camp STORIES TO TELL ☾ OPEN TO ALL

[ThistleBack]

Stories, something he often enjoyed listening to on the streets as a stray kit. Any opportunity to find an old timer, kittypet or not to spare him a few words of wisdom of tale. He had always been a moth to that flame, a seeker of endless information, and to live behind the eyes of another. As a hungry angry kid, it was an easy world to delve into. Some things don’t change with time, especially after a long day training two cats. He likes to settle in and listen to those willing to speak.

The moon is young in the sky, and the bustle of camp lightens " It’s been so long since I’ve heard a proper story-telling. Surely, someone has a web to spin " he invites someone over while he clatters his teeth down his forelimb to itch the scabs from cuts lining his skin. barbed tongue rasping down the fur only for it to prop back into thorns of black.

" true or not... matters little to me " he insists, rolling his shoulders back to release the tension within. An attempt on his part to draw the community together within something other than duty, a rarity for him but he saw small tears in the seams of Skyclan unity. Tonight, he would do his part to stitch.

⛤ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛤

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  forty-eight mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
  — Father of Coyotecrest, Eveningsun and Scorpionpaw
  — mentoring Teeveepaw formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
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[Chickbloom]

Time had a way of melding together when Chickbloom was a kittypet. Morning to afternoon, afternoon to night, night to morning, the only way to tell anything was changing was the ever-growing staleness of the kibble in his bowl. Days blurred into one, the most interesting events being occasional conversations with his only two companions: the sun and the moon.

In contrast, there was always something going on in the forest. The comings and goings of each cat in skyclan was more than enough to make not just days, but even sections of days distinct. Morning birdsong was broken by smalltalk and stretching, slow yet steady preparation for the day ahead. Stiff silence was summoned in the afternoon, fierce focus and screaming muscles eventually rewarded with the taste of fresh squirrel’s blood. Evening brought with it celebration; small congratulations for contributions made as cats gossiped and ate, ready to repeat it all again.

Chickbloom had been here for moons now, but still occasionally found a yolk-splashed head spinning at the energy of it all. With how much happened in a single day, what incredible stories could those who’d lived their whole lives here share? And, in contrast, what could he possibly have to offer?

The spineless whelp shook a little as he sat down next to thistleback, trying to come up with something that would suitably impress the scarred tomcat. “O-One time-“ Chickbloom began before stopping immediately. What kind of a beginning was “one time”? Was that any way to start a story? The coward cleared his throat.

“O-Once, on a - a dark and - y’know - stormy night…I was sitting at the w-window in my twolegs’ den. It wasn’t the b-back window, though. That had a fence and - y’know -“ He was rambling. “S-Sorry…I was staring out the f-front window, looking towards the - the small thunderpath that ran through the neighborhood. I was watching the r-rain, I guess - anyway - all of a sudden, there was a big crash, and I saw - I saw two monsters, all mangled up in the thunderpath! Their twolegs got out and started arguing, I think…I guess the monsters couldn’t see in the storm or something…”

Chickbloom winced, only now aware that the story didn’t have a satisfying end, just more questions than answers. Amber eyes flicked to Thistleback, hoping for the older tomcat’s approval.​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

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Quill was no story -teller himself, and so he couldn’t really take fault with Chickblooms tale. At the very least it painted a decent enough picture of what had happened that night, and the chimera found he didn’t have any trouble following along.

”Those things are weird.” he remarked from where he was laying nearby. ”Have you ever noticed that they only wake up for the twolegs? We used to climb all over the sleeping ones when I was younger, but they never bothered us.”

He was sure they hadn’t been dead though, just still and quiet. As if they didn’t need to do anything at all (including breathe) until one of those upwalkers was in need of them. Some of them didn’t have twolegs at all, left to rot and rust. Sometimes, Quill wondered if the humans had abandoned them because they’d stopped waking up, or if they’d stopped waking up because they no longer had humans to call on them. And if it was the latter, did that mean they were just in a perpetual state of waiting?

Talk about depressing.

”So what happened to the monsters- are they still outside your twolegs nest then?”
[/i][/i] ​

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skyclan - male - 30 months (Feb 17th) - mated to Twitchbolt - a very tall, muscular chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

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