ripple colony SURFIN’ USA [ ᨒ ] MEET & GREET

[CICADASTAR]

the mud is thickest here. he’s nearly up to his ankles in it, each step a sodden sink of ivory into over damp mush. the scent of stranger is thickest here, the waterline wavering pitifully just above the mulch - ridden ground, the smell of minnow carcass hitting his nostrils long before he witnesses the bone rot creatures lying half - picked where they met their beached fate. the strip of land down past the strip of river dividing them from the beech copse is near barren past the undergrowth, reed splaying over over where the dirt is dry and cracking beneath the greenleaf sun. hydration has not touched this land in a time, the smell of crowfood and stagnant, humid air threatening to twist his nose in disgust. he bites further into the spine of his caught fish, prays the deep of blood and white meat overcomes the stink of nature rescinding what it so graciously offered them.

not for the first time, the man considers it turning out less in his favor. a waste of time, resources — his chin holds high despite the weaver of nerves biting inward at his rattling chest. it is a great relief knowing his cats dot the reed upwind — cindershade and her patrol rests in waiting, ears perked for signs of trouble.. and so he continues, lets the mud soak thin forelimbs until his mind is little more than phantom memories of burning stone and roaring monsters. a blind glimpse of pale white fur and thunderstorms ; he thinks of damp, stony tunnels built on childhood, thinks of the scrapes on too - thin shoulder blades when a familiar, bicolored molly pinned his scrawnier self. but the earth here still smells like fish, albeit withering ones, and he is no longer distant cicada. boneripple is no longer bone, and roseal — icicle eyes flit to the side, jaw locking as not to take an accidental clenching bite of the prey hanging limp in his teeth. these meadowlands were ever changing, and so were they.

the cat that had been sent to lead them from their meet up pauses briefly aside a finely weaved arch, nestled in an embankment along the drained riverbed. mud conceals them, hidden away ; and while not as big as a clan, community thrives within. he can hear it, angling tall audits forward, heavy lidded eyes darting curiously about the wicker entrance as if he could tell the inner workings through the minute splits in their craftsmanship. his tail lifts towards the patrol at his back — a motion to pause, to wait and listen. but after only a second more of hesitation, the silvery loner dips their head and noses their way between a drape of fallen willow branch and twine.

the clearing within is not unlike the trek there, though impeccably cleaner than the dredges of mud and crowfood. the ground is dusted solid, At the heart of the camp lies the muddy pit, a shallow depression surrounded by dry, hardened earth. It is here that the loners sought solace, clearly paw - dug pits create a makeshift dens, open nests settles beneath swaying willows. mud walls of the den offer some respite from the scorching heat, and some curl in their hollows now, settled and expectant. all eyes lift when they enter. all eyes drop to the fish in their mouths soon after, ” hello, ripple colony! “ an attention - drawing call, rumbling and easy - toned. his tail flicks, a dispersing motion for the patrol behind him, ” we meet again.. and we’ve not come empty pawed. “ insects sway about low, stagnant water and muck and cicadastar twitches an ear to shoo flies away from thin, towering membrane. a smile dances his maw, a charm just right of wolfish, ” would be much harder to set things right on such empty bellies, ja? “ and starving cats were of little use, after all. he’d not risk a drowning over an empty stomach and woozy head. the promise of more hangs in the air as he dips his head, aiming to start a small deposit of freshkill upon a particularly flat expanse of dirt, tips his head to incline his patrol to do the same.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i. THEYRE HERE. AND THEY BROUGHT MCDONALDS ( fish )
  @Snakeblink @Hazepaw @willowroot @Mosspaw @Aspenhaze @MUDPELT @FERNPAW
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 50 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• "speech"
  

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[SNAPPING TIMBER]

Tension winds its way about their camp. Almost as bad as their first nights on the move, when the world before them was even more uncertain. Snapping Timber had counseled them to trust then, and he has done so again now. This is an opportunity. This is how they may survive the nights to come, if nothing more. He is still afraid. Though it does not show on the elder's face, trepidation has made a home in his throat. The seasons behind him mean almost nothing now. This is not a life he has lived before. None of them have. Knowing they would come is not a comfort nor a threat, yet something else entirely. Hope mixed with fear.

