TALKTALK ↷ [ THUNDERSTORM ]

[smogstar]

An early dusk is thrust upon the marshland, as a cumbrous cloud cover canopies the sky overhead. It suffocates the fading remnants of daylight, and shrouds the land in such obscurity, the passage of time becomes inscrutable. Whether it was sunhigh, or closer to sundown, Smogmaw could not tell. The smoke-toned tabby's only certainty lay in the fact that it's dark. Noticeably dark. And save for the intermittent flickers of blinding light piercing through the clouds, the territory seemed enveloped in this ethereal, lasting gloom.

Moreover, it's quite noisy too. His thoughts are made inaudible by the cacophanous combination outside the underground passages: heavy rain pummeling against the nearby foliage, and thunderous detonations which he felt in his own gut. The tom cannot conjure up any recollection of the last time he'd been treated to a proper thunderstorm. Perhaps he'd enjoy it a tad more if he wasn't observing it from this damned temporary camp.

Resting on his stomach at the brink of the tunnel, Smogmaw's front paws fall victim to water droplets as they jut out from the entrace. Getting his pelt wet is something he couldn't care less about, though. There's larger matters to concern himself over. Bigger fish to fry, so to speak, or bigger bears to chase. ​

 

[primrosethorn]

primrosethorn approaches quietly, slinking along to sit near the deputy. "smogmaw," he greets, dipping his head to show respect.

he settles down to watch the storm, but finds himself watching his clanmate as well, gaze flicking sidelong now and again. smogmaw looks ... lost, not even noticing the rain douse his paws.

"a lot on your mind?" he asks, low and gruff. he means to sound sympathetic but doesn't quite achieve it; his voice, as usual, falls flat and angry despite the content of his words. "the storm's nice ... might bring birds out for hunting when it clears."

"and the forest soaked in shadow ... " he continues, "seeing it like this makes me miss home. damn these tunnels." ​

 

[brackenlight]

"There's a lot to be thinking about right now," Brackenlight chimes in as she pads over, tail swishing idly. ShadowClan has so much on its plate with these horrid bears, it's almost overwhelming. Nearly impossible to relax. Especially in this cramped, musty, loud tunnel. Maybe she should be used to it by now, but it's still hard not to flinch a bit every time a monster roars overhead, shaking the earth with stunning force. She can't wait to eventually return home, but the situation feels increasingly futile with each passing day.

The cinnamon tabby sits near the others, offering them a halfhearted smile. Better to try and stay positive, she figures. "Mm, I'd be happy to go hunting. I'd love to stretch my legs." It's a lie; the last thing she wants is to risk getting anywhere near those dreadfully dangerous creatures. Even so, she'd rather appear helpful than anything else.
​

 

[smogstar]

A measly flick of the ear is all Primrosethorn would receive in acknowledgement, initially. The pursuit of aimless, idle chatter held no appeal to the ashen-toned deputy, even under the most pleasant of circumstances—and today, pleasantness was wanting. However, that the other tom endured in his inane observations (which were put forth without any invitation to do so, mind you), Smogmaw's 'cold shoulder' began to thaw out. Begrudgingly, he pivots to face the shadowy warrior, not bothering to coax a smile, but offering a curt nod instead. "Always have a lot on my mind," he'd answer, voice gravelly and displeasing to the senses, "and these home-destroyin', apprentice-killin', mate-chasin' bears certainly aren't helping with the fact, no-siree."

The emergence of a more melodious voice hits him like a cuff to the jaw. He'd pivot around to glimpse who'd spoken, and his stony expression softens somewhat as he registers the form of Brackenlight from within the tunnel's dimness. The she-cat does not mimic Primrosethorn's commentary; her words are laden with authenticity, and though her words are few, Smogmaw finds that she effectively says more. "In which territory?" the deputy would ask, a synthesis of a chuckle and a scoff following his words. His skull flicks in the trajectory of ThunderClan's end of the tunnel. "Since they're being so hospitable, might as well reap the benefits. I could do with a rabbit feast right about now."​