of names & things | musing

He rather liked the name choice that Cicadastar had given him. While it was strange to not use his original name, he bore no real attachment to it outside that it briefly symbolized a time when he was struggling. A stray ember caught in the breeze and left to be snuffed out or catch onto the nearest surface-that his fire had ignited into adulthood was by the graces of fate itself. That his flames extended out to reach into what would one day be RiverClan was surely some kind of sign. Water extinguished flames, but the smoke still carried high. Smoke was fitting, smoke was what happens when a fire started, it was dangerous to those who did not know how to maneuver around it. Or it could have just been a joke about how rasping and deep his voice was, how he sounded like he was growling with every word. It could've been that, but he liked to imagine the black smoke tom was a little more thoughtful than such surface level observations. How else would you get Willowroot from Caraway? Smokethroat wondered how the others felt about the names, wondered if it felt like losing themselves, their identity and what they once were or if they didn't care like he did. Or rather, it wasn't that he didn't care, it was just that he felt no connection to his old name. His mother was a faint, wispy memory in his head so he could not even make the argument to keep it to honor her. The white-speckled tom wondered if Moss would have liked the names, the old Marsh Colony queen was a fiesty cat in her own right and set in her ways; he didn't think she would have approved of changing names or hers being altered. She might've bitten Cicadastar for his folly, crazy old bat that she was. He missed her sometimes, no one else was as down to earth as she had been.

"How do you feel about the names?" He asked suddenly, looking over to the nearest cat with his inquiry.

riverclan --- warrior--- tags

The new names where- different. It was strange to add something onto anothers words, but yet at the same time it was fitting? Cicadastar and Beesong had two part names so they should too right? Unity and all that? Though Raccoon wasn't sure about their own name- Raccoonpaw. How boring of a name! They even shared it with other cats of their age or younger, around four moons, and they disliked it. They wanted a cool, unquie name! Like Mudpelt does, or Buckgait, or even Smokethroat! How sick was the name Smokethroat!? Pretty freaking sick not going to lie. Though they where a so called 'apprentice' or something like that, and it was just as dumb. They felt like their freedom was being ripped away from them and now they had no idea what to do about it.

Raccoonpaw had been nestled up beside what would be the warriors' den, tail over their nose, and a soft sigh left their maw. This seemed less and less of a good idea the more they sat and thought on it. Though what else could've been done? Chased out by these cats? Loose their family? Nothing seemed like a better idea, it was like they where stuck between a rock and a hard place. The young black legged cat lifted their head as a voice spoke in their direction, it was Smokethroat, and they looked behind them for a second. Was he talking to them? Must be, there was no one else here!

"I think they're cool! I wish I got a cool name too," They responded and gave a small huff of their frustration, "I'm just plain Raccoonpaw, and you got like a sick name! Smokethroat? Thats so freaking cool!" Their eyes sparkled in wonder and they gave a small little bounce on their paws. [/color]


The cream tabby was grooming herself not far from where Smokethroat and Raccoonpaw were lounging. Her ears would flick as the newly named warrior ask no one in particular what they thought of the newly given names.

A small twinge of sadness formed in her head as she remembered the meeting. She had not been given a new name, but she understood why she would not have. Her clumsiness and proclivity to accident and injury were more than likely the reason for her not gaining a warrior name. It had actually made her more driven to do her best and prove herself to her leader.

As Raccoonpaw gave their opinion, Chamomile would purr softly and scooted closer to the pair to speak, "Don't worry Raccoonpaw!" She would attempt to mew encouragingly, "Try not to think of it as a boring name, try to think of it as...um...a road of endless possibilities!" She would smile warmly, "Now you have the chance to influence what kind of name you will get, like something brave sounding or smart sounding."

Turning her verdant gaze towards Smokethroat she would answer his question, "I love your name, personally. It suits you!"


Clayfur doesn’t really think Cicadastar likes him all that much. Like… Clayfur. Compared to Cascadesong and Willowroot and even Smokethroat, it’s kind of lame, if he’s honest. Though he also supposed that Clay isn’t that cool of a name to begin with. Maybe it’s deserved, but why couldn’t he have been called something like Clayfang? Or Claystrike? Or Clayflame, even! "I dunno," he mumbles in response to Smokethroat’s question. "I’m still Clay, but now I’m, like, Clayfur too. It makes it easier to tell between me and the other Clay now, at least."

