IDYLLS OF THE KING — gathering chatter 09.15.22


He knew someone would come up to him eventually, but....Did it have to be someone so large!? He knew he was small. This he could not deny. But Smokethroat was like, thrice his size! On top of this, he called him a kitten. He was not! He furrowed his brow at the bigger cat. Try as he might though, Yewberry just didn't have an intimidating face.

"I-I'm not a kitten! I'm fully grown, thank you." He said. "I'm just...Smaller than most. My name is Yewberry." He added.

He noticed the little petals and leaves woven into Smokethroat's pelt. That was different- He thought it looked nice, actually. Now that he thought about it, the Riverclanners were all wearing some sort adornment. He thought they all looked very nice. Maybe one day he too could wear a little flower.

"Your petals are very pretty, by the way. They look good on you." It was an honest compliment. He was doing it. He was having....A conversation!

[Speaking to @Smokethroat]
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The blue molly hadn't even truly begun rehabilitation: the searing remnants of pain burning her shoulders, paws, and legs. Exerting herself wasn't wise but she had to attend this meeting. Worry gripped her heart: was the family she'd left behind in the marshes okay?

She needed to find them, needed to ensure they were okay. The medicine cat prayed to the stars that forsook her. Let them be okay.

There was another reason she had to find Ribbit. Her hypothetical question hadn't been answered. It was unlikely they'd find him. At least, that's what her nephew thought. But then Leaping Toad's murderer arrived in ThunderClan.

And Emberstar let him stay.

The ThunderClan leader, it seemed, enjoyed taunting and annoying her. She could have easily turned the child murderer away. She should have. But she liked seeing her medicine cat writhe around in torture more: liked forcing her to see the maw of her nephew's killer every single day. She wanted the molly to break, to commit another deadly act so that StarClan and ThunderClan could expel her while holding Emberstar up on a pedestal.

She should have left the leader to burn beneath that branch.

As she searched the gathered cats, shrugging off their looks and whispers, she stumbled upon @Flycatcher. He looked uncomfortable beneath the gazes of the gathered cats. She paused for a moment. She had a mission but.. she liked Flycatcher well enough. He treated her like an actual feline.

Her tail attempted to flick his chin before awkwardly trying to rest on his shoulder. "Keep your chin up, chest puffed out, and head held high." she rasped, her voice still hoarse from the excessive smoke inhalation. "Do not bend to anyone. They may gossip and stare but that doesn't mean you have any reason to be ashamed. You mustn't let their words bother you. They matter little. What matters is how you respond and act underneath their pressure."​
 

He's so lost in the moment that he flinches when he feels Cinderfrost's tail flick against his chin before resting awkwardly on his shoulder. Flycatcher stares mutely at her for the moment, listening as she encourages him to keep his head held high and puff out his chest. "Thank you, Cinderfrost," He says once she's finished speaking. He gives her a small nod of gratitude, appreciative of her words of encouragement, which help still his anxieties for the moment. "As you said yourself, what is there for me to be ashamed of? That we survived the fire? That our pelts still have the scent of smoke clinging to them? If that is something to be ashamed of then let them stare."​
 

'I'm fully grown, thank you.'
There was no way in hell this absolute tiny cat was fully grown. He looked like one of those weird squeaking toys he had once seen chained dogs back in two-leg place play with that looks like other animals; sounded like it to. His name was almost the exact opposite of his appearance. Weren't those....weren't those death berries but with a different name? He knew cats called them 'death' over yew specifically to drive it home how lethal they were but for a cat this sized with such a dangerous name. It was actually kind of silly, he'd laugh if he didn't think it would be taken as terribly rude to do so. He could just imagine the fight that might break out if he patronized a WindClanner in range of any of his authority figures. "Do they not feed you in WindClan?"
He was about the size of a rabbit, roughly. Smokethroat was tempted to ask if he was one of those compact, fancy kittypet breeds he'd heard about when the other remarked on his adornments and he felt a rare flood of embarrassment. He almost forgot he was wearing all of that.
He had never, in his life, been referred to as pretty and it was a little jarring if he was honest. He was a big, brutish tom with heavy scaring and a perpetual scowl. Pretty wasn't exactly what he'd use.
"Oh...uh...." His white-dipped paw raised to touch the petals curling around his left ear in a sheepish manner, "...thank you. I'm sure my apprentice would be pleased to hear that. She did this." Frostpaw had been the primary cat to harrass him into joining the decorating, he honestly could not tell you who else had tucked something in his pelt while he was distracted by really it could have been any of those kits. They'd been all over the place.

