pafp head above water & river flooding

[SMOKESTAR]

He's awake and irritated by the sound of a faint drip, his ears twitch and when he raises his head for the ocean of gray, black and white folds he's buried beneath he can spot the culprit of the sound at a distance. The burst of white at the entrance made him narrow his one orange eye unhappily at the brightness of it, but the sun was not so merciless as whatever this was. Smokethroat realized with a catch in his throat the source of the blanket and stumbled upward to stand on tired limbs to amble forward and push his paws against the frozen wall blocking them from the world.
A single black paw burst from the snow and ice coating the outside and edges of the willow tree at the edge of camp, black claws scratched at the folded branches to try and dislodge more of the cold wall blocking his escape. After a bit more pushing and scraping he was able to push his face into an opening, shove his head and half a shoulder and arm out into the open air of the camp with a huff only to find the rest of him was having a right struggle to follow.
Smokethroat was too focused on the fact he was now stuck hanging outside the leader’s den in a snow hollow to really look around properly at first, a back leg kicking to try and push him out only to make contact with what might’ve been Cicadastar’s face since he heard the other rise to stand not long after he had.
“SORRY.” This was horrible, thank the Stars no one else seemed to be awake yet and the white-spotted warrior paused to finally give the camp a cursory glance and frowned.
Whatever embarrassment he might have felt by the fact he was leaving the leader’s den that morning was immediately overshadowed by the fact the camp was a complete mess.

“...there’s…the river rose last night. I’m STUCK…”
This was disastrous for the camp. He could already see the water creeping in to surround the various dens and it would absolutely overwhelm them if they didn't do something about it. Maybe it would receed by the end of the day, but he highly doubted it. The river gave and the river took and leaf-bare was the season of taking.

@CICADASTAR
​

 

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : the river leader is awakened by a sudden cold. he mutters his protests with eyes still closed, half - asleep and babbling. thin arms that had wrapped loose around the warrior slip off once he moves and it jostles him enough to grunt, shoving his cooling cheek against the space in his nest that smokethroat had taken up, soaking in the fleeting warmth for only a moment longer. the chill penetrate their little haven — and stars above, he is tempted to exile him for this alone. large ears pin flat, icicle eyes flitting open accusatorially, zeroing in on the dark warrior with intent, displeasure clear upon the bicolored angles of his features — only to be met with a sight worse than smokethroat simply leaving his den. blinding white. a layer of snow, radiating chill from its frosted edges and suddenly he is far too alert, lifting from bony elbows quick enough to knock his narrow head on the bark above him. no — no, no, the chimera skulks forward, low on his elbows to crane his head up, seeking to peer from the slot in the wall.

the kick lands squarely upon his temple and the man swears, a flurry of jutting vocals over a muffled, shouted apology. his eyes flutter, opening his mouth to stretch his jaw — stars, he packed a kick. the obsidian feline is stilled, hanging limp in the small hole he’d made for himself, rays of sun filtering in through the chipped edges, “ you are so — “ a tilt of his head, a pop of the stretching vertebrae “ lucky i like you. “ exile. exile! assaulted in his own den! after rubbing his cheek with the back of a bony paw, the river leader takes a breath, letting his gaze flit around the encased hole. he felt too tall, suddenly, limbs too long to stretch properly. his breath quickens, if only minutely, “ okay — alright, be still. do not kick, or so help me . . “ cicadastar settles back on his haunches, lifting his forearms to scuff rapidly at the small opening aside smokethroat’s suspended form. damn it all. the fruits of his courtship, and it shows in a rude awakening and icy paws, bolts of electricity rocketing up his limbs with each scrape of long, arching claws, “ of course you’re stuck, idiot, you shouldn’t have tried to squeeze your — “ a pause. a beat, “ the river is what? “

ivory paws come to a still, having only made but a small, chipping hole in the wall of snow burrowing them in. his heartbeat quickens and he can feel it, erupting in his chest as if alive, caged and terrified. the river rose. how bad? what sort of catastrophe befalls them now? his muscles ache and he thinks of the day prior, of bloodshed in the leafbare flurries — his chest feels hollow, suddenly. an end to violence. was this punishment? his jaw locks, teeth gritting as he frantically shoves his face forward, nosing forcefully into the hole he’s made — cheek pressed firmly against smokethroat’s flank and ears pulled back to pin against his skull, tugging paper thin eyelids back to reveal the greyed, hidden inner lids underneath. he was right. the waters were rising, pooling over the smaller streams around river rock and swaying dangerously at snowed - in dens and . . he didn’t know what to do. blinding moment of panic, the man simply breathes, rapid and quiet — clear blue luminaries scope the camp for signs of life outside the flurry - laden den mouths.