To see them enter... Snapping Timber both relaxes and tenses at once. He rests towards the back of their camp himself, his belly to the cool dirt and his lanky, hollowed frame curled somewhat upon itself. Scruffy fur hides most of his loss. Unlike the remainder of his colony, it is not so prevalent. The knowledge and experience he holds are treasured things. Snapping Timber, in turn, treasures them. Should this be his failure, to allow this stranger to see them at their weakest– at least he will not have many more moons to regret his mistake. Such a selfish thought.

Head high and gaze crinkling with a tired, ancient smile, Timber stands in greeting. "They have told me to call you Cicadastar." The elder does not incline his head in deference; for now, none of his colony mates would be expected to do so either. Respect is detached from trust. "It is good to see you for ourselves, though not all would agree with the elders' decision to allow you so close." A fond smile chases the youth of their camp, both those curious and fearful.

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.08.2023  𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘖𝘓𝘋 𝘕𝘈𝘔𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• snapping timber ╱╱ 116 moons ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ elder of the ripple colony.
  ──── a weathered ancient tom that has been part of the colony since its very founding.
  ──── sexuality unknown. has had several mates in the past, and several litters of kittens.
  ──── can be assumed to know all ripple colony members,  and aware of current events.
  
  Weathered by time, a once-dark pelt lightened by a dusting of grey and cut by ancient scars, his figure is hardly imposing. Perhaps once he would have been, but by now the chocolate tabby is slow to rise from his nest. Even still, verdant eyes remain bright and intelligent, without loss of focus.

• "speech"

​

 

[PEPPER]

the heat of today had become just shy of unbearable, even with the occasional breeze that swep through the air remained thick and sultry leaving most to find shelter in the cooling shades beneath the hanging willows or inside hastily made burrows. in times like these pepper wishes they had been born with short fur rather than the tangled mess that is attached to their skin right now, why, they had half a mind to find the nearest mud puddle and throw themselves in it just to escape the torridity.

attention would soon flick towards the entrance of their little hideaway where they'd be greeted with the sight of riverclanners being escorted inside by another ripple colony member. oh right, they were meant to be having some sort of get together with the other river-dwelling felines today. cicadastar, who looks a little more like blurred shape of smoke from where she lays, trills a greeting that rings across the clearing before annoucing they've bought gifts in the form of prey that hangs from many jaws.

before pepper gathers herself up to meet their company, her focus would switch briefly to those around her to gauge a reaction. she recalls the words spoken a few days ago at the meeting that the general concensus made was to hear riverclan out but if anything were to go wrong they would be ready to leave this place before the next sunrise. they hope it doesn't come to that but in the end, the safety and wellbeing of the colony always comes first.

"what a generous young tom you are to bring us prey, it's very much appreciated." a raspy purr thrums against aged vocal cords as the ticked tabby hobbles slowly towards cicadastar and his group, it's only the beginning but things are remaining cordial despite the wariness that floats over the colony.

ooc. information.

• out of character things.
  
• 
  
  

  ✩ pepper. of the ripple colony.
  ✩ 110 moons.
  ✩ afab, demi-girl. she / they.
  ✩ demiromantic lesbian.

​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

The ripple colony isn’t the enemy. They have been at worst neutral so far, save for when they pushed Smokethroat into the mud in surprise, and they are not the enemy. Snakeblink has to remind himself of it as he follows in Cicadastar’s steps, mud squelching unpleasantly under his paws. He places each step very deliberately, half to focus his whirling mind on something more tangible than pointless and groundless anxiety, half to avoid slipping on the treacherous terrain. It’s meditative in a way. Put a paw in the depression left by Cicadastar’s own steps; pull a hindleg out of the wetland; carefully do not clench your teeth into the fish you are carrying, a peace offering. The unseen presence of Cindershade at their back does much to settle him; he trusts her in all things, far more than he does these unknown cats.

Yet even as he frets over the ways things could go wrong he cannot help the tang of worry as they approach the ripple colony’s own territory — worry about them. It smells like his kithood felt: like wet vegetation and stillwater, fish left to rot in the harsh sunlight. Even though they are strangers yet, Cicadastar’s unexpected welcome of them has made a place for them in his mind next to where clan and family sit. At least today they will be well fed, if they weren’t before.

