camp i make mistakes — introduction

[HADESRUMBLE]

.something's made your —————————

————————— eyes grow cold.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

THE LARGE BRUTE GRUMBLED, DARKENED LIPS TICKED INTO A FROWN as he tugged the wad of bedding through the den’s entrance, tail flickering with a half-hearted sneer. He watched as a poof of dust fluttered around his helm, nose scrunching up with a choked sneeze. Damn. When was the last time he changed the bedding? His brows furrowed, scarred maw ticked into a sneer, sharp yellow optics narrowing. Fuck. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? No wonder I’ve got damn cricks in my back.

I’m too old for this crap. But here he was with nothing better to do, complaining to no one about the lack of suitable padding for his damn back that twinged. Sucks getting old. Whoever said getting old was fun must have been high on fucking catnip. He’d rather be out there running through the pines, but with his age, he doubted he’d make it far before topping over like an idiot. Curse this stupid body. He huffed, flopping on his hindquarters with a wheeze, ear flickering in agitation. If he’d been younger, Hades had no doubt he’d get this task done and over within twenty minutes, but no. “Claw someone’s damn eyes out.” He muttered offhandedly, paw waving, lips twinged at the thought. Serves that asshole right. Of course, he’d rather do that before he kicked the bucket.

“Damn back.” He grouched, head swerving to stare at the offending area with narrowed optics, eyebrow twitching. “Oh, great. Now I’ve got a headache.” His tone was annoyed. Anything else you wanna toss at me? He thought sarcastically. Because I sure am feeling the love, right now.

His gaze scanned those within the camp, wondering if he should drag some of their lazy asses over to help him. His jaw twitched. Better not. I’d have twigs galore if I let those morons help. He’d like to sleep comfortably, thank you very much. He’s got enough back problems to last him the rest of his life. Not that it's much. Gonna kick the bucket sooner or later. Even then, they can tear that from his dead cold paws. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna die laying around at camp. Unless I die from sleep deprivation. He grunted. “One way to fuckin’ die.” He muttered with a flick, stumbling back to his paws, body groaning in protest. “Oh, hush you big sack of bones.” He quipped, claws already digging into the flattened wad of moss and feathers, intending to dump them outside of the camp’s walls.

thoughts speech​

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[MALLOWLARK]

Someone nearby was- chuntering, grumbling to some unseen force. Mallowlark did not know the traditions of the pine-cats well enough yet, but as far as he was aware Dawnglare was the only one of them who spoke to spirits of nature, or worm eaten bodies in the dirt. Besides, there should be within the earth no corpses, no whispering skulls... community and death did not often frolic in the same area. WindClan's graveyard stretched far from where they weaned their kittens... likely so ravenous claws would not dig up cat-ribs and gnaw on them!

He dropped his catch onto the pile, unblinking silver eyes settling upon the old geezer for a few moments. Time stretched, stretched... and he kept talking, even if there was no-one next to him. Talking, not listening... was he hoping someone would hear? Oh, then his wish would be granted! Tar-ripped paws bounded over, springing steps failing to disturb the statuesque-stillness of his unnaturally large smile. Moon-wide eyes peered at the other, looking almost as if he was attempting to pry him apart with the intensity of his look.

"Are you talking to something in that moss?" he asked, poking his head into the den. Curiosity lilted his tone- and still, no blink flashed over his circular stare. "Or do you just need some help?" A tar-dipped paw motioned to the bedding he was ripping up. A giggle shuddered from between his fangs before he could stop it. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[~Deersong~]

( ♬ ) Deersong also heard the grunted mumblings of her clanmate as she stepped into camp behind her patrol. Her paws ached, having thrown herself into her warrior duties with a newfound fervor these last few days. She really had been away for far too long.

Aqua eyes half-closed in her usual content would move slowly over to where one of the elders, Hades she thinks his name is, was tugging at an old moss bed. Her head would tilt in curiosity as Mallowlark bounced over and she would also make her way over to the pair, her pawsteps light and airy as they carried her.

A hum of greeting would rise from her throat, and she would smile at both toms in her whimsical way as she cooed, "What it is, cool cats? I'll help too if you're down with it." Her half-tail would swish behind her as she stopped beside Mallowlark. ​

( LET YOU BREAK; MY HEART AGAIN )

 

[CLOUDBERRYTHORN]

Why does the morning of voices always draw his attention? Interrupting his silence, piquing his curiosity—because why is that guy threatening to claw someone’s eyes out? The blue smoke trots in the direction of the voice, finding a few of his clanmates engaged in conversation. Deersong is the most familiar, the most trusted, but Mallowlark is not a clanmate who he likes. He isn’t comfortable with any of the WindClanners who have made their homes in SkyClan’s camp, but the black-pawed warrior is perhaps one of his least favorites.

Mallowlark has a good question, though; is the old man hearing things from the moss that he’s scratching around at? "Does the moss speak to you?" Does he have a relationship with moss like Cloudberrythorn has with the trees? They are both plants, so it would make sense. He waits for a response with blank, curious eyes—and pointedly does not offer his own aid with whatever strange task the older tom is engaged in.
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[ just a side character ]​

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[HADESRUMBLE]

.something's made your —————————

————————— eyes grow cold.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

THE SCARRED BRUTE STARED AT THE OTHER, EXPRESSION DEADPAN at the notion of talking to something like moss. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?” He muttered, nose scrunched up at the thought. “Ever heard of talkin’ to yourself?” He muttered, shaking his helm, ignoring the subtle pound of his temples. Damn headache comin’ out of nowhere. He grumbled, tail flickering in agitation.

Hades scoffed, claws digging into the bedding of moss he’d dragged far enough despite the groan of protest, body wanting nothing more than to return to his nest which currently lay barren. Damnit. The scarred tom huffed, head cocked at the giggle the other let out, nostrils flaring. Of course, he didn’t—Fuck.

Before he could answer, another stepped forward. Some party this is. He snickered at the thought. “Wouldn’t mind the help.” He huffed. “Took you long enough.” He grumbled. The elder shifted to stare at Cloudberry with a blank face. “No. I don’t talk to the moss.” He grunted. “Unless it’s poking me in the side then sure.” Hades quipped. It wasn’t like he was actually talking to the damn bedding save for the few curse words he’d toss at it while trying to find a comfortable position.

thoughts speech​

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