“ we need — starclan, we need to get — “ get out, get out. deep, shuddering breaths, “maybe someone is out. we need — more paws. “ to dig them out. one problem at a time.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−−−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[Cindershade]

It was not often that Cindershade could delve into the peaceful darkness of sleep, especially not with freezing temperatures that nipped at her skin or the worry that plagued her mind. She often fell into a light slumber, her eyes closed but still felt as if she could see everything around her. Nothing seemed to sooth her into a RIM cycle where her dreams would come alive within her subconscious. Light filtered through the skeletal reeds of the warrior's den, but something was off. The light was too bright. Darkness now tinged with red as it lit behind her lids, causing them to immediately flutter open. Along the mouth of the den was near blinding, a fortress of snow piled by the entrance. She nearly leaped from her nest, her steps not as carefully placed as usual as she scrambled towards the entrance. Cindershade narrowed her gaze, lifting thick fore limbs off the ground and onto the powdered wall. It wasn't frozen, luckily. She quickly began to dig, jolts of electricity running up her limbs as her muscles went to work. The snow quickly gave in to her demands, falling away as she continued. Clumps of snow would fly from behind her, no doubt dusting the other warriors who resided in the den with her.
She was soon making progress, a small hole developing to see the outside. The sun shone through the hole as a gust of wintry air rushed through the new opening. With the sun being out, the snow had been melting already and therefore, giving under her weight easier. A voice was heard from outside, a familiar voice. Smokethroat? She barely could make out his words. Cindershade slips her head through the mouth of the hole, looking around for the familiar spotted tom. Where was he? Her gaze scanned the clearing, eyes blinking against the sudden brightness of the sun's rays. The bubbling streams could be heard that surrounded the camp, but this time they were—louder? Was she hearing things? Her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, now making out the clearing and how—sodden it was. Water reflected golden light through the sedge, the water lapping at the edges of camp. That wasn't normal. The snow was melting and adding excess water to the rivers, causing them to flood.
Cindershade pulled her shoulders through the hole she had made, her powerful hind legs pushing her forwards fiercely. For once, the shaded warrior was grateful for her short stature. She managed to squeeze through with some effort, emerging from the ivory blanket like a shadow. Smokethroat was heard again, this time much clearer along with a muffled voice who whom she assumed was Cicadastar. Were they snowed in as well? Snow dusted paws carried her forth, ignoring the stinging sensation of snow clumped between her toes. The ground this time did not have a frosted crust on it's surface, it was now soggy and muddy. The squelch underneath her paws as she walked made her inwardly cringe at the feeling.
As she headed for the Leader's burrow where Cicadastar and Smokethroat resided, she abruptly stopped at what she saw. Chartreuse eyes widened slightly, lips pursing at the sight that unfolded before her. Smokethroat had attempted to dig himself out as well. But, unlike her, his bigger frame seemed to be working against him. A giggle bubbled up in her chest immediately, threatening to push past her pursed lips as she stared at him. The spotted warrior sauntered over to the suspended tom, a silhouette of a smile twitching at the corners of her dark lips. "Uh—" Cindershade began, avoiding his fiery gaze as she investigated the snow wall. "Smokethroat—you uh, you seem to be—" A horrid snort finally burst from her, laughter following behind as she laughed uncontrollably at the very sight of him. It was puzzling to hear the usually stoic molly laugh, her statuesque features had now melted away as a toothy laugh broke through her mask. She really tried to remain neutral, but this—this was just too damn good. "I—I'm sorry. I can't—" Cindershade gasped in between, trying to speak but failing.
A few moments passed before her howling laughter died down and she was able to regain control of herself. "Whew. Ahem. Apologies—let's get you two out." She still couldn't help but smile, the muscles in her rounded face growing sore from the lack of use. Cindershade couldn't remember the last time she laughed that hard, if she ever had even. Her head swivels back towards the warriors den, "Hey! I need some help over here!" Her low voice raises, reverberating off the snow in the clearing as she called for assistance. "Let's get you out." The molly nods, briefly meeting his gaze before going to work.
​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[GLOOMPAW]

The laughter and the shout startles her from a dreamless sleep. Her twitching form stills, irritation surging at the noise, and cracking an eye open she sees their den is shadowed by something. Was it early morning? Gloompaw, fueled by this annoyance, rolls to her feet, ready to whirl through camp, tackle whoever has made the dim birdsong vanish...

