camp GIRL IN SNOW ♱ PROMPT

[VULTURESONG]

How delightful. The spiky bedding jabs at her back. It is far from comfortable to sleep on and others may question her ability to sleep on such a brittle and spiky nest. Initially, when she felt slight prickles against her back, she had thought of finding some wool to soften her nest. However, it was her brother Haretooth who showed her just how soft she was becoming as he slept peacefully in such a cozy nest. Vulnerable. The thought of how easy it was for her to pad over to him and attack him in his peaceful slumber brought her sick satisfaction. Of course, she did no such thing, lest she'd want Haretooth to wake the entire forest with his yowls.

And so, she refused to find better bedding to line her nest. The slight prickles had become worse. Stubborn Vulturesong was, trying her best to ignore the uncomfortable sensation. It had taken her awhile initially to sleep at first. What she did find was that with time and concentrating on the act of breathing, her sorrowful excuse of a nest was decent. She'd argue the spiky bedding aided in her training. What kind of training you ask? Well... With such a spiky nest her sleeping figure was alert to some extent. If someone dared to enter her nest or move her, the unpleasant bedding would wake her. One must keep as still as possible in order to get some shut eye.

Speaking of which. There are eyes on her. How long will it take for them to say something? She tries to ignore whoever it is that may be judging her, not at all desiring conversation. That is until there is a long stretch of silence, which causes the white molly to scowl and face the culprit. When she does, she does not hide her annoyance. "What is it? Speak now." Stormy blue eyes narrow into slits. My patience grows thin. Make it quick.

❄ With the change in weather, the moss bedding is becoming brittle and spiky. How does your character feel about it?

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[Amberhaze]

⚛︎₊˚‧ "Oh- Um..." The abyssal oriental would stumble over his words, or rather lack thereof, upon the sudden awakening of the molly who had captured his unwavering attention for no other reason besides the fact she was...present. Her expression contorted with tension strong enough to match his own, the most noticeable difference being that her taut muscles and flexing claws seemed to harbor elements of intense unrest and...anger, whereas Amberhaze was nothing more than a torrent of fear everlasting fear. Both were equally as unyielding, but one could surely do much more damage comparatively in a way that the other could not even begin to compare, and yet she wore it so well...it was mesmerizing.

Her tone of voice was as cold and biting as the air outside, breaking through otherwise serene space like the shattering of falling ice. "Y-You just look...uh- uncomfortable, is all..." Weren't they all? It was a weak observation despite the truth of it. He hadn't meant to stare, and had he known she was as perceptive as she was he may have made more of an effort to direct his attention elsewhere. Attempting to explain away the unexplainable brought on a certain kind of stress that caused his stomach to roil with anxiety.

✧ ° . ⚠︎ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

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  AMBERHAZE — HE/HIM ･ 19 MOONS ･ WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN ･ PENNED BY SLOANE

  black oriental shorthair. a short but lengthy black cat with a boney build and striking ocher eyes filled with unveiled trepidation.

 

[VULTURESONG]

An ear flicks when the culprit stumbles on his words or lack of them. Unamused, the scowl on her features have not morphed into something softer. She was not a weakling like her brother. No, she was as harsh and relentless as Leaf-bare. Even as she gazed coolly upon the equivalent of a pathetic rat, trembling at the knowledge of their fate. "And how does this concern you? Regardless, when did I say I was uncomfortable?" As always her words are biting. However, there is truth in them. Her discomfort does not effect him in any way. It's not like her pain was transferred to him and each time her nest poked against her back, he would contort in agony.

As for emotional pain, she would scoff at such a boorish reason. If Amberhaze was one of those cats who felt despair when others wept, then she would roll her eyes. There was no need for him to cry. That was not his pain. There was no rhyme or reason to take on the pain of others. From the looks of it, you're could die from fright. I wonder... If I hissed, would you join Starclan's ranks?

Amberhaze was something alright. She knew of him of course. There was some who whispered how peculiar the tom was, though these cats spoke of her in the same breath. Peculiar the pair were. One would think they were friends, and yet they would be woefully mistaken. Vulturesong was not built to be nice, to have friends. By that logic, she was not friends with Amberhaze. His existence was known and if anything she thought he was amusing for simply existing. How did such a pathetic tom survive for this long was a mystery.

However, another mystery would turn up. A mystery that would take her many moons to understand. A mystery of why she blinked at the sorry excuse of a tom, a scowl dashed from her features, replaced with stoicism. "Go on, there is more you wish to say. I won't bite. Not unless you give me reason to."​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Vulturesong is determined to torture herself or something, apparently. Since she's clearly sleeping on some of the crummiest bedding ever, clearly unhappy with it, and— Sharpshadow would argue she is indeed biting Amberhaze's head off for daring to acknowledge this, despite what she says. The interaction feels so indicative of the things Sharpshadow hates, Vulturesong wrinkling her nose because Amberhaze dared to be worried about her. And... maybe Sharpshadow would do the same thing in her position. Feel the daggers on his back— look from a cat that, were he superstitious, he may believe the very presence of signed bad luck... He'd probably be annoyed too. But he'd hate himself for it, he's pretty sure. That made it okay to hate Vulturesong for it a bit, couldn't it?

" StarClan forbid someone cares about you, " Sharpshadow grumbles. As usual, she hadn't really planned on involving herself like this... but for whatever reason, things that made her mad drew her in the easiest. A dark face is crumpled upon the molly, scrunched and ugly, probably. She snaps, and then for whatever reason seems to demand Amberhaze keeps talking on... Her frown is deep as she casts a glance to the tom in question. He'd probably take the opportunity eagerly, since this guy clearly liked talking more than his shivering self would try to make you believe. " This guy's usually too busy worrying about the world ending to care about how comfortably you can sleep. You should feel lucky, " he huffs.

...Whatever. He returns to picking at his own nest that's surely gone brittle in the same way. If Vulturemask looked so terrible in hers, Sharpshadow can only imagine how he'd look.​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Vulturesong's snappish words are abrasive, their edge cuts through the thin veil of sleep Briarthorn had been able to muster. The early frost had pushed the dark warrior even further towards her preference of nocturnal hunting, despite the frigid moonlight.

Ebony eyelids peel back and draw towards where Amberhaze now stutters in the face of unexpected confrontation. You just look uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? Briarthorn silently churns the words over in her mind. Aren't we all?

Lifting her head, the ebony warrior flexes a paw against her own nesting material. When she had collapsed in it only a little while earlier, she couldn't recall it being so brittle. Harshly, Vulturesong asks when exactly she stated her discomfort, and now Briarthorn is compelled to answer; "You look as though you're sleeping with brambles buried in your back." The warrior answers for Amberhaze, running her tongue over her forepaw.

Briarthorn's lack of filter had only gotten worse with the cold, an already frail tolerance for tongue-holding politeness whisked away with the leafbare wind. Sharpshadow's grumble carries a more bitter tone than she. The conversation only continuing to grow stranger as Vulturesong pushes Amberhaze to speak more.

To the Lead Warrior, Briarthorn only casts a brief glance of acknowledgment before accepting her sleepless fate and rising to stretch; an ear still kept in Vulturesong and Amberhaze's direction.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── KEEP YOUR DEMONS ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ ON A LEASH ──┐‎

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  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

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