camp ICE CREAM & SUNSCREEN ↺ [ BASKING ]

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Born into the chilly embrace of Leaf-bare, there was nothing more alien to the budding apprentice than the warmth brought by the change of seasons. It'd only taken a small stretch of moons for the wintry bite to leave the air, and for the world around her to burst forth in a riot of colours, scents, and sounds. The newfound warmth, however, was taking a little getting used to, and at times it proved to be a tad too much for her.

Sunlight sticks to her gloomy pelt like the gooiest of tree saps, weighing the girl down and sapping her of her energy. Whenever she puts her grief into words, they seem to fall on indifferent ears, and met with hollow reassurances that the coming seasons would be even hotter. What's worse is the total absence of shade. The moorlands were flat and featureless, and offered minimal protection against the unrelenting sun—and the tunnels, they weren't an option, lest she risk them crumpling and trapping her inside.

Today isn't any different. It's hot enough to choke the birds out of the sky, and Moorpaw, good heavens, feels as though she's wilting under the oppressive heat. For the moment, she finds herself upright in the heart of camp, anchored in place to the grains below. But, it calls to her. A tempting promise of cool respite. All she'd have to do is fall onto her side, let the ground swallow her up, and give in to the blissful bosom of the earth.

And thus, she does.

In an abrupt motion, Moorpaw flops onto her midsection. Limbs extend in a biiiiiiig stretch, before the she-cat rolls over onto her other side seconds later. This is quite nice, actually! ​

 

[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon was not, strictly speaking, a hot-weather enthusiast. This being said, he much preferred the seasons of abundant prey and bright colors, and accepted the downsides of the hot sun beating down on him. For whatever reason, he felt the black patches of his coat sucked up the sun's heat far more readily than the white ones, which meant that he fervently wished that he was a white cat for newleaf and greenleaf. I wonder if any animals do that, wondered the deputy as he trudged into camp: the limp body of a rabbit dangled from his mouth, his whiskers dotted with blood. It had been a successful patrol, at least in his opinion - he wasn't sure if @SNAKEPAW would agree or not - but he was glad to be back in camp. Perhaps he would take a rest in the shade of the gorse-wall for a little while, catch his breath. Badgermoon deposited his catch on the fresh-kill pile and then tilted his head to one side in surprise, noting the small, sprawled-out figure of Moorpaw. She doesn't seem hurt. Maybe she's just enjoying ... rolling around. he chuckled and dropped into a sitting position, rasping his tongue over a paw and swiping it along his whiskers. "You know, I've seen birds take dust baths, but never a cat. You're a pioneer, Moorpaw."​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw is far more suited to the heat than to the bitter cold that had plagued the moorland for moons. His fur is thin, wind-blown, easily parted by a strong gale down to the hardened flesh clinging to his bones. He is already enjoying the sun's deepening warmth, and eagerly looking forward to the heat greenleaf promises.

His eldest kit, with her black pelt, has been complaining, her feelings the opposite. Weaselclaw supposes he understands; his fur doesn't soak up nearly as much sunlight as Moorpaw's would. Watching her flop to her side in camp dramatically brings a smile to his face.

Badgermoon teases her, asking her if she's taking a dirt bath. Weaselclaw playfully uses a forepaw to try and shove Moorpaw onto her other flank. "You're looking more like a tunneler with all that dust on your fur," he says. "The picture of your mother when she crawls out of a tunnel!" He pretends to shudder.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SOOTSTAR]

SOOTSTAR ♀​

As if being mentioned by the tabby was enough to summon her, Sootstar aims to brush her pelt along Weaselclaw’s. Though one look at her and it was clear it was not out of sheer affection, she was caked head to toe with dirt and sand, she was pretty certain she could feel a few grains in her ears… ”That’s not such a bad thing, is it?” Her words are laced with humor before she looks down at Moorpaw. Poor thing, perhaps she had chosen wrong in making her a moor runner… She’d stay much cooler in the tunnels, but at the end of the day her physique still leaned closer to a moor runner’s. Badgermoon mentions birds and dust baths, she’s never heard of such a thing… it seemed like a backwards idea, but maybe thats where the insult birdbrained came from.

