punk isn't dead ☆ intro ☆ just sleeping

[Skunktail]

The marshes haven't been the same in a long time, some part of him clings to the hope of familiarity while the other part knows that it was time to move on. His family had a paw in the affairs of this area for as long as he can rightly remember and in the time when Briarstar lead and his aunt held the position of healer he had once thought their dynasty would never end. Oh, how the might did fall indeed. The thunderpath was stained with his mother's blood, his brother's blood, the paw prints of a treacherous wench crawling to the river with lies and abandoning her kin. All that remained now was Starlingheart, quivering and unsure of herself still but slowly coming into her own. While not especially fond of her chosen mate he was willing to let it go if it made her happy and more kittens of his own blood roaming the camp once more was warming. He hadn't gotten to enjoy seeing the ones Bonejaw had been pregnant with before she fled to the waters, he hadn't gotten to smile upon the next generation since his own younger siblings.
If you asked Skunktail his feelings on ShadowClan he would lament he missed his mother's reign, he even missed Pitchstar's despite the slow descent into madness that overtook his brother, and while he didn't hate Chilledstar he was not very fond of them nor really trusted their judgement. Perhaps ShadowClan was cursed to continue this line of despair, even the deputy who would step up after Chilledstar wasn't exactly what he would call leader material. Smogmaw was the sort of cat you either wanted to strike across the face or could ignore and not much else.
Skunktail really had no opinions on anything either way nowaways, he did his duties and got by with a somewhat slacker attitude, neither volunteering extra effort not pushing it himself unless asked. Life was, as he saw it, a one way path to StarClan now and he was going to take his time walking it.
With his patrols done for now the black and white tom stretched out across the smooth stones of the nearby rock pile, laying upon his back with legs kicked out and forelegs folded to his chest; the sun would only shine for a little longer and he was going to bask in it before it sunk beneath the mires beyond his view at last.
The first cat who crossed and blocked his light with their imposing shadow would be met with a smile, "Hey, are you on dawn patrol? I'm not this time finally. What d'ya think about all those rats out in the marsh now? Weird huh?" The vermin had spread from carrionplace for whatever reason and he was curious why, but not enough to go snooping about himself.
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[hitch]

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"Sure am," he answers offhandedly, his gaze on the sky and the waning light of the sun, which will bring some much-needed relief. Dawn patrol isn't ideal, but if it means he doesn't have to march out with other cats and behave like he isn't slowly roasting alive, he'll take it. Silver linings and all.

When Skunktail continues, he glances down at him where he's stretched out, looking comfortable despite his exposed belly. He makes the back of Rosemire's neck itch just looking at him. "I'm more worried about the sickness Starlingheart mentioned," he confesses, shuffling back to sit. "We've learned how to deal with the rats, but if the medicine cats are worried about this, I'm not breezing by it." He scratches at the back of an ear where he hasn't managed to clean mud off yet. "Guess we'll find out, but it'd be just like our luck to have a battle on two fronts."
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[clearheart]

━━ι═══════﹥ He does not like to eavesdrop, but Clearheart is certain that, given he is visible to both Skunktail and Rosemire, such a descriptor would not apply. So he hopes, at least; there are some conventions he does not understand with the same ingrained intimacy some of his fellows possess, but he does not always know which specific customs he fumbles.

"Good morning," he greets them both, sitting with proper posture not far from the lounging Skunktail. "I am curious as well." Clearheart pauses, and the faintest wrinkle forms on his nose, so slight as to be invisible. "I wonder whether Chilledstar will see fit to launch an investigation, though it is also true this is not our only concern at the moment." Clearheart is no longer a loner abiding by his own system; there is a structure here he must follow, which he does so gladly. It simply means he does not have the wherewithal to pursue certain interests alone. "What do you suspect, Skunktail?"​

══════⊹⊱≼ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʜᴀɴɢꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴄᴇɴꜱᴇ / ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ≽⊰⊹══════

• — CLEARHEART / / 40 moons old / / amab and uses masculine pronouns but will also accept the use of neutral terms.
  — a warrior of shadowclan / / currently mentoring dragonflypaw / / excels greatly in combat above most all other skills.
  — former loner who wandered great distances & rarely remained in one place for long / / arrived after the great battle.
  — devoted to starclan above all else (aside from his idea of the common good) / / not prone to enter battle mindlessly.
  