She stares at the chilly wall before her: her enemy, because it was keeping her from the world, and her friend, because she wanted to believe she got extra rest because of it. It must come to an end. Gloompaw charges the wall, the soft snow falling in pathetic clumps, rolling onto the floor and exploding silently into flakes again. She doesn't care how many nests are hit with the snow as her paws slap aside more of the wall.

When her arms break free and chilly air bites at them, she shoves forwards, freeing herself in a Gloompaw-sized hole in the snow. She glares at the water sloshing around the camp perimeter, the ground soggy and freezing as she steps across it with a hiss. She'd managed to avoid most of her bitter thoughts about the river, because fishing was no longer her responsibility. And some cats talked of it like it was a force or a family member. Was it sentient, then? Is... the river trying to eat her?

Snow was just fancy water, too. It was trying to eat them all. The molly scrambles over to Cindershade, peering at the sorry sight of a worried Cicadastar and Smokethroat through the opening they'd managed. Cackling as she began to bite and claw at the snow, she made sure the river was watching them destroy its relative.​

 

[Loachripple]

"Well shit, the river sure did rise more than it was allowed to!!" Loachripple said as he left the warriors den. What was this shit!!

He looked over at all the commotion that had roused him in the first place. Smokethroat was stuck. Everyone was digging him out. Man, that was funny!!! He laughed a bit. He would have laughed more if the river wasn't threatening to drown them.

He trotted over and started to help free Smokethroat.

" Good morning everyone!" He greeted. "Guess it's time to find a new camp, huh? For now, anyways."
​

 

[Snakeblink]

When Snakeblink has to wade out of his den rather than walk, he knows this is going to be a… difficult day. Glancing towards their leader’s den for guidance, he stops and blinks, bemused, at seeing Smokethroat’s head sticking out instead — and not much more of his body besides, though a small group of cats were already hard at work trying to dig him out.

”Where else would we go?” He says in reply to Loachripple’s bold — albeit correct — statement. ”Can we even move everything? The medicine den and the nursery might be a challenge—”

Stars, the nursery! He turns on his paws and makes a beeline for the nursery. So near the river’s edge, he worries about the freezing water flooding it. The temperature would be enough of a problem, but… could the kits even float?
​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[ashpaw!]

A new camp?

What are they — talking about out there? A seed of worry festers in Ashpaw's heart as she pushes through the final few inches of snow: the nursery unburied at last, sunlight pouring through. She stumbles through what remains of the powder, kittens tumbling behind; Antlerkit's panic soothed, hopefully, now that they're officially out. She gives the tiny smoke an affectionate bump on the head. "We did it, guys!" she cheers, watching the little furballs and their tiny little paws make their way properly into the sun. "Good job! You were awesome helpers."

She's going to turn back, going to look for Willowroot, a proud grin on her face — she thinks she's being a great big sister, and she wants her mentor's approval, aches to see that pride reflected in familiar green eyes. But she stops short at the state of the camp, worry-seed bursting from its shell to become a giant ... awful .... worry-plant-explosion. (She'll work on the metaphor later.)

"Oh. StarClan," the girl whispers. Her breath starts coming faster — this is bad.

" @willowroot ," she says, then louder, panic-tinged, "Willowroot!"

She turns, frantic, counting kittens — one, two, three, four, all here, all safe for now — "The camp is flooding. It's... there's water everywhere." Cicadastar sounds panicked. So Ashpaw is allowed to panic.

Absently she curls around Hazekit, little girl of silver tucked close to her side. Her tail brushes over Poolkit's flank. She searches for Reedkit, too, where is he? Four kittens is too many kittens and that isn't even counting Boneripple's babies. None of them can swim. "I'll—I'll help carry them?" she says, voice cracking with uncertainty. They have to leave. They have to get away. So Ashpaw will help.

