camp the night drags on | intro

[BEARCLAW]

makes no difference what you say

You usually got told that, as you got older, the days would seem shorter. The more you went through, the less new experiences you'd have, and the shorter the days would seem. You wouldn't need the brain power, stretching each second into two, each two into three, to process what went on. That often proved true too! unless you were Bearclaw.

The ever-working, forever complaining, crotchety son of nobody; it was easy, and often preferable, to ignore Bearclaw. It didn't seem like there had been anyone in Shadowclan that had ever whined so much, much less any properly grown warrior. However, there he was and there he remained. To his credit, he was a successful hunter and proficient fighter. Most assumed the latter was a given, due to the scars clustered across his right side, though none but the least wise would ask outright. His displeasure was too reminiscent of a fathers, perhaps grandfathers, for most.

The warrior was currently partaking in his favourite past-time as he trod across the camp with something fuzzy held in his maw. It was surprising how well he could make himself known even with a mouthful of.. whatever it was. "Ungrateful, bile-licking, fishy-" The rest of his words cut off as he dropped his find into the fresh-kill pile, spitting bits of fur onto the ground beside it. It was uncountable how many times a day he would do this. He was the first headed out for dawn patrol, often ahead of the patrol itself, the second to bring in prey, and the last to retire to the warriors den for the night. His days were long but he probably made them longer than they needed to be. At least the freshkill pile was decently stocked.​

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[clearheart]

━━ι═══════﹥ There are many ShadowClanners at odds with the marsh they live in, which had seemed strange to Clearheart when he first arrived, but he understands them better than he once did. For all that they grumble and grouse, they are nonetheless proud of this home of theirs. Otherwise, Clearheart reasons, they would find no reason to stay and all the more impetus to leave. It is simply a cathartic measure taken in an environment less-welcoming to those with thick fur and empty bellies, and Clearheart knows not to hold any such complaints with great weight.

"We are all grateful for your contribution," he says kindly to Bearclaw, watching the warrior deposit his catch with dark, warm eyes. Clearheart himself had returned not long ago from a hunt with Dragonflypaw, and sits straight-backed nearby. He thinks he will take them out again after nightfall, and no doubt there are other warriors who will be interested. Night-hunting is increasing in popularity, and the warriors den is quite rarely full in occupancy after the moon has risen. "Are you departing for another hunt?"
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══════⊹⊱≼ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʜᴀɴɢꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴄᴇɴꜱᴇ / ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ≽⊰⊹══════

• — CLEARHEART / / 40 moons old / / amab and uses masculine pronouns but will also accept the use of neutral terms.
  — a warrior of shadowclan / / currently mentoring dragonflypaw / / excels greatly in combat above most all other skills.
  — former loner who wandered great distances & rarely remained in one place for long / / arrived after the great battle.
  — devoted to starclan above all else (aside from his idea of the common good) / / not prone to enter battle mindlessly.
  
  — of a height slightly above average / / trim and athletic with a sense of immovability about his posture/stance & size.
  — chocolate sepia w/ low white / / fur is quite short for the most part / / tail is naturally bobbed // full-body reference.
  — fairly warm demeanor much of the time; there is a "softness" about his features so that neutrality doesn't seem surly.
  
  — lawful good, in the sense that he likes to maintain order and work toward bettering lives around him without cruelty.
  — often misunderstands figures of speech and may interpret them literally. as such, can seem to lack a sense of humor.
  — deeply genuine; dislikes lying immensely, and so (most of the time) he is wholly earnest, especially with compliments.
  
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[Magpiepaw]

Eyes widened and glinting curiously, Magpiepaw approaches the freshkill pile where the stuttering and sputtering warrior throws down his catch as though disgusted by it and stops to stand next to Clearheart to observe in silence. He wondered why so many in ShadowClan were like this, Bearclaw was hardly the only warrior who woke at the crack of dawn, toiled away to the breaking point and came crawling back to camp at the end of the day late and miserable. Many of them foolishly destroyed themselves in this tireless pursuit and for what purpose? What was there to prove? Perhaps it was because he was not being trained to be a warrior anymore that he did not understand, the medicine cat apprentice had forsaken such awareness when he took to the art of healing over hunting and combat. Part of him would always wonder what it might be like on the other path, the other part of him saw cats like Bearclaw angrily stomping about with a chip on their shoulder and knew he wouldn't have enjoyed carrying such a clear burden.
"Please be mindful of your own weakness, it will not do for you to wound yourself and place further work upon Starlingheart and myself." He was only just learning, he would appreciate their clanmates not doing stupid things like working themselves down to the bone or throwing themselves at literal bears as if they stood even half a chance.
He does not thank the warrior for doing his job like Clearheart does, because otherwise he would expect a thank you for every cobweb plastered and that seems tiring.
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[APPLEJAW]

Tentatively, Applekit has taken up watching the older cats again. Because she had to know what warriors did and didn't do, and should remember which warriors were good and which were bad for the future. What she thinks is an older warrior comes in growling as he drops his prey in the pile. Everyone must know that he's mad, because Clearheart comes over just to tell him he did a good job.

