camp O'ER THE TRENCHES ╱ RUNAWAY MOSS

[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

Distance doesn't suit him, but Hound had taken to it anyway. He's found himself stuck with this tendency– it fell alongside all the others with an insulting ease. His sleeplessness, his grouchiness, the way he'd rather drown than talk about anything that'd bother him. Just another part'f him, another bitter flavor into the mix. Were he a fish, he'd be the saltiest, most bile-filled one out there. 'Cept for a fish, that'd be a good thing. Doesn't work so well for warriors of RiverClan. They're meant to be communal creatures. Meant to rely on one another, to hunt and fight with each other. He'd stayed to the patrols, 'course, but– it's not really the same. Working in silence wasn't working with his friends. Does he even have many of those left now? Pathetic of him to say. There shouldn't be a question to it, but now that his eyes are finally looking over the camp...Hound's not even all that sure what he sees.

A slow, fragile breath slips off his tongue. The wind steals it away, a sudden gust slipping through their dens fast enough to ruffle his fur from tail to cheek. He grunts, irritated, and– ah but he should've seen this coming. His nest was a disaster. Rough and sparse from a stubborn moon of not wanting to change it. He's cleaning out moss, fluffing it up, but that single fucking burst of air. Everything goes scattering. He leaps to his feet s'if he'd been struck, paws slamming down on the bits of moss closest to him and yanking them back. But with each bit saved, another two're blown across camp. "StarClan's sake–" his paw slams down, drags another clump back into the bundle; ends up stretched comically to try and reach the next without losing what he's gotten. Though another gust of wind all too conveniently yanks away the next words out of his mouth, Houndstride's expression makes it oh so clear it was not anything kind to the moss.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.20.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• 

  ──── houndstride. trans male, he - him - his pronouns.
  ──── over three years old. born late december of 2020.
  ──── warrior of riverclan, formerly of the marsh group.
  ──── bisexual but with a heavy masc preference; single.
  ──── deeply repressed and struggling with his feelings.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.

• "speech"

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[SMOKESTAR]

He is only a tail length into the camp when he lifts his head and is blindly immediately by a wad of moss rolling and flipping through the air to collide into his face; Smokethroat drops his fish in startled surprise, gives a brief hop backwards before shaking himself as though drying after a swim and dislodging the nesting material into the reeds next to him. The wind picked up, caught bits and pieces of debris and sent it spiraling upward around the camp in a frenzied mess. He turns, fur ruffled and disheveled now and he narrowed his orange gaze at the tabby perched paws down upon a wad of moss and muttering incoherently unkind things as he drapes himself across the ground in a ridiculous manner. It takes a fair bit too long for the dark tom to realize what he's up to but he turns to grab the wad of bedding that had struck him in the face to carry over, leaving his fish behind to grab later; it was heavy enough the wind wouldn't threaten it at least.
"I've not seen a hunter's crouch like that, unique form. Perhaps you'll show me at some point what technique this is?" His tone is so bland, calm, that at first his words seem genuine but behind the nest material his lips twitch and whiskers quiver; an amused glint in that single orange eye alit like the sun itself. It was nice seeing Houndstride out and about once more, though he understood the need for seclusion. While they didn't exactly see eye to eye (and not simply because he lacked one) there was a begrudging fondness for the other that tempered his usually sour demeanor. It might be remnants from when he'd saved Cicadastar, it could be just a shared enjoyment of dry humor. It was hard to say, but he at least didn't find the other as irritating as some of his clanmates. If one had to choose company to keep, Houndstride wouldn't be bottom of the list, at least.
​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Snakeblink’s thought process had been simple. Houndstride seems to be having a tough time of it lately; he doesn’t pretend to know why, or how to help, but what he does know is that there are a few tangible problems that a concerned clanmate could potentially take off his paws and hopefully lighten the load.

Inspiration strikes as he’s passing through the warrior’s den, tucking trinkets into his bedding for later use and new moss for hopefully an easier night’s sleep. He finds the den already occupied by Houndstride, busy tidying his own nest.

The logical thing to do would be to offer Houndstride help with his current task. But the brown warrior is somewhat of a loner, and Snakeblink is reluctant to bothering him. He’d hate to draw the other’s ire with unwanted assistance: those bitter apple eyes staring at him always make him feel out of sorts, like he’s dying, even though Houndstride has never been anything but kind. He’s pretty sure that actual criticism from the intimidating warrior would strike him dead.