Water laps at her feet and fear seizes her chest. She'll reach for whichever sibling is closest, aiming to take them by the scruff.

​

—— " i found gold in the wreckage "

✦ ooc ✦ character information ✦ recent events

• @ANTLERKIT @Hazekit @POOLKIT kibben tags
  
  
• - 6 month old orange tabby with green eyes
  - apprenticed to lead warrior willowroot
  - happy-go-lucky, mischievous, hardworking
  - very friendly, but defensive of riverclan!
  - "speech"
• - disclosed being physically and psychologically abused by Spiderfall, who was exiled & who then killed her best friend
  
  - temporarily apprenticed to npc pebbleskip due to willowroot moving into the nursery
  

​

 

[ANTLERPAW]

Just as soon as Antlerkit was ready to celebrate their freedom, they found themself hoisted along by their scruff by Ashpaw. The little one had seemingly been too focused on the joys of being free to have heard the words being spoken around them, to see the water much closer than it had ever been before, beginning to pool around their paws. Ant's only awakening from their fixation was the pull on the back of their neck. On instinct, they kick their paws out as they're dragged closer to Ashpaw, making a wordless mew of protest.

After a few moments of flailing around, the kit finally scanned their eyes around. The first thing Antlerkit witnessed was the visible stress emanating from all the cats around. Eyes flickered back and forth, shoulders tensed, ears pinned. The next thing, and what they felt most like a fool for having missed, was the way the water was gathering beneath them.

"AH!" Another yelp of frustration and confusion escaped the kit, though this time not for the shock of suddenly being grabbed at. In fact, Ant seemed to shimmy even closed to Ashpaw in that moment, wiggling their tiny form to attempt brushing up against her as close as they could. They were not an expert of the big wide world outside the nursery, but they were almost certain water was not supposed to be here.​

[ penned by tuna ]​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

"Cindershade, I'll bite you." A combination of her efforts, at least, and that of Gloompaw and Loachripple, allowed him to finally wriggle his way free and out with an almost comical roll forward head over paw into the icy depths; thankfully this time without kicking Cicadastar in the face. Smokethroat lifts his head with a sharp gasp, the freezing water was not so high he could not easily stand in it but having rolled right through it he was no thoroughly drenched and not looking forward to the rest of the day. The call of the warm nest was strong, but his determination was stronger. The dark tom stood, stepped to the side to shake where he could not douse his fellows in the drizzling of ice shard water that now cloaked his form in a fine layer of shimmering mist. They less wet everyone got the better because without their dens they would most certainly be finding a dry place out in the open to sleep in tonight.
A quick survey of the cats present and the chaos and he gaze a shaky sigh, "S-s-some cats help get the k-kits to high ground nearby." Smokethroat gave a huff of a growl, forced his tremoring voice from the cold water down and continued speaking, "S-some help Beesong w-with the medicine cat den....w-we can't afford to lose herbs." He was going to comment on grabbing what freshkill they had but from the looks of it the water had already risen up enough that it was swept away and even if it had been a paltry sum to begin with it twisted his stomach into a knot to know they'd lost it. The pickings were slim, they couldn't afford to be so lacking.
Cicadastar was probably going to be sending a patrol to scout for a safer area but right now just getting out of the water was the priority. They could just stand further inland for the timebeing.
​

 

[Snakeblink]

Bolstered by Smokethroat's orders, Snakeblink hurries his steps towards the nursery, heedless of the frigid water that chills his paws to the bone. The river licks at woven reeds, each ripple threatening to flood it entirely – or worse, carry it away. They've already lost their food stores like this. If even a single kit is swept up by the flow, Snakeblink swears he'll jump in and swim after them. Better drown than let that happen.

None of that now. He finds Ashpaw beside the nursery and beside herself with worry, trying to herd kits away from the water's edge. She has Willowroot's litter safely out of the den at least. She'll need help to carry them to drier ground, but that can wait – they must evacuate the den first, before the current can sweep it downriver. Impulsively, Snakeblink brushes his skinny tail against her side in silent support. He steps away before he can see whether his comfort is welcome and shoves himself up to the shoulders in the darkness of the nursery.

