i hide behind my tongue ✧ riverclan patrol

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆

---

Despite whatever reasoning, they were no stranger to enduring for the sake of duty. Their company was barely more tolerable this time at the very least... if not a little awkward. The lacking numbers from the journey's start meant that they could afford fewer to go out and... do what needed to be done. Border marking... hunting... assisting Ravensong however they could with herbs (what would it be like when he finally undertook an apprentice?)... nothing would substitute more lungwort and all the clans knew that.

Maybe then... it would be easier to continue the tolerant middle-ness with their biggest adversaries.

Turning to look at the two ash-furred girls that had been dragged along in tow, Lichentail wondered if Brookpaw was displeased with being back on this border specifically. She hadn't gotten a chance to really snoop around SkyClan or ThunderClan outside of when hunting brought them close to such boundaries. Dipperpaw... she was still trying to get an understanding of the apprentice she'd inherited. Hopefully the two could entertain each other and this would prove a little less dull.

"Best behaviors please... let's not antagonize anyone. We all know how short tempered the other clans can be," they grumble, ear flicking in frustration. Knowing these hare-brains they'd throw out some petty jab or (another, pathetic) idle threat.



// patrol members: @ROOKFANG @CHICORYPAW @brookpaw @DIPPERPAW​

 

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

Clck, clck Was the sound of Harrierpaw’s tongue at the roof of his mouth, alerting the patrol to the presence of cats across the gorge.

Confidently, as his warrior ceremony was just arond the corner, he strides over to the border. The roaring of the nearby waterfall was almost deafening as yellow eyes observe the RiverClan cats. It was likely uncomfortable to be under his judging gaze, especially for any younger apprentices that may be subjected to it.

The phantom says nothing, just a silent narrowed stare.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Harrierpaw
  » WindClan Apprentice
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and jaunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to outwit and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[DIPPERFROST]

She follows behind her newly appointed mentor with the same look on her face she always wore, her expression plastered into an unreadable line, her eyes downcast and focused on the ground in front of her, occasionally glancing upwards to scab the horizon but never quite settling on any of the cats who were with her. She is not happy with this. She doesn’t imagine Lichentail or Brookpaw are either. She feels as if she is an unwanted guest, intruding on something that she has no business being a part of. Perhaps Shellsong would recover soon and Dipperpaw would be able to go back to their old routine. She knows her and the senior warrior didn’t always see eye to eye but at least it is familiar and not strange like this.

She says not a word the entire patrol, nor does she say anything when they reach the border either. She nods her head in acknowledgment of Lichentails words and then she goes and she marks RiverClans side with the rest of her clanmates.

Movement catches at the corner of her blue sun touched eyes and her gaze flickers upwards to meet that of a WindClanner across the way. She does not flinch or look away, but she meets his intense gaze with a stare of her own. Moments pass before she turns away, an abrupt change as if she suddenly had decided it was not worth the time. A huff of air escapes her like a sigh and for a moment, her gaze flits over each member of the patrol she was on. "Do WindClanners always act weird like that?" she asks, turning to her mentor
​

 

[brookstorm]

Brookpaw does find herself minorly annoyed with the repeated border. WindClan is nothing larger than a thorn in RiverClan's side nowadays, but it's still smart to remain vigilant in spite of that. She tries to ignore the fact, too, that she must share her mentor with the deadpan molly walking inbeside her. There must be positives somewhere in this decision, she's certain of it.

The she-cat catches a glimpse of Harrierpaw, though she initially regards him with little more than a glance. It's when he stills, nothing more than a moorland shadow, that she affords him a longer look. Perhaps if they stood any closer he would see the disdain in her eyes, though she's sure that close and she would feel his claws upon her pelt instead. Dipperpaw speaks and Brookpaw looks back at her companion apprentice before offering a mutter, "WindClanners are paranoid." Her justification of the tom and his supposed patrol is accompanied with a shrug, "They want to make sure we're abiding by the code," and she lowers her voice just a tad more, "Even though they're the ones usually breaking it." The amount of trespassing incidents in the last several moons... she's surprised that the moor-rabbits aren't born with insanity.​

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── There was a certain tense feeling of having to be assigned to Windclan, one that he held only to the clan due to relations he wished to keep secret and tucked away. As long as he didn't meet the ghostly grinning figure of his half-sibling, the solemn tom would be fine. He mentally kept an eye for the dreadful snickering and giggling the light-hearted brother of his had yet luckily, it was yet to reach his ears as he followed behind Lichentail and the apprentices who came along, as he decided to be at the end of their line in case of anything. With how things were going on and how he was adjusting to the idea of having to go beyond their normal areas of paths to check the border of the hills that belonged to the other clan, he wondered if they had been impacted by the sickness. Was their symptoms worse? Better? Any casualties? He wondered if the leaders had discussed the damage slashed through when the dreadful illness had loomed over them, taking bit by bit whatever it could. Rookfang just hoped there was a resolution to all of this, that their efforts and actions would save whatever they had left before it was too late.

