camp SCATTERED PETALS ] lounging

[BLUEFROST]

It's not a secret to herself anymore, nor to Cottonsprig — her waist has thickened, her belly tight and strange-feeling. She had been sick this morning after her breakfast, and now the thought of returning to the food pile brings a sour wash of nausea into her mouth. Bluefrost eyes the fresh-kill pile despondently, wondering when the illness will fade, when the little bodies growing within her will start to move. Mother, were you ill, too? Her heart tugs, thinking of Sootstar, plump about the middle, banked in snow to toughen her kittens for leafbare's cruel embrace. How I wish I could ask you questions now. How I wish I could seek you out...

But Sootstar would have nothing but cruel words for her, for venom, for splintered claws aimed at a wound-tight throat. Sootstar had condemned her, and wherever she resides now, she holds no love for a daughter who forsook her...

And besides... it was different. Sootstar's pregnancy had been expected, celebrated — the Moorland Queen had reigned a resplendent kingdom, loved and safe, protected by the tom she'd given her heart to. Bluefrost can tell no one about the sire of her kits — not even Cottonsprig, whose secret shadows her own, whose secret threatens to burn the inside of Bluefrost's stomach raw.

She tucks her paws under her chest, and to the first cat who approaches her, she says, simply: "I shall be moving into the nursery soon." It's a bitter reality she swallows like an herb.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchstorm has taken note of the way Bluefrost's body has changed. There are discrepancies between the Bluefrost that sits in camp now and the Bluefrost whose pelt she had groomed free of ash; the Bluefrost who addresses her bluntly now and the Bluefrost who had spilled her fear and distress and more only a few moons ago.

"I shall be moving to the nursery soon," this Bluefrost says, and Scorchstorm can no longer write off those changes as she had been so eager to before.

Moons of discipline keeps her jaw clamped in place at the news. The rabbit in her teeth hangs limp as a dream. If there is a change in her expression, it happens in the molten pits of her dual-hued eyes — a fire, an extinguishment, a forging. The flame-burnished molly leans down to place the rabbit at Bluefrost's shoulder; she had been planning on suggesting they share it, to feed the habit they had built together, but such a suggestion no longer feels appropriate. Nothing feels quite appropriate, which in itself bothers her, but understanding that feeling bothers her further. Why is she upset? Her friend (best friend, some part of her whispers) is with kits. She should be happy.

So she tries to be. "Congratulations," Scorchstorm hums. Her voice is rough as though eked out from a mortar and pestle. She manages to infuse some semblance of life into it, at least, with an inflection that beats like a heart. "How, um... how long? Until you join the nursery?" Whose are they? The question she does not ask still slams against her conscience like a monster; it flattens her entirely. They aren't hers. It wouldn't even have been possible. But that thought begs the question, then: should they be?

Scorchstorm's flat mouth twists downward against her will. It is this question that breaks her spirit. If Bluefrost is with kits, who would she want the sire to be? Does she really want it to be herself? Does she really like the company of Sootstar's daughter enough to knit herself into her family? Yes, she realizes. I do. Ever since she'd groomed Bluefrost's pelt free of ash, she has craved the taste. "What do I deserve?" she had asked her before. "A chance," Scorchstorm had responded. Does she believe that now? Yes. I do. But apparently Bluefrost had found that chance elsewhere.

It is difficult to keep standing there, waiting for the ice-socked molly's reply. She does it anyway, because they are friends, though Scorchstorm had not realized until now that she had ever wished for more than that.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Oh, stars, how had she not noticed brilliant brindled fur, windswept and smelling of the wide-open moorland? Bluefrost had murmured her proclamation without registering whose paws darken her doorstep. She nearly flinches at the look Scorchstorm gives her, at the pain that darkens stoked-ember eyes, the surprise. The warrior places her rabbit against her shoulder, but the gesture is empty, awkward, stilted. "Congratulations," the moor runner tells her; the voice is tattered at the edges. Frayed. "How, um... how long? Until you join the nursery?"

