PAR-DELÀ LE CIEL ↷ [ pre-gathering chatter ]

Bluepaw meets the ThunderClan tom's eyes boldly, giving in to her desire to stare into them unblinkingly. A cat with less of a constitution could be unsettled by the stare; it's her one social flaw, one that she has not realized is uncouth for a young she-cat of her stature. He introduces himself to her as ThunderClan's medicine cat.

"You're not like Vulturemask at all," she mews, studying him again. The way his lower jaw sits at an angle fascinates her, but then so does the missing back paw. She gives both physical distinctions a moment of blatant study from her clear green eyes. "What is your name, medicine cat? My name is Bluepaw." She dips her head to him, a curtsy deserving of his rank. "I'm training to be a tunneler under Sootstar." She can't help but cast another look over her shoulder, back at the Great Rock where her mother sits queenlike. With an almost shy, reverent murmur, Bluepaw tells the tortoiseshell, "She's my mother and my mentor."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
​

// talking to @BERRYHEART
 

The night brings forth Toadpaw's first gathering, a milestone perhaps late in comparison to his siblings, but still an important one nonetheless. And, while he's excited to finally see what a gathering's like, he can't help the nerves that creep up at the thought of all the clans coming together. He's never really seen more than a few cats from other clans, after all. To see so many new faces at once seemed quite daunting.

A crowd of new faces, just as the one brought on by his initial arrival to ThunderClan.

But, Roeflame is here too - a sibling to stand by, to guide him around the crowd. Surely, she knew other clan cats by now. Surely, she knew which ones were nice. As long as he could see her, maybe things would be okay.

However, as they arrive, he quickly loses sight of his adoptive sibling as ThunderClan's gathering-goers part ways to mingle with others. He can't help the disappointment he feels, his expectations for the night shifting as he scans the gathering for Roeflame. His ears threaten to flatten, but a nudge against his shoulder distracts him, pulling his cerulean gaze away from the vast crowd before him to look up at his mentor.

"Go on, Toadpaw," Stonepool tells him with an encouraging nod towards the gathering, "Just don't stray too far."

Just don't stray too far. He can do that. The boy nods back at his mentor before departing from the blue warrior and making his way into the crowd.

// open to interactions!​
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Iciclepaw's not seen anyone she has much interest in chatting with. She spots Fernpaw and Stalkingpaw with a group of SkyClan cats and considers sitting with them to be polite, but she spots a familiar spiky dark pelt and drifts away from her sibling. The ShadowClan apprentice has approached her uncle. Iciclepaw sits beside Clayfur, giving him a friendly shoulder bump. "... Sharppaw, right?" She gives the ghostly-looking warrior beside her a cursory glance. "Is he your mentor?"

She'll wait for an answer before continuing. The pale tom asks Clayfur a strange question -- something about a tree -- and Iciclepaw gives Sharppaw her sole attention. "Are you all doing better now that newleaf is here? Not still traipsing about in ThunderClan territory, are you?" She flicks an ear to take the sting from her comment. "Not that I'm judging. ThunderClan needs to be taken down a peg or two, if you ask me." She darkly thinks of her sister, mauled in camp and attended to by the medicine cat still, unable to be present here under the full moon.

// interacting with @SHARPPAW, @CLAYFUR and kinda @rosemire ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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Ears angle toward Lichenpaw intently as he explained, giving very short, minor nods of understanding after each pause. Though Basilpaw's face remained unchanging, Lichenpaw could easily notice the short flash of interest in his eyes at the mention of Sootstar's drama. Ah, right, because StarClan was always the answer to whatever odd phenomena occurred within the forest. It was edging close to annoying the former stray just how often these dead cats were thrown for explanation for any scenario that didn't have a tangible explanation. Couldn't things simply happen... just because?

"Hmm." His gaze shot toward the aforementioned WindClanner's like a dart, staring intently at them while his thoughts geared. The smallest twinge pulled in his chest- kitten apprentices. Still seemed like a better payout than being left entirely to fend for themselves at that age. At the very least they were still shown a shred of survival skills. Though he didn't voice his opinion on the matter either, he doesn't need to. The gossip Lichenpaw shared was entertaining enough, though his sights eventually trailed to Wildpaw. Telling by the twitches of his ears, Basilpaw could only guess he was searching for exactly what Lichenpaw was providing. The corner of his lip twitched upward, if only for a brief second. He nudged his chin in the direction of their Clanmate. If Wildpaw noticed, he could take it as an invitation. "Maybe he's heard more about it." He murmured. Though truthfully, Basilpaw felt better with the strength of numbers. Wildpaw was hardly innocent to look at, it would appear far more intimidating with him around the two younger apprentices.

