leaky ceilings and damp sheets |➹| night time

[sparrowsong!]

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Abandoned to their own devices at the charred sycamore that now loomed above them ominously, those that were still capable had hastily gathered materials to construct a makeshift camp. Somewhere, anywhere to rest their weary paws, their injured Clanmates.

Truthfully, the chaotic events had left Sparrowsong a little shellshocked. It didn't feel as though very long had passed at all since they had been driven out of their home in Twolegplace, forced to flee and taken into SkyClan... and now they had all been forced out of the pine forest, with near nowhere to go.

With the sun setting and the chill creeping in, the small tabby was drawn close to themself, and to their Clanmates even closer. They were okay, they had reassured themself for the umpteenth time. After all, it was true, wasn't it? What else could they do but remind themself? They were okay, they would be okay, they had to be okay.

Despite their best efforts, it felt as though the ground beneath them was ceaselessly wet. Compared to home, at least. From their short ventures out into ShadowClan territory, the burnt sycamore was far from the wettest place they could have settled, but it was uncomfortable regardless. Sparrowsong shivered.

Gray eyes flickered over to their Clanmates, and it wasn't long before they were creeping over, ears tilted back and skinny frame curling itself against the side of Coyotecrest. It wasn't unusual for many of the warriors of SkyClan to feel the tabby seeking them out at night, for warmth or otherwise, but this endeavor was distinctly more desperate.

There was a slight tremble to Sparrowsong as they pressed their face into his fur, paws drawn close. After heartbeats of silence, they finally raised their head to glance away to the rest, to the darkening shapes of the other Clans lurking around them. They weren't one to mind crowds, but here they felt unsafe, uncomfortable.

"What if they come here too?" they asked quietly, vaguely, to nobody in particular. The rogues.

// @Coyotecrest but not pafp, they're mingling w/ the skyclan cluster but this is open to all clans !​

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[Fantastream]

Fantastream had made her choice, to stay, to fight, to run to the marshes with everyone else. Now though, while the sun dips behind the horizon, she wonders if this was the right one. It is the first night she has spent apart from her twolegs outside of the time she had spent at the shelter. It is the first night she has spent outside and it is miserable. She misses Hon' and Dear, misses the warmth and comfort and safety of curling into their nest with them at night. It is scary, the shadows that dance just on the edges of her vision and she finds that her imagination runs wild with thoughts of rogues lurking just beyond the tree line, waiting to tear skin from bone and wreak havoc upon them again and again. Would they chase them to the ends of the earth if it meant getting the land underneath their paws? She shudders at the thought.

Sparrowsong echoes her own fears "They wouldn't dare fight this many of us" she says quietly, but she is uncertain and the doubt is probably undisguisable in her tone. A long weary sigh escapes her jaws and she tips her head to look skyward for a moment. Who knew when she would get to go home to her twolegs, her nest, her bowl of kibble and her place by the fire. She misses it desperately but... "I'm glad I'm here with ya'll"

​

 

[TATTEREDLIGHT]

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

The fear of rogues ransacking their temporary camp brought dread to the odd-eyed male, tucking himself further to keep the bitter chill from seeping into his pours. Did little good. Lux still felt numb. Old injuries groaning in protest, but that didn’t stop him from smiling and knowing things would improve.

It was why he stayed and fought, guilty that he was one of the luckier few to receive little to no injury, but that was a good thing. How much more could he take before his skin was laden with scars ( not that it wasn’t ) his appearance sure gave cats a run for their prey, assuming he was some stoic cat with little faith in the world. He always did snort when the look of surprise crossed their features.

“Even if they do—” He paused, biting the inside of his cheek, helm tilted. “I’m sure we’d have the advantage with all of us in one place.” Even if that put a target on their back, everyone grouped together? Lux frowned. It spelled bad news, but maybe just maybe they’d pull through. “Strength is always better in numbers, right?” He grinned weakly.

He bobbed his head in agreement. “I’m glad I joined when I did!” He laughed. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Them. He knew, immediately, who Sparrowsong referred to- instinctively his fur began to spike into quills, on-edge. Involuntarily, his torn ear flickered- then an eyelid, then the other. And even in this quiet, even clustered with familiar faces, Twitchbolt's tremors did not weaken. Bullet-fire vibration, and his paw tap-tap-tapped on the earth. What if, what if, what if. A whorling spiral, it was all he could thing. A detrimental mantra that would only lead him into the void of panic, but how would he stop it...?

