no angst IN A BOGGY MARSH ↷ [ chirping ]

[smogstar]

Hunkered in a squatted position along the confines of camp, the ShadowClan deputy cranes his head to the skies. He watches with an acute awareness, clay-coloured eyes latched firm onto the outermost branch of a pine tree above, rarely blinking, rarely straying from their line of focus. Remaining motionless for the most part, the only indication that Smogmaw hadn't become frozen in place is the occasional tail-thrash along the soil behind him, which was more of an involuntary reaction than a deliberate movement—a manifestation of the mounting intensity within his system, if anything.

To go unnoticed by the bird perched in the tree was what the tom preferred, and based on what little he can see from ground-level, it would appear that his efforts were not in vain. Cream-coloured feathers can be spotted in glimpses among the small pines, accompanied by a soothing, rhythmic coo resonating through the air. It's a sound doves made, and should his memory serve him proper, doves were just about as plump as a bird could get around here.

Many moons have waxed and waned since he's enjoyed a filling meal. Frogs filled the belly only halfway, and the stars know how he'd rather wolf down a mouthful of dirt before another rat. Thus the idea of sinking his teeth into this dove, tearing into its soft tissue and gobble on its flavourful meat, sends a surge of raw desire along his spine.

His tail thrashes once more, his neck lurches forward, and when the dove appears to scoot along the branch's end and further into view, Smogmaw cannot put a stop to the chirping that follows. A reflexive response that betrays his feline instincts. It's a soft trill, mixed with an undercurrent of anticipation, and it repeats so long as his gaze trained on the animal.

Please, oh dove, allow me to kill you and eat you.

Unfortunately, birds do not share a language with his kind, and cannot read minds on top of that, thus his internal monologue goes unheard. ​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

"what... are you doing?"

the odd sound always makes them wonder. they've never made such a sound in all their life. they've barely paid enough attention to watch others when they're doing it. so smogmaw doing it, and paying attention to something so closely makes them ever so slightly curious. they turned their head to look upwards, eyes narrowing before the gentle chirps come from their mouth. their eyes widened in surprise as they slapped a paw over their mouth. what the fuck?

"what the?! i don't– ekekeekek– mmph!?"

once again, they cover their mouth to keep the sound from coming out, as they pinned their ears back. what the fuck?
​

 

[>Ratwater]

(=〃ﻌ〃=)ﾉ — Food was always on the mind of a Shadowclanner. Being damned to the smallest and most.. distasteful of the prey did not play well with any. Ratwater felt that as much as any and constantly went out to bring anything back. The air was dense, and the murkiness of heat rising the humidity of the marshlands was a telling of Newleaf. That should also be the telling of more prey. The molly would lick her lips in anticipation. Working her way around the confines of the camp, there was always a chance of some smaller critter slinking its way in for an easy catch.

White ears would perk at an unusual chatter, her body quickly dropping down to the ground. The barren earth was cool beneath her paws, her claws working themselves out and gripping up the dirt. Amber eyes peered around for the source of the sound, a sway of a large black plume of fur would grab her gaze. Perhaps a large rat? In camp unnoticed though? Eagerly, Ratwater would shift the weight of her paws before creeping up onto the mass. Her optics were so intently focused on that one figure that if she had just extended her vision to a little higher she would've realized that it wasn't prey, but rather her leader's fluffy tail. So bent on grabbing whatever this large prey was, the molly would leap with outstretched claws at it. (Chilledstar's tail) It wouldn't be until she'd face to face with the hindquarters would she realize her grave mistake. "Chilledstar!" She'd exclaim in a startled hushed voice. The molly would be quick to correct her posture off of the leader. Ears would become flesh against her skull, "I'm so sorry." The repent was quick to draw from her maw.— tags​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

Comfreykit's boredom and loneliness has driven her to the edges of their camp more days than not. With newleaf's warmth, birds have returned to their trees, and sometimes she can spot a frog or an interesting bug to chase and play with. Her imagination is her companion, though spending so much time with herself is having an adverse effect on her psyche. She does not find herself pleasurable company, and her doubts cast shadows on even leisurely moments alone.

