camp MANIC MONDAY ☣︎ surprise

[Mintshade]

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Life moved on, it didn't necessarily wait for her to get her head back in order so she was left grasping futilely at normalcy until it stuck, until she could feel like things made sense again. It had been a long and tiring process but she was mostly back to her juvenile and crude self, maybe a little more boisterous than usual to make up time lost - but the dark she-cat was back to her normal antics of shoving her nose into the business of others and being a tease. Mintshade rose that morning as she did every other morning, stretching and lumbering her way to the freshkill pile to see what it looked like, not caring what tails or limbs she stepped on in her exit of the warrior's den. The lanky black molly yawned, pink tongue curling as she arched her back and shook her pelt out before giving a snort of displeasure at how few rabbits were presented before her - it was a little pathetic actually, their main source of prey and these guys were all slacking. Well, if you wanted something done you had to do it yourself! Though she moved with her usual awkward gait and jerking elegance there was something distinctly different about the she-cat that was blatantly obvious in a way you could not really mistake it for a trick of the light or one's mind playing games. No, it was very clear to any cat with functioning eyes and maybe even to those who might be half-blind.

Her stomach, usually drawn taut to match the rest of her wiry body, was very obviously rounder - looking almost comical on the stick figure of a feline with it soft and plump edges. If she noticed or cared, Mintshade gave no indication, turning to the nearest cat with a crooked smile, "Hey, you want to go see if any rabbits are out nibbling morning dew leaves? Might be a good time to get a few before the sun gets too high." Her whip of a tail lashed behind her, flicking enthusiastically at the prospect of sinking her teeth into a fresh hare.

☣︎ All my friends are heathens, take it slow ☣︎ — Wait for them to ask you who you know

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  Mintshade
  —⊰⋅ Warrior (Moor Runner) of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Solid black cat w/ acid green eyes.
  

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[slateheart]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Slateheart rose considerably late that morning - only by the grace of Mintshade's paws on his stray tail. It was a heavier step than he could've imagined, waking him with a yelp and gritted teeth, but as usual, the molly seemed to move on with little care.

After a swift check-up and lick of his poor tail tip, Slateheart was wide awake. He was soon following out of the den, shielding his tired eyes against the morning light, before making his way to the fresh-kill pile after Mintshade. As usual with this cat, he made sure to keep several tail-lengths away from her, disinterested in engaging in her antics - but she was considerably determined this morning in her effort to talk to him.

He would have brushed her off at first as a mere annoyance, as he usually did, but she may have had a point for once. The fresh-kill pile was almost empty; if the morning patrol went out, they must not have returned yet. So, Slateheart considered. Maybe a morning run would wake him up more so he wasn't so much of a sleepy husk of a cat all day. After a moment of pondering, he finally looked over to Mintshade to accept her offer, but there was something.. different about her, that caused his brows to furrow instead.

"I.. could, but, are you.. feeling okay, today?" His lips pointed down into a concerned frown as he looked her up and down. Her slender frame was noticeably round, something he hadn't cared to notice before - to him, it may as well have happened overnight. "You look a little.." he'd raise his paw into the air and wave it for a moment, considering the nicest possible way to explain her ailment that caught his eye, "..bloated."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I SEND HIM A SMILE ⋅❁⋅ HE TELLS ME LOOK DOWN ──┐‎

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• SLATEHEART ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 22 moons.
  ⭃ a short-furred black tom with low white markings and green eyes.
  ⭃ son of LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE // brother to GRAVELSNAP, ASHPAW
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[Periwinklebreeze.]

OH, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SOMEONE ━
THAT EVERYBODY HAS TO TALK TO━​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 20 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior ​

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Periwinlebreeze looks at mintshade - and says nothing. Sees nothing. If she wants to dance around the elephant in the room, than he certainly can to - just as he had spent so much of the last two moons pretending not to see what was happening with Michael. The tom had admitted his concerns in his own time, and Peri had respected that - he will not press now. Besides, he'd rather not be wrong in his current assumption - one wrong word, and he's certain mintshade will bite off his ears. She scares him, that woman - and when Slateheart goes and calls her bloated, the boy all but chokes, a wheezing noise slipping past his lips as he turns, wide eyed in shock. That's certainly not what any she-cat wants to hear - round-bellied of not.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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━H E━H AD━N O━O N E━T H A T━H E━C O U L D━T A L K━T O━

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[FEATHERSPINE]

Featherpaw could tell Mintshade and his mentor were related, even tough they looked barely anything alike. They both had the same sort of playful enthusiasm that didn't seem to knit very well with being warrior like- he supposed they had sapped all of the fun in the family from Sootstar, and left her a bitter thing behind them. What drew Featherpaw's attention to her was not some foolish should to start a game, though- wasn't some boisterous, time-wasting joke, but was... the look of her. Spindly, with a protruding belly- she looked absolutely ridiculous, and Featherpaw narrowed her eyes at the proclamation that she wanted to go hunting, something that Slateheart encouraged. The greed offended her enough to draw a scoff.

Bewildered, Featherpaw appeared to wish Slateheart's head shot off his shoulders with the way she glared at him. Bloated, he said- but unlike him, Featherpaw did not have any interest in softening the blow. "More rabbits? You look like you've g-g-gorged yourself on ten already."​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Surely no one's idea of a good morning entailed being woken up by another clanmate stepping on his paws, but he supposed that was his karmic punishment for sleeping in too late.

