camp never stop — advice [ pafp ]

die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
It seemed Dawnstorm was always looking out for his fellow Ripply Colony members, testing their names on his tongue every other day, hoping to burn it into his memory before he voiced their old names—loner names, they’d been called. He still could not quite wrap his head around the concept, but over time, Dawnstorm had come up with a conclusion, more to claim they had not belonged to a clan, but themselves, but even that didn’t settle well. Why loner? They had been part of something, guided by their elder council, unlike clans that possessed leaders and deputies.

Oh, right. He was checking up on Dewcloud, wasn’t he? The bi-colored chimera paused, searching for a familiar face, spotting the other, Dawnstorm continued his walk, coming to a spot before the other. He settled down with an offering of prey, settling the land animal before the other, Dawnstorm nudged it forward intending to let the other take the first bite. “Are you fine?” He spoke, referring to the change, becoming clan cats and thrust into treacherous events that led to them being driven out to fight for something that had only been introduced to them. “Your name—” He began after a while. “Do you like it?” He would finish with a curious blink of bi-colored hues, helm tilted.

/ please wait for @DEWCLOUD !
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How long has it been now? Since he'd wished to settle under the sunset of his childhood home, since his world only surmised the existence of the Ripple Colony and its cats? How long has it been, since his world changed overnight? Since battles had been forged in sickness, names and titles changed?

It feels like it hasn't been long, and yet, too long all the same. Like it was yesterday, though he knows better than that. Dewcloud — couldn't their Star think of anything else? Or better, let him stay just Dew? — can't help but wish for Ripple-painted sunsets once more as he shifts on his paws in his short burst of free time; as he waits for someone around here to tell him what to do.

As if he's done much of anything he's been tasked to do correctly. He thinks he's lost more catches here than in his time in the Ripple Colony, has struggled to weave reeds together. And RiverClan's trinkets, strewn about their dens — he's nearly stepped on far too many of them; nearly broken fragile shells, destroyed soft petals with tired paws.

Prey drops at his feet. Azure eyes blink at the gift bestowed upon him before a clouded, confusion-ridden face lifts. " Oh. Kaede — " he blinks again at mismatched eyes, at shadow-splotched fur. His shoulders straighten, as he seeks out a correction. " Dawnstorm. I — Thank you. " He's not sure he'll ever get it, all these new names.

Relief blankets his form as he moves to take a bite, glad to have a fellow Ripple-cat beside him; glad to not feel alone, here. There's many a familiar face around here, but the warrior beside him is one he's often sought out in this new world of theirs — one he feels closest to around here.

Are you fine? Dawnstorm asks as Dewcloud chews. He is silent for a moment, even after he swallows down the morsel. Is he fine? " I think so, " he finally says, though uncertainty makes his words waver. He misses home. Misses the simplicity of the Ripple Colony — the elder council he'd often find himself in front of. " You seem fine, though. More fine than me. " Maybe the extra moons Dawnstorm has on him made the adjustment quicker.

Gray ears twitch at the mention of his new name. It isn't much of a change, not like Kaede's is, but it's still something to get used to, an addition to his name that leaves him questioning its meaning. " Do you think I look like a cloud? " the tom asks, looking to his friend with a smile tugging at his maw. " Is that why I'm Dewcloud now? " A small laugh is offered, before it devolves into a sigh, his gaze shifting to the meal in front of him.

" I miss home, " he admits, silver plumage wrapping around his paws. " I don't know how you do it. You look like a real RiverClanner, you know that? And I... Maybe I'm just supposed to be a Ripple Colony cat forever? Or something? " ​
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  • 75352150_Hn9XRmIkP7Stkt4.png
    DEWDEWCLOUD
    ── Warrior of RiverClan

    ── ??? x ???
    ── AMAB; He/Him
    ── A gray tabby and white tom with blue eyes.
    ── Mentored by the Ripple Colony
    ── "Speech"; Attack
 
⋆ ✧    ·   ⋆ ✧    ·   ✧ ⋆     ·   ✧ ⋆
cheets_lichen_2_headshot.png

"You put too much stock in what being a 'real' RiverClanner is," a suggestion floated on a hoarse voice that comes followed by crisp-crunching steps among the frost. The deputy squeezes her eyes shut in a toothless smile before settling in front of them with her own meal to pick at- this is what she felt they were missing out on... sharing tongues with their new den-mates, with the cats they were meant to devote their lives to. To trust blindly... "Lichentail wasn't my first name either."

Sure.. there are a few litters now that have made it to warriorhood with no semblance of anything outside of the structure of the clans, but a great majority of the cats these two sleep with at night at just like her... just like them... they've just had more time.

