HUNGOVER IN THE CITY OF DUST — return to camp

[PITCHSTAR]

A somber haze hangs over the clan as Pitchsun leads them back to their camp one cat less than they'd left with a few sunrises ago. He is achingly aware of the emptiness at his side.

There is an NPC who comments on how fortunate it is that the fire did not reach their camp; a shitty attempt at lightening the mood. Pitchsun thinks with a bitterness on his tongue that he would've let the entire forest burn to the ground if it meant his mother would still be alive.

He doesn't remember what he snaps towards the NPC, but they do not speak up again.

The familiar hollow comes into view, and the moment that Pitchsun had been eager for since the evacuation no longer seems so thrilling. With pawsteps growing heavier by the second, the new leader of ShadowClan stumbles into the camp. They're home, yet it is no home that Pitchsun wants to live in. Not without Briarstar.​

 

[Frostbite]

It was hard walking back to camp. It was hard to look around it. After all that had happened, it didn't feel the same as it once did. He stood in the clearing, eyes dull as he dissociated and stared at the ground.

It didn't feel....Real. None of it felt real. He knew it was real, but he just couldn't register it.

His clan had been through so much. If anything else wanted to harm them, he was going to rip it apart.

If he could.

​

 

[Firedawn]

YOU WILL ALWAYS BE ENOUGH​

---

Firedawn walked behind the rest of the clan in grief-heavy silence. Her head only rises as she hears' Pitchsun snap at an NPC and she can only sigh and quicken her pawsteps, moving to brush a comforting tail along the NPCs back before going ahead of them. She had wanted to talk to Pitchsun but what could she really say?

He was hurting, his mother gone, nothing she said could bring comfort or solace at this moment. So instead she simply sighs again and enters camp. Looking around she is also grateful that their home is not also destroyed, but the weight of Briarstars absence is thick in the air and she looked back to the others of her clan.

She wonders for a moment, before her tail swishes and she walks over to Pitchsun and speaks quietly, "I'm sorry to bother, Pitchsun," Her voice humble and gentle as it always was, "But what would you like us to do first?.."
​

 

[Ravenwatcher.]

So I walk alone down the darkest roads​

---

A soft yawn slipped from Canarypaw's maw as she walked in silence within the rest of the clan, the air heavy with sorry and grief for the loss of their former leader, someone Canarypaw did not have a strong connection to despite her allowing the young apprentice in as a kit when she lost her own mother. Some sense, she understood what Pitchsun was going through but she still hoped and waited for her mother to return.

Tired gaze drifting onto the camp, silently grateful to starclan that they did not need to worry over having to rebuild the camp once more, fluffy tail swaying slightly as they entered. All she could think of was sleeping but it would be Firedawn's words of question that made her frown. Perhaps sleep would be the correct answer to the warrior's question but she glanced her ocean blue eyes at Pitchsun "I'll help where it's necessary as well" she said smoothly, wondering if she was the only one who still believed in Starclan...for the time being.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[betonyfrost]

POST CODE

• There is a lingering smoke-scent that Betonyfrost cannot seem to escape. It doesn't leave her, it will never leave her. Even when wind has scored the air clean, the smell has settled into the highest part of Betonyfrost's nose-- more a memory than a sensation. She goes through the motion of sneezing without doing so in truth. The expectation of such.
  
  Walking into camp is a strange affair.
  
  It looks just as it had been left. In some small way, Betonyfrost had expected it to look different. ShadowClan has undergone a great change and yet camp-- the tender heart of ShadowClan, remains as it was. It seems unfair in a way. Betonyfrost wants to laugh when she sees the remains of her nest, left in a half-pile exactly where she had dropped it, rainsoaked and smelling faintly of mold.
  
  Instead, Betonyfrost remains silent.
  
  Looking between the lost and slack faces of her clanmates, Betonyfrost is made uncomfortably aware of her lack. She doesn't have the vital part, that tender heart, that her clanmates seem to share. Hers is an overripe fruit shaken loose in the breeze. She is left instead with a hollow chest-- one that feels disgust rather than grief when she had seen her long-time leader buried.
  
