actually was. "You can help, just make sure you're actually helping and not playing" stars knew kits loved moss ball, and there in front of them was the perfect toy. Perhaps when they were done they could keep one or two for the nursery.

( ➸ ) 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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[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ Scorchstreak does not particularly enjoy calling anything about her clan a mess. WindClan is not merely a thing to be cleaned up, a victim of the world’s cruel turns and twists of fate; WindClan is resilient. They will build themselves back up, no matter the mess that they are in right now. She does not scold Dimmingsun for his words, however—and neither does she scorn him. Instead, the calico approaches at her mate’s side, a flicker of her tail offered in greeting to both the warriors. Dimmingsun seems to be busying himself with cleaning some of the debris from camp, and just like Bluepool, she questions whether or not the tom should still be resting.

At least he’s still in camp, she supposes. She does not have Wolfsong’s affinity for healing, and so she has no comments for him. "We’ve made quite a bit of progress with cleaning. Hopefully we’ll have the camp cleaned in full before the gathering." The gathering that is, if she recalls correctly, only a few days away. She hopes that the other clans will forgo whatever judgment they have to say when it comes to the flames that ruined their moorland. Frightkit asks if she can help the tom with his task, and Bluepool assures her that she can help as long as she actually… helps. "If you want to play, you can take a mossball back to the nursery," she offers to the kit, gently swiping a bundle of moss in Frightkit’s direction.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ she’s a growing bed of thorns

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. stoic and shrewd, but clearly cares deeply for her clan.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

​

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[SOOTSPOT]

Pride in being a WindClan was often in a contest with the satisfaction of seeing WindClan in a state of chaos. The environment felt easier to navigate when there were more important things for his enemies to worry about other than himself - besides, it was much easier to demonstrate his value by stepping up in a crisis, something he had done so many times he was certain he was owed something by now. Gliding deliberately around the group, the smiling Sootspot immediately pressed into charred strands of grass and pushed them in digging motions toward Dimmingsun's growing pile of litter. 'This work is beneath me,' he mithered in his head, going over the same area over and over again, adamant it had to be spotless in the sun's creeping gaze. It needed to be done though, if not to make WindClan's camp habitable for himself, but to look like a harder worker than the Lead Warriors who gawked at Dimmingsun and Frightkit as if they were aliens. Oh, how demeaning it was to be considered a regular WindClanner once more. 'At least in the tunnels, they do not see me cleaning,' he silently added on, the evidence of any work often presented in soil-laden paws and whiskers.

"A truly admirable display of work ethic, Dimmingsun. There are many who could learn from your proactiveness," he mewed towards the other, halting momentarily in his own cleaning at the rasp that had filled his throat. With narrowed eyes, he coughed quietly into a black-tipped forelimb, blinking rapidly as the uncomfortable feeling began to subside.


​

 

[dimmingsun]

Frightkit's eyes are always a stark contrast to the blackened patch of her face, but even more so when he more or less towers over her and casts a shadow on the little thing. He bows his head to look between his own legs and find her there. "No digging here, I leave that up to the tunnelers."

Bluepool explains in his stead, but not without a remark about his state of being - that is, not lazing around like some sort of elder who cannot muster up enough energy to go anywhere. He recognizes the playfulness of her tone, ever the light-hearted cat that the lead warrior is, and answers it with something similar.

"Hey, this is resting. Kind of. If I were to lay around and nap day after day, I'd probably just talk someone's ear off."

He nods to Scorchstreak in both greeting and gratitude. Although... there's a spark of an idea. "Cleaning doesn't need to be boring. If you want to maybe... imagine yourself as a RiverClanner, Frightkit, this is almost like swimming." Dimmingsun demonstrates then, spacing out the movements of his front legs: one stays behind while the other rakes, and then they switch. He can only assume that's the correct way to swim, but it's not like he would know. It's all make-believe anyway.

Sootspot comes into his field of vision then, mirroring Dimmingsun's own actions. Although he hadn't started this in hopes of gathering much of an audience, he would never turn down an opportunity for company. "Why, of course. We must be alike then, same work ethic, huh?"
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[kitecall.]

speaking color is #BBE8EF​

➾ KITEPAW. AND HOW CAN WE WIN WHEN FOOLS CAN BE KINGS? † ☼
𖤓 ✟ —— a riverclanner digging was as laughable as a windclanner swimming. although he understands the portrait dimmingsun paints for frightkit, to kitepaw, it's a ridiculous thing to imagine overlapping. regardless of such thoughts, the apprentice finds himself eager to help. "if you need a spare set of paws, just send me in the right direction," the tomcat chimes as he approaches. there was a lot of work that needed to be done if windclan was ever going to return to its former state, and laying around doing nothing wasn't going to make it go by any faster. perhaps it was that childish pride that came with being an apprentice, the ever-looming dream of being the best warrior that the clan could ever train, or perhaps it was his own pride and unrecognized sense of self that made him so eager to please. no matter which it was, he figures it would be a great help regardless.

for the moment, he watches the way that dimmingsun and sootspot sift through the debris, making note of the method they use to do so. like a riverclanner swimming, rhe thought returns to his head as he observes. the thought of himself swimming was almost as unbelievable as riverclan digging… like they were built to tunnel.

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• KITEPAW ✩ he/him, moor-runner apprentice of windclan, 7.5 moons old
  ⭃ average sized tomcat with light cream tabby markings. he has a white chest and half face. his fur is a medium length and he has large whiskers. his eyes are a light blue.
  ⭃ highly religious, stubborn and hard-working, kindhearted and charismatic, honest, diligent, foolish and impulsive when frustrated, will speak out when something feels unjust.
  ⭃ open to minor and minor powerplay / / underline and tag when attacking ⇌ see his bio here
  ⭃ penned by @DOFFERZ! ⇌ doffloppa on discord, feel free to dm for plots. template credit to vayle.
  
  
  
  
  

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