Raccoonpaw speaks up about their own name, and Clay gives the kid a bright smile. Their name still suits them, even if it is only a child’s name. Once they become a warrior, perhaps they’ll receive a more fitting name. "I like your names, though! I wish my name was as cool as all of yours." Chamomile also seems to be trying to hype Raccoon up about their name, and the brown and white tabby attempts to catch her eye with a grin as well. "Cicadastar did pretty good with everyone’s names."
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( ) a soft yawn escapes the jaws of the slender smoke as they pad towards the conversation. they've been on the lookout for raccoon all day, hoping to catch the kid and spend some quality time with them. finding the dual hued apprentice locked in conversation with several others, willowroots tail raises in greeting. it's good to see their sibling out and about, getting to know their clanmates. as they finally arrive, they flick their ears, trying to catch the conversation. clayfur, a tomcat whom wil has not yet gotten to know, speaks about his name in a soft tone, and they tip their head. names. hmm.

it's odd because the more they are told that willowroot is their new name, the more it seems to fit. they will always be attached to the name caraway- the one their parents gave them, the one they've carried throughout all the most important moments of their life so far. but cicadastar had been kind in the new naming ceremony. willow, for their heritage, the great leaning tree in which still remains the nests from moons ago. and root, for their steadfast loyalty. it fits, even if it's not necessarily welcomed. the silver toned femme appreciates the effort. they say as much as they take a seat next to raccoon, bending down to draw their tongue over a stray bit of fur on the kit's head. "hmm, raccoonclaw, raccoonshine, raccoon... fish?" they roll their eyes at the last one. how cicadastar does it, they'll never know.

"i think clayfur fits you, personally," she tips her head towards the tabby. "it's simple and sweet, and you can mould it to mean whatever you want it to." a nod follows this at the other's next words. "he's creative, i'll give him that. it's gotta be hard to come up with a new name for everyone. i don't envy it." a small huff of laughter exhales from their maw as they sigh. "i appreciate my name. i do miss being called caraway, but willowroot feels like a fresh start."


A snicker came from the black legged cat, Raccoonfish- could one imagine? Though when Willowroot, formerly Caraway, lapped at their head for a stray piece of fur they raised a black paw to playfully push them away. Grinning as they did so and gave a small nod in agreement, "I agree, Clayfur could be anything you want it to be! One day there will be elder tales of the great Clayfur and all his adventures!," They optimistically spoke and waved their fluffy tail behind them happily. Then looked up at the smokey femme as they spoke about their own name.

Willowroot would always be Caraway to them, because that is what they grew up with and have known since they were a little kitten. Though their new name did suit them and it was rather creative of Cicadastar to give it to them. Willow for this home, a place that had changed forever, and root for the loyalty they provided. It was poetic in a way almost, and they gave a smile, "I hope I get something cool, maybe like Raccoonmask or Raccoonroot just like you!" Orange eyes shined brightly at the idea and they gave a giddy little wiggle.

Raccoonpaw's enthusiasm had him regretting his arid question, shuffling his paws in place uncertainly as he considered how to respond to such a statement. Cool? Was it? He couldn't tell if it was a genuine remark or an offhand dismissal but with the younger cat it seemed sincere. Raccoonpaw wasn't the sort, from what he'd seen so far, to say something they didn't truly believe with all of their being; honest and forthcoming. Perhaps a bit too much at times, but it wasn't a particularly bad trait to have.
"I'm sure you'll be given a fine name." He glanced to Chamomile with a polite dip of his head in greeting and agreement before arching a brow to Clayfur's reasonings. "Suppose the names do serve that purpose. Plenty of cats with the same name, adding something to it avoids taking it away from another." Cats had fought to the death over more stupid things but he wouldn't put it past some to be territorial of what they were called. "I think Clayfur is fine. It's simple, straightforward. Your fur looks like clay. I'm sure Mudpelt has similar feelings on his." It was descriptive, "...I feel like mine is teasing me..." Smokethroat's bristled slightly in embarrassment at the thought. Cicadastar had said stealthy but he felt anything but sometimes. The throat felt like it was making a remark about his voice which he knew sounded angry at all times despite his mood otherwise.
His orange gaze drifted over to Willowroot who prefered her old name and he mused idly, "If you could go back to your old names would you?" He rolled both broad shoulders in indifference, "I don't have any attachment to mine really. It used to mean something....it doesnt anymore. I would probably keep this one." Smoke felt more defining now than Ember did-Ember had carried him forward through life well; reminded him of his one aspiration to survive despite the circumstances and he had. He'd done so. Ember could rest now.

