Sep 22, 2022
Not a soul lay awake at this time of night.

None 'cept him, of course. Eh, he barely counted, anyways.

His neck cricks upwards from its previous position, snug tight against the rest f' his frame. Gleefully awake, he lies, in the dead of night. Bodies sleep soundly all around 'im. Can tell by the rise and fall of their thinning frames. just barely visible with the light of the moon, peekin' through the gaps in the bramble. It was perfect.

Barkbreath rises, stands in the middle of the den, back arched in a half-stretch, half-tryin-not-to-get-sliced-by-the-thicket. With n' exaggerated stretch (the creak of bones can be heard echoin' throughout the whole place) he makes his way for the exit, uncarin' towards any he may bump into. Not quite intentional, not quite unintentional, the facade of an old man whose already lost his thunder, going dull in the mind, wobblin' on his toes. Naw, not him, not yet. But they didn't have t' know that.

He continues his show of age as he pulls himself from beneath the thorns. His body flattens n' stretches, he rumbles a satisfied sound of relief, half-purr, half-somethin'. Bronze gaze lifts to the moon, almost reverent, for a second. And then, he throws his head back. His chords r' already stretched in anticipation, a grating meowl of a song. How the hell did that ditty go? "S' i was walkin' one mornin' fer pleasure, i spied a lil' hunter a'ridin' alone! His head was thrown back n' his tail wus a jinglin', an' as he approached he wus singin' dis song:" he stands on the tips of his toes, takes in another breath b'fore the bellowin', "ERRRR— WHOOPIE-TI-YAE-YO, GET ALONG' LIL' BIRDIES, IT'S YOUR MISFORTUNE, AN' NOT MY OWN—!"
would you do anything for me?
Ravenkit awoke with a start, her ears flattening against her head at the nightmarish sound that had torn her from her slumber. Rolling over, she attempted to burrow herself deeper in her nest, hoping someone else would take care of the clamor. She had training in the morning, and she had no desire to arrive to it sleep deprived. When no one did, however, she tore herself from her nest with a low hiss, and stalked toward the exit of the apprentice's den.

If looks could kill, the disheveled elder that ruined her rest would be dead. Though, she doubted he needed any help in that regard. The old man looked like he had one paw in the grave already. She had hoped her expression would be enough for him to knock it off and shut up already, but apparently not.

She approached him, glaring at him all the way. "It is not the hour for singing." The midnight molly informed him curtly, her tone clipped and cold.

So I walk alone down the darkest roads

It was the creak of the old man's bones that first awoke Canarywatcher from her sleep but she easily brushed it by, falling back into a light slumber however, Barkbreath had other plans it would seem. Dawn barely breaking its way through the horizon when there was a sound from the old screechy man himself, booming throughout the camp, echoing, and Canarywatcher could not help but scrunch up her nose in displeasure before slipping onto her paws and making her way out of the warrior's den. She had half the mind to hit the older man across the head but,
silently pray that Starclan would soon enough allow a twig to fall onto him and end his miserable tyranny across the clan.

He had woken up even the kits, which one, Ravenkit, seemed all more displeased by the tom and she let a soft annoyed sigh come from her maw as she made her approach, a look of annoyance darkening her ocean-blue eyes. "Barkbreath if you do this one more time, you will be sleeping outside near the carrionplace" she threatened, though not like she had any power over such a thing, being awakened from a peaceful sleep was never a fun thing to happen and she was not in the mood for the elderly man's bat shrieking of a voice in the early hours of morning (if you can even call it that).

For one reason or another, Ribbitpaw's nights have been sleepless lately.

It's hard for him to settle into his nest. But, tonight, he finally does. Tonight, nestled into moss, the apprentice finally sleeps, and finally gets a moment of peace.

A moment of peace that's so quickly taken away from him.

A screech of a song echoes through camp, jolting Ribbitpaw awake. Green eyes are wide as he looks around in alarm, half-asleep panic clouding his mind. Though as the veil of sleep lifts further, he realizes what's going on. A grumble escapes from his mouth as he stands, brown paws heavy as he steps out of the apprentices' den.

"Barkbreath!" he shouts, annoyance and frustration thick in his groggy voice. He doesn't bother to keep his volume down - it was clear by Canarywatcher and Ravenkit's presence that Ribbitpaw wasn't the only one woken up by Barkbreath's... antics. "Can't you do that when cats aren't trying to sleep?"
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Boarjaw is a heavy sleeper; the large tom could sleep through nearly anything.

Anything, except for Barkbreath's horrid singing, which sounds more like a coyote trying to howl while choking on a rat than actual singing. Boarjaw's head snaps up, eyes still bleary from sleep blinking as he tries to decipher what is actually happening. "Uhh? Does anyone else hear that?"

Others did, in fact, hear it. Grumbles arise from the nests around him, and Boarjaw snorts as he trudges out after Canarywatcher, albeit with less silent grace. The moonlight illuminates the culprit of the night, beaming down on Barkbreath.

Oh. That's why the noise makes Boarjaw wants to rip off his ears, then. The burly warrior already thinks that Barkbreath's regular voice is grating to listen to. It comes as no surprise to learn that his singing is even worse. "I don't think the rats would appreciate that very much," Boarjaw comments after Canarywatcher. Then, his deadpan expression shifts onto the object of scrutiny. "Hey, I know that you're senile and everything in your old age, but maybe don't practice your screamin' in the dead of night. Pitchstar might send you off to live with the kittypets." Please, send him off to live with the kittypets.
❝ holding it together with one loose string. ❝
the claw-scraping howling of a tune had startled geckoscreech awake, head jerking up from it's initial resting position on her paws in a mild disoriented manner as darkness bleeds into her vision trying to adjust from being pulled out of slumber so suddenly. it wasn't like she was the only one either, many warriors who had been distrubed by the grating sounds were slinking out of the den with a tired, twisted up expression to figure out who in the world decided to ruin the peace of night.

ugh, knowing there was no chance she was going to fall back asleep she had pushed herself up from the comforts of her nest and followed after the slow-growing crowd into the moon-lit clearing. geckoscreech dragged herself to stand besides boarjaw, irritation prickling at the nape of her neck when aqua eyes landed upon the source of it all. barkbreath. of course he'd be croonin' to his hearts content at this time of night without a care in the world.

"i doubt even the kittypets would be able to deal with him either". she'd grunt out, fluffing ivory fur against the icy chill. honestly, that bone-rattling elder was a mystery. geckoscreech would not be surprised at all if they put him far away from camp only for him to just appear right back where he stood looking none the wiser. "he should consider moving him near the thunderpath so the monsters could bellow over this incessent howling. . ."