His mixed haunted gaze flickered around from the sky, to the ground, to the direction of the border and Windclan's scent reached his ebony nose, causing his nostrils to huff out a quiet snuff of disgruntled annoyance. Yet, his alertness seemed to snap towards the scent was the strongest and his gaze glanced down towards the figure of Harrierpaw, his brows knitting slightly together but he decided to disregard the stare with a simple curt nod of acknowledgment. "You can say a greeting you know if you haven't thought to do so yet. Not sure how long it takes for you to think about doing so but it is a formality." The rugged furred male stated in a flat tone, not enjoying the lack of mutual respect especially in front of the apprentices. The last thing, he wanted was for Brookpaw, Dipperpaw, and Chickorypaw to believe that was how borders should be seen. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the idea as he allowed his half-lidded heterochromatic eyes to slide over towards Dipperpaw and Brookpaw as they discussed the peculiar behavior of the other apprentice. "Clans have...different ways of approaching things. Some-" The warrior's stare briefly flashed over the border before back down to the youth of his own clan, "-not as smoothly as you might be doing so."

However, his jagged tail twitched at hearing the last comment Brookpaw made, eyes narrowing slightly in warning as he stepped next to them. He did not comment as he didn't want to deny or reject the idea of the audacity of certain trespassers who had lost their minds and thought to skip over the border as if it didn't exist but Rookfang wasn't going to try to push the envelope too much with the matter of code-breaking. Especially when they were having to be cordial[//i] with them, or at least try their best to.​

 

[HARRIERSTRIPE]

His eyes do not move even as the younger two begin to whisper among themselves. He’s self-aware it’s most likely got to do with him, but his nerves are steel and he does not waiever. Not even when the older warrior, in the politest way he could probably muster, essentially asks what his deal was.

”I’m not one for formalities.” He cooly responds just loud enough to hear over the gap between them. ”Does my gaze offend?” Harrierpaw decides to play, unable to hide his signature patronizing smile.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Harrierpaw
  » WindClan Apprentice
  » He/him
  » A black and chocolate chimera with golden eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe who uses jeers and jaunts to distract his opponents.
  » Excels in using terrain to his advantage.
  » Fights to outwit and see another day.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[HUMMINGBIRDHEART]

"Oh, Harrierpaw, your gaze could never offend. You’re not rude at all!" The she-cat’s voice, cheery and devoid of any hint of sarcasm, raises from behind the apprentice. He doesn’t seem bothered, facing down so many RiverClanners, but all they seem to do is throw taunts and insults across the gorge. A pity they aren’t smart enough to have good gibes. She casts a curious glance to Harrierpaw—even if he’s not one for formalities, she certainly is. Spending so much time in the tunnels, growing ever closer to the RiverClan border at this very place, has made her desperate for a conversation with any cat without the overwhelming scent of dirt to accompany them.

She waves a paw good-naturedly, although the broad grin that swells on her muzzle doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "Well, anyway. Helloooo, RiverClan! Hope your sick cats are faring well! Well, actually, I don’t really care about them—they aren’t my clanmates. But I hope you haven’t had too many cats die." Her jaw snaps shut with a click, and she sweeps her tail in a wide, uncomfortable arc. She’s said too much, probably. But who could just ignore the plague that’s going around the clans right now? She thinks of WindClan’s ill, the yellowcough-ridden badger sett that they’re staying in. She’d heard that a tunneler died a few days ago, and the thought had just broken her heart. She can only hope that the journeying cats will return soon enough to cure everyone./font]​

[ my materials in pyre ]​

​

 

[beetlenose]

Hummingbirdheart is above ground, leaving Beetlenose without her tunneling partner– so instead she tags along on this border patrol, disinterest on her face. She does her own work well, but these kinds of outings are better suited for the chatty types. Or, they usually would be; it seems that Hummingbirdheart's mouthiness has led her to an uncomfortable situation. Beetlenose casts her deep amber glare across the gorge, then back to her friend, whiskers twitching. "You're a charmer," she rumbles, humorously dry. Still, she makes no effort to amend the other warrior's faux pas. Frankly, Beetlenose doesn't care about RiverClan's sick, either. They're busy with their own dead: Lambcurl, Snailstride, and StarClan knew who would be next.