Following his leader’s example, he goes to set down the fish he carries and then moves back a polite and cautious distance, tucking himself a step behind Cicadastar’s shoulder and keeping his face neutral as he eyes the colony cats that approach to greet them.
​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[✧ Frondfeather.]

I'LL BE THE MAGIC STORY YOU'VE BEEN TOLD
frond | 24 months | female | she/her| physically hard | mentally medium | attack in bold #674099

---

Frond waits only long enough for the elders to begin to move forwards before she does the same, the chimeras multi-hued frame slipping forwards on steady paws. Green gaze flits across familiar and unfamiliar figures alike - the first tom is the leader, she remembers, the other a newcomer. "Welcome," she echoes, and though her posture remains loose and languid she does not forgot the wise warnings - prepare for a fight, prepare to flee, but only if they must. She hopes things will not turn to that - she wants the river back as much as the clan-cats, wants to swim freely once more, wants to wall the shores and the shallows without the stench of rot following her. "I don't recognize most of you..." she adds - the ill-tempered molly and child are not here, bristling for a fight. Perhaps to keep the peace? Or... she doesn't let her mind wander to darker reasons, instead giving a gentle smile. "I'm Frond, it's a pleasure to be working with you to fix this,"

​

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[PUMPKIN –]

જ➶ The moment she hears them the goliath turns her head in their direction. For a moment her hefty pelt bristles simply because they just walked into their home as if they owned it. No respect in her eyes. Nor attempting to at least be greeted and brought here. Their home ks where they should feel the safest and this to her is not safe. Those eyes of soft orange hues narrow slowly in thought before she watches as fish are dropped into a pile before them. Every meal she has managed to catch and bring home has gone to others. Her stomach twists as she looks at the fish but her mind knows better. The Elders eat first. But prey from strangers? What if they have done something to it? Her paranoia spikes and she suddenly stares toward Timber and then to Pepper. Her brow furrows and she looks away before finally she pushes her heavily scarred form up from the dip that she claims as her own. Stepping over the woman allows her gaze to focus on the group of cats that seem to come in good faith. Seem being the key word.

It almost seems too good to he true but she knows there are good souls somewhere in this word. She hopes that these are some of them. "Right. Though we've been managing so far." Though she doesn't want to butt heads with Timber she is one of those cats with a distrustful streak. Letting them here just seems too vulnerable to her. "It's appreciated." Her voice rumbles out casually. Moving forth she eyes the fish then and grabs the largest she can see. Turning away from the strange cats but ears turned their way she makes her way to Timber, placing it at his paws. A soft trill leaves her throat and then she goes to get one for Pepper as well, shifting through the fish and selecting before moving to the other elder. "Here...you'll need it more." The Elders were important figures.​

 

[DAWNSTORM]

die with memories , not dreams .

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The chimera paused mid-step to peer at the approaching group with narrowed hues, helm low. His skin prickled with unease, watching those take the offered fish. He didn’t trust them. Why should he? Yes. He wanted the problem fixed as much as anyone, but to trust strangers wholeheartedly? He couldn’t do that.

His nose crinkled at the onslaught of unfamiliar smells plaguing his nose, whiskers twitching. “They smell odd.” His voice deadpan, watching with critical hues. Perhaps it was the fish or the very fact they were strangers that did not sit well with him, but he was one feline. He had little power, something his father had, far more than he could ever, even if it was just over him.

His father stood from afar, keeping quiet, much like Kaede if it wasn’t for the power-hungry expression the black tom adored bringing shivers down his spine. What did he want? Kaede had a dozen reasons, but none settled right. I don’t like this. Even if these Riverclanners offered prey, it was delaying the inevitable. Did these cats not think they could hunt for themselves? He wondered if that was their goal. To belittle them silently. Or was this simply a friendly gesture?

So many paths and not nearly enough evidence. “Do they think we cannot hunt?” It was a simple question. One out of genuine curiosity, lacking no malice, but some might think otherwise. Of course, he doubted most would object to free food, but why waste resources on strangers? Did Cicadastar have an ulterior motive? Luring them in a false sense of security before lashing out? Or had Kaede been thinking things entirely wrong? A simple gesture of good faith?

