camp I WILL WAIT — o, medicine den

[SLATESNARL]

The state of things was... hectic. A hushedness has fallen over camp now for seemingly the first time in sunrises, a pensive lull in energy, as if the entire clan was bating their breaths. Those pesky rogues had been driven away from SkyClan territory ( at least for the time being ) but many cats had been injured and confined to bedrest... including Slate, his own apprentice, and the lead warrior he could confidently say was more annoying than Silversmoke. Blazestar had been killed by a WindClanner, the possibility of an imminent confrontation with the moor group still not entirely out of the question, and now SkyClan was left leaderless. Orangeblossom had gone to the Moonstone. The worst part of it? He couldn't do anything but sit in this uncomfortable nest all day and wait around. The lead warrior could be doing something right now; patrolling and looking out for leftover rogues, cleaning up camp, stocking up on prey, standing guard. Slate had asked Dawnglare at least twice a day when he'd be able to walk freely again, as if doing so would lessen his sentence. Unfortunately, the answer always remained the same.

Dried blood still clings stubbornly to Slate's chin, remnants from having his fangs sunken deep into a rogue's throat. It had been many days ago now, though the lead warrior hadn't much of a chance to really clean himself since then. It'll come out with time, once he can get back up on his paws again. For now, the stinking of metallic ichor is practically baked into strands of his fur, a constant reminder of what he had done.

Slate shifts in his nest — he is antsy, constantly checking the position of the sun in the sky to see how much it's moved since Orangeblossom and Dawnglare departed camp. The long, jagged scars stretching across his belly are tender and plastered with whatever Dawnglare applied to them, dormant for now but simmering with the potential to scream irritably if twisted the wrong way. For once, the brash lead warrior is slow-going; delicate, even, if only because his wounds hurt like hell. Thoughts and scenarios swirl around his head incessantly, his large paws itching with anxiety.

"They're not back yet. When're they gonna be back?" The Maine Coon rumbled to no one in particular, shifting onto his hind paws as if he were going to move to stand. He doesn't, as he would much rather heal faster and get out of this den than reopen his cuts, but... the restlessness was getting to his head. Slate wants Ora to come back safe. Would she be different? Would anything change about the way she looked, the way she acted? He doesn't really know. He's never lived through anything like this before. "She should've taken a patrol." Slate emits an exasperated sigh, the tip of his tail twitching and accidentally straying into someone else's nest.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• open to other medicine den residents and onlookers/visitors/whatnot! takes place during orangeblossom and dawnglare's moonstone journey <33

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  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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[DOGBITE]

✦ Pushing through the gorse, Dogbite's scruffy coat embraced the satisfying scratching it received from the dense foliage. The scents of the forest and the aftermath of the recent fishy-scented visitors lingered in the air. Clutched in his jowls was a small bird, a meager catch in the wake of scarce prey caused by the weather. As he contemplated his next move, the familiar grumble of Slate, reached his ears. The decision to approach the lead warrior in his current state of agitation weighed on Dogbite momentarily, but he dismissed any reservations. There were bound to be cats hungry within the herb-scented hollow and who was he to deny them.

Nudging his way into the medicine den, they met Slate's sigh with a tinge of amusement. Despite their history of not being particularly close, they sensed that the Maine Coon might benefit from a distraction. Politely, he stepped closer to the hulking tom, placing the bird between them. Licking his jowls clean of the remaining blood, he meowed with a curious lilt. "Here, why not worry about filling your belly, and I'll grab another so we can share. Hm?" A small smile graced Dogbite's scruffy maw as he nudged the bird forward with a free paw.

The chaotic events in Skyclan had left the camp in a state of pensive lull, and he hoped that, even momentarily, sharing a meal could provide a brief respite. The air in camp was heavy with worry, especially with Orangeblossom and Dawnglare away on their journey to the Moonstone. Surely, every cat worried for the orange and white molly's safe return but Dawnglare was no budding apprentice and Orangeblossom especially so. He decided to have a little faith in them and hoped upon returning, it would be a welcome one.

As he observed Slate's restless movements and heard his murmurs about their return, Dogbite couldn't help but empathize with the underlying anxiety that permeated him. There was no doubt the charcoal feline cared a rivers worth for their future leader.

✦ OOC ✦ INFO ✦

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  ✧ LH cinnamon tabby w/high white one blue eye
  ✧ child of npc x npc ; sibling to crescent and bear
  ✧ skyclan warrior ; ex-loner ; mentor to littlepaw
  ✧ 32 moons old ; birthday 07/01 ; ages realistically
  ✧ AFAB ; nonbinary ; he/they
  ✧ pansexual ; polyromantic ; single
  ✧ "speech", thought, attack, powerplay
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric
  

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[Cherryblossom]

Just looking at Slate made her itchy. Cherrypaw doesn't know how her mentor could stand the flakes of blood still clinging to his fur, tangled in the days-old bedhead he'd gained from sitting in a nest this whole time. At her side, might she add, to Slate's and her own disappointment. She'd been mildly amused when his patrol had dragged him into the den, interrupting one of her many grooming sessions that day. (Keeping herself presentable was about the only thing she could do these days, especially in case Lupinepaw ever visited her.) It wasn't like Slate had died or was on the brink of it, like Bobbie had been. She still feels...sorry. For her, though for once it's a thing she's hesitant to voice.

