sensitive topics searching for redemption // temporary camp

✧ Siltcloud.

✧ Siltcloud.

08/10/22-02/27/24
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Aug 4, 2022
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THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 12 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d
Siltcloud hates this. Skin crawls, pelt twitching, as she stares into the tunnel that makes their camp. She hates this place, hates the memories it brings, hates the stench, hates the feeling of the tunnels walls closing in upon her frame, choking and suffocating her. She is much bigger now than she was back then, and it only serves to make the itchy-crawling feeling worse. She swallows harshly, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to breath, hard for her to speak. The sudden appearance of monsters within camp is one nobody had expected but this... why was this where they'd retreated to? There is no fire tis time, and yet she can smell smoke and fire anyways as memories flicker before her very eyes. Brairstar had died mere tail lengths away, bonejaw had answered her questions about sparkkit here. To many bad memories haunt this place - she cannot stay here. Will not. She simply stands frozen at the edge of the tunnel entrance, green eyes wide. She can't - she can't, she can't!

CW: claustrophobia + brief mentions of death

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  • Crying
Reactions: scar
You don't have to go in. Needledrift wishes she could get her tongue to form the words against her malformed maw. She wishes she could make her face do the movements to offer some sort of comfort, some relief to the fear that rolled off of the younger warrior. But all she can do is sit, watch, wait. Sit next to Siltcloud as they both stared into the yawning abyss that was not home. Watch as this she-cat, so young but already hurt beyond words, relived a thousand bad seconds in the span of a moment. Wait until Siltcloud turned their head to look at her, until they came down from the height of paralysis to focus on anything but.

Needledrift had watched cats suffer these sorts of shock-freezes in the aftermath of the Great Battle. They stood, stock still, wide-eyed and frightened of the entire world as it crashed in on itself a thousand times in their head. It was a very sad thing to witness. What could you do in that situation? Sit. Watch. Wait. Be there.

Well. Needledrift was here if Siltcloud needed her. As any clanmate would. As any clanmate should be.​
she smells like lemongrass and sleep​
 
can we leave it behind? — Quite frankly Sabletuft would have been far more comfortable scaling up one of the pines that lined the Thunderpath and remaining in its branches. He was no SkyClanner, but he would have figured out a way. Turned part bird if he had to. It really must have said something when the Thunderpath tunnels were the safest option all the leadership could have agreed on in the end result. The burnt sycamore was too exposed, and there weren't enough tussocks across the entire marsh that could give enough coverage from the swamp dogs. Carrionplace was... not even a thought. It was an opportunistic hunting ground during leafbare to him, and only that. They would sooner die from the stench than the beasts.

Not that the Thunderpath stench was much better but... there weren't as many risks. Monsters were infrequent and easier to anticipate by sound. Even more, they seemed to scare off the swamp dogs from approaching. They couldn't reach into the tunnels, either. Just enough positive strokes that provided the end result needed.

"Can you climb?" Sabletuft chuffed as he passed by her from behind, debris caught in his fur from trying to clean and make space for the others. He might as well share his own ideas outside the tunnels, he wouldn't be able to use them for himself anyhow. "If I could manage to build you a nest up somewhere, you could still stay safe." — tags​
 
A feathery black figure sneaks up on the group and mismatched eyes stare intently at the dusty warrior. She seemed terrified, everybody was, but the beasts were gone. Did she know that? Maybe she didn't. A bit of sympathy pricks at the kit as he stares, and he wonders if he should inform her that the swamp brutes weren't here. The child from Carrionplace had not been here when certain unfortunate events transpired at their temporary camp, and he could only incorrectly assume her frozen fear was from the pandemonium earlier. Either way the pitch black Crowkit couldn't blame her, this place was harsh in sounds and smells. He was about to turn away and find somewhere else to meander about but Sabletuft's words spark his interest. A nest in the trees? What a great idea. A need to shout out his earlier finding of huge claw marks scaling a nearby pine almost succeeds, but Crowkit decidedly keeps his maw shut. He didn't want to terrify her even more than she was. "Hm, I could help out..." He ponders thoughtfully, loudly announcing his presence if they hadn't already noticed him melted into nearby shadows. His neck cranes back to stare up the height of a proximate tree, "But I would kind of want one too." As if he could scale any tree. "speech"



✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ OOC VISUAL INFO ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚𓅪
  • ooc: —
  • shiny, feathery pitch black fur with one silvery green eye and one nearly black one. eyes have an unsettling gleam to them. looks terribly suspicious in his body language and facial expressions.
    Click to expand...
  • crowkit named at the Carrionplace for stealing tendencies and ability to eat almost anything; and for his black and shiny pelt

    —— he / him; 3 moons, kit of shadowclan

    —— prone to thievery and gluttony, he's building a stockpile of trinkets

    —— current inventory + location

    - 1 blue twoleg wrapper

    - in his nest in the nursery
    Click to expand...
  • "speech"
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DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​
they understand why silt doesn't wish to go in. had pitchstar still been alive, they know he wouldn't have dared to take shelter here. even now, they can still see the monster ripping the lives from their first leader, briarstar, and it makes them wince. they did their best to ignore it, like they did all of their feelings. they had no time to be emotional when the entire clan was counting on them to be a leader. but emotions cannot be controlled so easy, sometimes, and they don't blame siltcloud for their panic. they stand with an expression that cannot be explained very easy. the wind pushes through their fur and with a click of their tongue, they look around. there had to be somewhere for silt to stay... and someone to stay with her. they didn't want anyone by themselves.

"grassfoot can stay with you. you don't gotta stay under the path with us but i don't want you by yourself. it's not safe. okay?"

their voice scraps against their partially scarred vocal cords, and they only huff at the sound of it. surely it would be a bit better with a few more days of rest.
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Disbelief and unease synthesize in his mind, producing a heavy fog which blinds him to anything beyond the scope of his immediate view. Disbelief, for the fact that an ursine family (of all things) banished them from the safety of their own home. Unease, because his mate and children were StarClan knows where, and the very prospect of their survival remained devoid of any semblance of certainty. Both of which were compounded by the throbbing soreness of fresh wounds, moulding his condition into that of a vulnerable and disoriented sort. Holding an idea for more than a moment comes as an arduous feat, and the anxiety creeping within him keeps his fur standing on end.

Upon finally reaching the tunnels, ShadowClan's temporary dwelling, the deputy discovers his leader, Sabletuft, and an assortment of clanmates coddling one of the newly-appointed warriors. Vacant eyes train on Siltcloud's frame from afar. Her emerald hues, vestiges of ghastly memories which render the underground passage a haunting refuge. Smogmaw spares her no sympathy, for it was scarce in his heart to begin with, but he shan't protest if she wishes to sleep outside of the tunnels and serve as a distraction to any wayward bears.

"I don't suppose the 'monsters'll stray this close to the thunderpath," he remarks, venturing towards the maw of the tunnels and lowering himself into a painstaking stretch. "So long as she stays nearby, she won't be in danger's way." Sabletuft's proposal of staying in the trees is foolish at best, as they weren't ThunderClan nor SkyClan cats, but it's the best idea anyone has put forth. ShadowClan is now robbed of the protective treeline that encircles their camp, left exposed to any passing creatures in the night. "Is everyone holding up okay? Are we missing anyone, save for those who we already know about?"​

