− ♱ ABOUT : temper. his mother had always had a bad temper. vicious tongue and narrowed, venomous glares ; he'd learned to stay away from her at a young age, from what he could bear to remember. he'd grown since then, in many ways -- his mind had a way of muting certain memories in his mind, he'd found, and as long as he doesn't think too hard about it, well.. he didn't have to reflect on his own faults. didn't have to think of the way hunger squared his shoulders, already scarce prey being plucked off by clumsy, kibble - fat twoleg tail - kissers. didn't have to think of the way his own clanmate attacked a kitten for a scrap and the way that fury wretched in his chest at the mere thought, anger festering about his ribcage and coiling tight into his very marrow.
it was a cycle.
shoulders hunched just slightly and tail lashing with a vengeance, the mottled tom was throwing himself into work, dragging sticks, stone and twine one by one towards thick bristles lining the youths den. he'd not been present for the outburst himself, and that was likely the only way he could've avoided dragging himself into trouble as well by cuffing the molly's ears himself. the curly - pelted felidae takes a step back to observe his work. throughout the intertwining ropes of vine and root studded marshland flower blooms he'd twined in along the way, for color. he'd not gotten very far yet and the busywork had managed to calm him down enough to tolerate company, despite the reason his nerves had forced him into reinforcing camp walls so heavily. if he had a couple extra bodies working with him, he'd be able to get this done a lot faster.
it was the kind of chore that had the youth of the clan groaning aloud, but his expression was dim, ears remaining steadily twitched back and any complaints would be met with a wrath he carried unspoken upon slim shoulders, " could i borrow a couple of paws for a little while? " spoke the tom, lifting his often - rumbling tone to carry throughout the bustling center. enforcing the camp against kittypets was laughable -- but here they were. he didn't think they had the guts to pull anything so dire, but he wasn't about to lie around and find out.
Reinforcing camp...? Over that group in the pines? Cicada is right about one thing, it is laughable... causes Rust to lowly chuckle.
He comes to the same conclusion as the other tom though... this is what things had come to. Tensions were undoubtedly going to continue and more blood would be shed, they needed to do what they could to protect their family.
As always Rust is eager to help, even if his blank and tired facial expressions don't show it well.
"You can count on me. What do we have to work with in terms of materials?" He wonders if more will have to be scavanged.
› There was little that Eagle could understand of this conflict. Despite his love of this place and those that inhabited it, their actions seemed...rash. Their struggles were their own, and there were more rational ways to go about this than throwing themselves and each other into battle. After all, they had welcomed newcomers into their midst throughout the moons– was that so different than accepting another under someone else's leadership? He was hungry, they all were. Weren't their efforts better put to hunting than to fighting? It seemed only logical.
Yet there is nothing logical about conflict. He speaks of this as if talking himself out of cruelty. If he focuses on reason, if he is firm with himself, than he can disregard the bubbling disdain, the hurt and the anger and the hunger. The gnawing, bitter hunger. His thick fur hides a willowy frame, leaner than he should be from his parentage. They are not starving, no, but these moons were more uncertain than any of those that had come before.
"We could pull a few of the fallen branches closer, if we work together," Eagle offers quietly, though the task is daunting. Even the smaller of the fallen pine branches were covered in painful prickles ad heavier than one cat alone. Were they really going to put so much effort into this? He closes mismatched eyes briefly to hide the flash of hopeless irritation.
──── complete information can be found here.
──── eagle. cis male, he or they both accepted.
──── seventeen moons old, ages on each fifth.
──── gay, single, somewhat disinterested tbh?
──── a blue tabby with low white and blue-green heterochromia.
──── lean and willowy, with a slim build beneath a lot of thick fur.
──── currently in good health, has no injuries or notable scarring.
a small, chubby figure of pure white stood a bit aways from the main area of camp, blue eyes following all the older figures weave about the damp grounds. opal could see their lips moving but no sound ever reached her ears always leaving her wondering what was going on half the time.
the young kit didn't even understand that there was a brewing issue that was rising up between the two groups, she only knew that alot of the adults would always appear with eyes full of annoyance and brows furrowed into a tight frowns.
opal continued to watch until her focus landed upon cicada who had busied himself fixing the walls that surrounded their home and provided the necessary protection to keep them safe. it wasn't long till the work was paused and he spoke silent words that drew the attention of more groupmates who appeared interested.
small, round ears would lift atop her skull. she guessed he wanted things, she could help give things! opal scurried on her paws towards nearest bramble bush in camp and picked up a rather small and scrawny looking stick into her jaws and toddled back towards the trio with her head held a bit high. once she was close enough she placed her stick down at their paws with a smile.