Slate's big, restless paws feel like they're trampling directly on her nerves rather than his already-flattened nest. She sends him a look that is too exasperated to be a glare but hopes to become one when he isn't looking. "Great StarClan, you're like a kit," she mutters under her breath, though still loud enough to possibly overhear.

Mismatched ears prick as Dogbite enters the den, and she immediately focuses on the bird between his jaws to avoid looking at the rest of him. Was it his lack of eye that prevented him from seeing how scraggly he looked most of the time? Under the guise of politeness, Cherrypaw wraps her plumy tail around her paws as he draws nearer Slate. "What about mine?" she huffs, mostly jokingly.

Glancing towards the den's entrance again, she adds, "She's probably, like, talking to StarClan right now." Unlike her mentor, she wasn't particularly worried about her mother's safety. She never had been. Orangeblossom's soul was indomitable and solid, far too heavy to just float off the earth like Blazestar's had. What about Orangestar? something small in the back of her mind frets.​

 

[Honeysplash]

A small cream and white figured moved from nearby the gathering group of cats in the medicine den. Dare she say she was a tad jealous? No that would be silly and was just stupid, childish behavior. She though couldn’t help it as she looked over to her niece, Cherrypaw, and how big she had gotten. Nearly fully grown and so much had been missed. Plus Slate was as agitated and restless as she felt and it wasn’t helping her impatient desire to be free.

Dogbite though had brought food at least and that was rather nice. Honeysplash seemingly gave up on her attempt at sleeping but that was futile as she too worried for her sister. She wanted nothing more than for her to be okay and for Windclan to let them through. Maybe what rumors had been going around where true? That Sootstar had been dealt with?

The young warrior looked over to the apprentice, lead warrior and fellow warrior, “Youre just gonna get riled up if you keep thinking about it,” She pointed out to them, “Also we shouldn’t jinks her either, just hope Starclan does their job,” She gave small, affirming nod at her words and twitched her ears slightly. ​

"Speech"​

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living in a world so cold​

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[SLATESNARL]

Slate slightly flicks his ears back as Dogbite says nothing to calm his nerves, only attempting to distract him with a meal. The retort almost jumps off his tongue — I don't wanna eat. Just leave me alone. Ugh, Slate felt like he couldn't even stomach anything right now if he tried. But... the aroma of the fresh catch was just so tantalizing. Perhaps a remnant from his days living on the streets, Slate knew that he would be a mousebrain to pass up any kill that was handed to him. Food—good quality good—was always appreciated by him.

Slate's itching fur soothes against the ruff of his neck, an exhale evacuating his nostrils as he brings himself to accept the other warrior's offer. The brutish lead warrior was inept at the art of saying "thank you", at expressing his gratitude, though he offered a vague gesture toward Dogbite — a slow blink and a small nod of acknowledgment. The Maine Coon carefully settled fully back into his uncomfortable nest, nose twitching as he took in the juicy smells of the bird. Luckily ( at least for Cherrypaw ) his attention is still fading in and out of reality, battling between thinking about Orangeblossom and the kill laying before him.

He only catches the next utterance from Cherrypaw's maw, prompting his amber hues to flick toward her. "You can eat my scraps... if you're lucky." Slate quips toward his apprentice, though his gruff tone lacks any sharp edges. Huh. He wonders if her head will inflate any bigger now that her mother will be leader. Thankfully, Ora is certainly not the type to spare her kits from hard work and grueling training.

The Maine Coon fails to find any optimism in Honeysplash's sentiment. "Yeah, well, StarClan doesn't always do their job." He snorted with a lash of his bushy tail. The tom still struggled to understand the ways of the mystic starry ancestors, their logic, their reasoning. If they were so powerful, how could they let terrible things happen to good cats? Why did they let bad cats have any power at all? "What happens when a leader gets their lives, anyway?" The story had always been that deputies trekked to the Moonstone to "commune with StarClan", but what did that entail? Did anyone even know? Slate wants Orangeblossom—Orangestar—to return so that he could ask her himself, but inquiring to his other clanmates would have to do for now.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

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  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

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[Fireflyglow]

"And what, per say, do you believe StarClan's job is, Slate?" Fireflypaw calls from the back of the den with a low chuckle, turning his head in the direction of the chattering group. He didn't mind the visitors, certainly didn't mind having all of the talk; with Dawnglare gone for now, everyone was free to socialize without fear of being kicked out for being noisy. Dogbite delivers food, and Cherrypaw makes her usual jab at her mentor. He settles back onto his haunches, fluffing his fur out to stay warmer.

"They will be safe. They will return. Do not worry your head on this, Slate. While Dawnglare might not seem like it, he has his own way of scaring off those who threaten him." What, like flailing and gnawing off someone's ear? Probably.​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 18 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​