Bluefrost searches Scorchstorm's gaze for a moment, but she finds nothing that satisfies her there. Her chest feels heavy, as though she's shored it up like a bending tunnel wall. Sticks prod the weathered flesh of her heart; stones crumble beneath the fluttering edges of her ribcage. "It will not be long now," she says, and she swallows against the layer of dust that coats her throat. She remembers the warmth of Scorchstorm's tongue, the taste of fire in her mouth, exhiliration, and she thinks of Thriftfeather, of how he brings the sun to her gathered storms, and she feels suddenly exhausted by it all.

I do not know how to manage this, whatever it is. Had her mother ever tasted fire in someone's fur that was not her mate's? Had her mother looked into that cat's eyes and seen the flames extinguished?

Has Cottonsprig?

"I appreciate the rabbit," she forces herself to say, and tries for a humble smile. It falters on her face. "I shall be... eating for many, now. And I am slower than I was before." There will be no one else bringing her prey out of the goodness of their hearts — her existence soon becomes an integral burden to the Clan, just as any other queen's.

Thriftfeather would bring me lizards. What would you have brought me, had things been different?

She licks her lips. She tastes ash.

"Scorchstorm, perhaps you want to share this with me?" It is a bent branch of friendship extended. It is spoken with a quiet layer of desperation.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

A lucky streak has hit Brackenpaw lately, Bluefrost had been seemingly more tired lately. Work would still come their way despite how much they try to fight it but there is a noticeable break in between. It was weird, Bluefrost was never tired, at least not noticeably so. It was something that they equally admired and despised, they never thought they’d miss it until she had started to actually be tired. For once she finds herself actually trying to seek out the blue smoke, they never thought that they’d actually see the day where she needed to do that. If this was the biggest drama in the apprentices life though she was quite content with that.

She was fairly certain that they had seen her around the fresh kill pile so they decided to follow that hunch and seek her out. Footfall comes to a standstill as large ears catch onto something that they think that she shouldn’t have. Bluefrost's moving to the nursery? Why would she be doing that? Tail whips behind them in a frenzy as they decide if she should involve herself into what she thinks should be a private conversation. If she wanted it to be a private delivery of news then why wouldn’t she go somewhere more secluded? Even ktis know to do that.

Bluefrost pregnant. The thought causes them to scrunch their muzzle in displeasure. They didn’t really have any interesting in anything like that so she had no stance on wherever their mentor would make a fine mother or not. No the ripple and wrinkling of flesh is that inherent feeling of betrayal, that means that she can’t drag them off to stars knows where to train anymore. She has enough self control to let that thought be fleeting, that would be rude to think right? They were trying to work on that since their spat with Gravelsnap.

Her gaze shifts to Scorchstorm, how does she feel about this? They seemed close, close enough anyways. She seems to be giving her a rabbit, that’s a sign of some kinda good will they guess. “How many?” Brackenpaw finds herself asking, breaking that illusion of stealth. They decide to follow their foolish stumble through, inviting herself to sit at a respectable distance away from the pair. The apprentice figured that there was enough care for her mentor to at least remind her that this was not a private spot.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc.
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 9 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[dimmingsun]

While Dimmingsun is perceptive in general, he has blind spots. Getting himself lost amidst a sea of thoughts — regardless of their productivity or usefulness — is one factor. Simply forgetting things on a bad day is another.

Bluefrost's apparent change in her physicality has been lost on him for an entirely other reason though. He's got eyes (or just eye, now) for toms and toms only; it is much easier to notice differences, like any and all shifts from lean to more muscular, when the subject of your attention is more pleasing. Such attentive looks for she-cats are very few and far between; and even those are usually a result of someone else talking about them.

When Bluefrost announces her nearing move from warriors' den into then nursery, Dimmingsun is caught off-guard. He regards her then, sees the litheness of her features more rounded up. How could he possibly miss that?