-- interacting with @LICHENPAW and @WILDPAW, discussing windclan gossip
 
⊵ the last time geckoscreech stepped foot upon these sacred grounds she bore witness to a strange phenomenon in which a sudden violent tempest threatened to rip the very trees that encircled fourtrees right from their roots before lightning unfurled from the sky and struck the very spot where the moor queen herself sits. it is briefly pondered upon whether or not the scorched mark still remains or if the recent new-leaf showers have since washed away the evidence. would starclan send yet another angry storm their way, clarify that the message for the moor-runners that it was not a symbol of their valor but instead a warning? so far nothing seems out of the ordinary, the sky clear and the moon sits pretty against the blanket of darkness to illuminate the steadily growing cluster of cats occupying the clearing.

geckoscreech lets out a quiet breath she didn't know she was holding and continued to trail behind her clan, most gathering nights she rarely splits from the group to mingle since it seemed pointless to do especially when everyone was always at eachothers throats with insults at the ready but maybe it wouldn't be too bad to form some sort of amicable connection with another warrior from another part of the forest. the chocolate silver femme slips into the tides of moving cats, coversations of differing topics floating all around her while aquamarine hues dart between all the faces she passes.

something that is caught within peripherals has geckoscreech freezing momentarily in place. no, it couldn't be. it can't. the woman only gets a glimpse of familiar muted brown fur for a second before it disappears into the waves and it causes her breath to hitch. sandy paws are suddenly moving, jerking her body towards an entirely new direction. she stumbles, pushing passed anyone who stands in the way with a sudden desperation clawing at the lowest pits of her stomach.

her eyes must be playing tricks on her. they must be because standing a few tail-lengths away is a thunderclan apprentice, a small tom who boasts a similar stature and coat like her son. "leaping toad. . ." the name is barely said above a whisper, laced with disbelief that he could be here. no, no, she had buried him long ago.. geckoscreech could feel the scar over her heart begin to split open at the seams.

just when she thought she was finally accepting everything that had happened.

oh how cruel of starclan to do this to her.

|| observing @TOADPAW, looks to be on the verge of a breakdown. open to more interactions :]
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【 THERE'S SO MANY FAKE ASS PEOPLE PREYING ON YOU.】
 

following the rest of the thunderclan into the clearing, a yawn parted her jaws as she scanned the area. less cats were sat beneath the stars than the first time she had been here, notably windclan seemed to have travelled lightly. it made her ears flick upwards, wary of what they could be planning. but surely out of all the clans they would not attack on a starclan ordained night of peace.

it had been a few moons, all of the threats they were dealing with mixed with her reluctance to mingle with those from other clans made it difficult for the small smoke to have an ounce of desire to be here. but with duskpaw now under her training, she would not deny the apprentice a chance to see the peaceful night due to her own disdain. nightbird would not hover, allow the child a chance to partake in as many or little of the events as she wished. but a cautious glance every few moments would be sent in the dark furred feline's direction, but seeing duskpaw alongside her mother and sister she would withdraw her gaze completely.

making her way to a spot to sit, her eyes never were still. looking for friend and enemy alike. eventually they had landed on a shadowclanner, russet fur bright beneath the moonlight. she recognized him, one of the prey thieves she had found within their territory. "i do hope newleaf is treating shadowclan more kindly," nightbird's tone was flat, but still taunting as she shallowly mocked a respectful dip of her head. her words highly betrayed her opinions of the marsh cats, but she was to appear civil, pretend as if she didn't wish starclan would smite them next.

