no angst [PHASE III] SURVIVED THE WORST, BUT THE WORST IS YET TO COME | celebration hub!


It seemed as though the early frost had waned, if only for a moment. A rare warmth enveloped the moorlands, like an afterglow of summer's ardor, stanching the sorrows away for just one evening. As an unusual heat wafted over her pelt, Celandinepaw felt as though fate were granting them a break, of sorts. She reveled in how the autumn peered through the uncharacteristic weather, like a glimpse of faith through storm-cloud hues. The sunset glowed heartily in all its splendor, perhaps a mere bluff amongst the frigid clouds that cleared away for the day, as it still shadowed the albeit meager streaks of slate-grey along the rolling sky. Tangerines and ochres blanketed the plains, though this time the sun's gaze did not glare from its heaven-set perch, but instead draped over the clans as a veil would. The stress of keeping the clan afloat did not falter, only lie flat upon its belly as it conceded for this night. Sounds of chatter raveled into each other within the camp, like a cant unbecoming of what winter's wrath bred, though it welled not from spite but from consolation. The medicine cat apprentice had not heard her clan so raucous in a long while, as though the bitterness of the winds had not abraded their song entirely, merely keeping it hidden within a cage of their chords. Her clanmates would warble once more, this time with a bubbling sense of anticipation.

Now, Celandinepaw sat along one edge of the camp, with olivine eyes focused upon the strewn-about decorations of moss and ferns and feathers. It was not as grand or genial as what the workfolk were able to adorn the Horseplace with, but it would certainly do. "Good job, everyone! I'd say we made this place look pretty cozy. Maybe we should ask Scorchstar to let these stay up for a few seasons. As a good luck charm, of course!" Celandinepaw's face marked itself in unmistakable mirth, like red-blooded cheeks flowed in the pride of her found family, relishing in the resilience of the weeds that refused to die off. The wheat-toned molly had gathered an elite force of cats to aid her in this perilous task... Of course, the first clanmate she thought to ask was Silkkit, the meticulous and ever-pristine molly that she was. Secondly, she asked for Bilberrypaw - after she requested that he depart from Scorchstar's studies for a top-secret mission. Dimmingsun had volunteered next, and Celandinepaw appreciated all the help she could get in these festivities. Finally, came the assistance of Mallowtail and Scorchstorm, and asking the warriors for help in this essentially-menial task was a much more daunting task than she could have ever bargained for. Still, the cats had done well to fill the camp with various ornaments gathered within the wintry season. A wiser feline would have mused something of making merry out of misery, and creating candor out of calamity.

"Oh! I forgot, I have to announce this to the whole clan. Keep it up, everyone!" Celandinepaw purred as she turned away from the dream-team. She trotted near the Tallrock's base, pelt upon the twilight shine like a sunglow blossom, a quaff of good spirits upon the mire of changing seasons. Inhaling a long-drawn breath, she braced herself for this speech, for she had been thrust into the spotlight far more times than she could have ever imagined while a medicine cat apprentice. The molly always had the impression of a medicine cat being some wizened healer cooped up within a cage of their own instrument, but perhaps there was much more to this than she could have guessed.

"Windclan! We have, uh, hold on." Celandinepaw cleared her throat with a few coughs before continuing. "We have survived the incoming leaf-bare, as early as it came. Despite it all, we have stayed strong and true to ourselves. This is a time of celebration of the present, remembrance of the past, and hope of the future! I invite everyone to partake in whatever festivity you'd like; whether it is sharing stories of past battles, sharing tongues and meals with one another, or simply allowing yourself to unwind for the night. Thank you!" She had only recited that speech at least ten times... with the help of Cottonsprig to come up with it, of course.

  • OUT OF CHARACTER. WELCOME TO THE PHASE III CELEBRATION! Everyone is encouraged to make threads (open or private) that "branch" off of this main thread (aka, ones that take place within the same time period)! Have fun and congratulations to Windclan for keeping our streak for Phases I and II :)

    Also obligatory tag of those mentioned in the thread, but no need to wait for one to respond! @Mallowtail @BILBERRYPAW @DIMMINGSUN @SCORCHSTORM @Silk-kit @cottonsprig

    — MEDICINAL EXPERTISE: Celandinepaw is the current medicine cat apprentice of Windclan. Although she is quite new to her position, she also has much expertise with treatment regarding infectious diseases and basic remedies. As for anything more complex... you're better off asking a more experienced medicine cat.