His nose bumps into a small, wriggling body. He doesn't recognize the smell of dirt and damp fur, but a kitten is a kitten. He tries to localize the kit's neck by touch alone, but the little thing moves too much and he sees too little to manage it. No matter: the result matters more than the method. His jaws snap open and he closes them as gently as he can around the kit's body, pulling them out of the nursery like he would a vole out of its den.
​

ooc. information.

• ooc: @Skunk-kit yoink
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[BEESONG]

"shit!" the first word that the medicine cat utters that morning, is an expletive. it isn't often that beesong curses, but when he's forced to wade out of his den rather than walk, he thinks it to be an appropriate time. the camp- flooding, the river that's supposed to protect them encroaching on the clearing. on the dens. panic compresses his chest. his herbs- he couldn't let this damn flood destroy his herbs, not in the dead of leaf-bare! and the kits... if they get wet, they could just as easily come down with an illness, in this cold weather. why did willowroot and boneripple have to get pregnant in leaf-bare?!

their fur prickles, but they force themselves to take a deep breath and calm down. freaking out and becoming irrational isn't going to help anyone... they need to focus on moving their herbs to somewhere they'll stay dry. smokethroat calls for warriors and apprentices to aid them in this task; a good idea, seeing as there's just too much for them and gloompaw to carry alone. "gloompaw! back to the den, we need to start moving herbs!"

beesong squeezes back into the medicine cat's den, biting the inside of his cheek as he glances up at the leaking roof. melting snow drip, drip, dripping through the sedge. the chill stings his bare skin on his left side as droplets splash onto the healer. shit, his mind repeats. how long does he have before his own den is flooded?

"we should move the most important herbs first- marigold, chervil, and chickweed, especially," the small tom directs gloompaw, and any others who've come to help, already beginning to gather up some marigold. there is urgency in his quick movements.. those three herbs are the ones most used; it seems that riverclan is incapable of going a quarter-moon without someone getting injured or ill. ​

 

[Cindershade]

Frigid water splashed against her chest and belly whilst digging out Smokethroat, Gloompaw and Loachripple coming to her aid. She sighs, relief flooding her like the very river she waded through as the snow caved. Smoke and Cicadastar were now free. Cindershade smirks at the other shaded tom at his threat, knowing he meant what he said. Though it was still funny and definitely worth the consequences. She's off without another word after his barking orders, tend to the medicine den or to the nursery. Snakeblink heads to the nursery and that leaves her to the medicine den. The warrior tries to quicken her step through the murky water, heading towards Beesong and Gloompaw. The wintry temperature gnaws at her abdomen, sending violent shudders down her spine and to her toes. Even with her thick oily coat, she stood no chance against it.
Cindershade huffs a shuddering exhale, approaching Beesong as they enter back into their quarters. They're frantically grabbing piles of different herbs, shouting for their apprentice to grab the most important ones. "Hand me some bundles to take, @BEESONG . I'll help you and @GLOOMPAW sort them out later." The warrior instructs, moving to take a large bundle of chervil from their now moist stock. Her jaws instantly flex at it's surprisingly mellow, but still bitter, taste as it mixes with her saliva. She can't help but wince at the taste, fighting the urge to spat them out. Icy water droplets splash onto the top of her forehead and trickled down the bridge of her nose. Cindershade grits her teeth as it soaks through the think fur on her face, drenching her skin. "'Nything 'lse ou 'eed 'e oo 'et?"
​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : breathe. breathe. the space around him is too narrow with his lead warrior struggling amidst the hole he’d made. laughter is loud, rancorous from the other side and icicle eyes flit, find cindershade with eyes bulging, inner lids still slipping fluidly over smokethroat slips from the icy gap and his broad form leaves enough room for long, spidery arms to slip to each side of him, prying his body from the depths of the ancient willow. sharp paws land fluidly in the water and he hisses — a loud, spitting thing, as ice water seeps up the length of his limbs. snow clings to dampening curls, sleeking rivulets to the in - turned contours of his form and flattening his thick pelt to sharp edges. biting cold, it shocks up his pawpads and into his marrow, forcing him to reveal long, arching canines in a grimace. guess it’s time for a new camp, huh? the man shoots daggers, gaze pallid as the floating ice chips around them.