//interacting with @ROOSTERSTRUT ​
[ ☾✩ ]​

 
Crowflower ducks her head awkwardly, somewhat embarrassed by Gravelsnap's suspicion. She often forgets that the history of bad blood between clans has created a cultural distrust of outsiders. A distrust that does not exclude her, despite her more peaceful tendencies. "Oh, the point of giving gifts isn't to get stuff back..." she says shyly. Naivety is a term often used to describe her, or, more often, talk down to her. "I just think that..." she trails off, glancing over her shoulder at the gathered cats with a thoughtful expression. "What's the point of the Gathering if we leave hating each other more?" The rules of the clans never made much sense. No mingling except at the Gathering. No relationships with anyone outside, unless it's at the Gathering. From what Crowflower can tell, all the clans have been struggling. All it takes is the actions of one cat to affect all the rest. Usually it's a battle or a murder or something terrible. Why can't it be something kind? Something like sharing resources when times are tough? Or helping an injured cat even if they aren't of your own clan? All Crowflower can do is something small, like sharing the beauty of Newleaf.

"My name is Crowflower, by the way," A nervous smile, but an honest one. "What are your names?"

// speaking with @GRAVELSNAP assuming @Bluepool and @SNAILSTRIDE are nearby​
 
Clay casts a warm smile at his niece when she bumps gently against his shoulder, glad that she’s here. Another voice apologizes for interrupting, and hazel eyes shift to look up at the source of it. The pale ShadowClan warrior who stands there looks notably worse for wear, but he immediately launches into a question. "Uh… I just jump," he says, but his eyes are already narrowing slightly at the other tom. It’s not just a question to spark conversation, he thinks; it’s likely the beginning of another joke. "How do you get down from a tree?"

Beside him, Icicle strikes up a conversation of her own with the dark-furred ShadowClanner. Sharppaw, the calico says, and Clay tips his head. An apprentice, then. Iciclepaw asks whether ShadowClan is still crossing into ThunderClan territory, but follows it up with an assurance that ThunderClan deserves to be taken down a peg. "No kidding," he agrees with his niece, flicking his tail across her shoulder. At this point, he doesn’t care about ShadowClan’s past trespassing onto ThunderClan territory. Howlingstar is a raging hypocrite, and she deserves worse than just ShadowClan taking a few pieces of prey. She took Clearsight’s memory, she tried to take Riffleheart, one of her warriors took Lily’s eye. He hopes the rest of her lives leave her in the same gruesome way he’d heard that Ember’s had.

// interacting with @rosemire @iciclepaw @SHARPPAW.
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​
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With little to show for their prowling, Snailstride began to edge back towards their clanmates, their ears shooting toward the starlit sky as a stranger approached the three of them. They moved closer to Gravelsnap as the ThunderClanner explained themselves, about how the little ivory blooms were gifts, potentially intended for the little ones. It was the younger warrior that spoke before Snailstride could, offering suspicion in the place of kindness. They couldn't blame them, it seemed everyone was against one another all the time, even clanmates. He waited for Crowflower to finish her sentence before mewing a hearty, "WindClan appreciates it! I'll have to remember your face for the next time, we've got some cool flowers of our own." They bowed, bringing their scarred leg across their chest in the faux gesture. His eyes flickered with a recollection of something said a short while ago. Bluepool's presence was like a terrifying miasma when the tabby wondered what words to say, but they were a warrior now, they had the freedom to make their own stupid, stupid choices.

"I wouldn't worry about WindClanners coming away from this hating you, we're actually pretty fond of you lot over at the moors! Never heard a bad word in my life, in fact, there's been a lot of praise for how strong you all were dealing with those dogs and ShadowClan some moons ago." They beamed, the words likely coming as a surprise to their nearby clanmates, who'd have never heard such flattery before or, at least, not to the level that the tabby alleged it to be. A little bit of horse manure wouldn't hurt if it meant keeping things friendly between the two groups, Snailstride would hate to have to defend themselves in another battle - the dread of the upcoming one was bad enough. Wearing a charlatan's smile, they moved one of the branches closer to themselves, picking it up delicately. Periwinkle might not get gossip, but at least he could get some new flowers, they suspected their younger friend would like that. Cocking their head to the side, the tabby replied, "A fitting name! Your fur looks like their wings and you give out flowers! I'm Snailstride, guess what I was named after. Go on, guess!" They wriggled on their haunches, suppressing a yawn that threatened to part their grinning muzzle.