@Yewberry
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shrewpaw was practically bouncing with every step that she took alongside her mentor and clanmates as they began to flood into the fourtrees clearing which opened up to a sea of cats from all corners of the territory. by the looks of it, alot of felines were already mingling amongst one another while others had satyed within their respective area to sit and wait for the event to begin.

how could anyone just sit around and wait, that's so boring! shrewpaw, of course, wanted to go and do something! so with the free time before the main announcements, the sepia split from her mentors side and wandered into the fray of bodies perhaps bumping into one or two on they way. was there anyone around here her age that she could talk to? it'd be fun to hear what other clan apprentices are doing.

;; open for interactions but shes looking specifically for other apprentices but wont mind speaking with warriors and such :)
[ penned by cobi ]​
 

So this was a gathering.

The ginger she-cat followed behind her clanmates, into the large clearing that was surrounded by four trees. The combination of all five of the clans in one area was overwhelming. She had thought there were a lot of cats in Thunderclan...no, this was definitely more. Her pelt twitched nervously, then she made her way into the area. Flame would sit down by herself, watching as almost everyone interacted with each other. Her pelt was decorated with flowers from the kind Riverclanners, and Koko. She was still weak from being trapped in the camp, but she had insisted on coming. Everyone else is weak too she had argued. The entire clan wore the stench of smoke, and had aching throats. She was no different.

​
[ IT DOESN'T HURT ME ]​
 

He didn't believe him, he could see it in his face. He was an adult! But he didn't need to prove it to the Riverclanner. He couldn't blame him entirely, either. Most cats weren't the size of a beetle.

"Of course they do!" He replied. "We eat quite well." He added. With all the rabbits running around, they were eating quite well indeed. He even managed to catch one himself, brought back a rabbit just a hair bigger than him.

Yewberry offered him a smile. "She did wonderful!"

Smokethroat had a lot of scars and looked perpetually grumpy. Seeing someone so grumpy and tough looking dressed up so nice was....He wasn't sure of the word. Was it cute? No, not quite. Nice? Maybe.... It was a good word, nonetheless. He wouldn't waste brain power trying to find it.

He could see the tom was embarassed. Yewberry decided to bully him back with KINDNESS. "You riverclanners have such shiny fur too- It looks nice in the moonlight." He said. Why were these cats so pretty. His own fur didn't shine nearly as nice as theirs.

Probably because he's always underground in the dirt, but.

@Smokethroat
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Face lax against the moonlight, the Riverclanner hums to himself with the arrival he makes along the shimmering decorated pelts of his fellow fisherman. Cicadastar disappears into the crowd as Riverclan is announced and Dogteeth himself disperses a bit nervously. So many coats, he finds himself in a little patch of grass- away from the chatter and grouping felines. It was nice to hear so much light-hearted meow. Dogteeth knew it wouldn't be long before he could take Peachkit, his daughter to her first gathering.

He crosses his webbed toes in a politely idle manner, settling into a sit with his glossy curly-furred tail slowly wrapping around himself. A light-furred molly makes her way, seemingly toward him but the bustle around him can make movement quite deceiving. He offers a beaming smile nonetheless. Ears flattening but not in snarl but of humble greeting.

The scent of the moor, of hares and open winds, it's the signature scent of Windclan. " hello hunnie! " he greets gently with a lift and wag of his paw. " a windclanner!…you even look fast! " Dogteeth chimes on with a compliment. What better way to compliment a moorlander than to implicate their speed.

