- Jun 7, 2022
- 416
- 336
- 63
− ♱ ABOUT : pain. it’s all he feels — each agonizing step another blister of misery pooling from the wounds along his slim body. he's made the choice to stay behind his star - claimed medicine cat and had fallen right into the claws of one he’d warned them about before their venture beyond this living veil. a windclanner — a fishbrained, scrawny brown tabby boasting tales sootstar word. he had been caught weak and by surprise, soul ripped and torn and flooded with life, muscles aching from an odd mixture of overuse and disuse simultaneously. the star - dusted cats who had given him turn after excruciating turn into immortality. nine lives. he had nine lives, and he was not going to let one fall to the claws of those around him. not anymore. he knew too well how it feels to come a whisker away from death and the feeling lights a fire beneath his paws, rippling electricity beneath his skin that keeps him going amongst the pulsating, red - hot agony he shouldered now.
the newly named cicadastar arrives painted in mottled shades of blood from both himself and that damned brown tabby, curled mangled and eyes heavy with exhaustion. he bears nine lives, icy luminaries burning with cold fire spread ablaze, what curls are not matted in viscera bristle along his spine and neck, jaw tense. he’d warned bee against windclan, without the thought that they would come for him — chosen by the heavens above as he was. despicable. it was cruel, the twisting claws of fate ; he had taken the river for protection, for safety. he knew not of who he’d bound himself to this island with, but he was meant to be here. his battle was fought and won, and he would not go down to those trying to weasel their way from the inside. the loners that shacked up near the water and claimed it as their own, crying riverborn as if hare whiskers and his colony had not traversed the lands as a whole before the introduction of the pine group. it would be all too easy for them to get at him now, allowed to roam his drained land without consequence, too eager to stand by his word at fourtrees — but they had not been at fourtrees. sever the fish at the head, as they say.
the man leaps up upon the fallen tree that makes its way across the little clearing they’d camped in, clearing away reed and debris to build their home. overhead, rain begins to fall — pelting his coat with a layer of moisture seemingly perpetual now.
“ for too long i’ve let strangers lounge within my borders. the creeper vine does not extend to those who choose not to follow the word of starclan, and by extension — ” he tosses his head, almost manic, “ cicadastar. the stars have granted me nine lives, so i’ll be damned if i spend a second more of this one harboring leeches. “ it’s spat from a snarling maw, pink gums bared, “ there are going to be some changes around here, starting now. all joiners are to seen by me personally, and they will justify the space they will fill before joining my ranks. no KITTYPETS. “ slam. a singular stomp echos onto the hollow tree, it’s rotten wood flexing beneath his snowy paws, “ and no more loners. “
the man glances towards two of his warriors, “ secure the borders, shut them down. “ it’s quick, it’s heated — and he is deathly serious. not a touch of warmth reaches icewater eyes now, “ and i want all those not aligned with riverclan front and center. “
the newly named cicadastar arrives painted in mottled shades of blood from both himself and that damned brown tabby, curled mangled and eyes heavy with exhaustion. he bears nine lives, icy luminaries burning with cold fire spread ablaze, what curls are not matted in viscera bristle along his spine and neck, jaw tense. he’d warned bee against windclan, without the thought that they would come for him — chosen by the heavens above as he was. despicable. it was cruel, the twisting claws of fate ; he had taken the river for protection, for safety. he knew not of who he’d bound himself to this island with, but he was meant to be here. his battle was fought and won, and he would not go down to those trying to weasel their way from the inside. the loners that shacked up near the water and claimed it as their own, crying riverborn as if hare whiskers and his colony had not traversed the lands as a whole before the introduction of the pine group. it would be all too easy for them to get at him now, allowed to roam his drained land without consequence, too eager to stand by his word at fourtrees — but they had not been at fourtrees. sever the fish at the head, as they say.
the man leaps up upon the fallen tree that makes its way across the little clearing they’d camped in, clearing away reed and debris to build their home. overhead, rain begins to fall — pelting his coat with a layer of moisture seemingly perpetual now.
“ for too long i’ve let strangers lounge within my borders. the creeper vine does not extend to those who choose not to follow the word of starclan, and by extension — ” he tosses his head, almost manic, “ cicadastar. the stars have granted me nine lives, so i’ll be damned if i spend a second more of this one harboring leeches. “ it’s spat from a snarling maw, pink gums bared, “ there are going to be some changes around here, starting now. all joiners are to seen by me personally, and they will justify the space they will fill before joining my ranks. no KITTYPETS. “ slam. a singular stomp echos onto the hollow tree, it’s rotten wood flexing beneath his snowy paws, “ and no more loners. “
the man glances towards two of his warriors, “ secure the borders, shut them down. “ it’s quick, it’s heated — and he is deathly serious. not a touch of warmth reaches icewater eyes now, “ and i want all those not aligned with riverclan front and center. “
- the grace period for riverclan has officially ended! loners are still allowed to join, they will just have to go through extra hoops on a case by case basis because he doesn’t trust them! please remember to check out the meeting requests channel in the riverclan discord, as all those not aligned with him currently will be getting their names now as a brand of loyalty! remaining riverclanners will receive their names in a formal meeting in a couple of days.
-
− CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
− tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
− speaks with a german accent, former marshlander, penned by antlers
- none.