[ @crowflower -- presumably w/ @GRAVELSNAP && @Bluepool !! ]

​
 
the mottled feline had never been a fan of large groups. when he was not towering above them all, his sides cool with space unoccupied, was a different story altogether — he felt calm, confident. collected.. sometimes. but here, amidst the throng of faces and fur, he feels.. suffocated. too hot, too overwhelmed, too muddled by the sound of idle chatter at every angle. cicadastar does his best to remain on the outskirts, watching clanners weave in and out of the ever - moving cesspit when he spots it. quick, a splotch of off - white moving into the crowd like a man on a mission. it’s like he sees a ghost — ivory phantom, as tall and leggy as he. memories of tight spaces and haze of summer showers meet his mind and he moves before he knows his paws are carrying him.

he sees clayfur, notes that the tom had nearly beelined for the recently widowed riverclanner in the depths of his mind. his paws itch, heart pounding against the flat of his sternum and he can’t quite place why. it’s as if his mind pulses with a desperate remember me, remember me, remember me, but it had been moons, beyond moons, and his coat feels as though it stands on end with nerves. his presence was hard to avoid, " i’m sorry — roseal? " a breath from behind, as soon as he was close enough. an old name, but cicadastar knows not the one he’s been bestown. the curly - furred leader steps alongside the small group, spotting a jagged - furred shadowclan apprentice settled there as well, alongside iciclepaw. they were engaged in a conversation of their own, but the leader still swallows hard, ” stars, it’s been... “ how did one enter a conversation here, amidst the flock? his throat clicks, never settling to a sit alongside clayfur, ” a while. “

the tail end of thunderclan meets his ears and his expression darkens slightly, ” hypocrites, “ crowing at shadowclan for stealing, then turning to do so from riverclan. a low growl sounds, ” they’ll be dealt with soon enough. “

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗
  • i. interacting with @rosemire @CLAYFUR , @SHARPPAW. and @iciclepaw kinda
  • ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    58782460_YqlZfgzWBE3fACI.png
    m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.

    ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
    penned by antlers​

  • cicadablueoutline.png


  • "speech"
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WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
They nod. "Politics are built on spilt blood and extended claw. Someone will always suffer." They say softly, agreeing with the tom.

His pride in his clan, when they point it out, is infectious. Bloodhound had quietly hidden that aspect of themself, a once-kittypet, posturing their bred coat as one of a loner, as something from chance. But to see Thistleback show pride, despite the clan cats tending to look down on those who meddled with kittypets and near twoleg place...

Perhaps they felt a little of it nestle in their chest, too.

"The pleasure is mine." Bloodhound says, polite, warm. He'd chosen to speak to them first, after all.

Smogmaw's voice catches their attention through the throng, as he approaches the two of them, complimenting their partner in mingling. They think that they'd found a fine conversational warrior indeed. The apprentices they'd idly watched were fine, but it was nothing in comparison to talking with one of similar standing, with different perspectives.

"Smogmaw, welcome. You are both aquainted, then?" There is a bit of relief in knowing that. They'd wondered what all that staring was for. The bengal decides not to point it out, they all seemed very aware of it.

The two of them speak directly, like old companions. Bloodhound is content to watch, and nod when appropriate, quiet, but still listening, engaged in the conversation.

Thistleback takes a moment to compliment their name, and the bengal offers him a smile. "As is yours, my friend. Very fitting."

Thistle. A good, hardy plant. Sharp and wild looking. They assume that of him, at least, given his appearance, the tone of his physique.

The tom's face only thinly veils his anger towards WindClan's ways, giving way to a smirk as he outlines their predicament. Surrounded at all sides by those burned and yet to burn.

"They may have numbers, they may be swift, but even deer are felled by wolves. They will earn their deaths in due time." Bloodhound agrees. It was only a matter of patience, of planning.

The hybrid can feel the call for blood, something ancient in their marrow. They would follow the order, if the tides turned to war. WindClan would pay for their transgressions, in this life or the next.