He was an inquisitive feline. He couldn’t just not say anything. Kaede blinked, helm tilted. Had he been too brutish? No. His father told him to stop twiddling his paws when he spoke, getting straight to the point. His maw parted in silent understanding. Oh. How silly of him. ​

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thought speech​

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[LEAF]

"Ain't you heard of a gift before, burrão?" Leaf fixes Kaede with rum-warm eyes, pointedly tipping his head slightly in the direction of the welcomed strangers. Not that he's convinced he'll catch onto Leaf's meaning; he's insulted their guests twice now, first by remarking on their smell and second by —whether knowingly or not— questioning their motives. And yeah, Leaf's viewing them as guests, just as much as they must view the colony in the same terms.

Mutual hospitality never hurt anybody, and in this case, the path ahead will be smoother greased with fish-fat than cat's blood. "Thanks," he says to the gathered cats, echoing the sentiments of (most) of his fellows. "Call me Leaf." Sitting near Snapping Timber, but not so near that he takes the place of any other elders, Leaf makes a show of looking the cats up and down. "And who're the rest of you?" Excepting the man in charge, of course, behind whom some'a the cats seem content to hide.

︿.𖥔 ݁ ˖︿INFORMATION​

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[goldfish]

Where Pumpkin, or even Sasha, are, Goldfish is not far behind. She'd been at the patrol with the other cats, she had seen them with her own eyes. Especially the tall one, who looked scary, but had the same kind of air held around him as Pumpkin did- if not a little more regal. When she hears the call of greeting she had been lounging against a sun-warmed spot, a low rumble coming from her as she basks in the glory. She had had a productive day and was downright exhausted, but it didn't stop her from springing to her paws.

"Hiya!" she greets them with a smile, tail wagging much like a dogs would. Unaware of the tension that so heavily hangs in the air, sparked by certain colony members, she turns around to greet them, looking for Mouse, or for any of the other young. Pumpkin moves to insist that the Elders eat and Goldfish finds herself nodding along. She scans them before her eyes lock on to a certain orange-furred cat, one that makes her tilt her head. He has an ouchie on his eye, or- over his eye, she really couldn't tell. Leaf introduces himself, she jerks herself in to motion to introduce herself as well. "I'm Goldfish! I don't remember most of you." she takes notes of differing coat colors, much like the Colonys own. She beams regardless, because new faces means new friends.​

"speech"​

 

[RYESTALK ☆]

——————————————【 She/her | 34 moons | Ripple Colony 】——————————————

【◈】In the interim between the RiverClanner's first appearance and their promised return, the air had been fraught with tension, cats bustling about making preparations for their inevitable move and generally stewing in uncertainty. Rye had helped out, of course, made sure her paws kept busy around their temporary camp and on another hunting trip, but after a certain point things began to slow down, tasks tapering off as the real waiting set in. There'd been worse days, surely, though this situation certainly seems unique - when, else, had they been waiting on such a strange group of cats to meet with, especially regarding a receding river? Not one to fret unnecessarily, she had settled down once all her tasks were done, the course of the meeting no longer in her paws at all. While she can't say time didn't drag on, it still feels all too soon when the scent of something strange and familiar hits her nose, followed quickly by the appearance of RiverClan themselves. There are some faces among the crowd she recognizes, many more she does not, and now that Rye finds interesting. Where had the rest of them gone off to, she wonders? Keeping their camp safe, perhaps - surely they've got little ones too.

