In Sickness and in Flames =return to activity=

[Pigeonsong]

The last moon or so had been a complete blur. Most of his time spent asleep in quarantine while the plague picked the fat from his bones. His pelt, which had once been full and shiny was now dull and stretched tight across his frame. Things although dreary had finally started to come back into focus. His apprentice had disappeared, just like his friend Bananasplash and he found himself slowly readjusting to life in the clan without his circle.

Before he had gotten so deathly ill, he'd managed to lead a few patrols. The realization of his lack of current responsibilities had hit him like a boulder and he suddenly felt very restless. Slowly and methodically he rose from his nest, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He had no true idea of what his own clan was like anymore and so he decides that today that will change. On unsteady paws he moves out of the den, facing the chilly Leaf-fall air, the blinding sun.

This wasn't the clan he knew, but it was his clan and he needed them. Especially now that his apprentice and his friend were gone.

[Open to everyone, I have absolutely no idea what's changed so this is as much Pige's reintro as it is mine. <3 ]

 

[TIGERSCAR]

BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS​

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"My, my, is that a stranger I see?" Tigerscar trills with amusement from where he devoured a plump squirrel nearby, finishing his meal to leave only tufts of fur and splintered bone, and a crimson paint which splatters cold earth. "Welcome back to the land of the living." The brute adds with a humored purr, thick fur ruffled by a biting wind that tickles his long whiskers. Rising to his paws from where the huge tom sat, Tigerscar stretches, drags scores into dirt where claws arch from sheathes.

"Have you kept up to date, at least? Heard WindClan took over Highstones and all that?" The collared tom inquires with a wink of his one, hellish eye. Exposed teeth gleam where scar tissue shines dull and gruesome beneath the sun. "Nasty business, that. Hopefully Sootstar and her rats will be driven out soon." A shimmer of excitement ignites his vision as the thought of war sends a shiver of anticipation up Tigerscar's spine.
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[TATTEREDLIGHT]

just because i carry it so well doesn't mean it's not heavy .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He joined just near the cusp of the rogue invasion, not all too familiar with some faces, but he was learning to put names to faces for the past two moons he’d been here. The long-legged tom grinned warmly, offering a welcoming chirp to the two warriors. “I don’t think we met…?” He chuckled awkwardly, helm tilted, staring at Pigeonsong with a curious blink of odd hues. “I’m one of the recent joiners! I’m glad you’re back on your paws!” He added, nodding along with Tigerscar, bouncing on the pads of his three legs.

At the mention of WindClan and Highstone, Lux couldn’t help but wince, grin wavering. He hadn’t liked the thought. Fighting. More bloodshed. He hated it. Lux bit back a sigh, shuffling on three legs, humming softly. “I hope it doesn’t come down to fighting. I don’t think—” He paused, swallowing. “I don’t think we can risk losing more.” He mumbled, voice tampering off with a wince. “Sorry!” He grinned, sheepish. “I’m Lux!” Directing his comment to Pigeonsong with a closed-eye smile. “How are you? Maybe we could go out hunting? I’m sure a bit of normalcy will help!” ​

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thought speech​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

For over a quarter moon now, Pigeonsong has been stood on his own four paws.

Like him, Dawnglare has not fully recovered, even if his paws could now keep busy; even if it no longer felt like hell to breathe. Pigeonsong seems aimless on his paws. Eyes blink blearily to the horizon. He does not rise like a warrior, with a purpose, ready to stick his head down a log or whatever it was that warriors did— he is every bit a ghost, and likely would've remained as such, if not for his nosy clanmates.

Pigeonsong's nosy clanmates were his nosy clanmates as well. The fact of that is not always so readily available in his mind, but Dawnglare knows it. He sees it with his own ghost - blues.

Gossip, of course, is something mortals love. This sort only makes Dawnglare wince; only makes him want to sneer. He'd like WindClan blood on his claws, and a lashing tongue— one that would teach them to fear the stars. It has been moons, though; seasons. What would it take, to get such a lesson through their thick, brutish skulls?

