SINGING BIRDS // joining.


Jul 2, 2022

// The kits aren't adopted out yet, but I'm just inserting them in here for Corvid's sake.

Ragged body on heavy fur swims across a river, two kits clinging to his unsettled and tangled fur. They squeaked, safe on their grandfather's large body- the touch of water on their paws making them whine out in displeasure. There's a grunt of reassurance from the elderly tom as he wrangles himself out of the river and onto land, tail lashing behind him. His joints ache, the cold water making them strain more than usual.

"Alright, kiddos. Down, down. 'yer makin' my hips crack! Gettin' so big, you two." Corvid croaks out as his grandchildren slide from his pelt, flicking mud and leaves off of their paws and claws. He shakes his fur out, but nothing changes- the matting soaks up the water, caking it to his scrawny form beneath the large amounts of white fur. He's an unsettling sight, and yet his grandchildren remain close to him on either side, pushing themselves to his sides to help balance his ancient body.

Then, as if graced with the voice of a lion- Corvid lets out a yell.

"I heard there's a new, uh.. Colony out in these neck of the woods! Uh.. 'm I suppose to say somethin' more?" He asked, leaning down to look at his grandchildren; but they shrug. They're no more educated than himself on the colonies split.
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Chamomile had missed her target by at least a tails length and as she landed on empty air, the water vole already dashed away thanks to a reed she had stepped on, she would groan in frustration and pout as she crouched close to the ground. "Great...I won't hear the end of it if I camp back empty-pawed again..."

The cream molly didn't have long to sulk, however, as she was surprised by a sudden loud yell. Chamomile scrambled to her paws and looked around quickly for the direction of the voice and she hurried towards it. The sight that greeted her was a strange one. An elder with matted fur soaked through and through with two younger cats attached to his flanks. A genuine concern would quickly overtake her features and she meowed worriedly, "Oh! Oh goodness, are you all alright?"

She would move to step closer, but immediately almost slip on the wet earth. Chamomile would catch herself quickly enough before she continued, "A colony? Oh! Um, yes!" She would offer the trio a warm smile, "We're called Riverclan! Are you three in need of help?"



Frost had been out exploring about deeper into the newly claimed Riverclan territory, trying to find good "meeting places" for her and Spider to meet up in secrets to delve into their plots on what to do about Riverclan now that they were on the inside with the group...trying their "hardest" to tear them down. Frost's movements were calm and moved with elegance before her gaze drifted to that of Chamomile's form and let a soft snort out. That she-cat... she was clumsy and seemed and did not pay attention to where she placed her paws.

Bi-colored eyes would watch the she-cat closely before following her towards the border, her eyes drifting towards Corvid and a concerned look drifted into Frost's gaze before she shook her head and took a place standing next to Chamomile, a gentle smile slipping on her maw. This guy looked to be on his last legs but perhaps they had come here seeking safety and shelter for the little ones. At first she allowed Chamolmile to speak before her tail thumped at the annoyance at the other's word. They had stolen this land, it was never them, but Frost nodded and kept a fake wide smile on her lips.

"What Chamomile said, we're growing in numbers, some of us were previously Loners who had joined once Riverclan decided to rear their head in and majority of us need help with learning the rivers so if you wish to join us, any of your knowedge would be wonderful" Frost said, hoping to seep a seed of guilt into Cham's guts for her little clan deciding to take a place that did not belong to them in the first place. "I am Frost by the way, I just joined this...little group" she beamed, still keeping a smile on her face, but her tone carried a slight bit of venom in it.
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Buck was going to be so pissed with them Was the main thought that echoed through Raccoons' little white head. Orange eyes moved from the glare of the blue river not too far from them to that of the reeds and foliage of the upper bank. The last few days the black legged cat had been- interested in that of the newly formed clan. Frost was a big part in that of their drive to seek more information, to know what this place would be like now. Was the clan going to have rules? Would it make it easier to survive? Was Frost part of this group now too? The dual eyes of the young cat flashed before Raccoon and they shook their head, of course she would! It would make sense- right?

the black and white cat though had begun to venture closer and closer to that of Riverclans' home. Curiousity peaked their senses, hyperfocusing all the scents and colors of the world to an extended point. Three voices carried on the wind as it rustled the reeds beside them, and those black ears perked up. Noting one of the voices belonged to Frost, but the other two where foreign. One was older, possibly an elder tom, and the other another she-cat. The words drifted by like lazy clouds on a summer afternoon, but nothing could be deciphored from them.