  But Betonyfrost is comforted in the knowledge that she knows who can fix her-- the one who makes her heart beat. She cannot help it. Her eyes cast about, seeking the now-familiar pelt of Chilledgaze, so that perhaps she may share in their grief.​

• "[color=#ddafeb][b]speech[/b][/color]"

shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags​

 

[BARKBREATH.]

What a dreary lookin' dump. Even if the flames hadn't licked proper at the entrance of camp, the effects of the blaze, of miss-thing's death lied heavy above m' all. Yeesh. Two of the brats yammer on about somethin' Quick to gett their shit together. Barkbreath snorts, loud in his lungs. Betony dear had th' right idea, at least. "Slow the hell down, jus' mope for a second, kay?"

N' the silence lies heavy between them. Betony had the right idea, unlike many others, the grub was pretty good at keepin' her yap shut. It was strange, the things he felt. Gone so soon was the shadow always slinkin' round the corners of the marsh. Right-hand woman turned leader, leader turned roadkill. Sad, a tragic sight even for her kid, he's sure. Mope he must, even if visibly, it wasn't much to him. It'd probably be a few days still till he stops expecting to run into the scrawny rat. Eugh.

His posture suddenly straightens, thin furze of a tail sticks high in the air.The silence is punctured by a loud burst of a cough before he speaks. "K, mopin' over. Up an' at em, " Yuh, he remembers when his mom had died. Weird sorta thing. He'd live. One of the few sturdy folk remaining round here. N' maybe the way his tail waves behind him is a lil too cheery for this sorta' thing, but he's too old to be dwellin' on those things. His nest still remains in place. Good. Not like there'd be a reason for it to move... but it felt like a whole new camp in a strange way.

And he supposed It was. Would be Pitch's camp now, not Briars.​

 

[HATCHINGSTORM]

It wasn't all that long ago that ShadowClan escaped its home under Briarstar's lead.

Now, they return under the lead of her son.

Grief is thick in the air. Hatchingstorm knows nothing more than to just walk with it, to carry it with him with each step. Their leader is gone - taken by a horrific death, one that left the warrior uncertain in his beliefs towards StarClan. The leaders, they were supposed to have nine lives, weren't they? So, why did Briarstar die in one? One swift death - though not swift enough - carried her away from her position as their leader, her position as a mother to Pitchsun, to some of the youngest in the marsh.

What had ShadowClan done wrong for such scorn from StarClan?

Their home is intact, practically unchanged, though every other aspect of the clan has shifted.

A warrior makes a joke. Hatchingstorm hardly hears it, but hears the new leader's response. He hears the snap of a grieving son. Cruel, wasn't it, to be in such a position at which your only means of progression was for your own mother to die?

Others ask what should be done, and Hatchingstorm waits silently for their new leader to tell ShadowClan what's next. His promise to Briarstar was a promise to ShadowClan, and would now be a promise to Pitchsun, as well, as a new era for ShadowClan begins.
​

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​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

"Surveying the territory to see how much of it burned. And a hunting patrol or two hopefully." The molly's words are bitter and harsh as she steps after the returning cats. She's feels empty, hollow as if every she ever was has been scooped out of her. No longer will she be able to just talk to her sister. Someone who understands her. No. She has been left along again. Her sister is gone, her best friend Cicada is gone. Who now stands at her side? Her gaze lingers on those of Shadowclan and it becomes painfully obvious how she has blocked other out. Kept them away from her.

They are strangers. Save for some who have become...acquaintances. She grits her teeth before deciding to go but she doesn't make her way to a den that is as empty as the hole her sister left. No she retreats into the warriors den. After some rest she will begin anew. Start on fixing up the bramble wall and then making the dens look better. All her herbs she had taken with her are left back there in the tunnels. The rest here may as well rot too.​

 

[GECKOSCREECH]

❝ holding it together with one loose string. ❝​

the camp, although untouched by the flames of the sycamore, felt as if it was scorched by the stars themselves with the very recent death of briarstar leaving the atmosphere drained of any sort of life.

no one spoke a thing aside from a select few, one who immediately got snapped at by pitchsun for even attempting to lighten the mood.

now geckoscreech did not hold briarstar upon a pedestal like many others around her but that did not mean she didn't hold a respect for the ebony molly, she was their leader afterall even before the clans had formed. it was still a blow to experience. a grimace had crossed over her features as she thought upon it more in silence, how cruel was it to be granted so many lives only for all nine to be taken from you in the most merciless way? to live and die over and over again until your broken body finally gives up trying to rebuild itself.