Scorchstorm and Brackenpaw save him from having to ask too-curious questions. There is another — but that one feels too intimate, and not at all polite to ask from a queen.

"If you need help with movin', let me know." he offers instead. Bluefrost's invitation into the council has given him more reasons to talk to her, and thank StarClan it is her who Sunstar had picked instead of Sootspot.
​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

"It will not be long now." Scorchstorm nods, black lips pursed. Bluefrost looks up at her with her lips just parted in her... whatever it is she must be feeling. She holds the lead warrior's verdant gaze for as long as she can stand to before dropping it away, focus darting from the rabbit to her paws to the edges of camp itself. Meanwhile, Bluefrost keeps talking, trying to hold together a connection that has suddenly gone threadbare.

When Scorchstorm manages to return her gaze to the blue molly, she is smiling weakly at her, thanking her. Her heart wobbles. The steel of her ribcage twists and collapses, leaving only jagged points in its wake. Her friend (more than, she had thought, but Bluefrost had clearly not thought the same) will retire to the nursery with someone else's kits. Scorchstorm will hunt for them, and fight for them, but never will they be hers — Bluefrost is another molly to lose. I am afraid to lose. The sweet pink scent of cherries hits her nose; the plush feel of a curly pelt brushes her own; the taste of ash rests heavy on her tongue. Scorchstorm closes her eyes, and it all washes away.

When she opens them again Bluefrost is asking her to stay and share the meal. Scorchstorm can hear the desperation in her voice, and yet.... "No," she refuses, brows worrying together in a gentle upward curl. Hurriedly, she tacks on a reason, one that obfuscates her heartbreak as much as possible: "You are eating for more than yourself, now. Please have all of it."

More cats crowd them now — Bluefrost's own apprentice, who Scorchstorm feels only a pang of sympathy for, and Dimmingsun, who seems warm in his offer to help her. She will not be alone, even as Scorchstorm herself turns to leave, even as she shoots one last firebrand glance the molly's way. "I'm happy for you, Bluefrost. Excuse me," she murmurs, brushing by Dimmingsun in her exit. She does not sound very happy at all.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc. out!
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[puppypaw]

Having someone move in to the nursery was always fun! Because more queens meant more kits and kits were super duper cute (and nevermind the fact that just a little over a moon ago Puppypaw was one herself)! "Wowie! Congratulations, Bluefrost!" comes Puppypaw's excited chime, the apprentice just passing by from a returning patrol with Skyflight. Now, Bluefrost never quite seemed like the type of cat to settle in to the nursery, but this just goes to show her she could never judge a cat by its face... Puppypaw stores this valuable information away until later.

She's oblivious to the tension around them until... Scorchstorm denies Bluefrosts offer to share, but very kindly at least! Scorchstorm seems busy, after all. Puppypaw tries to give her a reassuring nod (because how kind of Scorchstorm to let Bluefrost have the whole thing) as she departs, but very quickly turns her head back to Bluefrost just as fast. Brackenpaw asks how many and Puppypaw is excited to know too, trying to bite her tongue until Dimmingsun speaks up as well and she cannot hold her words any longer, bursting in to a string of blabbers, "Do you have any names picked out? I wanna help with moving too! I'm the best at finding moss so I can find you the softest there is in Windclan." she says this very earnestly.

𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖸 𝖳𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖤𝖢𝖪𝖫𝖤𝖲 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖣 𝖨𝖭 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖤𝖸𝖤𝖲

• ❥ puppypaw ʚ♡ɞ puppykit
  ❥ cis female ʚ♡ɞ she/her ʚ♡ɞ 07 months
  ❥ windclan apprentice ʚ♡ɞ mentored by skyflight
  ❥ lanky chocolate tortie with low white & blue eyes flecked with orange ʚ♡ɞ very dog-like appearance
  ❥ "speech, ffb76d" ʚ♡ɞ thoughts
  ❥ single ʚ♡ɞ unknown sexuality
  ❥ smells like citrus & heather ʚ♡ɞ windblown sweets
  ❥ penned by chuff

​

 

[rivewhisper]

Rivewhisper had found cool shadows nearby- rested in them, her braided pelt breaking up her figure and hiding her easily. She rested here in moments of quiet, blue eyes half-closed and lazy in the greenleaf heat, one that she couldn't find relief from in the burnt moors. It certainly wasn't as hot as it was during the fire, but how could she compare the two?