Raccoon got closer to the group of cats, spotting this scarred tomcat with two kittens at his side alongside a cream tabby she-cat. Frosts' pelt was something Raccoon could probably pick out in the dead of night on a new moon. What where they doing? Was this tom causing problems? White fur bristled along slim shoulders and they had half a mind to march up to demand what he wanted from the two mollies, but they had to hold themselves back. He didn't look like a threat, so why treat him like one?

The trail ends of Frosts' words graced their rounded black ears, and they gave a small head tilt. Needed knowledge of the river? Suppose an elder like this tom would be a good source of knowledge, but Raccoon felt jealousy bubble up in their throat. Burning and begging to let words spill out like that of a waterfall, free and never ending. They had knowledge of the river! They grew up here! Fur bristled once more for a moment, before they licked it down with a small huff to themselves. No, no, clam down it'll be okay They thought to themselves while taking a few deep breaths.

A introduction would soon take place afterwards, stating that Frost had just joined the little group they had going on the river bank. Was Spider with them as well? The tom seemed not so keen on joining the clan, but they never seemed to be apart from one another. At this time, Raccoon deicded to make themselves known as they nudged aside willow leaves as they hung gracefully from the branches, "Uh-Hi?" Was the brilliant words that came from the cats heart-shaped face. Oh great, way to make an impression.

− ♱ ABOUT : they were finally settling along the riverside ; slowly earning their sea legs and constructing what will be their camp. cicada watches them with what seems like the kindling of pride, his mottled coat melding into the dark river water and undergrowth. they were adjusting, a good bit better than the man had originally anticipated. stragglers linger along their borders, felines that now seek refuge in their clan. he can't say he blamed what joiners they've accumulated, as much as he side - eyes them still. what little opposition they'd received dwindled in importance with their growing numbers and it would make sense for the fur along his shoulders to stop bristling in the shadows now, frigid gaze to stop flitting wildly as if at any moment, one of rain's former lackeys would happen upon his newfound home and linger in the silence until his back was turned. trauma, he knew. it was the trauma that now hummed in his head, a mantra of static and beating bee wings that play in his skull with each moment of unconsciousness he achieved. it would make sense for him to sink into his nest, lined with river reed and soft, cool moss and rest, knowing his pursuers stand beyond the rushing water.

it would make sense.

a group begins to form -- their scent catching on the breeze and carrying towards him and the man feels his head tilt minutely, maw parting to taste the air. strangers. his heart skips slightly, the first pangs of panic spiderwebbing over his sternum and he takes a deep breath, pivoting his body to head towards the source. they come into view easily, quickly, and as his pace slows in response to the lack of tangible violence, he takes silent attendance. familiar faces, along with three new ones. a flat - muzzled, alabaster tomcat accompanied by two teetering kittens. his throat clicks on a swallow, pupils flexing ; flat - muzzled. he thinks of the only other creature he knew of that bore that same curse ; that small, obscene, knobby - legged oversized squirrel of a tom in what was now skyclan. he knew not his name, did not care to. even his voice grated the edges of the tom's memory, glimpses of skirmishes now paling in comparison to their great war. the creature had made a widow of briar, and it seemed he didn't think an ounce lesser of himself for it. cicada almost wished he had that same pleasure.

the leader of riverclan slinks in between chamomile and racoon, giving them all a small, tired smile before turning his pale eyes to corvid, " my name is cicada, the leader of this colony. welcome to riverclan. " his accented vocals come openly, orbital ears twitching forward to express no hostility. his gaze slips downward and his smile widens just slightly, the hard lines of his eyes softening as he observes the kittens. they were poised on each side of their grandfather, balancing the elder's waterlogged body, " and hello to you, little warriors. " cicada trills, before directing his attention once more to the patriarch of their little family, warmth still quirking the rubber black lines of his maw. chamomile had already questioned what was needed so he does not repeat her, only giving a short flick of the curled tip of his tail at frost's lightly barbed words. pity, he supposed. he gives no other indication that he hears, intending to treat her publicly as she was − an indignant child, " have you traveled far? "

  • CICADA ; he / him, roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
    − tall black smoke tortie chimera with icecap eyes and curly fur, homosexual
    − speaks with a german accent, former marshlander, penned by antlers

  • none.