the warrior had stuck close to ribbitpaw, aqua eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. well, there isn't much they can do now except grieve and keep moving forwards lest the clan gets swallowed up by a hole where climbing out is no longer an option.
​

 

[turtlenose]

“Instead of asking what can be done, why don’t you take a look around you?” Pausing, she’d gesture with her paw to the condition their camp laid in. Bonejaw had a point, and nodding she would turn to her clanmates. “One group should survey the territory, and another group should hunt as Bonejaw suggested. Bonejaw, do you need a patrol to help salvage any herbs in the territory? Those remaining who aren’t injured can start to reinforce the camp. While the fire luckily didn’t reach camp, that doesn’t mean smoke didn’t damage anything.”

Standing to the side, she’d lash her tail as she waited for any objections from her clanmates. If there were none, she would continue. “Apprentices can work on things in the camp. With the fire, we don’t know what threats have been pushed form their burrows. I’ll lead a patrol to survey the territory. Firedawn, perhaps you could lead the hunting patrol? Bonejaw I say should be in control of the herbs should it be needed. Otherwise find a patrol and let’s get to work. Others who remain in camp can prepare it for Briarstar’s vigil.” While they were all grieving (Turtle’s tone alone could attest to that) it didn’t mean they could put the well being of the clan on pause.
​

 

[BARKBREATH.]

N' still, mope they did, Gecko an Hatch stood stunned in silence, close to their loved ones or whatever. A bitter rumble, Bone grits out her unenthused suggestions before joinin' him near the warrior's den. See the damage, get some food in their bellies, not a bad sort a plan. Briar's family had smart blood running through their veins.

Though this one— Turtlenose. His head snaps towards her, quick as a whip as soon as he hears her spoutin' orders like she was suddenly leader. An incredulous smile widens on his face, sharp an deranged. The zeal these younger folk had. Any sorta sense was uncommon around' em. If they weren't in a place so tense already, he may have just taken a swipe at 'er. "'Scuse me, miss," he purrs out, though his irritance is palpable. "Who died an made you leader? Not Briar, that's fer sure." He smiles, lets loose a single lash of his tail. "Let the little rat do his own organizing, eh? Bold of ya to assume he'd find you fit to lead a patrol." There's a sickly rumbling in his lungs, the beginnings of a sneer.​

 

[PITCHSTAR]

Eyes turn onto him, and Pitchsun wishes to rip this burning skin from his flesh as it crawls beneath the weight of expectations.

Subconsciously, a paw scratches at the foreleg opposite of it. It does little to ground him.

They're looking to him for instructions. Pitchsun can only think about his mother's corpse, broken beyond repair and bleeding out onto the asphalt. How her body convulsed and writhed and stilled nine times over. He only wants to curl up in his nest and never leave. He couldn't crawl to his momma for help, now. (He's completely alone, even when surrounded by his clanmates.)

Thankfully, or maybe shamefully, Bonejaw provides an answer for him. The cogs in his foggy brain begin to churn from the mental prodding. Yes... Yes, that would do. Pitchsun opens his mouth to respond, but another speaks up. A voice that is not his own barking out commands, a warrior who he hardly knows. (A warrior who would be a better leader than him, if the way that she orders others with ease suggests anything.)

Irritation flares behind his eyes, a dull throbbing that grinds his teeth. His paw scratches at his foreleg a little bit faster.

He should've been the one to give those orders. (Stupid, useless fuck-up, he was.)

"Maybe, warriors should mind their business," Pitchsun hisses, his voice wavering on the border of anger fueled by his own self-hatred and his patience worn thin by grief.

(Couldn't even control himself, much less his warriors. Laughable.)

"Patrols will be sent to survey the damage and to hunt... The fresh-kill pile-" He shouldn't even call it that. Pitchsun turns a wrinkled nose towards what was the pile, the prey beginning to rot after being left for days in the rain. Gross. (What a fucking waste. He couldn't even manage to salvage their prey on the brink of leaf-fall.)

"Clear out the pile. There's nothing left that should be eaten by us; leave it for the crows." (Or for himself. He deserves to live off of carrion.)

[ IC OPINIONS </3 ]​