Her critical gaze falls on Harrierpaw as he goads the river rats across the gorge. She decides she doesn't like his smug grin– he's still an apprentice, so he should learn his place and she should be the smug one, out of all of them. But Beetlenose doesn't feel like condescending much, either. Instead she directs her attention back to marking their border. The RiverClanners probably don't want to speak with her, being a paranoid moor-rat and all, so she might as well get some work done. "Just a bunch of charmers over here," she muses to herself.​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆

---

At least it had started quiet.

It is never meant to last. Dipperpaw turns to her with searching eyes, prodding for understanding of the boy standing strangely on his side of the border. His stare was practically blank, not a thought passed between wide, consuming eyes. If Lichentail had any reason to genuinely fear him, they might've shuddered under such an intense, directionless gaze... but he is not something worthy of her fear.

They open their maw to explain but Brookpaw is swift to make her opinions known and though she isn't necessarily wrong, the lead desperately wished she'd waited to add her two cents until they were further from earshot. "Half of them spend most of their time buried in tunnels," the blue murmurs, hoping it might make sense of their strangeness. "I don't imagine social etiquette is quite as important down there... or maybe they just don't get to experience it much." A low voice from behind reminds them of the presence of Rookfang, who is normally more reserved and unlikely to rise to verbal challenges.

It is surprising then, that he too offers a small lesson on WindClan and loudly presses the other clan to have some semblance of manners. What is unsurprising, is the blatant disrespect for the sick... Not a single cat on her patrol had been cruel enough to tell WindClan that they more or less hoped their ill were soon to die. Thinking of a silvery-furred molly far away from home with brutish cats like these...

They were all doomed.

"Not an offensive gaze... just a strange one," the ash-tipped molly calls out, hoping to subvert whatever weird, hateful narrative was spreading so quickly. It's against their conscious thinking that they find their claws dug into the dirt, a self-righteous anger burning in their belly that they might just stand there and boast about how sickness had ravaged their clan... as if WindClan were not equally suffering in those empty plains they called a home. Even if those words were well-meaning, moons of history said WindClan only loved to spite their river dwelling neighbors. She could only assume it was meant as a jab, an insincere wish that reflected the opposite of her real desires.

"Wishing death on the ill is low... even for WindClan," they growl, voice hardly above a whisper. As much as they wanted to shred the snarky smile that rested on Hummingbirdheart's face-

'Just a bunch of charmers over here.'

Lichentail can only hope this is blatantly sarcastic... that was the better reality, rather than one where they found delight in the suffering of others.

"Pray StarClan take mercy on the sick... we all deserve greater deaths than that," stated loudly... flatly before they fold tattered ears and move ahead to rub up against one of the bridge's pillars to mark the border.​

 

[breezerunner]

Breezerunner catches up to his clanmates when he senses the fresh scent of moisture and fishiness in the air mingling with WindClan's. He hears the tail end of the RiverClan lead warrior's disparaging words about their tunnelers, and he scowls when she talks down to Hummingbirdheart like she's an unruly apprentice. Was it just in RiverClan's nature to be intentionally obtuse? Maybe it was all the fish scales they ate or the water clogging their ears.

"Hummingbirdheart didn't wish death on your ill," Breezerunner regards Lichentail flatly. Hummingbirdheart is far from tame, but she isn't cruel. Not even Breezerunner wishes a miserable, sickly death on any cat- even if they reside outside of WindClan. Every cat should die a warrior's death or at least peacefully from old age, as rare as that is these days. He doesn't make any further effort to correct Lichentail, but rather takes into account all the RiverClanners that stand before them.

It doesn't really help their case that Harrierpaw approached the patrol before any of the rest of them. The older apprentice isn't well-known for his hospitality and personable words. This is punctuated by the way he leers at RiverClan. "Greetings, RiverClan," Breezerunner nods to the rest of them- it's their right to mark the border and they aren't being aggressive, even if they're annoying and smell awful. He's of few words, and is unsure of what else to say; it isn't like the moor runner wants to wish them well. He couldn't really care less.
​