Applekit would pad over, a little bit behind Magpiepaw who usually had something wise to say. Working too hard was no use if it'd just make the Medicine Cats waste herbs on you, Applekit notes. " Why are you so mad? " Applekit asks straightfowardly. Were the bears back? Was the prey sick? Applekit puffs her cheeks out at the warrior, wanting an answer sooner rather than later.​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"Hey," the ticked tabby protested, voice uncharacteristically sharp as she moved closer on lanky legs. Eavesdropping on clanmates was mostly an accidental past-time, mostly, but when boredom struck the air and acquaintances entered the camp with moods so foul she'd have mistaken them for Smogmaw if he wasn't so brown, it was more difficult to stay out of other cat's businesses then to pry. Ferndance's face creased and contorted, ears swiveling to the back of her skull, and eyes narrowed as if she'd smelled something rotten. She brushed her white paws against the coarse furs on her chest, letting out a huff. Behind the posturing, a smile curled upon the Lead Warrior's lips, as if struggling to keep the act up for even a second. "I lick bile and I am very grateful." What she was grateful for? Ferndance had no idea, gratitude came in waves and was so quickly forgotten when something slighted her. The corners of her muzzle stretched wider and wider until eventually, she was offering a sharklike grin to Bearclaw, her clanmate's questions coming in rather quickly.

Was he hunting? Why is he angry? Even Magpie joined in, crticising a weakness that she hadn't even noticed in her clanmate. If (almost) everyone had something to ask the warrior, then she'd feel awfully left out if she didn't get the chance to as well. Fascination brimming on every syllable, the cinnamon tabby settled, maw parted in awe. "Have you ever licked bile?"

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[HONEYJAW]

Clearheart overthinks things: Honeyjaw really does hate this place. He's here because– because even if he hates it, it's home, but that doesn't mean he hates it any less. Maybe that had been his point in the end. Not that he wants to acknowledge yet another thing the dark tom is right about. There were too many of them, as of late. All that talk about how he was a good cat, a good dad. Really, he just...doesn't deserve the good. Just like ShadowClan doesn't always deserve the bad. Actually he startles when he hears some of it bubble over. The typical faux-hatred they had for this territory is suddenly loud, and Honey's not sure why. From where he'd sat nearby another warrior, her great paw smacking into his shoulder as he laughs, he jolts up to...well, figure that out, he supposes.

Turns out most everyone had already made some sort of comment to the angry warrior. Be it Applekit's straightforward questioning or Clearheart's attempt at soothing some of what troubled them, or even Magpiepaw's odd firmness, they have it handled. So he instead leans into the Ferndance way of things, and decides he may as well make a little bit of a mess. "If anyone here knows the taste, other than you at least, I'm betting it's Bearclaw," he chuckles. "Not sure what other reason there'd be to be yelling at a dead piece of prey like that, right?"

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

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[𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒮𝒯𝐿𝐸𝒥𝒰𝑀𝒫]

Thistlejump watched Bearclaw from where she sat, curious about his very apparent frustration. She had no clue what he was upset about, though she hardly ever did. Even so, Thistlejump felt sorry for her Clanmate, who appeared very good at his warrior duties, but seemed extremely afflicted by something. Thistlejump could not grasp exactly what that something could be. The warrior was more skilled than she, but often had a chip on his shoulder, which was frustrating and upsetting for Thistlejump, who struggled greatly with the many duties that she did not excel in, yet still attempted to be a pleasant, albeit withdrawn, cat.

She overheard his grumbling and her ears pressed against her skull in discomfort. The cat seemed to never stop complaining. She thought that it was unfortunate that he was so miserable, but also just wanted him to finally stop. Inspired by Clearheart’s uplifting words to Bearclaw, Thistlejump thought that maybe if she jumped in, Bearclaw would realize how much his Clanmates valued him, how he was a talented cat, and that complaining so much was unnecessary. Thistlejump approached the group of cats and glanced at Bearclaw’s recent catch. An encouraging smile appeared on her face. “That’s a good catch, Bearclaw.” She observed in a soft tone, then added, “You always hunt well.”