// @ThistleBack & @smogmaw
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જ➶ Truthfully he isn't so keen on gatherings, so many cats in one place. It makes him feel strangely anxious and even now his tail is back and forth like a flag caught up in a gale. Sighing roughly he keeps that same smile in place, eyes wandering and looking. His good eye sees Bloodhound and he wants to go to them, seek some form of comfort but they seem preoccupied with a hoist of other cats. A nervous chuckle leaves him, his muzzle pulled taunt with a strained grin. His eyes look away and then he notices someone else, a cat that met him on the thunderpath. Well, pushed him off the thunderpath. Jerking forward as if pulled by strings the long legged tom shifts toward the Thunderclanner. His eyes spark with that anxious feeling in his chest and he breathes in and then breathes out slowly. "Long time no see. I never did catch your name." His eyes are glancing around before sitting down roughly. He is definitely keeping his distance from any Windclanners. Their ilk hardly deserves any friendship.

"Mines Chittertongue." He lifts a paw and brushes at his paws for a moment before glancing back up. Ah, he knows most don't have a high opinion on Shadowclan but he aims to make the most of what he is dealt with.

gazing @BLOODHOUND. and now chatting with @WOLFWIND ​
 
His discomfort swells as another feline approaches, clearly closely familiar with Clayfur. Or perhaps RiverClan warriors are simply friendlier with each other than he's used to. Whoever she is, she knows Sharppaw, and her question temporarily distracts him from Clayfur's very literal reply. "Oh, definitely not. No one's that unlucky yet. I'm not teacher material." Even the idea is enough to make him shudder, though it doesn't explain the phantom ache along the lines crossing his neck.

He clears his throat, pale gaze landing back on Clayfur. He twists his paws into the earth and takes a breath that he hopes isn't audible. "You don't," he says, "it only comes from chicks." A terrible joke, truly, and he wonders what Clayfur might follow it with when he registers his name and a voice he hasn't heard this close in too many moons to count. Roseal, and he smells warm humidity and feels the rasp of a tongue cleaning away mud from his scruff.

There might be mud in his throat now with how he struggles to swallow, mouth barren. Absurdly, hot pressure builds behind his eyes. Standing this close, heights level without an entire clearing between them, Rose sees Cicada. Just Cicada, fur wet and curling further under rolling clouds heavy with rain. He tastes feathers. "The mud hasn't killed me yet," he jokes, slightly raspy, rusty like he's dusting off something long neglected. Sincerity? Good-humor? He wants to ask if he still feels the need to take cover from the rain, if fish is better than frog, if he ever regrets leaving them all behind, to tell him that Rose might have been a RiverClanner if things had gone differently, but then— Hypocrites.

The clouds dissipate. He smells RiverClan and ShadowClan, sees Cicadastar and StarClan's divine intervention, and he is Rosemire again. He's not looking at Clayfur, or Sharppaw or Iciclepaw. The grief kicks him in the ribs. "Why—" He starts, then stops. Pale eyes close to avoid a face so familiar and so strange. He's not thinking of how awkward it likely seems to the others. Several heartbeats pass and he steps closer, until he's able to brush his shoulder gently against Cicadastar's. "Then deal with them. And when ShadowClan's next, for whatever reason, I'm sure you will have StarClan's blessing." He smiles, sardonic, and his gaze shifts in the direction of those buried after the Great Battle. "It's Rosemire these days, if you're curious. It's nice to see a leader down here with the rest of us."

His paws take him a short distance away, and then he turns to stare at Clayfur. "Save me a bad joke for the next gathering, would you?" And when he straightens back, it's to head for the heart of ShadowClan.

He's learned to clean the mud off alone.

//interacting with @CLAYFUR @iciclepaw @CICADASTAR sorta Sharppaw but i won't tag so i dont flood your alerts aksbdka
didn't mean for this to get long but the man has feelings


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In every situation you give me peace
The ivory striped apprentice trails silently behind Cindershade, muddled thoughts plaguing her mind. It was a miracle the ebony lead warrior allowed her to accompany her to this gathering at all after her near brush with death. Regardless, Sablepaw quietly looks up as Cindershade encourages her to mingle with Fernpaw and a few other unknown apprentices. Reluctance blossoms within her chest once the molly departs from her. Dual toned lips purse into a thin line as she opts to walk elsewhere, ears partially flattened. (Open to interactions!)​
Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​
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† Sharppaw shuffes under the weight of the warrior's gaze. Not that it was crushing– Dreary would be a better word for it. Scrutiny no matter the disposition was something stressful. Scrutiny was what it was, wasn't it? Slowly, she'd nod along to his answer, silver gaze askance. Impossible to say if she truly cared, or simply asked what she thought was the acceptable conversation starter.