 
THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 13 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d
Dull eyes blink slowly as siltcloud finally notices she is not alone. Needledrifts silent attempt at companionship is a welcome sight, as she's not quite sure what to do with the sudden influx of attention turned her way. "No - I'm no good at climbing," she answers plainly, a frown tugging at her lips. Perhaps if she'd known something like this would happen again, that they'd have to flee the camp to return to such a terrible place - well, perhaps she would've tried harder to learn. But it's too little too late. crowkits offer catches her off guard - as does his appearance. She hadn't been paying much attention to the new arrivals lately, busy as she's been - when did this one show up? Another child left upon their borders she assumes - happens often enough. "You should stay with the queens - the tunnel is safer," "I... yes, thank you," she murmurs at chilledstars words, head dipping respectfully as the frail feline expresses her gratefulness. She doesn't have much else to say to those gathered, instead shuffling about the scattered undergrowth to find a more... suitable space. Anything is better than going down there.

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Siltcloud trembles, the noise bringing back memories long left for carrion. Granitepelt shares her distaste for the tunnels, and he can even understand the anxiety is brings bubbling up to the surface for her. He’d not cared for Briarstar, but no cat was unaffected by the brutality that was her nine deaths. It had been the first of many dark times for ShadowClan—the beginning of Pitchstar’s descent into insanity, among other things.

His Clanmates come to comfort Siltcloud, and he watches impassively. He would not be able to offer her the same thing, so he does not try. After the other cats have suggested solutions for his littermate, he says, “Grassfoot need not be bothered. I’ll stay with my sister. Starlingheart is busy tending to everyone, anyhow.” He blinks, his shadowy gaze meeting the dull shine of Siltcloud’s. “We’ll find somewhere.”
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
 
Frostbite understands Siltcloud completely. He doesn't like this tunnel either. Nothing good happened here. Nothing good ever will. He still remembers that day when Briarstar died.

He will make sure it doesn't happen again.

He sits outside the tunnel watching the marsh. If that bear wants to come this way, he'll take it's eyes. Surely he could do that much to it. Eyes are eyes. Soft, sensitive and squishy.

"I'll be keeping watch for those bears... Everyone can rest for now." He says.

He looks to Siltcloud and Granitepelt. "When you find a place, let me know. I'll make sure to keep it safe." He says.

Just because he doesn't like Granitepelt doesn't mean he wants to see him torn in half by a bear.

He doesn't want to see it happen to anyone.​
 
"I'll keep watch 's well." Agateheart's husky voice sounded through the shadows, as though the Thunderpath had seeped into his throat, reverbrating through each war-worn inflection and smog-tailed flick. It was strange to see the usually-jovial man in such low spirits, but even the effigy of stone soon crumbled underneath the weight of the fitful, wayward wind. And, like the wind, Shadowclan's luck also seemed to have such a capricious spirit. In all his moons of being alive, Agate had learned to expect misfortune to befall, but never to let it dampen his soul for long. Every storm had its fill, after all. The tabby tom stared up at the screaming monsters that seemed to offer Shadowclan no solace, as their baleful howl rolled like thunder above them, and their delicate claws raged along the black-tar trackways. Agate had always feared those terrible beasts, though he knew they had no other way. The warrior supposed it was a better option than facing the great, nightly beast of nightmares. "If there's anythin' I can do t'help, lemme know." He flashed a quick smile, the expression always so eager to flutter onto his threadbare countenance.​
 

The tiny dark tabby sat huddled near the mouth of the tunnel, his gaze hollow, fixed on seemingly nothing. Bears were much bigger and scarier than he ever could have imagined. Would they attack again? Not long ago was he dreaming of the day he'd be apprenticed, the thought gave him a mix of fear and excitement now.
Stormkit wasn't sure he wanted to get used to the barreling creatures above, however they were better company than the monsters that attacked. Hearing the others talking at the entrance his need for distraction gets the better of him, as he pads over slowly.
They were organizing a watch, and looking to make a nest outside the tunnel. Maybe he could help watch, his mind was too busy to try to sleep.

The kitten stops close to the group to see who is all around. "I could help watch too." he pipes up with a little bit of hope, watching might put his mind to ease, either that or he'd be one of the first to know. Ominous thought.
 
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