"I like Raccoonroot, has a nice ring to it."


Clay observes the smoky feline with wide eyes as they put a new spin on his name—Willowroot is right, he can just mold it into whatever he feels like, make it suit him. But he’s not finished complaining just yet, so the disappointment with his name sticks in the back of his mind like some sort of fly caught in a web. The discussion of Raccoonpaw’s name draws his attention again, and he grins brightly at the apprentice. "Oooh, Raccoonroot is a good one. Also just imagine—Raccoonstar. That one’s really cool."

Raccoonpaw echoes Willowroot’s sentiment, and the brown and white tabby flicks his tail happily at the younger cat. "Yeah, maybe someday you’ll all be listening to the tales of Clayfur the Great," he chuckles, shaking his head. It’s fun to think about, but he knows, realistically, it’s not going to happen. He’s really just some guy, when it comes down to it. Maybe his new name is more fitting than he’d thought.

Smokethroat’s musing causes him to tip his head in curiosity, though. "Teasing you about your voice? It makes sense, but I wouldn’t say it’s negative. Your voice is nice, it doesn’t sound like something bad!" He’s trying to cheer the other up, but he can’t tell whether he’s actually helping. Smoke and Willowroot have gone through some of the biggest name changes of the clan, with nothing in their names remaining the same. The same goes for Cascadesong, too. Clay, at least, still has the same first part of his name. "I don’t really mind the extra bit to my name, but I could do without it. I’ve got no strong feelings about changing it back, I guess."


riverclan warrior. 32 moons. tags

Clearsight, like Smokethroat, was fond of his new name. There was something so refreshing about it. And he was fond, too, of the fact that Cicadastar had been the one to bestow it; this was not just a name but a sign of loyalty. Clearsight was a RiverClanner, through and through, his name now its permanent reflection.

And his names had never been permanent before, but something was different about this one. Maybe he could feel it, some spiritual quality-- maybe these names really did hold StarClan's power, or maybe it was just that he wanted it. Wanted permanence. If something was going to last, let it be this. This clan, this home, this name at the center of him.

This family.

Unlike many of his clanmates, Clearsight was used to changing names. These days he couldn't even remember his first-- it slipped just out of reach of his working memory, sinking beneath relentless waves into cold blue depths. The name his mother had given him, born small and blue and fragile; the child he could never remember anymore.

Oh, that first name. It could've been anything. There had been so many in the early days. It could have been Drain or Blue or Petrichor, or one even older than that, lost to him now. Anchored in the riverbed miles back, invisible under the water, half-buried in sand.

It didn't matter now. He was Clearsight, and Clearsight he would stay. A RiverClanner through and through. Trusted warrior of Cicadastar, making this island home.

He listened to the musings of his clanmates, their banter and chatter, from a few foxlengths away-- resting in the sun, lying with his tail tucked against his flank. Raccoon, the sweet kid, wanted something "cool." Willowroot thought of theirs as a fresh start-- Clearsight could relate to that. Chamomile didn't have one yet. And Smokethroat--

Liked his, but thought it teasing. Clearsight felt a twinge of sympathy. It could sound like that, he mused. But... "Clayfur's right," Clearsight agreed, lifting his head from where it rested on his paws. "You have a very nice voice and an excellent name to match. Well-suited, but not teasing, I think. It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."

And he wondered about his own, too. It was beautiful, but what did it mean? Clearsight for his fishing skills, unshakeable focus on sunlit water-- Clearsight for the way he guarded his clanmates, watchful and certain-- Clearsight for the level head he kept through chaos, clarity of mind's eye?

(He didn't know how crucial the latter would be, in the dangerous days that followed.)