// interacting with
@ivoryflight.
BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
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"One of Sootstar's spawn, I presume?" She wasn't sure why, but the question ruffled her fur the wrong way. She gave no indication of her annoyance aside from a lash of her tail. When ShadowClan's new deputy finished speaking, she felt a little satisfied when he went into another fit of coughing. Perhaps he had meant no harm in what he said but if he had, she would revel in his little fit. "I am," she confirmed, glancing up at Weaselclaw to see if he had anything else to offer. "Sootstar mentioned a Pitch from the marsh group. So that makes you Briarstar's spawn," she said, adding a little emphasis on the last word.

The deputy asked for gossip from WindClan and the apprentice looked towards her mentor again, unsure what she should reveal and what should be made a secret. "WindClan prospers. We have many new warriors and apprentices. Our medicine cat saw visions of the moors flooded with rabbits, which means we should be safe through the coming leafbare," she said, hoping that was not too much and that revealing Honeytwist's dream of good fortune did not make ShadowClan target their neighbors when the weather got colder. She knew those in the marshes had a small territory and a hard time with prey. They'd chosen that as their home though, so she didn't feel bad for them. "What about ShadowClan? We've seen the smoke… and your lungs rattle when you talk," she observed though it was painfully obvious.

out of character information
  • Interacting with @PITCHSUN and @WEASELCLAW
  • OWLPAW — she/her / 4 moons / apprentice of windclan
    ㅤ⤷ sootstar x flint / longhair blue smoke bicolor with orange eyes.
    ㅤ⤷ healing & peaceful powerplay allowed / attack in underline, bold, or italics.
    ㅤ⤷ penned by regina / more detailed bio here.
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The admission is swift, accented with a sharp burst of laughter. Lucky little ghost. Dawnglare scoffs in reply, but it doesn't carry any weight with it - a playful sort of gesture thick on his tongue. The smoky pelts he speaks of shift around them, further still. Unpleasant. He draws into himself, tail tucked tight, away from any lingering embers. Like they all burned alive. What a thought - He snickers low under his breath, a stratching in his throat. "Not quite," he says, and vague disappointment weighs on his tone, despite the smile that curls upon his lips. If such a thing would mean less bodies around him now, he wasn't so opposed to the idea.

Smoke-ghosts, hardly likely, but he entertains the thought, anyways. His passive gaze drags across a few bodies nearby. Smog clings clearly to the pelts of a few, clear to any with a nose, he's sure. A dull blue coat catches his eye - another with the appearance of fire itself, stinking of smoke and flame - betrayal. A giggle wells from his maw at the thought, turned upon by something so similarly you. Fierce, flaming face, now singed and stinking of smoke. Pitiable little things "They live, if only bar-e-ly," he replies, voice lilting with an odd song. "Though, perhaps they haunt us in a way unique to them..." The buzzing is still there - though perhaps it was fading; little more than fuzzy-static in pointed ears, insignificant as a fly's warblings.

[ Talking to @MALLOWLARK ; judging flamewhisker </3 ]​
 
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Theres a voice and its soft, gentle and she sucks in a deep breath as she turns to look at the owner. Taller by a couple inches, she does not adorn a collar like some of her friends, and she smells like fish- Riverclan, if she had guessed correctly? Turns out her assumption was right, she was Willowroot of Riverclan. They weren't enemies, right..? Well, hopefully not, and even if they were this girl seemed extremely nice.

Churro offers a bright smile, curled ears perking upwards. "Hola, chica!" she greets in a trill, swishing her tail back and forth. "Churrodream of Skyclan, qué tal?" it slips so easily from her that she almost doesn't catch herself- these gathering cats aren't used to her. "Whats up with Riverclan? Anything fun, exciting?" she tilts her head, genuinely interested in what the other had to say. It'd sure be nice to bring home some fun gossip back to Red!