( What would it take, to get such a lesson through his own thick, brutish skull? )

He is uncomfortable. The point— the point was that such talk made his head throb. Dawnglare swallows, thick. He decides to think about something else, instead. Neurotic movement, his eyes would flit to Tigerscar, and then Lux. Recent, he says. It's been— well, it's been— " Been here l-long enough... " the tom grumbles, eyes burning in his sockets. don’t think we can risk losing more. Yes, well... ( Thanks not to him. Not to him at all ) Pigeonsong was lucky enough to recover. Shouldn't they...celebrate?

But when Dawnglar elooks to Pigeonsong, he only feels discomfort, yet. His gaze flickers up and down. Uttered strangely, with but a nod, " Best to keep – ah – busy, " A look full of meaning to the warrior, though one he hardly knew himself. " ...Normalcy, " he echoes. Shared sentiment.

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

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• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 59 moons old as of 11.20.23. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

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[TWITCHBOLT]

What Twitchbolt had known of Pigeonsong had always been his relationship to Bananasplash- a tenuous and long-shattered connection between many of his acquaintances, he'd realised. Glad to see the other warrior up and about again, he meandered over to the slow-gathering group. Lux earned a glance, uncertain but increasingly less so; for Dawnglare was right, Lux had been around long enough. Long enough to know how it worked, how... much they had lost, apparently...

"I wouldn't expect someone near- near death to have kept up to date, huhmm..." Twitchbolt shuddered, offering Pigeonsong a wide, apologetic glance. Stars, should he have even brought that up? Immediately wanting to shove the notion of near-death out of the conversation, out of sight out of mind, he dressed himself with a well-meaning but noticeable insincere grin. Ever-trembling... "But y'know, yeah... wouldn't- worry too much about it. It'll work out."

How it would work out he did not mention. It was a bad attempt at sugarcoating everything, hardly an attempt at all. It would work out, somehow. Even if it was off the other end of a war... ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

He had been lucky not to count himself among the sick, Silversmoke could not remember the first time had slept when the plague had arrived in SkyClan and he'd always been warned that even a strong constitution could be shattered by bad habits. Staring at Pigeonsong was like staring at a reflection in a clear lake, or rather a reflection of what could've been. The other looked like he had aged one hundred moons in one, and adamant that even a strong breeze could've knocked the warrior over, the Lead Warrior's instinct drove him to move forward, ready to catch his comrade should he fall. Tufted ears twitched at the comments of his clanmates, their pessimism surely adding a weight back to Pigeonsong that had been shed in his sickness. He gave them a look, a quick 'what in StarClan's name is wrong with you' to Tigerscar and Lux, a stern glance towards Dawnglare for reasons that time had refused to settle. An unpunished criminal, that one. His attention fell back towards Pigeonsong, a tautness in Silversmoke's throat as he realised he wanted to change the subject from WindClan. "How are you feeling?" He tried not to flinch as he said it, the tabby was clearly feeling awful... but it was a start.


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[GREENEYES]

Greeneyes was not among SkyClan's sick, nor was he present in the pine forest's camp for the bulk of the plague's spread. Far off in mountain tops, the ginger lead stood instead, gathering herbs to cure those riddled with Yellowcough - victims almost claimed, he wouldn't know until after his return.

Such as Pigeonsong - a former friend of a friend, a connection between Bananasplash that dissolved upon her disappearance - still weakened by Yellowcough's hold. Perhaps Greeneyes should've done better - been a better friend to his mere acquaintance, a better clanmate - and checked up on the sand-furred tom long before now, but Greeneyes is still catching up too, still settling into a changed clan.

"Pigeonsong!" the lead warrior chirps, padding over to the emerging warrior among the many who greet him, "It's good to see you!" Even if there wasn't a thread of connection between the two, it still would be good to see the warrior up and moving - good to see the clan won't mourn another; that the journey's lungwort worked, though the proof has long held.

He doesn't say a word on WindClan's claiming of the Highstones, a mention that leaves his stomach twisting with dread. Don't worry too much about it, Twitchbolt tells Pigeonsong, though Greeneyes knows his fellow lead worries, for he worries just the same.

"Are you up for hunting?" he asks the recovering warrior, a delayed follow-up to Lux's suggestion. "Maybe we can get a patrol together, yeah?" It would be much-needed normalcy for him too, a distraction from moor-induced stressors.