but the tom was right, and cicadastar whips his head around to conceal the way his face contorts with anger — frustration. bitter winds pull at his coat and it shocks him further. his mind whirls, snakeblink speaks of the nursery and his head snaps back nearly as fast as he’d looked away, alarm momentarily erupting upon his features. smokethroat speaks and things are moving too fast for him to keep up, too fast for his swimming mind to catch on the worst of it. their herbs, their kits, their queens, the food that rots now, bobbing lazily amidst the flooded camp. beesong erupts from their den, cursing, calling for their apprentice and gloompaw is nowhere is sight just yet. his gaze flits to the side, down to the murky water underfoot, swaying lazily around lower limbs. wire wraps itself around his throat, eyes stinging and — he wants to cry. to scream, to curse and claw at the heavens until the stars fall upon him, speckling his pelt in bursting ivory. his tail is too sodden to lash, swaying heavily amidst the wreckage behind him.

where would they go? “ this water — it’s too cold. we have to evacuate, we’ll . . i’ll send buckgait, a patrol to search. “ his workhorse, expendable. he’d send her scouting for a new home, a new camp, until the island drains enough for them to begin reparations. what else? what else, what else? his ears tick backward, curling whiskers twitching around his dark nose — he couldn’t think. the water was cold enough to kill their youngest in moments and he can hear them now, yelping beyond the snowbanks where snakeblink has moved to fish for one of their two young litters. he wanted to return to his nest, knows it’s now seeping with ice water and snow and longs for a time when the moon was still high, nose tucked into his love’s fur. smokethroat was shuddering and while most are distracted, he moves alongside him, aims a quick lick along his broad, damp shoulder. i need. i need i need. he did not know what he needed. the chimera instead moves on, paws sloshing along as he wades towards the nursery and his spindly friend, “ we will regroup on dry land. we can’t afford sickness on top of . . of this. “

the man lifts paws from the murky water, scuffs quick at the ice along nursery walls and it hurts, but his voice is firm when it lifts, “ @BONERIPPLE ? @willowroot ? is everyone alright? “ he can hear neither of the queens, but . . ashpaw. the man blinks, “ ashpaw, why are you in here?” it didn’t matter. he shakes his head, thinks to speak with willowroot on it, but instead, she carries antlerkit and they had to get out, “ come, come. can you get out? ” the hole was large enough, but the snow would be slippery, a challenge for smaller paws. but he does find a familiar bundle of fur, flicks a gentle purr of greeting brief within his throat. starclan, he didn’t want to worry them — couldn’t stand the yelp from willowroot’s typing, cold and frightened. pale blue eyes soften and he remembers a time long ago, his mothers voice. not quite soft ; shed meant to distract him only, to fixate his mind, to send him bothering his dear brother with games.

“ @Sablekit ! little mäuschen, you’ve been very brave.” speak to her, before he goes to pluck her up — they don’t have much time, he fears, but he leans his head down, aims to conceal as much of the wrecked camp from her vision as he can, “ we’re going to move someplace warm while the snow melts, yes? you can help me set up a brand new camp to explore — “ a promise. so help him.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−−−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

There was snow blocking the entrance, that was her first concern because the blockage prevented them from getting out of the nursery. Worry poured into her being as she silently looked from right to left, contemplating and weighing her options as much as a kitten could. Ebony paws set to work, scratching and digging at icy powder that would hopefully release them from this snowy prison. Her paws stung from the cold. A hiss of discomfort breaks forth from her jaws as the opening finally gives way only to allow frigid water to enter and soak her limbs. Where did all of this water come from? Periwinkle eyes grow wide as the nursery quickly begins to fill and shouts fill the clearing of camp. Sharp ears plaster themselves against her head as she watches Snakeblink grasp Skunkkit and Ashpaw escort Willowroot's kits out.

Another tall figure emerges, a gentle accented voice calling out to her and Sablekit is wadding closer to the curly furred river king. "Uncle Cicada!" There is a soft desperation in the girl's voice as she pushes through the cold water lapping at her limbs. But her need to fight the swift current is lifted the moment Cicadastar plucks her up in his jaws. Sopping limbs and tail are tucked close to her body, soothed by reassuring words of warmth and fun. Sablekit nods her head, a shallow gesture as she speaks. "O-okay, thank you." She voices as a shiver runs through her body and her teeth clack from the biting cold. Thanks to his careful maneuvering she failed to notice the flooded destruction of their camp and instead focuses on the exploration of a new one. Managing a small smile she asks, "Could you help me find things to decorate my nest with?"​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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