How is ShadowClan? Sharppaw visibly scrunches his nose, unsure if she should really say, or how much of it she should. The answer would depend on who you ask, maybe. From her... "Uh..." Does she care about outer clan politics? About looking weak? She's not sure that she does, but any answer is weary on her tongue, still. (Would she be like Flickerfire? One day found dead in the woods, only remembered as a traitor, because of what she said?)

He'd flinch at Rosemire's interruption, despite how unassuming it truly was. Sharppaw stares at him, the pale tom very much not in a tree. Why was he asking this? And– shrunken in on himself, Sharppaw tries to judge his intentions from little more than a look. He's nearly a stranger, having only seen him creeping on the outer edges of camp. Would he be the type to whisper of Sharppaw's wrongdoings? Would his sorry face be the type? She meets his gaze for but a second, before looking away with a lick of her lips.

She perks, though, just slightly, when she spots the pelt she'd been looking for; mottled black and red. He nods in reply, warily noting her apparent closeness with the brown warrior. "Mhm. Uh, Iciclepaw...?" He's more than content to focus on her, not too eager to chat about the pines ShadowClan never poked their heads into, and would be stupid to, really. Sharppaw blinks, bug-eyed at the implication of the pale tom mentoring her. "No," he quickly replies, tone almost-offended, and he almost is. Not that she knew him well enough to know if it was good or not, but the warrior's own adamant denial seems to speak with Sharppaw's own assumptions.

Quickly killed, though, any eagerness. Not still traipsing about in ThunderClan territory, are you? Sharppaw's eyes narrow, a strange grimace overtaking her face at the question. They were doing what they had to. but how to explain to an outsider? His ears flatten thinking of that rabbit–

Iciclepaw already understood, though. And with this realization, Sharppaw relaxes, blinking as if it would clear any mess from her ears. "Don't they?" quitely, she agrees, gaze flickering briefly to the side, as if waiting for one of their warriors to spring from behind. She's glad RiverClan agrees, then. And she returns the warrior's nod. "No," he then answers the tortoiseshell's question. "Lots of frogs and things, now... We can eat. H-have you ever had a frog?"

Someone who has joins them, though. A towering monochrome figure. RiverClan's mad leader himself, settling beside his warrior. Sharppaw can't help but gawk for a moment, not small himself, but feeling so, within the cluster of RiverClan. She can't help the curious blink, though, as the leader rumbles a threat. Sharppaw nearly thinks to ask, but the apprentice speaks no further.

It catches Rosemire in another way, though. His strangeness suddenly proceeds him, and Sharppaw can only gawk as the warrior suddenly brushes pelts with RiverClan's leader, speaking in tongues. The riveting talk of trees is abruptly over, and he's slipping back towards ShadowClan's ranks. Sharppaw frowns at the sight. "What–?" He nearly asks what's wrong with you, but he holds his tongue. She looks to Cicadastar with slight panic, wondering if the leader was about to lunge for Rosemire's ears and rip them clean off. It seems like they know eachother, though.

"S-sorry," Sharppaw says to him, and he'd not sure why. It's not something she could imagine ever saying to Pitchstar or Chilledstar. Mad as the river tom may be, there was more to respect here than than there was in ShadowClan.​

[ THIS IS SO LONGGG SORRY! Talking to @CLAYFUR (kinda) @iciclepaw @CICADASTAR & judging @rosemire ]​
 
The ShadowClan apprentice, Sharppaw, confirms that his clan is doing better now that spring has come, catching plenty of frogs to keep themselves fed. "Frog’s kinda weird, but it’s good," he supplies. It’s strangely comforting, this simple conversation—a feeling jarringly different from the disaster of grief and anger and devastation that the last gathering had become. That… hadn’t been a good night. But there’s a familiar face in Rosemire, and Icicle is at his side, and Clay finds his shoulders slackening from their stiffened posture.

