Jul 8, 2022
she struggles to be near them, to talk to them. they're all so alike, all so like her yet feel so far off and strange. her life had been isolated to the willow tree, it's all she's known. sure, some of these cats were from her younger days. where her conversations were much more free-spirited and they could all play in the waters together. those days are long gone, yet they remain so present in her recollections. all she's had since then was caraway...or she supposes it's willowroot now, and raccoon. talking with her now clanmates was hard, existing near them was hard.

she feels isolated, despite never truly being alone. not far off, she can catch lightningstone watching her. he's committed to his duties. is she much different? if she were to have been born in his path...had he been born in hers....would this rivalry continue? would they understand each other? clayfur, he struggles with the water but wouldn't she too? he's something kind and refreshing. the kits that run around know nothing of her plight, and she knew nothing of her parents.

it's exhausting, this constant weight of what to be, how to act. to, at the very least, be amiable to the world. the heat is dying down, she knows that the warm moons are soon closing, somehow, it feels like she's running out of time. still forms strange on her tongue. if she can't even speak the name she is given, how can she work alongside any other cat here?

the closest cat beside her is a father. someone she knew briefly and in passing in her kithood. he was always fairly kind to her, and he settled in so well. he's made a life for himself, and for once, buckgait can't relate. there's a tinge of envy on her tongue, his personality is much more inviting and calming than hers. the molly knows that each creature plays to different strengths. she's good at surviving, but that seems to be it.

"how do you do it?" it's something short and wavered, lacking her usual confidence as she looks towards @MUDPELT and awaits his reaction. they have spoken little, if at all. he was nothing of a chilldhood companion...but he wasn't a stranger. buck could use some sense of familiarity right now. "how do you be like them? i feel like some sort carp amongst salmon, y'know? fish outta water." she tries to make it light-hearted, but buck is sure that the tom before her can see her struggling.

Like the newly-dubbed Buckgait, the tom prefers the familiar. However, that isn't to say he's not adaptable. He had fought against many of these cats just a couple short moons ago. Now? They share tongues beneath the setting sun, catch prey for each other, build dens for each other. They're becoming a family, a clan. But still, he enjoys being around those he's always known. Growing up in the wetlands came with its perks, such as knowing the she-cat beside him when she was just a kit herself.

He perks his ears, blinking at her curiously as she speaks. He half-eaten fish lays abandoned at his paws as he cracks a grin at her metaphor. Good one! "Well, I guess it isn't much different from living in the colony in the pine forest. Just...more organized and, uh, secluded here. With a magical leader and Beesong talks to ghosts now so....there's that." He glances around them; so many friends, and many he still has yet to get close with. "I don't know...we don't really have a choice now, do we? This is our clan now, so we just...make the best out of it, y'know?" His cheery eyes drift towards the nursery. This place protects his family. He would never dream of leaving it. He looks back at her and flashes a smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here now. It feels right that we should be clanmates!"
as a cat who always felt like a bird without wings, a fish without gills, a cat without paws... she gets it. she gets it and she hates that. because why the hell does she have to relate to buckgait? barely spoken any words to her, and poppysplash doesn't want to. she barely wants to look in mudpelt's direction, because that fool of a tom cat proved her uncle right, even if he didn't know it. and oh, how she hates that. a rough growl leaves her tongue before she can even stop it. she doesn't want to. she is so annoyed by both of them that she just simply grabs a fish ( definitely not caught by her. who knows the last time she even caught a single piece of prey for her clan, or if she ever would. hunting was never to be her strong suit. ), and eats it, ears twitching at the conversation about having the make the best out of a situation that sucked.

make the best out of it? what a fucking way to think about it.

she thinks bitterly. of course you'd think like that, mudpelt. you barely can tell your left paw from your right. what in the name of the stars do you know? had buckgait asked for her advice, poppysplash would have ruined everything. poppysplash was not an optimistic cat. and she wasnt nice. she rubbed the scarring on her face with a huff, before just continuing to eat, ignoring the rest of their conversation. she just didn't care. it was a mystery how anyone tolerated her.

Chamomile had only caught the tail end of the conversation between Buckgait and Mudpelt, but that didn't stop the molly from grabbing her own piece of prey and settling down near to where Poppysplash was. She would give the clearly irritated she-cat a warm smile in greeting before speaking, "I'm super glad that we all get along so well. Adjusting to a new way of life can be hard for any cat."

The cream tabby takes a swift bite of her fish, savoring the taste before she looked to the three cats around her and purrs, "I for one am very happy to have met all of you, and I hope we can all grow to be friends!" Her tail would lash behind her as she spoke, and her head would tilt to the side in a charming gesture. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm in her voice or air, in fact, the chipper molly appeared quite genuine. She only hoped that one day she could be something other than the clan clutz and that Buckgait and the others would be willing to befriend her.


It was hard to explain, he really had no reason to be, but Smokethroat felt intimidated by the brown and white molly with the stern expression. As a cat who shared similar struggles of getting used to this, he had hoped to relate more or find a kinship but there was something about her aloof and cold stares that made him freeze like a deer in face of a monster's lights. Maybe it was like looking into a reflection of sorts, the cold chill of seeing something familiar and yet so contrasting. He felt he would never truly be able to understand his apprehension in approaching the she-cat in any sense of greeting, it wasn't as if she had done anything to him. Her and Cicadastar's personal grievances had nothing to do with himself nor how he went about his business, this felt more akin to being awestruck than anything. Hearing her and Mudpelt speak in passing had him falter as he went to pass by and continue on his way-something about the way the tom said 'make the best out of it' reminded him of an old saying Moss once told him and he found himself speaking it without really thinking, "Fortune favors flexible paws, when the breeze shifts direction you still move downwind..." Quickly realizing he was speaking out loud the tom lashed his tail in embarrassment and slouched as he kept walking forward with the purpose of some distance until he nearly walked into Chamomilewater and paused to give a sidestep. To the side he could see Poppysplash brooding about as she was won't to do and the jittery she-cat next to him was an endless stream of optimism despite her previous bumblings about; it was a good thing to see. Smokethroat wasn't sure how he felt about the word 'friend' but...well, little pawsteps after all. One step at a time.