 

[Bluepool]

Bluepool herself held a preference to leaf-fall personally. That was the time of year when things were perfect. The weather was neither too hot nor was it too cold like leaf-bare. The wind ran its cool fingers through her fur but it did not freeze. It was what she imagines running in star clan would always be like. Perfection. Heaven on earth. Her pelt is on the thicker side, the oppressive heat making it difficult to enjoy running the way she normally does and sucking the energy from her bones. Still, she knows this is not as bad as it could be so she holds her tongue. Her niece on the other hand? Different story. The second they had returned to camp she watches as the black and white apprentice flings herself to the earth below. She winces thinking perhaps the sun baked sand that lined their hollow would be hot but Moorpaw looks content.

Badgermoon comment about birds make Bluepool's ears flick with amusement "Perhaps your mother should have named you Birdkit instead" she muses with a soft hum, her nose crinkling with amusement. She rolls her eyes playfully as her sister brushes against her mates side. It is not an act of affection, but to Bluepool it appears to be and for a moment she feels jealous. She wants that with somebody, the easy going way her sister and Weaselclaw jest, tease, and the way they look at each other, at their kits.

"I think Moorpaw has the right idea!" she proclaims suddenly, shaking those thoughts out of her head and throwing herself to the ground next to her monochrome niece. "How does that saying go? Birds of a feather roll in the dust together?" she lets out a small laugh and rolls onto her back, exposing her belly as she lets the cool earth cool her heated pelt. "Dang Moorpaw, great idea I give it ten mice!" what the rating system was, who knew.

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[SUNNVAR]

Quite unlike his fellow lead warrior, Sunstride is far more attuned to the snow than the sun. His dense coat is little protection against the heat– though the sun's rays never reached deeply enough to burn his skin, the heat of them is trapped nonetheless. It is held close to his sides, a near-painful weight, if only one that he imagines. It would be a fine time to find a patch of snow, sheltered away beneath a rock. Though he knows that this moorland is nowhere near as likely to have such a shelter as his previous home, Sunstride cannot help but mourn it. Dust and shallow water did not help the same. The shade of their tunnels was mostly forbidden to his broad shoulders. At times, he barely felt able to squeeze into Vulturemask's den. There was no peace to be found in shade.

Moorpaw, it seemed, was stuck in a situation much the same as his own. Bluepool joins the youth but he does not dare, looking at the warrior and apprentice both with mirthful joy in his eyes. Perhaps it would be nice, and yet he still cannot reach out. Sunstride is not vain, but his pelt is not something he would risk carelessly. It would take far too much grooming to remove the worst of this choice. "Be sure to warn those you rest with tonight," he laughs, "that they may share tongues with a cat more dirt than fur!"

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-eight moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I NEED YOU HERE 'CAUSE I'M A MESS ❀❀​
periwinklepaw | 10 months | demi-boy | he/they | physically easy (pacifist) | mentally easy | attack in bold #ccccff

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Though periwinklepaw hovers around his mentor like a shadow, he does not add much of anything to the conversation. He likes the heat - the feeling of being burned alive oddly pleasant and refreshing. Perhaps it is simply that it lulls him to sleep easier than the biting chill of leafbare, or perhaps this is just another strange thing about him, but truly he has no complaints about this new weather. He sinks down to the earth alongside the others - his face looking more weary and gaunt than usual, and his ribs jutting out just a bit to much for new leaf, but he seems content nonetheless. He has no plans to move from his place until bluepool decides more tasks need to be done - it's simply nice to enjoy the sun.

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[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

Adderpaw steps out from behind his mentor, wearing a small frown as his gaze sweeps over the fine layer of dust and dirt covering Moorpaw's frame. Were they not supposed to lead a fine example? Yet here his sister was, wallowing in dust alongside Bluepool. At least their Sootstar's grime came with the territory of her duties. Huffing he takes a seat, thick tail slithering behind like his namesake. "I will be sure to sleep somewhere far from you tonight." He murmurs, chiming in after Sunstride's teasing comment. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[WEASELCLAW]

It's the brush of an indescribably grimy pelt against his that causes Weaselclaw to flinch, until he looks to see the culprit. "That's not such a bad thing, is it?" He can't help but smile, even as he unceremoniously brushes the grit from her pelt away from his coat. "I can put up with it from you, I guess," he purrs, touching his muzzle to her own briefly. He looks to the silent Periwinklepaw, then to Sunstride and Adderpaw; their jokes about sleeping away from the dirt-caked Bluepool and Moorpaw cause him to snort with laughter. "At least you have that option!" His eyes flash teasingly at Sootstar again. He'd rather endure all the dust in the world than sleep away from her, and she knows that as well as any cat here.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​