Foxglare follows to hang around the freshkill pile alongside the few others up and about camp at this hour while he finished waking up and deciding what he and Sunlitpaw will be doing that day. He hums at Mintshade's suggestion, either a lapse in observational skills or a sort of boyish willed ignorance keeping her obvious change in appearance veiled from his unfocused gaze. He is just about to agree, nearly hopping up to fetch his apprentice to get their hunting patrol up and out the camp entrance, when Slateheart speaks.

The young warrior's ears twitch uncomfortably, and he can't help but glance at Slateheart for causing the vibe to suddenly shift to the awkward. He didn't know what exactly Slateheart was supposed to say when he noticed Mintshade's condition, but he was sure calling her "bloated" was some sort of social faux pas or another. Periwinklebreeze, unfortunately, doesn't fix the situation with his sudden coughing(?) fit. Featherpaw, too, is making everything worse by telling her she looks like she gorged herself. (Where was her mentor?!) Unfortunately, this leaves Foxglare, in all his social prowess, to attempt to mend the situation.

"Mintshade," he utters seriously, keeping his eyes trained on her face and not on her belly, "I think you look just fine. Real normal."

Why was his heart pounding like he just ran to the barn and back?

HOW COULD YOU THINK, DARLIN, ⁀➷☾⁺₊ ID SCARE SO EASILY?

• OOC: nice save man
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 15mo moor-runner of windclan. currently mentoring sunlitpaw.
  — a large, scarred white and golden tabby tom with grey eyes
  — smells like dewy oak and sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. steadfast and reserved, in an era of attempting to forge bonds with others and create a future to look toward.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — fullbody by antiigone, hs by tropics
  — penned by eezy

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[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

There are many unfortunate victims to the lack of care that billows from a hag-like shadow... but this morning he does not find himself amongst them. Perhaps something to be praised, Gracklestep had risen alike the sun and for every bit of shade it cast, it could not get rid of all of them as it approached sun-high, because dark smudges like himself still deigned to exist.

She croned a impish suggestion towards hunting, drawing his attention from where he'd sat to rust in the lazy rays of spring, a pink tongue held in suspense from his grooming. A warm-up before proper patrols would be a good time sink and he didn't spurn Mintshade's company like most.

It seems, however, others are keen to pass judgement on something as petty as a little... indulgence- his brows pinch in discomfort, drawing closer to his allegedly hefty den-mate to deposit his jest, "A side effect of enjoying too many baby animals as a treat... nothing a little exercise won't help I'm sure."

The corners of his eyes wrinkle in a light-hearted smile, "Nothing I haven't done in the spirit of new-leaf's great bounty."​

 

[Firefang]

Toms were mousebrained, that was a fact she’d figured out a long long time ago. The other weren’t much better. Hearing their words makes her roll her eyes as she approaches, her clanmates look at Mintshade like she’s a very colorful fat gecko; with intrigue and caution in some cases. She’d only wanted to head over to hunt with the formidable warrior and well looked like they’d be discussing much more than rabbits.

Her own gaze graces over the older she-cats midsection. She’s not as naive, newleaf brought many things, new life being one of them. Apparently Mintshade had gotten as busy as the rabbits they’d be hunting. Her own mother was carrying as well she’d seen and she knows there’d be more queens lining the comforting walls of the nursery soon. Mintshade wouldn’t be alone. She can’t be completely sure but it’s more reasonable than her being bloated from eating a bunch of rabbits. Firefang doesn’t think she’s that kind of warrior!

"Do you all have no respect!" Firefang snaps fiercely, she particular glares at Featherpaw. Her tail lashes, Mintshade may not hold any rank higher than herself but she had moons of experience and deserved the barest modem of respect at least. She turns to her
"You should go see Wolfsong before we head out." she urges and her words are spoken more kindly. She wasn’t going to be the one to break the news especially if she wasn’t right and Mintshade was none the wiser of her condition. "If it means anything I don’t think you’re fat" she huffs.

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  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots. ​

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[slateheart]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ The looks he's given is enough to make even the toughest cat feel ashamed. Slateheart is acutely aware of the way Peri seems to choke over his own surprise, Featherpaw's glare and and Foxglare's awkward attempt at saving the conversation. A small frown settled onto the tom's mouth - was it.. something he said?

Then Firefang joins in and speaks up. I don't think you're fat, she says, and at that point Slateheart's ears perk as if he'd just had an idea. Then, they burn, and his pelt prickles with embarrassment. "Oh! No, no, I-.." stammers fall out of his mouth. Bloated - that was the word. That's not a thing you say to she-cats. "Sorry, I- what I meant was, is that.. yeah, what Firefang said. J-just.. wanted to make sure you feeling up to the hunt, or.. to see Wolfsong if you're not, I don't.. I don't think you're.. fat," It was all awkward, and he was sure he was making it worse. Slateheart gives Mintshade a big, apologetic, nervous smile. He hoped he caught his mistake soon enough to fix it. Nice going, mouse-brain.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I SEND HIM A SMILE ⋅❁⋅ HE TELLS ME LOOK DOWN ──┐‎

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• 

• SLATEHEART ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 22 moons.
  ⭃ a short-furred black tom with low white markings and green eyes.
  ⭃ son of LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE // brother to GRAVELSNAP, ASHPAW
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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