"Micah," and she says it with such familiarity and ease, its like calling upon the name of a beloved friend. That girl is not here anymore... she hadn't been since before even the Great Battle. Her crooked tail curls around her paws as eyes drift to let the two Ripple Colonists think on that revelation, stooping low to take a modest bite of her water vole before pushing it towards them with a nod. "I won't finish it myself... feel free to have more if you're hungry..."

Licking her lips in idle contemplation, she is not sure that she has much an issue with these two... they are not like Thornmask or Cedarflame in their abrasiveness, their lack of willingness to understand or be understood. Dawnstorm is certainly not a 'typical' tom but... friendly.. his heart in the right place even when his tongue cannot match it. He'd brought Smokestar's kin safely home, hadn't he?

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel... like a RiverClanner?" Not a bad offer to come from the deputy, she hoped...

WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD
THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN
 

I need you more than ever


Lilacbird was here from the beginning. Well, she was apart of the marsh colony at first,; more so the beginning of the clans. Since birth, she should have picked everything up rather quickly. Even as a riverclanner, it would make sense for her to be able to do tasks that was apart of the daily life. Yet, she could barely do that herself. The best thing she had going for her was fishing. Weaving was a skill she lacked in, land hunting, tracking- the simple things that one should be good at.

"Alouette," she said softly, a response with her own name that slid off her tongue as if it was still hers. It was, but it had been long since said. The lilac feline would be laying somewhere nearby, paws folded underneath her fluffy frame. "You d-dont have to be amazing at everything t-to be a riverclanner." She assissted in the menial tasks, helping elders with ticks, changing bedding, the like. She did what she was comfortable with. Because she feared messing up, especially after her fail to weave reeds into the den wall.

"You still... uh, well you c-can still learn, D-dewcloud. I was j-just helped by an apprentice to b-be a bit better at weaving. You j-just have to get c-c-comfortable, and b-be patient." her tone was warm, trying to help comfort the grey and white warrior. "And you c-can always ask for help, it d-doesnt hurt anybody t-to."



 
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They had adjusted to RiverClan as well as a polar bear would've adjusted to a desert. Sure, they were theoretically surviving, but their quality of life had fallen into the stream and not yet resurfaced, each day they found a new flaw and felt like the smartest cat in the room for having pointed it out. It had started with the social culture, an idea of conformity that did not fit the individualist's ideas. Afterwards, it was the attitudes of the others, who wanted to make enemies out of the outsiders - they were happy to oblige that request. Then came the names, dear Rat King, the names. Splayed out in camp despite the cold, Thornmask listened to Dawnstorm and Dewcloud discussing their names with ears perked forwards. They tilted their head upwards as Dew mentioned their insecurities, brows cocked. Slowly, he rolled onto his belly, preparing to stand when RiverClanners interjected. Sharp eyes settled on the RiverClanners with a healthy dose of cynicism in them.

So it was fine for them not to be RiverClan-born, but as soon as it came to the Ripple Colony, it was a problem? Thornmask shook their head, fur bristling at the hypocrisy of it all. A smile pierced their muzzle once they'd finished lamenting. "Oh Micah's a much better name. Your tail's all bent, bringing attention to it with your name is proper gaudy." Cruel, almost, they could understand if Lichentail had named themself, but such a practice seemed outlawed in the group they found themselves in. They missed being called Deacon so, so badly that it hurt. 'Thornmask' felt like a splint, meant to give the impression of a clan cat when they hadn't ever been given the chance to understand what that meant. They'd thought they wanted the lectures, but the lectures were boring, they wanted to learn the hard way. The ticked tabby strutted closer, eyeing the half-finished meal out of the corner of their eye. "Look, these plonkers'll never see you as a true RiverClanner, not until the current lot are all dead and the new ones are too young to give a hoot. You don't need to look anyway these sods want you to look, it's an impossible standard. Just look like yourself."

 
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Moonpaw didn't mind the majority of those that had come from the Ripple Colony. They helped around camp and were fun to talk to whether it be idle conversation or stories from when they were living outside of the clan, she just wished that they all enjoyed living within RiverClan as Moonpaw did. Though she had the positive of being born in the clan and not having to uproot herself in the middle of her life she was sure that with time those new to the clan would be fine living here - after all it seemed similar enough to what she knew of the Ripple Colony just different names and having to worry about other clans instead of just yourself.