"Cicadastar. 'N others. Greetins'," she offers, cordial nod matching the small smile upon her maw. Many of her fellows seem much more eager to greet the strange cats now that they've actually arrived, though with the scent of fresh fish in the air she can't quite find it in herself to blame them; besides, there's no reason not to play nice for now, as thus far they've kept their promises of peace. "Thank y'all for the fish - a handsome offerin', no doubt. Y'all must be real good at fishin' to be able to bring all this." And it's true, is it not? Assuming this wasn't all they had to spare, these cats were doing right well for themselves - perhaps they'd be able to learn a thing or two about fishing during this alliance, set themselves up a little better even if nothing else concrete comes from it. The elders sufficiently taken care of, Rye makes no move to step closer, letting the others offer their greetings and exchange pleasantries before the real business commences. Searching out the younger members of the colony, she makes a note to keep a watchful eye to ensure they don't wander too close with uncertainty still dancing about in the air, though truthfully, she's also interested in the new RiverClanners. Scanning their ranks, she takes in each of them briefly, and if any of them happen to meet her eye, Rye will offer a slightly wider smile, trying to appear welcoming even as these strangers enter into their home, temporary as it may be.

[penned by hijinks].

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw had been told to be polite, be friendly- it was not often that his more amicable personality actually bloomed into something useful, but today was a rare exception, it seemed. His catch was a small one, though- in runt-formed jaws it seemed more average-sized, at least until it was placed among the rest. Upon placing it down he backed away, taking his place staggered back from the warriors and his leader. He had not yet earned his place beside them, despite his age.

A single eye of aquamarine roamed the crowd, thoughtful and slow- the scents were unfamiliar, but there were no snarls or bristles yet- the most unfriendly of the lot were simply quiet, and Fernpaw offered anyone who met his gaze a smile- and was pleased that some returned it. Who are the rest of you, asked one- Leaf, she claimed. Fernpaw glanced up at his father for a moment, before allowing his eyes to crescent in a grin. "I'm Fernpaw," he chirped, silken tail waving in a sunset-blue of greeting. "It's nice to meet you all." His healthy eye scanned the gathered faces once again. He'd shut his mouth, then- lips curved in a smile still, easy and charming. Nonetheless, the ginger tom was aware... even with tainted vision, he'd always been observant. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Mosspool]

Mosspaw was awash with curiosity as she followed behind Cicadastar. Though she had heard tell of this strange new group calling themselves the Ripple Colony, she had yet to see hide nor hair of them herself. She did not know what to make of them. They were neither clan cats nor rogues, and until now she had not known such a thing was possible. The idea gave her too many questions to count. Did they know of Starclan? Did they have a Warrior Code of their own? If no to both of those questions, how did they maintain order?

Still, she kept her feelings contained, even as the Ripple Colony came into sight. She was here because she had a job to do, and it would not do to speak out of turn. She had seen what came of that. Without a word, she placed her fish down alongside the rest, standing tall and proud as she let her leader do the talking.

Though, she could not help how her gaze scoured the ranks of the other cats with unconcealed interest.

They smell odd. So said one of the Ripple Colony, and her gaze flicked to Cicadastar, measuring his expression to see if she should take offense. It was doubtlessly a slight to speak so rudely in the presence of one graced by the stars, but stating as much went against the goals of their mission. Therefore, she left the decision on if and how to address the comment to him, hiding all signs of her own displeasure at it except for a flick of her ear.

Only when one of the strange cats asked for names did she finally break her silence. "Mosspaw." Her introduction was simple, curt, and formal; she punctuated it with a sharp nod. There was no hostility in her tone, just a measured decorum. Taking cues from the warmth in her leader's tone, she added a small, quick smile to reinforce his kindness. This was a diplomatic mission, and thus she did not want to come off as cold.

"We are." Mosspaw told Rye as she glanced her way. A simple statement of fact, though tinged with pride in her home. The molly offered her a wider smile as their eyes met, but she was not quick to return it. Still too unsure as to what to make of these strangers.​

 

[Aspenhaze]

Aspenhaze is just as curious as their apprentice about this colony. Of course, they were also part of a colony before RiverClan was a thing, so they’re more receptive to the concept, and the group wouldn’t be met with much hostility from them. They remember back then well enough, and it could be a trying time, especially when nature wasn’t on your side. At least, they both share a common goal as of current.

They can’t help but chuckle to themself at Kaede’s comment and subsequent scolding by his fellows. They could almost imagine their younger self saying the same thing if they were met with kindness, as they surely weren’t receptive to it when they weren’t as mature as they are now.