You don’t, it only comes from chicks, Rosemire says, the punchline to his joke, and Clay blinks. Huh. "That’s… really bad, man." A wobbly grin fights its way past the veil of grief, showing itself on his muzzle. There’s not much that’s been able to force a smile onto his face since Clearsight, but somehow a ShadowClanner manages to draw one out with possibly the worst joke he’s ever heard.

He allows the smile to linger for a few heartbeats before it’s tucked away, expression settling back into tired neutrality. He’s come prepared with a joke this time, and he opens his mouth to tell the other warrior, a quiet sort of amusement flickering to life in his eyes.

Before he can say it, Cicadastar’s voice cuts into the air between them, and Clay’s head snaps to the leader. He’s unsure of what to expect—isn’t sure why the dappled tom would want to hang around a couple ShadowClan cats. But he says something close to the name of the snowy-white tom, and there’s recognition there, isn’t there? Clay watches the two interact, head tilted quizzically. There’s something off about their words, an undercurrent of a lot that they’re not saying, because they don’t say much to one another. He curls his tail tighter around his haunch, glancing down at Iciclepaw—trying not to, like, intrude or anything.

Cicada’s scathing words toward ThunderClan are what draw his full attention back to the conversation—Good, he thinks, as the leader confirms his intent to retaliate against ThunderClan. For him, it’s more than just some rocks that those dogs stole. It’s the place where he first learned to swim, the place where he thought he was going to die at one point, the place where he asked his love to be his mate. Soaked into the rocks alongside blood and gore are memories, and now his paws can’t even touch those rocks. RiverClan will have them back—this isn’t the end.

Rosemire says something about ShadowClan being next to be dealt with. Which, honestly, doesn’t make much sense, because ShadowClan’s leaders may suck, but the marsh clan hasn’t really done anything to RiverClan. Not like WindClan. Not like ThunderClan. Before the white tom leaves, though, he asks Clay to save him a bad joke. "Yeah…" he agrees with a simple nod, watching the alabaster tom stride away.

What just happened? He looks to Cicadastar, hoping to find some answer in the leader’s expression. But he can’t decipher anything, so he just starts talking. "Um," he begins, a clear attempt to break the tension of whatever just happened between two cats who… know each other, in some way? Maybe they were a part of the marsh colony before the clans all split up? "It’s good to hear that ShadowClan’s doing better, at least."


// tagging everybody bc they’re all standing around @SHARPPAW. @CICADASTAR @iciclepaw
i’m SORRY it’s long idk what happened
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​
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The gathering after next? That was quite some time away yet, but it was no six moons. She grins in understanding, ”That’s not too long... Guess the gathering after the next we can reunite as warriors of our clans.” She beams, the starlight that shone in her eyes only amplifying how excited she looks. She gives the Tom-cat a subtle glance up and down, once again admiring his coat but also to contemplate warrior names for him. None seem to come straight away… she can’t imagine being a leader and having to name every apprentice.

She allows Sparrowpaw to sneak back into the conversation, they inquire about the process of warrior names and how they are decided. ”Mhm, Blazestar picks. And uh- Cicadastar will for Fernpaw when his time comes.” As to what her warrior name will be she shrugs, ”We’re not told. You’ll find out my warrior name at the same time I do!”

// interacting with @FERNPAW and @sparrowpaw! ​
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( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ★ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· FIGPAW, AMAB — she / her
╰ ‣ 11 moons .
╰ ‣ skyclan apprentice . believes in starclan

╰ ★ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like pine nettles & sap, status — 100%
╰ ‣ A red tabby she-cat with orange eyes. Mangled right hind leg.

╰ ★ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ENFP-A ❝ CAMPAIGNER❞ , Gryfindor, Lawful Good
╰ ‣ Excitable, generous, caring, quick-to-act, distrusting, resentful
╰ ‣ finds relative ease relating to others . kind-hearted, will show mercy
╰ ‣ cats of windclan blood or those she deems morally inferior will be met with her ire

╰ ★ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· NPC X DAISYFLIGHT, sister to Greenpaw, Violetpaw, Snowpaw & Butterflypaw
╰ ‣ Pansexual . mistakes admiration for romantic feelings
╰ ‣ Crushing on Fanta
╰ ‣ Apprentice to Tallulahwing
╰ ‣ good fighter . excellent hunter .
╰ ‣ unlikely to start fights . will flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.
 