She's excited to see Smogmaw crouched and eyeing a lovely-looking bird in the branches of a nearby tree. A dove, she thinks. Soft plumage, ivory like a sunlit cloud. Smogmaw's jaws part and he emits a strange chittering sound that causes Comfreykit to put a paw over her muzzle to stifle giggles. She's never heard such a noise, but the instinct to imitate it is hard to resist.

Even their oft-stoic leader makes the noise, their blue eyes trained on the dove. Comfreykit is about to try the sound out for herself when she sees a bulky black and white shape creeping up on Chilledstar from behind. Her expression turns to puzzlement, and then dawning horror, as Ratwater leaps directly onto their leader's twitching tail.

"Ooh," she says, giving the warrior a look of sympathy. "I've done that before too." Of course, she's bitten more tails than she can count... kits don't exactly keep tally, though.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[BUCKTHORN]

Birds are a pain to eat. Their feathers got in the way something terrible and didn't taste very good to boot. Even still, they were leagues above what ShadowClan put themselves to. Living here– he doesn't want to say it, but he's begun to understand what led them out of this marshland to begin with. The oak forest was teeming with prey large enough to fill a belly and not nearly so difficult to eat. Smogmaw had said something about those fish the last time they'd talked, and maybe it's just a part of ShadowClan pride that says he wouldn't eat them. Buckthorn shares no such pride, and he would prefer a fat, slimy fish before a tough, slimy frog. At least the fish would be filling. Here they are instead, left dreaming of all the stuff they couldn't catch. Was it punishment that they got the worst of the territories in the split? Or maybe, just the same, it was their pride that'd screwed them over.

It was something they could all bond over. Buckthorn is lounging nearby, as enthralled by the bird as Smogmaw seems to be, when the whole thing tumbles to chaos. From their chittering leader to the chomp of their tail, it seems that Smogmaw's bird had doomed ShadowClan– at least for the moment, anyway. He can't help but laugh, though the sound is low. Almost giggling. "It's a good thing we're not meant to be climbing– that'd make it even worse."

˗ˏˋ《  OOC REFERENCE 05.16.2023 》´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• 
• ──── buckthorn, previously karth. cis male. reluctant warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── adult, probs around four or five years old, but he doesn't talk about it.
  ──── bisexual,  currently grieving his former mate  who has recently passed.
  ──── a strong-shouldered  brown tabby with  medium fur and  amber eyes.
• "speech"

​

 

[APPLEJAW]

Where cats are gathered, Applekit wanted to be too. She wants to know what goes on in the clan. She wonders if she missed all sorts of this stuff while trapped in the nursery. She doesn't wanna miss anymore.

Her father is sat within camp, jaws parting with weird little eeks that apparently hypnotize any cat that hears them. Either into eeking with him or becoming silly. She blinks in surprise at the display. Ratwater seemed too old to be biting tails. Maybe Chilledstar deserved to have their tail attacked, but Applekit had assumed it'd be too embarrassing for the biter to do, regardless.

A single belated mocking chirp escapes her maw. She'd wanted to try it, but she couldn't say that now. Comfreykit looks like she feels bad for the warrior. Applekit is just confused. " I've never done that, " she tells her with eyes slightly narrowed. That's a Garlickit-y thing to do. She doesn't do Garlickit-y things. And she doesn't understand what the brown warrior is saying. This was already embarrassing. She looks to Chilledstar. " Is Ratwater exiled now? "​

 

[Swansong]

————— ☾ —————
NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit has been watching his father for a while, fascination coloring pale blue eyes, no words or imitative eks betraying his presence. He is not pleased to find a crowd drawn, though Chilledstar and Buckthorn's antics are fun to watch. But the words bother him — they don't get it, they're gonna scare the bird away. The dove, a rare sight, a bigger bird than he's ever seen... It doesn't like catspeak. Birds are always scared away by it. This chirping though, it's different. He flicks his tail in irritation, though the look he shoots his eldest sister is placid. "Shhhh," he whispers, voice barely audible.