  — of a height slightly above average / / trim and athletic with a sense of immovability about his posture/stance & size.
  — chocolate sepia w/ low white / / fur is quite short for the most part / / tail is naturally bobbed // full-body reference.
  — fairly warm demeanor much of the time; there is a "softness" about his features so that neutrality doesn't seem surly.
  
  — lawful good, in the sense that he likes to maintain order and work toward bettering lives around him without cruelty.
  — often misunderstands figures of speech and may interpret them literally. as such, can seem to lack a sense of humor.
  — deeply genuine; dislikes lying immensely, and so (most of the time) he is wholly earnest, especially with compliments.
  
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[lilacfur]

Coping with the destruction wrought upon the mire had begun from a very young age for some. Lilacfur had lost Amber before she and her littermates had been born yet, and the marsh demanded more blood from her mother. All nine blessings ripped away from the Mireland Matriarch for the safety of kits. Then of course it kept taking and taking thereafter, at some point Lilacfur had developed a sense of distancing herself from it all. The death, the fear that StarClan would not show them a hint of mercy.

Her remaining family, the pieces left of Briarstar's legacy, were all she had left. Though long ago she had begun to hold little attachment to even them. They had her love and protection like any other Clanmate, but she feared the mire staking claim to them one day too.

She could hear the talk of recent news. The rats, the sickness, and she couldn't help but join in on the discussion.

"If StarClan had been capable of stopping the forest from obliterating itself, I would hope they wouldn't do so just to allow a sickness to wipe us all out." Came the tabby's voice as she settled beside her brother, purposefully toying him by placing her paw gently on his tail.
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[ sad hello's and mad high low's ]​

 

[smogstar]

Briarstar's surviving progeny were a contagion upon ShadowClan soil. Though scant in number and a dim memory of the family's influential reign, the dynasty lives on nonetheless. And dynasties, it ought to be noted, stand in defiance to the core ideals and principles a respectable community seeks to uphold. Smogmaw would rather his kits be dragged by the scruff to their own exile than have them occupy ShadowClan's highest of positions. Nepotism is an easily-overlooked concern, and not a matter he loses sleep over—but hereditary power structures were a thorn in the paws of all who believed in the equality of opportunity.

Save for Starlingheart, whose position was imposed on her at too young an age, Smogmaw regards all remaining kin from that lineage with the same expression: deadpan, of course, but with an unmistakable glint of reproach lustering in his eyes.

Likewise, this applies to the aptly-named Skunktail. The younger tom could be seen lounging atop the rock pile, exposing shaded furs towards the creeping sun. He greets passerby with cursory conversation, with remarks about patrols and recent events sloshing forth from his lips. Before long, another member of his brood comes slinking along and plonks herself in his immediate vicinity. The mere sight of them both brings the deputy's muzzle to an unsightly scrunch.

Some may tell you that it is impolite to stare. Such conventions of social courtesy are redundant as far as Smogmaw saw them, but the tom is bound by duty to maintain at least a semblance of decorum. Hence he decides to decelerate as he's on his way out of the camp and yield some time to the gathered warriors. "I think rats and disease lie beyond StarClan's scope," he remarks, latching onto Lilacfur's pious estimations with an air of wariness. "Sendin' messages, givin' lives, and hurlin' lightning bolts is the most they can do. The rest is up to us to deal with." A sidelong glance is then given to Clearheart, who ponders his leader's prospects on the matter of the rats. "Which we will, mind you. We've pulled through far worse than just a couple'a rats."

Pitchstar sure as shit didn't, but that's not a conversation worth starting amidst his surviving siblings. ​