At the offer for the rest of RiverClan to introduce themselves, they wait their turn, and decide to go right after Mosspaw. “I’m Aspenhaze. Pleasure.” There isn’t any hint of sarcasm in their voice either, excited to see how things turn out between them.​

 

[MUDPELT]

Mudpelt pads behind his leader, keeping his apprentice at his side. In his jaws he holds a hefty fish, sure to provide a good meal for a pair of cats. His amber eyes are wide with wonder as they enter through the twisted arch and into the colony cats' camp. Inside, there are more cats than he thought there would be, several of them older. He remains quiet and polite, though he can't hide the interested prick of his ears as he soaks in every detail. He glances to Cicadastar and follows his lead in setting down his offering with the others, before he takes his place beside the other warriors.

When the cats ask for their names, he returns his son's look and gives him a reassuring nod and grin. After Fernpaw introduces himself, the hulking tom flicks his stumpy tail in greeting, "I'm Mudpelt. Do you all fish, too?" He can't help but ask, eyes filled to the brim with curiosity. Perhaps it's a silly question, but the warrior isn't known to be the sharpest thorn on the bramble.​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) mud squelches between the tufted toes of the slender feline as they pad along beside their leader. their dark nose wrinkles in barely concealed disgust, scents of decaying fish and rotting algae growing stronger with every step that disturbs the delicate ecosystem. the warrior thinks longingly of the cool waters of the river, just two moons ago when it was full from snowmelt, rushing and weaving amongst healthy meadows. now, the landscape resembles shadowclan's marsh. cicadas buzz in the humid air, flies humming past willowroot's tufted ears. she flicks them in annoyance, quickening her step to fall into line beside cicadastar. the man is deep in thought, although his nose wrinkles as well. this is not a sight any water-dweller wants to see. starclan willing, the ripple colony will be open to helping. riverclan needs their home back.

stepping into this temporary camp after her leader, willowroot glances around, setting down the fish she has clutched in her jaws. cats of all different shapes and sizes swirl about, conversation beginning to hum between each as the clan cats introduce themselves. it doesn't show, but there is a blink of curiosity deep within the mossy depths of their gaze as willowroot stands back beside snakeblink. it seems riverclan has finally discovered there are other groups besides their own. she wonders half-heartedly if this experience will do anything to help cicadastar regain trust in outsiders. as they observe his mannerisms, there is only a small spark of hope.

"i am willowroot," the smoke speaks after mudpelt, words quiet but firm on their lips. "we do our best," she will add to her daughter's statement about fishing. "it is good to make the colony's acquaintance." jaws snapping shut, she returns to observing, tucking her long tail neatly around her paws. these cats are not much different from her own family, their pelts as varied, their muscles as defined. suspicion shines clear in their eyes as much as it does in any riverclan warrior. ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[DEWCLOUD]

Dew is quiet as RiverClan approaches, a lapis gaze wandering from face to face. Though most are unfamiliar, he can deem at least one face recognizable from the last run-in with the strange group - that of their leader, Cicadastar.

He wonders if this is on purpose, as fish are set in front of them, as they're brought forth to the colony's elders. A tactic, a warning - there's more of us than you could ever know.

How many? he wonders as they begin to speak, his line of sight moving with each open maw. How many seek to drive the Ripple Colony out of their home? How many moments will this last until his own group puts to use their preparations - flees a home Dew has only just begun to get used to?

Introductions are shared - names long and melded together sticking out between the names he already knows. The gray tabby notices a lack of hostility that had been present in their last interaction with the RiverClanners - his own hostility holding onto nothing, waiting for something to break. He doesn't know if it will, if they've prepared for nothing, at this point.

"... Interesting names," he speaks up, tail twitching behind him. Fernpaw. Mosspaw. They must be related with such similar names - Dew can't see why else they would name two for their paws. At least they will be easier to remember in the unoriginality of their titles. "I'm Dew."
​

 

[cougar]

The clanners.

His heart flipped and stomach tensed as they entered camp, lead in by another. His optics scanned them- then the elders. His ears are twitching, fur starting to stand on edge, but they're speaking pleasantries. They aren't here to harm, just to talk, which is almost worse. He can't trust them. Cougar doesn't know who did the deed to his mother, but he can't just sit down and share food with them like they're all innocent. His eyes shifted, scanning each and every soul that stepped into camp. Keeping tabs, while on edge.

