camp so much more than perfect // cleaning up

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw can remember a few weeks before, when they were busy cleaning butterfly wings and loose petals from their little hollow. Now they fret over soot and ash coating almost everything they have. She would try to be optimistic - some things can be replaced! However even she cannot ignore that much of what can be 'replaced' has burned just as badly out in the moors.

The she-cat spends time sweeping loose moss into a ball. Some of it hasn't burnt to a crisp, and that that has been dyed black surely can be rinsed off in the sun-warmed pool... right? Ah - it's worth a shot. She'd sooner regret not trying at all and allowing her Clanmates to sleep on the sandy floor instead. "Is anyone too busy?" She asks her fellow Clanmates - at least, the others that have decided to spend time clearing their camp of miscellaneous debris, "I'm going to take a walk to the sun warmed pool. Just... didn't want to go alone," she huffs. The fact of the matter is that despite the fire finally being over, they have an almost equal evil in Granitepelt. And she severely doubts he would spare her if he had the chance to encounter her.​

 

[LAVENDERTWIST]

It was scary seeing the remnants of camp and Lavenderpaw had no clue how really feel about all of it. She had witnessed fires before set by two-legs in strange pits but never like this. Quietly, she walked along and looked at the charred aftermath of curdled black grasses. Blue eyes heavy with a sadness she couldn't quite describe. Windclan had only been her home for a brief while but she had always loved the beauty of the moorland.

Cottonpaw's voice caused her short ears to perk with intrigue. I should make myself more useful. Trotting back to her resting clanmates the curly molly nodded with a small smile. "I could bring ya' there. I'm not too busy " She could understand the others worries and empathized with Cottonpaw. Stepping beside the ashen cat the former mouser nods her rounded head and puts on a bigger grin. "Tell me where ya' need me." Her drawling meow is bright and gentle all the same. Hoping to rub off a little positivity within all the gloom. ​

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  ▸ cheetohpuff, lavenderpaw
  ▸ SH cream tabby/seal point w/low white and blue eyes
  ▸ amab, trans fem, she/her, 11 moons
  ▸ ex-kittypet/barncat, moor runner apprentice of windclan
  ▸ homosexual/romantic, single, crushing on scorchstorm
  ▸ child of npc x npc ; sibling to cherry and jelly
  ▸ "speech", thoughts, powerplay
  ▸ peaceful and healing powerplay accepted
  ▸ penned by tasmagoric, tags, heartchart, art
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  strength
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  stamina
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  agility
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  hunting
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  swimming
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  climbing
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  charisma
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[Quietcrow]

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ Going about his day lately has felt like a weird fever dream. Perhaps eventually he’d wake up to butterflies on flowers and prey aplenty. Reality has a bunch more soot, sand, and charred remains. A part of him knows that the moor won't look like this forever, but that didn't stop his mind from spiraling. Windclan had lost everything that made it beautiful except the cats that refused to abandon it.

Too often, he'd find himself sitting and staring, comparing the before and after, until he could work up enough strength to find something to do. He was shaken out of his daze by Cottonpaw's voice asking for company in the sun-warmed pool.

He sat for a moment longer, glassy-eyed, then rose to slowly follow after Lavenderpaw. He was less cheerful than the other apprentice, but he was able to manage a small smile. “I’m not busy,,, Can I join?” Hopefully spending time with others would help get him out of his funky mood.

ooc Information

• ooc: —
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  Quietpaw — he/him ･ 8 moons ･ apprentice, Windclan ･ PENNED BY @Ghostunes!

  A timid mostly black tom with white markings on his chest and backTags ​

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[SNOWGLARE]

જ➶ "If you need someone older to accompany all of you I don't mind going." Afterall, he finds himself finishing up his task of pushing some of the debris onto the outskirts of the camp almost finished. His paws are blackened with the soot from the crumpled and carboned grasses that used to speak of the moorland. "I could use the trip to try and clean my paws." He chuckles with amusement given that he doubts that this will come off in one wash. And even then he is pretty sure it will be a while before his paws ever become truly pale once more. Especially since he will be walking along the remains of the moorlands that have been dyed like ink.

Shifting from his former job the large and scarred tom makes his way over to the grouping of apprentices, shaggy fur shifting from the breeze that blows. He can not wait for when the air doesn't smell like burning smoke against his tongue. ​

 

[LILYPAW ✞]

✞ The intense heat and impenetrable veil of smoke had frightened Blizzardpaw—but she is an apprentice now, and that means she has to fight things even if they scare her. She couldn’t stay with Lakekit and the other kits when they moved to RiverClan, so she’d only been able to follow closely after Webthorn as the older tunneler began to help dig trenches. Their lungs have ached since the fires first started, but now the pain has begun to dull. The pale-furred apprentice now trails after their mentor as Webthorn makes their way around the camp, sweeping aside various crisped and blackened debris from the fire.

When Cottonpaw asks for an escort to the sun-warmed pool, the albino apprentice’s oversized ears perk up. Of course the older apprentice can’t go on her own… What if some terrible danger awaits her out there? What if rogues have swarmed the pool, waiting for this exact chance to strike? What if the territory has changed, and she gets lost somewhere out there in the charred wilderness? What if she never returns, and days later someone finds her-

They blink harshly, shaking their head. Glancing to Webthorn, they ask cautiously, "Can I…" The older cat nods, giving their approval, though they then stalk off to do some more cleaning up. With that taken care of, Blizzardpaw wobbles their way over to the gathered cats. They take up space beside the much larger albino, taking a moment to simply stare up at him, unblinking. Snowglare is a strange name… he doesn’t look like he’s glaring. But he does look like snow—just like them. The little white tunneler frowns at the realization, memories of biting cold making them shudder. "I’d like to come, too," they offer, trying to sound at least marginally more confident than Quietpaw.

※ ·❆· ※ can and i cannot see

• ooc: —
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  BLIZZARDPAW ❯❯ any pronouns, windclan tunneler apprentice
  ⭃ tiny albino with pale, near-colorless pink eyes. friendly and cheerful, yet strange and a bit morbid.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Her actions were sluggish. Labored. Weighed down both by her growing pregnancy and the soot and ash that continued to be carried into their lungs by the wind. Yet still she persisted on stubbornly, padding out of the nursery so that she could assist on the cleaning up that was going on. At least she wasn't forced to move particularly fast in order to help out, white paws carefully scraping up ashy shreds of burnt flowers. A sight that caused her chest to ache, mind traveling back to only a little over a moon ago when she had first gathered up bundles of flowers for her nest. Now they were all gone, torn apart and burned into absolute nothingness by the destruction that the twolegs had brought to their moors.

Her blood boiled as she thought of it, an agonized gasp leaving Rattleheart as she forced herself to unclench her jaw. There was still an edge of burn to each breath that she took in and let out, ever since they had properly returned to the territory.

Cottonpaw's voice pulled her from her anxious spiral, claws releasing what remained of the petals she had been crushing beneath them. As much as she would've loved to take a trip to the Sun-Warmed Pool, she knew it was an even worse idea than her venturing out to help with the cleaning. Especially when the unknown threat of Granitepelt still lingered in the shadows, eager to dig his claws into anyone he could - including a pregnant queen. "I don't think I'll be able to go... but you all be careful, alright? Snowglare, make sure you keep an eye out for anyone and grab backup if needed. I don't trust anything after..." After Heathermoon. The words lingered on the tip of her tongue, yet she found she wasn't able to spit them out. Not when his death still sat heavily on her shoulders.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

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• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 51 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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