Her thoughts were quickly spiraling, but Bluefrost's voice broke her stupor. I shall be moving into the nursery soon. Blue eyes slid open, owl-sharp optics turning towards the she-cat resting on the ground, Scorchstorm in front of her. Rviewhisper couldn't pretend to know what was going on between the two, who was fathering the kits- but it was... easy enough to tell by the way that Scorchstorm's tone, the way their mouth twists into a frown, that it is not an outcome she had forseen.

She inhales softly. The day, where the birds had flit from burnt branches, where Scorchstorm and Bluefrost had settled nearby her. Was this some kind of cruel indication of what she needed to think? That they were closer then hoped, or knew? Was it a twist of fate? Vision snapped towards the sky, wondering if it was a cast of the die, before looking back down towards the pair. Puppypaw and Dimmingsun had already stepped closer, asked questions, if the she-cat needed help.

Scorchstorm was already exiting the conversation in a head-dropped, shoulders tensed movement, and a slow, long breath left Rivewhisper. She finally exited her own hiding spot, perhaps spooking somecat as she entered the conversation, owl-sharp blues blinking. "Congratulations, Bluefrost. If you need anything..." Rivewhisper said, letting the statement trail off. Bluefrost could assume the rest. Worried eyes cast after Scorchstorm once more.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── AND ITS BEEN SO LONG THAT IM ⋅❁⋅ FORGETTING WHAT IT FEELS LIKE ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• RIVEWHISPER she/her, moor runner of windclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH broken braided chocolate tabby with high white and piercing blue eyes. scars stretch over her left eye and across her stomach. graceful, sleek, average height. built for running and stamina
  ⭃ mentored by snakehiss / sunstar / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ small romantic interest in redheart / / sibling to featherspine ; sunlitwing ; bearflight ; singedpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Time seems to unfurl especially slowly. Brackenpaw nears her, amber eyes wide, and their question shatters the brittle silence between Bluefrost and Scorchstorm. "How many," the tortoiseshell apprentice asks, and her mentor turns her direction, green eyes distant. "I am not sure yet." Stars, do not let it be five. "I... shall visit Wolfsong and Cottonsprig soon. To find out."

Dimmingsun and Puppypaw and Rivewhisper are there, their words appropriate for a Clanmate who is expecting kits. Offers of help, exuberance, quiet congratulations. Bluefrost gives each of them an appreciative blink, but her gaze is drawn back to Scorchstorm as though her friend's pelt is magnetic. Share with me, she thinks, but...

"No," Scorchstorm says. It's final. Clipped. Estranged. "I'm happy for you, Bluefrost. Excuse me." Her tail whips behind her, her flank brushes Dimmingsun's and scours the path she leaves in her wake. Bluefrost watches her go with pain clouding her eyes.

Wait, she wants to cry out. What about my chance? Was her chance ruined now — had she forsaken it for Thriftfeather, for the kits she carries in her belly?

Do you still believe in me?

She watches the blazing-red splotched warrior exit camp with forlorn green eyes, but she does not go after her.

"I am feeling... unwell," she murmurs, pushing the rabbit toward Puppypaw and the warriors. She shoves herself to her paws, her grace vanishing with the clumsy movement. "I think I will go lie down. Please enjoy this rabbit. It should not go to waste." Unceremoniously, Bluefrost pushes her way through the throng of cats, toward the empty nest she shares with no one, will never share with anyone.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​