Silently the moggie had been listening, ears pricked and swiveling between those that had been speaking as she lay in the nearest sun-spot possible. There weren't a lot it seemed in leafbare and she wanted to experience as much warmth as possible while it was available. Content smile turned quickly sour as Thornmask spoke, telling Lichentail that her name before the clans was better and that her name brought more attention to her bent tail. It was something that the apprentice had never thought of, her tail just being the way it was for her whole life so it hadn't crossed her mind that it could be what it was referring to.

It was when he moved closer and continued on that frown turned to scowl and Moonpaw found her eyes casting daggers at the newer member of the clan, ears pinned back in anger.

Never see you as a true RiverClanner.

Small growl could be heard from the usually quiet girl as she heard this, tail lashing before she stood up and made her own way over. "That's not true!" She burst out, claws digging into the cold earth underneath her as she felt the red-hot of anger warming her ears. "Anyone who thinks that is as harebrained as WindClanners, yourself included if you think it's so true. Whether you're born here or not doesn't determine if you're a "true" RiverClanner, all you have to do is be helpful somewhat and not spit out such horrible lies!" She's already said it before though she couldn't remember when, but the majority of the adults in the clan weren't even clan-born! How could someone think such things when over half the clan wasn't a "true" RiverClanner in that case?

  • MOONPAW formerly Ratpaw || NPC x NPC || sister to Rowanpaw || apprentice to Ravensong.
    -- She/Her || 8 moons old, ages every 17th
    -- smaller than average, small rounded ears. SH white masking cinnamon torbie with orange eyes.
    -- soft-spoken, often found humming, tries to comfort others by smiling
 
die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
It was odd, hearing his old name. It raised a multitude of emotions that he couldn’t quite figure out, muddled on his shelf that needed to be organized or risk another headache. “Both.” He supplied, offering the other a weak smile, not forced, but hesitant. It was fine if the other called him Kaede where no ears could eavesdrop.

With a nod, glad that the other wasn’t horribly out of touch, but still—Dawnstorm blinked, surprised. He was? His maw parted, unsure of what to say, but said nothing, opting for silence with a simple nod of his helm in acknowledgment, but never agreement. Not that the other could tell it apart, even he felt uncertain, unwilling to accept it. He had always adapted, something he had to thank his father for, tossing him into situations, eyes still crusted with sleep, suffocating beneath the water and so, Dawnstorm adapted, more flexible, did his father approve—a blissful rarity.

He hummed thoughtfully, bi-colored hues squinting at Dew’s familiar pet, dusted with grey and white. “Like a storm cloud.” He supplied, mind flashing to the low-hanging clouds, heavy with downfall and promise of destruction. “Your fur—” He hesitated briefly, before attempting to tap the white of the other’s fur, which barely felt, gentle despite his large build. “White, like the clouds.” He supplied afterward, blinking languidly, calm. His own name had been confusing, staring down at himself in obvious confusion. “Not like mine.” His wasn’t … Dawnstorm remained uncertain.

He paused, nodding subtly. He missed the mountains, but he dared not call it his home. Or had he? Bi-colored hues crinkled. Maybe. He had once, or had he always? Did it ever stop being his home? Or had it become a place in his memories to collect dust? A place to fear. To flinch from, but his home was Dewcloud and Cedarblaze, Frondfeather and Thornmask. They would always be home, content despite it all. He dared not mention this, simply silent, understanding. “Not forever, never forever.” He replied, blinking. “Patience.” He supplied with a slow nod of his helm. “It helps to keep an open mind, adapt—” He added with a flick of his mismatched tail. “A new adventure.” He rumbled, turning to Lichentail as he said this.

Hearing their names, Micah and Alouette, different from the ones he knew them by but some things into perspective, still it befuddled the tom.

What defines a RiverClanner? He wondered, saying nothing. “Thank you.” He glanced down at the water vole, not before shaking his helm. “No.” He supplied, glancing at Dewcloud with a questioning hum, turning to Lilacbird. Asking for help? A concept Dawnstorm was bad at. To ask for help was—He frowned, turning away from the other.

Thornmask spoke, a familiar face against a crowd of strangers, blinking oddly, helm tilted. “Ugly?” He answered, glancing down at himself. “It takes time. Just … time.” He mumbled. “Maybe–” His voice cut off, Moonpaw’s sudden burst making the tom wince, pulling away, unaware that his body moved, shielding Dewcloud’s form with flattened ears. He remained silent, doubt creeping at the back of his mind at her words, glancing at Thornmask before his gaze settled back on the medicine cat apprentice. He didn’t think being helpful and speaking truths made them RiverClanners. Maybe Dawnstorm was just odd.
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