remember when / den repair

[brackenlight]

Brackenlight decides to get to work as quickly as possible; better to get it out of the way, and to seem more eager to be productive than she truly feels. After declaring her intention and inviting anyone else who seemed interested along, the cinnamon-furred warrior returns to camp with as much reinforcement as she can carry; branches, brambles, et cetera. It's her second trip, and she deposits her cargo atop a gradually forming pile before presuming this is enough to begin. The nursery feels like an appropriate starting point, and surely one that the queens will appreciate; it's currently in shambles from the beasts' trampling. She's already cleared the area of some debris to give herself a clear workspace, and after a moment of studying the tattered thorn bush she picks up a bramble stalk and starts weaving it in, humming softly to herself.
​

 

[ROOSTERSTRUT]

❪ TAGS ❫ — ShadowClan sure had a lot of work to do in order to get things looking normal around here. He wanted all traces of those stinking bears eliminated completely as far as he was concerned. These past few weeks had been an utter nightmare for the clan, and even his usual lighthearted attitude had faltered while the clan took refuge in the tunnels and on ThunderClan land.

Today's agenda included den repair, headed by Brackenlight. Roosterstrut had participated in some den reinforcement duties in the past, so this wasn't anything that he hadn't done before. "The bears really made themselves at home here, didn't they?" A sigh of frustration expelled from his lips, giving a disapproving shake of his head as his paws got to work in binding some twigs together.​

 

[HONEYJAW]

It may be just him, but really, normal? That's what they wanted? Going through all of this, risking everything, coming back to this disaster, and deciding to try and make it...like it was before? Speaking plainly, their camp wasn't all that delightful before the bears came raging through. They may as well use the opportunity to make some improvements, right? But...the first step is the same regardless. They would need to clean this place up, and stars above but there was a lot of that to be doing. He didn't start his work at the nursery, but eventually it's where he ends up regardless. For a moment, Honeyjaw too is caught up in the sighing. It's a gust of an exhale, overwhelmed and irritated. All too quickly, he swallows it again. His smile, though faltering at first, is quickly warm and solid. "They would have been delightful clanmates, if they were a just a bit more willing to converse, don't you think? Imagine that rolling up to the gathering. Nobody would cause problems for us again."

He knows his method of coping isn't all that agreeable to most of his clanmates. Poppypaw had died beneath one of them– of course they would never have been a reliable part of their clan. It's easier to be light about it than it is to mourn openly, though, so the tom keeps his grief and aching deeply, deeply buried. If either of them are looking, though, they would not miss the grimace that crosses his face. A very brief glimmer of regret at his sarcasm as his paws start picking up bramble and bracken with the others.

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

​

 

[COMFREYPAW]

Seeing the only camp she’d ever known devastated has been heartbreaking. Comfreypaw trails closer to the nursery, where some of the warriors are working on clearing debris. A forlorn amber gaze settles on the trampled den where she’d been born, where she’d played countless games with Applekit and Yarrowpaw and all the other kits in the Clan.

Everything has changed—it’s a thought she keeps having, that she can’t let go of, but she doesn’t know why the emptiness inside of her keeps growing. Surely fixing camp will fix everything else that’s wrong, she thinks, almost desperate.

Dark paws reach for a stray bit of bracken. She stares it down, lost in thought. Faintly, she hears Roosterstrut talking to Honeyjaw and Brackenlight. Distantly, she hears herself meowing, “I just don’t want them to come back.” She lifts her head, giving herself a small shake. With a troubled smile, Comfreypaw picks the scrap of bracken up in her mouth and trots closer to the nursery walls.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — comfreykit . comfreypaw
  — she/her, apprentice of shadowclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — short-haired charcoal tabby with amber eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — art by Meadowllark

​

 

[Dewfrost]

Den repairs. It isn't the most exciting task but it is a necessary one. Dewfrost doesn't mind it too much at least. It keeps her paws and mind busy and gives her some reprieve from her grumpy mother. Usually, being so close to the nursery would have caused her some internal strife, but in the wake of everything that had happened, she seems to have forgotten. "They certainly did," Dewfrost hummed in agreement with Roosterstrut's words. She doesn't look up as she is working on binding more twigs together, trying to make them sturdy enough. "All things considered it could have been worse. I am just glad we had something of a home to return to at all." A broken and twisted home, but still a home.

At Comfreypaw's words, Dewfrost lifts her head and looks at her with a gently expression. She does not know if the child meant to say that or not but she thinks it is a valid concern. Dewfrost wants to assure her that they will be fine but cannot find the words. Until recently, she never would have believed such beasts would have found their home but they did. How could she in good conscience assure Comfreypaw that such a thing would not happen again?​

 

[HONEYJAW]

A ghost of a sigh is quick to fall from his maw as his other clanmates speak out– he answers, softly apologetic but without the self-depreciating plea for sympathy, "I spoke poorly. I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of all we've gone through with this." Maybe to another it wouldn't be worth even that much. To him, though, it had caused discomfort. And he never wanted to do that without reason. There was a chance that it wasn't even his own words that bothered Comfreypaw so. He just knows that he doesn't want to risk it. Dewfrost, at least, manages some positivity. He hums in agreement. There was much to be grateful for, even if he cannot help but look towards betterment. It would serve him well to remember the others here have more attachment to ShadowClan as a concept than he does.

With the sticks he has gathered, he begins to reinforce the lowest parts of the den where they will need the strength. Most of ShadowClan's predators are smaller than bears. They can't let what happened change how they view the day-to-day more than what is reasonable. "What do you think they want in a den? Kittens, I mean. And the queens. You remember this den, Comfreypaw. Right?" Another wound he prods at, though one he hopes will elicit healing in time. "What did you like about the place? Or hate, that too."

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

​

 

[RATTLESTRIDE]

જ➶ "Could have been worse? Poppypaw died." To him the camp can always be repaired but the worst is losing a clanmate and not bringing everyone back home alive. His staring golden orange orbs are looking at no one, but staring straight ahead toward the nursery. He is thinking and debating on how he is supposed to help with the repairs. His paw leans for and brushes the ground till he boops it against a piece of twig. With a slow movement that is most definitely delibrate he sniffs at the thing before wrapping jaws around it. Picking it up he pulls ears forward and listens to the sound of Brackenlight's weaving paws. It guides him to the nursery and there he starts to try and weave his own stick into place. But it is harder than it seems when he can't exactly see what he is doing.

Still he wants to be useful and he never lets himself fall behind. Turning his nose up a little he seems to glance towards Honeyjaw and he gives a soft smile. Casually nodding his head. "Yeah Comfreypaw, maybe a nice moss flooring. I think kitten's like soft." Plus it can be an endless supply for moss balls.​

 

[dimstars]

Thistlejump ambled into camp with a squirrel swaying in her jaws, having just returned from a lone hunt. Walking back into camp after spending some time out of it had always been a shock recently, after how much destruction the bear(s) had caused. She was pleased to see that cats were working hard to rebuild the camp, and was overtaken by a strong desire to assist them in their endeavors. She hurried to drop the squirrel on the fresh kill pile, then wandered over to the group of cats. Her strides became less confident as she approached them, yet her urge to make herself useful superseded her typical nervousness. She had arrived just in time to overhear Rattlestride’s meow, and a sharp pang arose in her chest as Thistlejump recalled with pity Poppypaw’s untimely demise.

She mumbled a well-mannered greeting to all of them but was currently uninterested in joining the conversation and instead observed what the group of cats were doing. Thistlejump promptly started weaving the twigs together as well, though her paws were not that nimble, so she worked slowly and with more errors than she would have liked.