A more courageous cat would do it anyway. A wiser one would find something else to do. Snakeblink, never one to take the easy or smart way out, chooses a third option: he’ll simply wait for Houndstride to leave and sneak close to finish the job. By the time the long-haired tom returns, he’ll have a nice, comfortable nest and Snakeblink will hopefully be long gone. He’s done this before: once, notably, to an elder who couldn’t stand the sight of him but was also mostly deaf and easy to sneak up on. The old cantankerous cat hadn’t even been out of her nest while Snakeblink did his thing. Fluffing up the nest of someone in their absence will be easy in comparison.

The wind blows through the gaps of the den, sending shivers through his thin pelt and scattering any loose moss. His own pile bumps into the edge of the den before it can get too far, but Houndstride, who sleeps further from the walls, isn’t so lucky: bits of moss go flying before he can do much more than swear about it. He throws himself on top of what remains of his moss, paws striking out to grab what is still in reach, face thunderous. Snakeblink mentally adds a detour to his plan: to mitigate Houndstride’s frustration, he ought to offer him some moss now anyway — discreetly, of course, a fleeting presence, easily ignored.

Picking up a mouthful of his fresh moss, he slithers closer to the other warrior’s nest. Then, three things happen in short succession:

Smokethroat, whose approach went unnoticed, speaks. Snakeblink, startled by his level voice like an apprentice caught breaking the rules (despite not doing anything wrong per say), straightens from his crouch a little too fast. And another gust of wind blows through the gaps in the den walls, taking him by surprise just as he’s already unbalanced, and sends him stumbling forward a little.

Not far at all; just enough that his front paw gets caught in another nest, and he’s sent sprawling.

In a feat of acrobatics, Snakeblink manages not to fall on any part of Houndstride’s body. Unfortunately that socially anxious nimbleness only takes him so far and he cannot avoid crashing on top of the other tom’s nest, the impact scattering more of the moss around as some is torn from the already messy nest and more is dropped out of Snakeblink’s mouth as he gasps, briefly winded by the fall.

Hell. I’m doomed.
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

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[Cindershade]

A clear of her throat indicates her presence, a shadowed figured that had stood within the gathering group to see the fumbling and tumbling of Houndstride and now Snakeblink as they fight for the capture of moss. Verdant luminaries practically glow of amusement at their struggle, a light smirk forming on her silhouetted face as Snakeblink topples over and sends the rest of the nest in a disarray. "Oh, for the love of—" She begins to groan out before a piece of moss tumbles her way and literally slaps onto her face. Too stunned to speak nor react, she sits there with it smashed upon her face before the wind died and down it fell, tumbling around her paws.
Her face flattens to that of annoyance, ears pinning back against the slope of her helm. Her own amusement had been immediately redacted, replaced by a purse of her lips and blank expression. Perhaps it was of her own doing as she inwardly laughed at their own struggles that she had been involuntarily thrown into the vengeance of the wind. Maybe she just happened to stand in the perfect spot for the cross fire, no one would know. She hooks an ivory claw into the tumbling moss and quickly shook what remained of it off her face, looking at the others with a rather annoyed twist if her festures. "I hate this damn wind."

​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[coyotecreek]

( 𓍊𓋼 ) "oof," the grunt is forced out of him as a heavy paw stumbles across his chest. coyotecreek is awoken from his half conscious daze by a flurry of moss and conversation. "can i give you a paw, snakeblink?" stars help him, the man can't not laugh at the situation he's been forced upon. a low chuckle rumbles from his throat as the tomcat squirms out from under the fallen warrior. thankfully, the other tom's body had only partially squashed his own, so standing is not too arduous of a task. "yuh'd think we're all tumbleweeds with this amount o' wind!" he calls, ears flattened as the draft roars across his fur. moss fragments scatter every which way as cinder shakes off the assaulting plant, and coyo squints his eyes against the oncoming storm of green. "need any help, houndstride?" he'll offer, creeping closer, failing to hide the amusement plain on his face. the wind has certainly caused many an issue within the past week, so scenes like this are not uncommon.

with his nest thoroughly spread across the expanse of the warriors' den, coyote sees no way he'll be able to doze back off, so he re-approaches snakeblink, gazing down with amused dual-hued eyes. "that was quite a fall. no hard feelings, though, heh. the wind sure is puttin us through it." he'll offer a shoulder for the man to push to clamber to his paws. ​

( LIKE A GOLD RUSH )