As if jerking his head up from the verge of falling asleep, the brown-and-white tom bolted upright, eyes blowing wide. Hushed but familiar voices wound their way into his ears, one-by-one. Fantastream, encouraging and sentimental- he offered her a nervous smile. Lux, backing it all up with a bit of logic- and he was right, wasn't he? With all of them... with all of them, even if they tried, those rogues wouldn't be able to replicate their success.

They wouldn't, they wouldn't. Oh, it was another mantra... was he going to lose it? Go insane? Repeating and repeating anything that made him feel better or worse, unable to exist in any sort of stasis or tranquility...

"Yyy- you must be joking," he said, his tone hoarse and betraying his disbelief. No heat lay in his tone, no anger, just blank confusion. They were glad for this. Crouching in a cobbled-together camp in the cold, kicked out of their homes? What was there to be glad for? "We're lucky to have cats who are glad for this." Quiet, kindhearted, despite his bafflement. He was at least encouraged that there were good cats surrounding him, even when everything seemed so terribly unfixable.

He wanted to fix it, though. Wanted the life that lay beyond this.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Sorrelsong]

　

　 ​

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Eyes shut tight to drown out the world in darkness, the partially hairless molly opened her maw just to close it again.
She'd so recently joined the clan that it hadn't felt like loosing her home, rather, she was just moving again. It was somehting she'd slowly but surely grown accustomed too, but she knew how the fear of loosing it borrowed into a cat's bone if they let it. Knowing someone was pushing them out... that was a diffrent thing entirley.
She didn't hate the wet ground anymore then she hated the claws the teeth that this new life was bringing. Which is to say, she struggled greatly with both, but it was the cats she'd met that had made it feel like she was sleeping on moss and fully pelted.
New and unfamilar voices surrounded her, but their worries echoed around her so loudly it didn't matter.
"Sky Clan will survive." She offered, though her own words seemed hollow. She'd spoken as if she was part of this group for longer then she actually was. Her chest tight with the need to fix, but she lacked the mouth to do it. Her tongue felt limp and lifeless. She lifted her head, and regaurded the black and tan tom next to her. He seemed the most anxious. She bit her cheeck, extending her tail slowly in an attempt to comfort him.
"They are probably scared." She started, trying. Trying to say anything. "They probably are just mean. Together we'll fight them off. There are more cats here then anywhere."
She tried a smile on, and it felt a bit more real. "The clans were born of strong, huge, wild cats. Remember?" A story elders told her played between her ears. "That means... that means it will work out. We will be okay because they... don't have that." She tried not to mention that few of them were born of these great cats. Most here, to her knowledge, came from sheltered houses and soft kitty beds before clan-made moss ones. They were not full clan cats. They could not save themselves. We have to rely on the clan cats.
The thought stung and burned and ached, but it rang true to her. She tried not to let it show in her face or in her story. Despite the chaos, telling stories helped her. It helped her and her siblings with her parents, with the dark, with the unknown and it would help her clanmates now. At least, she hoped...

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// ooc:​

 

[Coyotecrest]

With paws tucked underneath himself to preserve warmth, Coyotecrest shifted a little more in hopes to get a little more comfortable. Shadowclan's boggy atmosphere was far from what he was used to. Adding in the chilling cold from the wind only made it worse. It was times like these he truly enjoyed having a longer coat. It certainly helped with keeping some of the chill at bay. His attention had been elsewhere when he suddenly felt a body cuddle up beside him. Green eyes snap in the direction of the small warrior, visage contorting with pity at the way they shook and trembled. He could hardly begin to imagine how Sparrowsong felt.

Fantastream and others begin to voice their opinions on the matter, answering Sparrowsong swifter than he could. Nevertheless, he still agrees with them. "I don't think they'll come here either. Not with the amount of cats confined here." Or so he hoped. In the midst of his talking he wrapped his tail around the brown tabby to supply them some extra warmth. "I don't know when, but I know we will return home soon..." Surely starclan would not be so cruel as to uproot them forever. ​

̶̶̶̶  «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶   skyclan warrior / thirteen moons old / he/him  ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  ​