His gaze shifted- Dew was of a similar stance. On edge. He repeated in his head, then looked back towards the cats that approach. Rye was being pleasant, others cordial and proper around them. Cougar shifted uncomfortably, and spoke with a deep rumble. He was, after all, not comforatble with this by any means. "Cougar." Well, it was his name, after all. There wasn't any rules that said he had to keep up the pleasantries. ​

​

"speech"​

 

[CICADASTAR]

most accept, save for the occasional wary eyeing or guarded murmur. a brief, pointed glance towards the mud pitted river and back, the mottled phantom would give kaede a quirk of curling eyebrow whiskers. amusement glitters in his eye, as false as it was ; the tip of his tail trembles with a concealed flick, " you’re more than welcome to try. " but a dust - colored tom approaches, chides him god - naturedly, and the casualness of it puts him at ease, even if by just a fraction. they all introduce themselves, one by one — a young molly by the name of goldish skips towards them, friendly as the sun is bright, and it takes him near by surprise. his arched muzzled inclines towards her, the smile painted pretty upon his maw softening just a mite. the man nods a little hello as his warriors speak, greet the loners with a smile and eager, bright - eyed questions. mudpelt asks if they swim too, and his disarming grin is a sheer reminder of why he was present.. whether aware of it or not, " it's a pleasure to meet you all, some of you again. "

but it’s an elder that catches his attention most. an ancient thing, weary bones beneath a thin, jagged pelt. it’s a rarity, to see a cat as old as he, even more so outside the clans — his ears crane forward, suddenly alert, suddenly attuned to the way the younger members of their colony bring his share first. they’ve told me to call you cicadastar, ” they were correct, ja ; cicadastar, leader of riverclan, “ the tom inclines his head, polite. when he lifts, he does so with a friendly squint of icy eyes ; non - hostile, body lax. a semi - familiar voice sounds and his gaze turns, finds the older molly his patrol had encountered being handed her own meal. pepper, she’d introduced herself as — and the mottled phantom can’t help the subtlest, sheepish puff of his chest at the older molly’s praise. she is kindly, respectful as the tom before him ; and again. what an oddity, to be called a young tom. the leader feels his age with each passing whisker of time, each sunrise. would he live to this age, further? star - touched lives, he would likely outlive all of them, wouldn't he? the thought chills him to the marrow, bristles the curls of his fur and forces him to tamper them down. he smiles through it, lifts his curled tail in chipper hello.

” so, you’re in charge, i take it? “ his attention, finally, turns back towards the aged tom cat. the elders had received their meals, tended to by paw, and now warriors circle the pile again — picking. not everyone had been eager to meet with them, he says, and cicadastar could not blame it them, " i would likely feel the same, should i be happened upon in a similar manner — but my patrol and i had been informed of your.. situation, and we know well the troubles you are facing. " we've been managing so far, one says, despite dutifully plucking the freshkill from the haphazard pile. on my land, his mind supplies bitterly, not daring his eyes linger further should they give his irritation away. he lowers his ears, " the leafbare freeze had stolen a portion of our land, forced us upstream until this season. our entire freshkill pile, our home, wiped out. " icy luminaries lift, a touch haunted at wide - blown pupils, " for moons, we starved, froze. with the rivers receding, i worry we head for disaster again. " his throat clicks, a brief flit of bright eyes back towards his warriors. what was he willing to promise, to uphold? his tail flicks, chin lifting, ” and i am willing to offer this and more, should we be able to face this together. “ perhaps they could talk somewhere quieter, with less swiveling ears. they were cordial, despite the uneasiness trembling just beneath.

COLD & CRUEL LIKE WINDS ON THE SEA  ╱ INFORMATION ✟

• i.
  
