pafp just a time for peace | rainy day

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Upon the dawn of the day it is dreary, a wind rushing through the pines and shaking the branches. Pine needles sway to and from and there is the sharp telling of rain. The more the tom thinks about going out the more he retreats further into camp. The smell of fear clings in his pelt and he has many reasons for it but the most feasible culprit is the one that is in the skies now. The diluge that is soon to break the sky. His tail lashes back and forth and though he is supposed to go on patrol, to hunt or something. It has long since slipped his mind. He is looking and searching for an eacape. Eyes glimmer as his maw stretches too wide, gaze upturning as the first sounds of rumbling thunder sound out. It alights his spine and sends his already spiky fur sticking straight up in the air. "Ah..nonono-heha! 'll jus- the den. Yeah, kehhhe, the den." He breathes through fits of constricting nervous energy as he makes his way towards the area but then he spots someone. Someone he knows and relief runs through him almost making his legs feel numb. "Oh ..oh..Rose.." With a look up to the sky his gaze widens as a flash of lightning splits the air and he shakes his head suddenly, rapidly.

Inching his way to the pale tone he gently presses near the other. "Rose can you, will you share my nest for a bit?" Maybe he can ask Bloodhound too. It'll soothe his nerves to be with the both of them but Rose...Rose is nice to him. He will understand right. His chest feels too tight to talk and he feels like his lips will split and bleed. Just for a moment and he glances to the den before he can stand it and he moves away to disappear inside after another flash and rumbling thunder. Then the downpour happends and he presses his head against his nest. It'll pass. It'll pass.

@rosemire pls wait for them to post then it's all good!​

 

[hitch]

It might sound surprising considering how little Rosemire seems to get along with the marshes, but he doesn't mind the rain so much. Sunlight is his worst enemy, and most of the time, rain means clouds thick enough to obscure all of it, including what little manages to drizzle through the canopy. It might mean walking around with his pelt plastered to his sides, looking like a drowned rat, but better that than the outright pain direct sunlight brings.

He's returning from a very early morning hunt when he spies Chittertongue, who tends to be one of the more striking ShadowClanners, not only for his coloring but for the fact Rosemire is fond of his energy. However, said spark is spluttering, dampened by fear, and the lines around his eyes deepen with concern. And then he notices he flinches each time the sky cracks, and understanding softens the worries of invading cats.

"Figures you'd dislike my favorite weather," he says lightly, picking up the pace when the odd-eyed feline scurries to his nest, chased by another furl of lightning. He doesn't hesitate to curl beside him, tucking his chest up against his back. "There. If something does happen, it'll get me first. Just don't let the frogs nibble on my body, would you? Anything but the frogs, really." Not entirely true, but he's not sure Chitter wants to hear him ramble about the critters of the marsh right now. "Think you could keep up with a WindClanner?"

I N F O R M A T I O N
​

 

[Willowpatch]

"TO MEET YOU UNDERNEATH THE MOONLIGHT"​

Soft snoring and a light twitch of a hindleg was the first indication that Chittertongue and Rosemire were not alone in the den. The sound of rushed rustling and low voices would gently wake Willowpatch from her nap, her olive-green gaze fluttering open and a yawn parted her maw.

Raising her head from her nest she would blink sleep away and tilt her head at her two clanmates. Something seemed...off, and looking closer she would notice how Chittertongue trembling, and when she heard the crackle of thunder overhead, she came to the same conclusion that Rosemire had. Poor thing, what could she do to help?

Looking around in her nest, she smiled as she found some fresher moss and quickly rolled them into small balls before picking them up and walking over to the pair, gently settling them down beside Chittertongue and settling into a sit, "When I was a kit, my mama would put these in my ears to muffle sounds I didn't like."

Willowpatch wouldn't speak of her clanmates' fear outright, but the smile on her maw was one of kindness as she laid down into a loaf position and purred, "Do you like flowers, Chittertongue? They can be hard to find around here, but I can show you the best spots for them and we can make a flower crown together if you'd like." Her gaze would flicker to Rosemire, offering him the same smile, "And you would come too of course, wouldn't you?" ​

✦ ★ ✦​

 

[BLOODHOUND.]

WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
They weren't phased by rain, but all the thunder and lightning that came with storms, well. It was a little much. They could feel it in their air, a twinge in their whiskers. The bog already smelled pretty damp, but it smelled.... extra damp today. The air was heavy, cloying.

Bloodhound figured that once the downpour started, few cats would be pleased to leave their dens to do much of anything. They were not quite surprised to find the warrior den with occupants inside, upon returning from one last patrol before the storm picked up.

What they find within tugs at their heartstrings, tucked deep, far away from the world. Chittertongue flinching at every roll of thunder, face pressed into the litter of his nest. Rosemire pressed close to him, making light conversation. Trying to distract him, remind the frightened tom that someone was there with him.

Willowpatch is there too, the sweet molly. Offering him moss earplugs, asking if he would like flowers. Inviting Rosemire, too, to make lovely crowns. They nod at the both of them in greeting, silent.

Worry digs at the hybrid. Concern. He would be okay in time, they knew. But the storm had to pass, first.

Instead of speaking and filling the air with more noise, for fear of overwhelming Chittertongue, the pale bengal lays near him, too. Pressed gently to his side, hoping that the contact was okay. Wanting to be here for him.

Deciding eventually, to speak, soft, hoping to comfort.

"It will pass soon. You're safe."

[☾]​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ The warmth and comfort of Rose is what makes him have a semblance of peace. A moment to catch his breath as he struggles against the raging elements outside of the den. He knows, he knows that this is necessary for the life of nature. For prey to continue, for foliage to grow but why does it have to be so loud. So sudden and shocking and unpredictable. His eyes flutter and they are glassy as he looks to Rose then. Protecting him, being the first towards the entrance of the den. A thanks wobbles on his tongue but another sudden boom makes him choke back words as he keeps his head tucked. He listens to his words and a sudden laughter spills from him, sharp and uncharacteristic but cut short. "Frogs...nibble? Wouldn't they just lick you?" It is a curious question before the one about Windclan is poised and he blinks his dual colored eyes. Focusing on that and not the raging storm outside. "Windclan. It would be nice to chase them like they do the hares across their moorlands. I think my legs are long enough. See?" He stretches out his front legs only, showing them off before softly he chuckles and tucks them back in.

Soon though another voice enters the small enclosure and his head turns so that he can see who it is. Willow and she drops for him moss to put in his ears. His paws reach and gently roll it back forth in thought. Will he be able to hear their voices? For now he just rolls the moss and keeps that same smile on his face, though his gaze still holds his discomfort. "I do, I do. My father used to find them for me...ah, I'd love to make one. I've never tried." The idea of Rose going us intriguing and he has to admit he feels bad for hating the weather that he enjoys so maybe he needs to make it up to him. Soon another joins them and the tom lets out a breath of relief, a small puff as he sees Bloodhound. The other does not speak and instead lays down beside him, pressing close. Closing his eyes he relaxes against his company, admitting to himself that maybe he is greedy in having the both of them here.

And yet it does the world for him. "Thank you..." To the both of them and Willow.​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

Yarrowkit, being new to the world, had only experienced a few thunderstorms. Perhaps just the one before this one, in fact - he felt he vaguely recalled a noise so loud he could feel it in his bones, and brilliant flashes of light through the sky. At the time he had been too young to fully grasp what the storm had been, or indeed to be too curious about investigating it - but now, at the ripe old age of three months, he felt it was about time for him to investigate this strange phenomenon which rent the sky asunder, and made everything soggy. Or, you know, soggier. The large chocolate kitten thus marched out of the nursery and into the storm, startled somewhat by the ferocity with which the wind and rain greeted him: within a few heartbeats, his striped pelt was plastered to his body and his whiskers were being blown back against his face. Yarrowkit narrowed his eyes and let out a damp hmm of contemplation, staring up at the sky while another pulse of thunder rolled through.