✦ ABOUT

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  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Lead Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Born into SkyClan's first litter, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.
  

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[CHRYSALISWING]

Chrysaliswing pushed past his gathering clanmates to stare at Pigeonsong. With his mismatched gaze as unknowable as ever, as though leaden lights swam in amber and emerald seas, he only stared. And his glare burned like the heat of a molten forenoon sun, an unbearably prickly thing to return the sight of (and even harder to behold). So many Skyclanners came to wish Pigeonsong well, and Chrys wondered how much of it was simply hollow and regurgitated platitudes. Feathery tail lashed behind him in an almost serpentine manner, though agitation was hardly becoming of the poised snake. Nobody ever offered him this, either. It was simple yet it still drew jealousy out of the tomcat, as if needles and spines in his skin.

"Don't think just because you were sick that you can slack off now." It was the ever-present vitriol from Chrysaliswing, seeping upon his tongue like rolling venom, one that he had grown accustomed to as the viper did to its own creations. He sat a distance away from the rest of the cats, head slightly tilted in an owlish manner.

The warrior wondered how the other warrior was coping after Honeysplash's disappearance and Spiderpaw's death. If there was any trace of grief in the cream tom's figure, he could not discern it - or, it hid within the haystack of guilt and trepidation. Since Honeysplash seemed to like you so much, I bet it tears you up inside. A rather morbid statement took root inside his ribcage and grew outwards like some dastardly weed. He never cut it down or impeded it - he allowed it to fester like a bubbling, open wound.

( welcome back <3 )
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[Pigeonsong]

Pigeonsong is quiet for a moment as a tabby tom that he does not recognize informs him that WindClan had claimed the Highstones. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised given how nasty that clan is but somehow a look of shock still finds its way onto his features as he stares intently at this unfamiliar cat. He clears his dry throat and fumbles for words for a moment. "Let us hope so." He croaks. His attention is swiftly stolen away by another cat he doesn't recognize and it's only now that all the time he'd spent in the medicine den comes crashing down on his back.

This cat was nice at least but his energy is a bit much for the still recovering tom and he finds himself shirking away from the idea of going hunting all together. "Pigeonsong." He replies at last, having trouble keeping his eyes on the other cat. His limbs ache with fatigue and he finds just continuing to stand to be a huge feat but he refuses to sit.

Next is one of two cats that he presently owed his life to. His eyes bore into the blue gaze of their medicine cat. Someone he'd once regarded with an extreme amount of distrust but now he feels that they are somehow communicating through looks alone. The two of them both aware of something outside the perception of the quickly growing clowder around him and slowly he dips his head to the other tom. Finding himself unable to discern the words needed to express what had just been communicated between the two of them by so innocuous sounding words.

The next cat to approach is one whom he honestly doesn't know well but wishes he did. The aura of anxiety that seemed to wash over the tom in this moment was something he was almost too tired to pick up on but still he noticed. "I'm sure it will." He manages to mew at last, echoing Twitchbolt's hope that somehow WindClan could come to their senses.

StarClan he was thirsty but next appeared a face he did know. Not well but he'd been around for a few of the other's spats with Slate. At least he thought he'd been there for a few of them. His mind still buzzed, errant thoughts flicking to and fro, like mosquitos. Honeysplash was gone, his apprentice had died if memory served. His circle was broken but around him stood disprove of that. His entire clan were his circle, whether he liked it or not.
"I'm better, Silversmoke. Could use a drink though." The tom would rasp, sitting onto his haunches at last.

Hunting is suggested again and he stands to his paws, certain that he can't get away with following in Spiderpaw's tradition of sleeping all day any longer.

"That sounds nice, Greeneyes." He'd agree, giving the lead warrior a nod. Although his gaze is weary, the idea of normalcy is quickly growing on him. It wouldn't hurt to get some fresh air after his long quarantine he supposed.


At last one more face from his past. His words are harsh but he's come to expect it at this point. Honeysplash had in the past said good things about this tom and so Pigeonsong gives the chimera a nod. Not willing to return his anger in kind, that wasn't something he would ever do. Not after what he'd said to Spiderpaw. Hurtful words to his clanmates would never come from his maw.

"I wasn't planning on it." A lie but one that was innocent enough.