- Mar 30, 2024
- 33
- 3
- 8
In his feverish excitement, Campionsong had completely forgotten about Thunderclan's attempt at prey theft, as though the full moon's light had enchanted him enough to gab and clack like an errant songbird. When he was truly in the mood, there was little any cat could do to stop the warrior from running his mouth. He paid no heed to his own scatterbrained manners, as the Gathering signified peace and harmony above all. (Though, to him, it seemed as though many did not listen to Starclan's word of the occasion.) "Ah, Figfeather! Quite a unique name. That is to be expected from the kittypet clan, I presume." The poet meant no harm in poking at her heritage, just as he found everything wrong with the incessant palaver of the loyal and nationalistic, for he found nothing to be gained in erecting imaginary borders and fighting over them. Former nomad knew nothing but the spark of wanderlust and new ground underneath fleet footfall. The idealist in him wanted to spout that there was little need to fight over what the forests and fields provided to all who squirmed as children under nature's keen watch. "The new season's not been the kindest to us, as our prey seems to be running a little thin. Perhaps they haven't realized it was greenleaf already? I kid, I kid. It's enough to get by, and certainly enough to feed my children." The jester jested, pelt shimmering like a moonglade paltering upon the water's edge.
( Interacting with @FIGFEATHER ! )
( Interacting with @FIGFEATHER ! )