The noise was ... loud, and largely unpleasant, but there was something about it that was a bit exhilarating. Something about it that made his paws tingle with an energy he had not ever felt before. He stood in the rain for a few long moments, becoming truly soaked right down to his skin, simply gazing up, thinking. When lightning spiked across the sky yet again, Yarrowkit decided he'd had enough - he was cold and he missed being dry, and so he ducked into the nearest shelter, supposing that no one would notice or mind if he happened to step into somewhere that wasn't the nursery. To his surprise, there was a little knot of ShadowClanners inside the den, and he realized with a start that he'd come into the warriors' den. "Oh." he mewed unnecessarily with a blink of his pale blue eyes. "I was jus' outside. It's, it's raining...loudly." they knew that, right? That was probably why they were in here, and their pelts were damp, too. After another pause, his face brightened as he realized what was happening - cuddles? He loved cuddles! He could never get his littermates or his mother to give him enough, in fact.

Marching forward, wholly out of place and uninvited, the boy attempted to press his dripping-wet self against Willowpatch's seated form, a loud, surprisingly rusty purr emanating from his body. "S' nice in here." Yarrowkit observed, lifting one paw and batting at a clump of moss. It was comfy, too; he wriggled and attempted to burrow in among the gaggle of cats. "S' different than the nursery. Not bad different, jus'...different." he tipped his head up to study his Clanmates' faces. "D'you guys like it in here?"​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

The skies weep, and Comfreykit feels a heaviness in her chest as she watches the world become gray and sad. The ebony-smudged she-kit hovers at the mouth of the nursery, feeling simultaneously claustrophobic and afraid of the storm. The thunder that cracks across her ear drums nearly sends her reeling. "It's so loud!" She looks anxiously to her siblings, to her mother, and murmurs, "Can it hurt us?"

Yarrowkit seems unafraid, boldly stepping paw out of the nursery. She cranes her neck, searching for his little striped body as he pads boldly to the warrior's den. Comfreykit sucks in a breath through her teeth. Kits aren't supposed to go in there! The last thing she wants is for her littermate to get into trouble.

Comfreykit steps paw into the world. Her discomfort is immediate as rainwater seeps into her thin pelt. "Awh, it's gonna take forever to get dry," she cries in dismay. Yarrowkit! Why had she let him get her all wet?

But she sees the earthen-colored tip of his tail disappear into the warrior's den and is renewed by her mission. Comfreykit is appalled to see that he not only invited himself inside, but put his wet little body against one of the warriors. "Yarrowkit..." she hisses a warning before looking apologetically to the adult cats. They are huddled for warmth, watching the gray haze of the storm wash through their territory. "I'm sorry, he doesn't know any better," she squeaks, but she gives Yarrowkit an angry look. Because he does know better.

// mentioning @betonyfrost @JITTERKIT but no obligation to respond​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[Willowpatch]

"TO MEET YOU UNDERNEATH THE MOONLIGHT"​

A noise of approval would come in the form of a gentle purr from Willowpatch's throat as Chittertongue accepted her offer. Her mind was already going to work, thinking of which plants would go best with her clanmates' fur and eye colors when Bloodhound joined them in comforting Chittertongue. It warmed her heart, to see everyone coming together in support of their denmate, but she wasn't surprised. She had found that shadowclanners were much softer than first thought, and that alone filled her with pride.

Her ear would flicker, the only sign of recognition for Chitters' thanks when two kittens tumble into the den next, both soaking wet and looking quite frazzled from the storm. A soft rumble of laughter would be her only response to Yarrowkit snuggling his wet and cold body against her frame, she adored kits and Betonyfrosts littles were no exception. Comfreykit apologies for her brother, but Willowpatch would simply sway her tail in a gesture to come closer as her brother had, "No need for sorrys', Comfreykit. Come, let's get you both warm and dry before we take you back to your mother." She moves as if she aimed to grab Yarrowkit by his scruff and should he let her, she would begin working on grooming his tiny form. ​

✦ ★ ✦​