the young feline found themself watching. common practice for them, as they always listened but never had much to say. from the beginning of their life they werent a fussy kit. they were content, though their anxieies grew. it was okay. they had their big brother and their parents to look after them. but after their parent's demise, she doesn't speak much at all anymore. not that it bothered them. it bothered others more than it bothered her. after all, she could speak. they just didn't want to. slowly making their way over to cicada, she gently pushed her muzzle against his leg, looking up at him with a soft expression. they wanted to help. anything to help was good enough for her, but especially when it came to cicada.
their folded ear flicked back, body slightky tensing when they realize that its not just cicada and themselves here. usually, they'd have noticed already, but they also were too preoccupied listening to what cicada had to say, while also watching what he was doing. absentmindedly, quiet pushed herself closer to him, taking in a low and nearly silent deep breath of relief. this felt safer.
❝ “You don’t ever have to ask for my company, handsome,” drawls the long-legged feline to Cicada as he strides over. His light words, however, are offset by the shadow that crosses over his facial features. Reinforcing the camp, no doubt because of those damn kittypets. It seems that the entirety of the marsh group shared the same sentiment; it is laughable.
Spider will do whatever it takes to protect his group, but he wishes that Briar would cut the peacekeeping shit and drive those overweight dung-eaters out before they have the chance to try anything.
While his groupmates are pondering over the best ways to reinforce the camp, his attention is pulled onto two of the youngest members of the group, Opal and Quiet. Spider chuckles when Opal places a pitiful twig at the adults’ paws, looking rather pleased with herself. It wouldn’t be of any help whatsoever… But it’s cute to see Opal try to help.
Quiet is much more reserved, and Spider gives them a small wave of his tail in greeting.
− ♱ ABOUT : he'd accumulated a decent group, along with two youths that approach wide - eyed and willing to help. it warmed his heart, chest overflowering with begonia and sunlight ; he drops his head a bit, bending his form more than most due to his height to give quiet a soft, endearing lick over one of their ears in greeting. they pushed herself closer to him and suddenly the chore had meaning, had reason beyond the threat of kittypets gone rogue. the life they'd created amongst the marshlands was worth protecting, their youth was worth the price of aching bones and the tired, groggy hunger ; to grow and create a safe environment for their kits to grow in, to be able to enjoy the same land their elders had lived on moons ago, where many of them had been born,"hello, schätzchen," trills he, pressing his dark nose to her forehead for a beat for comfort, in attempt to quell the way their little body shook against his too - long limbs.
opal approaches, then, dragging a stick and beaming up at his, baby blues alight. mustering all the expression he can, he lets his face light up, a wide smile curving the rubber black of his maw," wow! did just you bring that over all by yourself?" he gushes, speaking a bit slower to allow the all - white felidae to read his lips," you must be very strong! lets see where we can put this, huh? " leaning down, he would take the small stick between his teeth, careful not to splinter the skinny twig. eyes shift, leveling the wall before leaning, weaving the stick into interlocking waves of bramble, where inner walls coated in pads of moss to prevent any accidental pricks and provide an additional layer of protection. the stick wasn't secured, still hanging just slightly to the side," can you help, opal? give it a big push! " there wasn't far for it to go to lock in place, and the wall he considered safe enough. it was a very simple task, but the porcelain kitten didn't have to know that.
rust and eagle have approached as well, eyeing the wall and offering their paws to assist. rust speaks and is met with a hum, glancing aside, "briar, moss, twine . . eagle is onto something, though," he muses, brow furrowing as he follows to blue tabby's gaze towards the larger fallen branches. it was possible, and as much as he did not look forward to attempting to drag the splintering wood around camp, even he could admit it would be a difficult thing to infiltrate.
the final voice is accompanied by a rush of heat to the high apples of his bicolored cheeks, blue luminaries coming to fixate on the cinnamon tabby with a demure glint. an amused trill sounds, marred only by the ever-present emptiness hunger had brought with it ; he leans forward just slightly, he would speak close to spider's muzzle, close enough for the warmth of his words to brush the other tom's whiskers," is that right? " he responds, tone quiet and smile demure, albiet in a tired sort of amusement," help us get those branches over here, and perhaps i will anyway. " while it struggled to meet his eyes so much nowadays, the lightheartedness did help.
− CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty two months old, marsh group member
− tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
− speaks with a german accent, attack in #171717, penned by antlers
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