    WOUNDS★☆☆☆☆
    ACHES★☆☆☆☆
    INFECTIONS★☆☆☆☆
    BROKEN BONES★☆☆☆☆
    CONTAGIOUS ILLNESSES★★★★☆
    CHRONIC ILLNESSES★☆☆☆☆
    POISONS★☆☆☆☆
    KITTING★☆☆☆☆
    TRAVELING★★★☆☆
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  • CELANDINEPAW & TRANS WOMAN & 14 MOONS
    —— Medicine Cat Apprentice of Windclan / Mentored by Wolfsong & Cottonsprig
    —— A shorthaired, wheat-yellow spotted tabby with yellowish-green eyes. Somewhat pudgy, though lean and able to hold her ground in the wild.
    —— Extroverted and unafraid to speak her mind, she is a friendly and affable face in Windclan. Though ditzy and somewhat cowardly, she tries her best to help her clan. She is prone to outbursts when spurned or stressed.
    —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.


 
➴➴ The hardworking decorating team had set about brightening up the camp, and Gravelsnap had merely watched as they worked. They have no desire to join in, their focus falling more on their mate and his well-being. Peri is prone to illness and overworking himself. With the early frost settling across the moorland, the black-patched warrior worries for their mate especially now. Keeping a close eye on him is important, because he cannot be trusted to properly take care of himself when the clan is struggling. Gravelsnap is just as aware as anyone else that their mate would gladly sacrifice himself for the smallest of reasons. But perhaps… this celebration could be helpful in lifting his spirits.

They wait for Celandinepaw to finish her announcement—it is heartwarming, hearing of WindClan’s successful day of hunting—before turning to search for Periwinklebreeze against the rest of the clan. Where could he be… perhaps he’s been dragged into another cuddle pile with the clan’s kits again.

  • ooc:
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  • GRAVELSNAP ❯❯ they/he, moor runner of windclan
    average-sized black and white warrior who seems smaller than he is. speaks rarely and quietly.
    mate to periwinklebreeze ; sibling to slateheart
    mentoring sheeppaw & thistlepaw ; formerly mentored thriftfeather
    peaceful and healing powerplay is allowed, but they hate physical contact & will lash out if not close friends / family
    penned by foxlore
 

Things are looking up. It's a little flame kept close to his heart, orange and warm. Sedgepounce has wandered the moor for too many moons to believe that things are really getting better—the meadow blusters with warm-tinged breezes now, but true Leafbare will strike them soon enough. He just...takes the good where he can get it. And it's hard not to feel a little spirit-lifted. After weeks of scraping by, it's almost like the hares and the grouse were throwing themselves at him all day, drunk on the brief, warm reprieve from the freeze. It's the third and final time he's hauled in a catch today.

Sedgepounce, with his pelt smoothed and littered with chamomile petals, drags a fat meadowlark in camp just as Celandinepaw's voice peals—then catches—through the fray. The thing is dropped onto an already well-stocked freshkill pile. The camp itself screams auburn and comfort. Celadinepaw's suggestion to share meals and celebrate looks like a genuine possibility.

It sparks an idea in him. Trading his lark for a vole, he passes through decorated fronds to drop the meal at the medicine cat apprentice's paws. "Epic speech, Cela. Couldn't have said it better myself," Sedgepounce meows. He bumps her shoulder good-naturedly, if only because ruffling the fur at the top of her head might warrant some complaints. He grins lopsided. "Let's eat, yeah?"
 

Dimmingsun seldom cares much for "decoration" — the concept itself feels fleeting, like you may as well retrieve it all by the time you are done averting your focus to something strictly aesthetic. They think the gorse and the heather do a perfect job of breaking up the monotony that is the moor. But of course, he has famously never been able to say no to Celandinepaw, and he is amongst the first volunteers when she voices her need for an extra set of paws. The warm seeping into the golden hues of his fur has put him into a good mood anyway.

He has learned it is futile to think much of fortune and misfortune. Akin to the wheel of time, they will continue to swap themselves out... sometimes sooner, sometimes later. Dimmingsun remembers hopelessness after every death and every lack of luck that come WindClan's way, but he also knows the strength that comes from preserverance in spite of it all. Today is one of those days.

"Right? Spoken like a true leader," he says, agreeing whole-heartedly with Sedgepounce as he goes to meet him and Celandinepaw. Perhaps the sight of a sun-kissed hide ascending the Tallrock may have helped his heart soar a little — not that she shares much with Sunstride outside of that. "I could eat for days right about now. That grouse you caught may be just enough for one of my teeth..." Humor comes to him as easily as breathing, and he sends Celandinepaw a mischievous look — would wink, if he still could, but that is decisively difficult with just one available eye.