Harrierpaw was the young kitten's name. She remembered seeing a Harrier once, a small bird compared to others with long talons and murderous intentions, but deadly little things all the same. The she-cats shoulders wriggled - she'd have to remember that should she ever have to deal with the little one in future battle. It seemed an inevitable occurrence, but one unspoken between the two enemies for favour of a cautious ceasefire with the moon and stars watching them like hawks. "Ferndance, Lead Warrior." She bowed her head in a faux politeness, her pupils remaining static when everything else around her moved. There were only Lead Warriors of ShadowClan, her and Geckoscreech, whose current location was unknown to the ticked tabby. She was certain the other clans had more, then again, the other clans hadn't had to deal with sudden betrayals and untimely deaths quite as often as her home did. Ferndance listened as Harrierpaw enquired about ShadowClan's apprentices, her ears tilted at odd angles as she considered his words. He seemed equal parts uncertain and fascinated to the feline, uncertain if dipping his paw into the pool of knowledge would grant him great things or drown him.

Oh, she could tell him anything and he'd believe it, wouldn't he? 'ShadowClan has monsters twice the size of bears and three times as heavy', 'We like it when our kittens live', anything. She pressed her muzzle forwards. "I believe you should be asking why WindClan does it so early, instead. You're the only clan that likes your youth to battle, you know," she pointed out with a mild-mannered mew. A moon made all the difference when a cat was so young. "Is it a long-term brain game, I wonder? There aren't many who would feel good about killing a kitten, some may even stop fighting entirely, I would wager. Is that your goal with child warriors? To make your enemies feel so bad about killing them that they give up their land?" Her head pressed further into her shoulder, almost owl-like in its angle by now. "It's very clever, if so." She hoped her tone was convincing enough for someone as young as Harrierpaw. It wasn't a practice that the Lead Warrior felt great about, no matter how much she would entertain the idea in front of a crowd.

[ interacting w/ @HARRIERPAW ]
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"LITTLE HELLIONS, KIDS FEELIN' REBELLIOUS"​
An invitation comes from that of his own clanmates, fellow apprentices even, and he decides to humour them for the time being by drawing closer to Lichenpaw and Basilpaw. "Talking about the last meeting, hrm? I wasn't there, but I certainly heard about StarClan's displeasure being shown. I reckon that Sootstar's days are numbered unless she changes her ways. StarClan might give leaders their lives, but I bet they can take them away just as fast if it pleased them." He added whilst holding a stern expression. When it came to StarClan he didn't view it as a laughing matter, and frankly he wanted to remain on their good side since he intended to become a leader himself one day.

"And you're right, WindClan seems to be taking their kitsitting duties here to the Gathering. I wonder why?" Whatever it was it was making his fur prickle. Though there were plenty of things about that was making him feel uneasy. Straining his ears forward he continued to tune into the surrounding conversations taking place. "Hrm... sure is a lot being shared right now. Listen."

//Interacting with @LICHENPAW and @B A S I L P A W
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To his surprise, the other cat only explains that she gives gifts not for the sage of being gifted in return, but for the sake of kindness. She thinks that the point of the gathering is not to go away from it hating one another more. "That’s kind of you." He doesn’t mention that he thinks the entire point of these gatherings is for each of the leaders to boast about their clans, to try and one-up every other leader. To increase the tensions between clans, because they’re all pressed together in one clearing for the night.

The ThunderClanner introduces herself as Crowflower, and at his side Snailstride begins—kissing up to her? Trying to appease her? He’s not sure what his clanmate is doing, but it’s a completely different side of them than what Gravelsnap’s seen before. They seem almost devious, somehow, like they had when they’d been sharing gossip. It would be unsettling, if Snailstride weren’t very clearly loyal to WindClan. Gravelsnap doesn’t doubt them, whatever they’re playing at.

They wait until their fellow warrior is finished before introducing themself, tongue flicking across their maw as they wait for the other to wind down. The gray-striped warrior invites the ThunderClan cat—Crowflower—to guess the meaning behind their name, and Gravelsnap huffs. They weren’t aware that there was a deeper meaning behind the older warrior’s name. "I’m Gravelsnap," they say, much more dry in their introduction than Snailstride is.

// interacting with @SNAILSTRIDE and @crowflower
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​
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