• ★ ⋆ CICADASTAR −−−− FOUNDING LEADER OF RIVERCLAN. HOMOSEXUAL, MATED TO SMOKETHROAT. FIFTY MOONS, FATHER TO STARLIGHTKIT, CICADAKIT && BEEKIT. PENNED BY ANTLERS −−−−− ⁺₊✧
  
  
  he / him. tall, elegantly curled smoke tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt blue eyes. his structure sings a feral sort of hymnal, presenting an almost dangerous sort of beauty veiling what monstrosities lie beneath the ivory of his skull. jutting jawline and a squared chin, sunken cheeks drawing a shadow beneath high, sharp cheekbones with tall, angular ears settling high atop the flatter slope of his cranium. he is beautiful ; lucifer in the eyes of an envious god. for all his looks, his expression is lax, void — corpse - eyed and hollow until spoken to, sparking the undead to life. he is tall, lean, cut - glass pretty ; he smiles with too - many teeth, blackened frostbite pulling back his maw to bear canines setn beneath curling whiskers, pantomime skeletal. a predatory gracefulness from the lines that press the image of exhaustion beneath ice water hues to the slow, sure gait in which he walks, nameless strength poorly concealed within the hard lines of his physique. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unnaturally tall amongst his peers, always holding himself with a tragic sort of grace ; poised, prim, and uncannily aware of how he appears.
  
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── smells like wet moss and meadowland thunderstorms.
  ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── notoriously paranoid and closed off, cicadastar will tend to lie, assume, and jump to conclusions whenever it suits him. any 'suspicious' ic actions he witnesses or hears about will have a strong effect, and will have ic consequences! if you're unsure of an interactions outcome, please feel free to send a dm! no character opinions represent my own.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• " speech "​
  
  
  

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[DEACON]

Lounging on his back as the RiverClanners addressed them, it seemed to only be a stroke of luck that he was present that day to finally meet the neighbours. He had danced through friendships with Colony members as if the very things were flames to be stoked then avoided. Tension rippled off of them all and, had the pangs of hunger not damned Deacon to a nihilistic acceptance of whatever came next, he may have been the same: gifts were kind, but talking like they were authentic was even kinder. His banded tail lashed as he refused to get up for the strangers, ticked coat still dappled with the spray of a particularly raucous stream. Words were soon exchanged that caused him to tilt his head downwards, a dark brow rising in tandem. Where was this going? Just as soon as he thought, Cicadastar answered, and Deacon blinked incredulously as he pondered whether he'd heard the tom correctly. Looking to his clanmates did little to ease his confusion.

"So instead of starving alone, we can starve together!" Vampiric fangs flashed as he grinned. It was an idea baked in mediocrity, having more mouths to feed on either side was sure to accelerate hunger, wasn't it? Whatever mischief his family thought he could make was nothing compared to the absolute lunacy on display in front of him - it almost brought a tear to his eye at how brilliant it was. "Well I'm down, it'll be more fun than sitting around waiting for the river to throw more fish our way. What's that saying? Peace and love? Unity? I dunno, something like that." His almond gaze scanned the looks of his clanmates, settling on Snapping Timber just a moment longer than the rest before reed-thin pupils eventually found their way back to the strangers. Uniform, they were so uniform it hurt. Each member of the patrol had two names, some sharing one whilst others proclaimed themselves stars when they walked among the ants the same as the rest of them. 'Think of the food...' the strong smell of fish stung his nostrils as if it were an unknown entity, for a moment, his feral expression somber up, replaced with a mercurial frown. "Name's Deacon, though not for much longer by the sounds of things. Deaconpaw? Deaconstar?" He did not have the foggiest idea what either meant. "Deaconroot?" His gaze idly searched for approval - he was certain that one sounded the worst of the three.

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[tempest.]

TAGS — Oh, spirits of the forest, this is so uncomfortable. Tempest shuffles her paws nervously as RiverClan files into the little clearing the Colony has called their own for all of a moon, introducing themselves with their unusual names (there's more of those paws than last time - were they all related?) and bringing gifts of fish. Her stomach growls, and Tempest shoots it a look of contempt. Not now, hunger!

"I'm Tempest," she introduces herself quietly, and is suddenly acutely aware that probably none of them had heard her say this. Hm. In an attempt to avoid further embarrassment she would turn and try to abscond, intending to make her way to their makeshift dens so that she could get back to work trying to fix a gap in the unwoven reeds and bushels they'd been sleeping beneath.

// out!

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