camp SHOW UP IN MY PJS // post-gathering

[SOOTSTAR]

SOOTSTAR​

The moon was now tucked underneath the earth’s blanket, Scorchstreak her patrol had been gone officially for a single night. Sootstar imagines they’d have to be past the moonstone by now, their paws treading land unknown. She walks into the clearing, the grass beneath her paws wet with dew as she observes how much her clan has shrunk. Usually mornings were filled with loud yawns and quiet chatter, but all was silent. The rest of the clan appeared equally as lost as her. Sitting down next to the fresh-kill pile she paws out the cold, left over hindquarters of a rabbit. Before taking a bite she reminices to any who would listen, ”I’ve not seen the clan this small since when I led us from the marshland into the hills.” Something not many were likely to remember, most had not been apart of the clan yet- let alone born for it! The thought makes her feel old, did flecks of white begin to pain her muzzle?

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

✦　　. 　 ˚　.   He returned to camp with his head lowered in unease. It was quite unlike him, yet perhaps expected nonetheless. For his first night as deputy to be spent sending the others off– it was not a pleasant memory, even if it is his to keep. The silence of their camp is something that he very nearly blames himself for. Irrational thought. One that he is lost to in this terrible and quiet morning. His kittens would scramble from Wolfsong's den soon, his mate and his apprentice soon after, if they were not already out and about. With the sick so far from camp, it only adds to the loneliness of it all. They are few and they are miserable.

He eats a lark in similarly miserable silence, his head only lifting when Sootstar offers her moment of reminiscence. It draws the deputy's brow down into a contemplative scrunch. "I could not imagine what it was like, to live this way for longer than a night. Already I have lost my mind in the silence." She had seen the beginning of WindClan. From its declaration to this very breath he inhales, shoulders lifting, Sootstar has been a part of it. She is as much a part of WindClan as the moorland breeze. "Was it an adjustment for you, at the time?"

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.  SUNSTRIDE. FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
  
  
  ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw never knew a Clan so small. She already misses the lot of them - Scorchstreak, Sedgebounce, Mouseflight... it scares her to think of the possibility of none of them returning. Of the Clan staying this small and possibly diminishing further. What would the forest do then? Would WindClan be forced to disband? She thinks not - she hopes not. But it's clear that her hopes are but leaf litter in the wind sometimes.

Sootstar speaks in a soft, almost saddened tone, and Sunstride speaks. Sunstride, their new deputy, now that Badgermoon turned on them. The cyclical nature of their traitors only becomes troublesome now that their numbers have dwindled so much. She tilts her gaze from one to the other and back again, unsure of if she has anything to add.

"It's certainly an adjustment now," Cottonpaw hums, curling her tail around her paws. "C'mon, Sunstride - puff up that fur. You can be the size of three cats if you do that. We'll be less lonely then," her jest hurts a little, but she tries to hold her smile nonetheless.​

 

[beetlenose]

The gathering party has returned, and Beetlenose struggles to find that she is perturbed by the lack of Sedgepounce among them. Of course she had known that he was to depart for the cure, but between the jealousy she feels (it should have been me instead of that airhead) and the concern that eats her (what if he doesn't come back the same?), unease ebbs at her mud-dusted paws, worming its way into each nick she's earned underground. Sootstar's comment about the marshland days forces a snort of amusement through her ruddy nose. The scarab-named warrior approaches the small party, tail flicking.

"I was hardly old enough to talk back then," she remembers, half-fond, half-morose, mostly monotonous. The nostalgia is, perhaps, a nice distraction if nothing else. Her copper eyes squint against the sun as it rises, casting kaleidoscopes through the dewy grass, and she slides her gaze to Sunstride as he speaks, her own ears flicking. Their new deputy– hopefully he'd last longer than their other traitors. Hyacinthbreath, Dandelionwish, Badgermoon... she knows them all by name, has known all of their faces even if not well. StarClan damn them all. He asks if it had been an adjustment, and Cottonpaw answers in the present, and Beetlenose again puffs air through her hickory-smoke maw.

"At least there's less mouths to feed now," she rumbles, amber gaze turning pointed across the moors. Their sick were rotting in that badger sett and they now had half their healthy warriors to care for them. Beetlenose unsheathes a pale claw to pick the thought of food from her pearly teeth. "Makes my job easier."​

 

[SNAKEHISS]

The journey cats are hailed as brave and courageous for undertaking such a huge responsibility, but Snakehiss knows why Sootstar chose them in the first place. They were all disposable! It was no question as to why none of the Moor Queen's own kin were chosen for this dangerous mission. Even her own lead warrior was just an outsider at her core, someone who could be easily replaced should she sacrifice herself for the sake of the clans. He knew very well what game the leader was playing.

Snakehiss had been bitter and resentful for being overlooked ( and truthfully, he still was ) but at least he was going to remain in camp where it was safe.

To Cottonpaw, his default companion nowadays, Snakehiss grumbles, "It's certainly much quieter around here already, wouldn't you say?" Without the jabber of Scorchstreak and Badgermoon's brood, the joke-cracking of Sedgepounce, the running of Mouseflight's mouth, the stuttering and stammering of Periwinklebreeze.

After what's happened, Sootstar would probably pray that Scorchstreak and her children don't return. Too much traitorous blood ran in WindClan as it was.

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; warrior ( moor runner ) of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

His mind lingers on the departure of those beginning their trek towards the mountains. There was a lot of uncertainty that came with a mission like this. What if they finally made it to their destination only to find there was hardly any lungwort growing there? Or worse, none at all? What if the majority of them never made it back? He would venture to believe they were too weak to accomplish their task to begin with. But he did not assume starclan would be so cruel to their favored and most devout clan. He tunes back into the conversation happening around him, nibbling on the thigh of a rabbit as his mother brings up days of old. Windclan's initial founding.

With piqued interest his tongue swipes over chocolate lips. Unlike Sunstride the silence does little to vex him, but he does have a question of his own. "How long did it take for your number to swell?" With the mooreland queen's charisma he doubted it would have taken long. Shifting his weight he settles into a seated position. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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