She stared at Ferndance, wondering why the light tabby was going on about licking bile. She ignored her, for she couldn’t think about what Ferndance was saying for long, or she would become queasy. As Honeyjaw took part in the conversation, Thistlejump frowned at him. There was no reason to say something that may provoke Bearclaw’s already wretched mood. However, Thistlejump wasn’t usually one to desire confrontation, so she kept her opinion to herself, but failed to hide her visible displeasure at his comment.

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

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complaining in a place like this seemed almost futile. it was like they were bounced off the walls of the cave and hitting the dirty cavern floor, before dissipating into nothingness. no one ever heard them, truly, and starclan seemed to ignore them completely. at least, that was how they felt. they wished they had more to work off of when it came to starclan and their dealings but... they don't. still, to complain here was like a caterpillar trying to fly before it was ready. it just didn't work out in anyone's favor. they furrowed their brows at the common sight, rolling their eyes in annoyance.

"you've caught something and yet you still complain. do you realize how lucky you got to catch anything in this place? maybe find something else to complain about. or better yet, don't complain at all. it's exhausting."

the leader huffed. of all their problems, he chooses to complain about the prey he caught. prey that was never once guaranteed here. tch. what a waste of his own breath, they note.
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[BEARCLAW]

makes no difference what you say

The last thing that Bearclaw expected, or perhaps the thing he least hoped for, was to be swarmed by his clanmates. He did not generally make an effort to hold conversations with more than one, perhaps two, cats at once, much less seven of them. The toms' tail had stiffened some, stopped calmly swishing to remain held aloft behind him, and the hairs along his back had, ever so few, begun to rise. His legs were tensed, the occasionally twitching muscle barely hidden beneath his thickly coated fur. Eyes darted, albeit slowly, between clanmates as if to reassess each. Bearclaw worked to keep visible tension low but, to any devoted viewer, his regular level of 'I don't like this' had doubled.

One of the many brown cats in Shadowclan had approached him first, leading to a brief pause before he remembered who exactly they were. Well, before he remembered who they most likely, probably, were. Bearclaw couldn't claim to be the friendliest cat in Shadowclan when he hardly associated with his clanmates outside of the bare minimum. It left most cats around him as casual acquaintances, perhaps certain ones he could put a name to more than others, or a bit unknown. " mhm. " He was both departing for another hunt and agreeing with the thankful, perhaps just factual, statement. He was one of the best hunters in the clan, had patience enough to frequently bring in multiple kills, and helped keep everyone fed. It was obvious that the clan would be thankful for his, and by extension the other hunters, contributions.

The new medicine apprentice had tagged along behind the first warrior, going on about whatever it was that they did and cautioning Bearclaw on things that he very well knew. There was no goal to go to the medicine den in his mind but he was not going be so cautious he never did anything. He simply respected the healers of the clan enough to avoid overtaxing their resources with every little cut or scrape he got. " Yep. " There was no point in being annoyed at someone barely out of kithood.

Hard to miss behind the apprentice was a proper kit, small and fluffy as they tended to be. To her question, Bearclaw had to idle for a moment. Was he truly going to tell this little thing, their life on this earth scarcely long enough to grow his fur, about his issues or was he going to do what he always did? " M'not mad. " Perhaps confusing to her, but the truth. Nobody needed to know why in particular he was complaining but it wasn't because he was mad.

Bearclaws' ears twitched back as Ferndance and Honeyjaw, who's names he somehow easily remembered, did their semi-normal mocking 'thing'. He wasn't going to deal with this today, outright ignoring them in favour of looking at another cat, the brightest of the crowd. They stated, again, facts about his abilities. He didn't see hunting as anything but a skilled task, not being something he actively enjoyed or eagerly sought out, so he didn't see being a good hunter as much to talk about. He'd rather comment on the weather than what near every cat was supposed to be doing. " yup. " He was still thankful for the comment, and the distraction from Ferndance and Honeyjaw.

He couldn't quite brush aside the leader when they were speaking to him but he wished he could. They bit out more complaints about him, getting it wrong as to what he was irritated about. Why on earth would he be complaining about having caught prey. The thing that kept everyone alive and functioning? that was certainly not what he was complaining about. Maybe they had caught the tail-end of his patience, there were more than too many cats around him, or it was their tone that nudged Bearclaw close to the edge, but he felt his hackles raise and made no effort to stop it. Chilledstar had no right to tell him to not complain, to tell him to stay silent about everything. He could not care less that they were the leader.

"I was certainly not complaining to or about any of y'all, but I really appreciate the input." It was time for him to get out of this crowd and back to hunting. He'd rather face off a honey badger than deal with this a moment longer. His tail had settled to lashing behind him as he moved around his clanmates and toward the bramble opening. He realized as he was leaving that he'd gotten some fur stuck in his teeth.​

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