camp SEARCHING IN THE WALLS \ resurfacing

[TWITCHBOLT]

The sun had not been shining, days ago.

In seclusion, seperated from his mate physically, and from everyone emotionally, Twitchbolt had forgotten that the weater would change- forgotten that the rain had to stop, and would cease mingling his blood with the mud. Figfeather's cold regard stuck like a shard of ice in his mind. Orangestar's ill-hidden disapproval, burning in umber eyes, were braned on his memory. All he could do was remind himself, a maddened mantra, that this was for the best.

I disagree, Orangestar had said, but ultimately had allowed him to bury his future in the muck, to spit on it. Removing a tumour was a painful thing, though- wasn't it? The process was ugly and unpleasant, but eventually new flowers would bloom beneath their feet. Twitchbolt was not a summer rain, nourishing the plants. He was a thunderstorm, violent, felling trees- and predictable in its tumult. Everyone had seen it coming. Everyone knew it was for the best.

Emerging from the medicine den, the bicolour tom let forth a hoarse sigh. Eyes lifted to look at him- faces gawked, no doubt. Twitchbolt jittered more violently than ever- spasming eyelids, chattering teeth, flexing claws, purling muscles. It was the worst he'd looked in a long time. Who would expect anything else?

The cat who threw away an ideal destiny. Who slapped his leader in the face. It's for the greater good, he knew it- it was for SkyClan's benefit that they should never have him as their leader, but no doubt any cat would glance his way and think him utterly pathetic. In deputyship, he had not been good enough- a baffling choice, an utter mess. Back down a step, he was a coward brimming with disrespect. There was no winning.

Pathetically, he shivered his way over to the freshkill pile. Someone was staring. "What?" It came out harsher than he would have liked. ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[CANDORPAW]

Even if technically, he could not yet attend a clan meeting, news traveled quickly! Especially past ears like his own. Orangestar's deputy was no longer, not slain in va-lient battle, fallen protecting his love ones, but... here. Here and just not deputy anymore. He had no idea that deputies could do anything but become leader! Why, oh why would this ever happen?

But then, as he leaves Fireflypaw's den, the answer is revealed to him so clearly and shockingly that Candorkit cannot help but gasp in his revelation! Twitchbolt is... deathly ill! Perhaps even cursed by a foe deemed too scary to share with his kind! A kit he may be in name, but he was more than equipped to hear tales of such evils. In fact, it is best that he does— so that he can be raised with vengeance in his soul, and tear through his training knowing that one day he would avenge Twitchbolt! Determined, Candorkit gazes upon him.

His questioning what does not deter him. After all, Candorkit is strong and steadfast! (He's pretty sure that word means "tough"). " Sir Twitchbolt! " Candorkit dips his head in a show of upmost respect. " If I may, I suggest that you go straight back to the medicine cat's den! You appear very sick! Is it too strong for even Fireflypaw to cure...? " very seriously, he asks. it's a mater of up-most importance. " Tell me! What great battle ensued, and who is the call-prit that cursed you! I swear I will not rest until they are brought to justice!"​

 

[edenberry ?!]

When they'd said Candorkit was noble, they had not expected him to take it and run wild with the concept... He galivants as a tiny hero of his people, taking charge to protect them and defend them with kitten-sharp claws and a tongue that stumbles over words much too big for someone his age. Twitchbolt doesn't need a hero though... not in that kind of way... and seems agitated to even be standing where he might be perceived by anyone, much less a nosy kit who asked too many questions.

"At ease, noble Candorkit," they purr, brushing past the squeaky boy with a gentle smile, "We will need your strength soon, but not quite yet." These kittens were a handful compared to the likes of Fluffypaw and her litter-mates... who were much softer, much more shy (though with a mother like Butterflytuft maybe that's to be expected). Their gaze moves towards their shivering friend and they try their best not to make it obvious how painful it is to see him so shaken, squinting the corners of their eyes kindly as they speak, "It's alright."

"Do you have any moss balls left, Candorkit? We could cast a spell Miss Hazelbeam taught me to protect Twitchbolt... that sound good?" And would spare the former deputy a few moments of interrogation...

---

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 〰 i can still hear you sing

• -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 12 moons
  -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
  -- color #728c69​

​

 

[weedpaw]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Twitchbolt's sharp question snaps Weedpaw's eyes to the freshkill pile. He nearly drops the moss that he's gathered and is sorting through before he heads to the warriors' den to freshen up some nests. Weedpaw stands idly by as Candorkit squeaks at the lead warrior, promising to help seek revenge or find a cure for Twitchbolt's affliction. The showmanship of his former denmate is not lost on him, and he feels his lip quirk in his own amusement. He has so much to focus on now that he's an apprentice

Edenberry tries to distract Candorkit, take him out of the crosshairs of Twitchbolt's ire. Weedpaw avoids staring at the lead warrior when he moves to offer some of his fresh moss to Candorkit. "Here," he holds out a pawful to the kit "It isn't a ball, but you know how to make one, right?" He's sure that the warrior's intention had been to get Candorkit away from Twitchbolt, but he hopes that this distraction will be enough to suffice.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 
  
  

  WEEDPAW — HE/HIM ･ 6 MOONS ･ SKYCLAN APPRENTICE ･ PENNED BY CARAT!

  longhaired black tomcat with low white spotting. born 11/9/23 and ages realistically 1 week every Thursday. Follow along with his growth here!

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[TWITCHBOLT]

Guilt immediately struck him upon the realisation that he'd just snapped at Candorkit- thankfully, the tomkit didn't seem to let it bother him, instead proceeding on a tirade, advice swept, that he should head back to the medicine den. Had it come out of anyone else's mouth it might have bubbled him over- but, even if he was a cowardly wreck, undeserving and scorned, he would not spit magma at a kitten, shoo him away. He was not like that, not like them.

Edenberry, a steadfast friend despite himself, someone who... tried, even when they were dealing with a complete mess... swooped in to be his rescuer, warmly fashioning a rapport with Candorkit- and Weedpaw was not far behind. Twitchbolt let his fur shiver flat. With a look of some softness, even behind the agony that wouldn't stop writhing beneath his skin, he regarded Candorkit for a few moments. "You're k-kind to offer, but... the culprits are long gone." Those who placed the curse upon him... his name, his temperament, his general worthlessness... dead to a fox, eons ago now. "There are other cats who- who need a protection spell much more than me." He gave Edenberry a grateful, lingering glance.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[CANDORPAW]

At ease, Noble Candorkit. At ease. This is a phrasing he quite likes. At Edenberry's command, he turns his attention. Shoulders square and a determined look hardens, and then goes soft. We will need your strength soon, but not quite yet " Oh yes, I understand, " in a less - heroic tone, he says. " We lay in wait. " A demure (but secretly suspicious) glance passes to the corners of camp, to take note of any shady looking figures... Can moss balls truly cast spells? Who knew they were so, um... verse-uh-tile.

" Yeah! Certainly! " he has plenty of moss balls... but dear Weedpaw saves him the trip in the form of moss offered right away. " Thank you! Of course!" he tells him. No aspiring warrior could not know how to make a moss ball... He would get to work at once.

It seems Twitchbolt thinks this unwise, though... Candorkit pricks an attentive ear. Long gone? " Truly? " a frown settles onto his face. He could only be discontent, able to avenge his deputy — lead warrior, in the way he ought to... Perhaps he could avenge him in other ways then, like making sure it can never happen again! " Nonsense! " he tells him earnestly. " SkyClan needs warriors like you. " With a flick of his tail, he says. Naturally, then, he would set to work.​