// talking to @willowroot
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"speech"​
 

Not quite, but that implied nearly, and brought a laugh bubbling from his throat once again. At least they had made it here, should they later succumb to the smog... the ground might welcome them! Did you haunt your death-place? Were the dead who hibernated beneath them, whispering to the living, invisible- camouflaged, even- among them now?

Subconsciously in mimic, Mallowlark's legs huddled closer to his body. Again, his attention followed Dawnglare's, to Flycatcher's pelt and then to a flame-striped one who walked near him, similarly smog-clung. She didn't look dead- in fact, she looked quite alive with all those flowers in her pelt. Were they to hide the murk? Now he noticed, many of the ThunderClanners and RiverClanners alike were adorned with blooms. Had they communicated? Were they merging? Barely. A snicker chittered his teeth, chitinous wingbeat chatter, kept locked behind sharp fangs.

"The smell's pretty unique." Words chimed cheery, his silver gaze drifted back toward Dawnglare's face. That- sing-song melody in his voice, the peculiar way he skipped about his words- aglow in his chest, fire-warmth, as if one of the smoky ghosts had possessed him. Odd. "Those flowers sure aren't working." An obvious observation, it still brought a giggle from him. He wondered if, the longer he sat here, the more he'd absorb their scent- though in the moor's whipping winds, the miasma would be ridded easily.

/ talking to @DAWNGLARE ​
[ PENNED BY PIN ]​
 

"Well hello! Yes, I'm Ivoryflight of Windclan. And you are?[/glow" She could assume he was of Riverclan, as one would have to be hare-brained to miss the fishy scent clinging to his pelt. He seemed nice enough, and there wasn't any harm in being polite to the other clans right? Sootstar had only said to avoid Skyclan. Riverclan seemingly wasn't on the list, they were on good terms. "I take it Riverclan is doing well?"

// interacting with @DogTeeth
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She is nice, there's always a sense of relief in meeting a stranger and getting the right vibe from them. Often meeting members of other clans was like sticking your paw in a fish's mouth and hoping it isn't a gar. Ivoryflight, she introduces herself, and being the ever-so flamboyant man, he was he coos in awe of it. " Oh! that's a pretty name!- I'm Dogteeth " he offers in exchange. She could already tell he was in Riverclan, if not for the smell of fish, but who else's pelt is wet when it hadn't rained?

" very well, thanks for asking- well, me on the other paw. I have a daughter that's growing up too fast but- I suppose that's not a problem " he chuckles a bit. " and Windclan?" he offers her the stand.

//@ivoryflight.
BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
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Again?

Lemonpaw has to be here again?

It was so boring here last time! The gathering ran far too long for the then Lemonkit. Not to mention, it had been too loud!

There's just as many faces here as last time, maybe even more, the cinnamon tom realizes. He recognizes just as little as he did a moon ago, a crowd of nameless faces and different stinky sents that didn't belong to the moorlands.

Lemonpaw still hates it.

The small apprentice shuffles back from the crowd in an attempt to get away from the loudness of it all. He doesn't understand why they need to do this every moon - surely there wasn't anything that important for the clans to share every moon? Kits were born often, and they would inevitably grow into apprentices, and furthermore into warriors. It was old news - why must they share it all the time?
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The smell of smoke on ShadowClan's pelts is thick, but it is thicker on ThunderClan's.

The apprentice scans the crowd yet again for the blue medicine cat he calls his aunt, nerves rising as he struggles to find her. Had the fire gotten her? Had he lost another family member? He'd already scanned the outer area of the Fourtrees, and hadn't found her there either.

But, no - it seems he hasn't. He finally finds her among the crowd, sitting beside another. The brown tabby hesitates, uncertainty clouding his mind. Would he be interrupting, if he sits beside her too? He isn't sure, but he can't leave the gathering without telling Cinderfrost the news - he was an official apprentice now. No longer Frog's Ribbit, but Ribbitpaw.

He wonders if Cinderfrost would be proud to hear such as he finally makes his decision to head over and sit beside the medicine cat.

"Cinderfrost!" he greets her, paws bounding over to meet his aunt, "Are you... Are you okay?"​
 
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