"Listen... He's talking to it..." The bird. Swankit is mesmerized as he watches, as his father speaks in a language stolen from the birds, chitterchirp chatter coming soft and melodic as he watches the dove. Spreading to the leader, drawing a warrior to silliness befitting only Garlickit (and Comfreykit, apparently), hunting prey unhuntable — infectious, irresistible birdtongue, a strange and alluring language. He wants to learn. What is Smogmaw saying, he wonders? Come closer, maybe... Swankit would ask about their secrets, their stories, their wings... And then catch them, maybe, once he tired of their chitterspeak. That's what you're supposed to do with birds, after all. Blue eyes remain fixes on the ivory white bird as he chatters a hesitant greeting. "Ek... ekekekek. Ekek." The urge to imitate is irresistible, though he does not know the right words for this new langauge. Slowly, he creeps closer to the dove. He hopes it likes him.

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
————— ☾ —————

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 2 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
  ​
• 

​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

Much of Yarrowkit's time was spent attempting to locate and engage his sister in something interesting, a generally unsuccessful affair - though, to be fair, their definitions of interesting were very different. Moreover, Comfreykit seemed to have some sort of pathological tendency to correct his every move, as if his very existence was inconvenient for her. That wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, either, what with many warriors' attitudes towards kits and their own mother's apparent lack of interest in her children. Still, it stung, especially since Betonyfrost and Jitterkit were difficult to find, and until the most recent litter of kits had been unleashed on the camp, he had been largely left to his own devices.

Now, though, there was plenty more to observe, and the chocolate tabby tom-kit trotted clumsily towards the chirping group, only tripping over his large paws a few times. The stony-faced deputy was making some truly funny noises, ones echoed by Chilledstar and and Swankit, and Ratwater had apparently been so enchanted she'd pounced upon their leader's tail! "Yeah, usually mine." he whispered as he slunk over to stand beside his sister, his body lowered in a childish imitation of Smogmaw's hunting crouch. He lashed his fluffy tail to add emphasis, grinning at the charcoal tabby. The idea that Applekit had never pounced on anyone's tail before was absurd to him, and he inquired in a low voice, "How d'you practice your pouncing, then?"

Whatever, maybe it didn't matter - if Swankit was to be believed, his father was actually talking to the (delicious-looking) bird, and that was much more interesting than Applekit's lack of pouncing expertise.​

 

[jitterbug]

The quiet chirping almost unconsciously echoes from Jitterkit's own throat as their ears catch it. A contemplative frown crosses their face, but they repeat it again. The frown turns into a bit of a scowl. That one's gonna be sticking around, they can already tell. Rolls out of their mouth too well. "No one's gon--" a pause as their neck jerks slightly, interrupting their sentence, "gonna catch it if we're all here. 'specially if we keep talking." Smogmaw or anyone else, for that matter. They sit down to watch despite their comment, eyes narrowed as their gaze switches between Smogmaw and the dove. They're quiet for a moment before the chirping breaks out once more, followed by a sharp whistle. They find themself grimacing slightly at the sounds they make, though they're at least grateful that they've been able to hold it back a bit more lately. It's not comfortable to do so, and it makes their tics a bit worse later on, but they'd rather not risk annoying their clanmates if they can help it. If they keep themself in check, at least they can try to hold most of their tics at bay until they're somewhere a bit more private. Their jaw clenches slightly as they keep their gaze set on the dove, waiting to see what happens, while effectively silencing themself as much as they can. They want to focus on this, instead. Seeing if Smogmaw catches the bird.