duskclan THE NIGHT HAS ME ☾ meeting

[RUMBLERAIN]

"DuskClan," they call, voice light, allowing the perked ears and the nudges of their few Clanmates to do most of the work instead of straining their oft-quiet voice. "Meeting time."

They've put it off long enough. Rumblerain has felt the stares of their Clanmates on them ever since Ghostmask and Privetpaw had returned, Granitepelt's corpse not with them, abandoned to rot in ShadowClan where he belongs. They do not look towards the sky as they stand where he once had, atop the golden knoll, scruffy and skinny but determined; blue eyes blaze as they settle upon their Clanmates. DuskClan, remnants of something great, though their heart aches when they think of the WindClan that had remained behind them.

"Possum, step forward." They beckon the oft-trilling rogue, a faintly ill feeling rising in their stomach. "As leader, I welcome you as a DuskClan warrior and give you your name. From now, you will be known as Possumscratch."

The words are nerve-wracking. They don't deserve to name him. This isn't right. Even with the half moon shining above their head, low light illuminating the muzzles of the Clan ... the claws of fright grip their lungs tighter, making it hard to breathe. There's so many cats here ... how did leaders do this? How did Sootstar do it, moon after moon? A Gathering would have been even worse.

"I... in ... in a moon, I will be returning to Twolegplace. Not for long, this time; and when I get back, more will join me." Of that, at least, they're certain. At least, they're mostly sure. Their mind swivels towards Edenberry, softening. Were they well? "As my deputy, Thriftfeather will be in charge of the Clan until I get back."

Blue eyes turn to him, pleading silently for his acceptance of the role, a rare show of vulnerability from the night-dipped leader. They were apprentices together, once. They were moor-runners, named in the same meeting. Were they friends? Rumblerain wants to think so. Would he accept their offer, implicit as it is?

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦

• // new warrior!!! @'Possum. <333
  
  DEPUTY ANNOUNCEMENT ... @Thriftfeather CONGRATS
• 
  
  [ art by antiigone ]
• RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan
  
  
  — "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
  — single ; mentoring privetpaw
  — speech is in #858AC0
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[Possumscratch.]

IF I DON'T GO TO HELL
WHEN I DIE I MIGHT GO TO HEAVEN ​

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'possum & 19 moons & trans masc & he/they & duskclan rogue ​

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They have only been here a short time, true - but already, they have seen battle, seen death. Seen chaos. And the tom only grins, sharp-fanged and manic at the thought. It may not be the kit-eating wild cats he'd heard stories of in his youth, nor the marsh lurking Shadowclan his mother had spoken so sadly of, but Duskclan had begun to feel like home. Of course, that means little to a cat like him - wandering from street to street, straying from alleyway to sewer to no-cats land, all of it the same despite its differences. Still, it's a fun journey, and he'll savor it while it lasts. Amber eyes glow as he steps forwards, curious as to why - only to receive a name. Changing his name is not something he'd thought of, but he muses absently that it's not something he dislikes either. Possumscratch - it sounds fierce. Violent. Like him.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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M I G H T ━ G O ━ T O ━ H E A V E N , ━ B U T ━ P R O B A B L Y ━ N O T !

---

 

[Thriftfeather]

Often times Thriftfeather finds himself missing the strangest of things. Tonight, Thriftfeather misses the clanrock; Rumblerain looks too small stood where they are now. When younger, Thriftfeather had thought of it as nothing more than a perch to better address a clan—it isn’t until now that he realizes a secondary purpose: anyone could be imposing from up high, reaching towards the very same place that hawks hang.

In WindClan, even with a chorus of voices to drown out his own, Thriftfeather had been too aware of himself—his size, his voice, the unshakable fact that he was lonerborn—to call in congratulations to his clanmates. Such a thing hasn’t changed. Thriftfeather watches Possumscratch in silence and wonders if he can truly understand his achievement—if he can understand the elation that Thriftfeather had felt, the surety of a future now gone. Perhaps a loner would never understand and perhaps Thriftfeather’s situation had forced a better understanding onto him, above the rest of his kind.

Thriftfeather inclines his head to Possumscratch—acknowledgement or congratulations, depending on how Possumscratch feels—and prays that is enough.

And then Rumblerain continues, and Thriftfeather freezes. There are doubtlessly eyes turning his way, both simply because the mention of someone’s name is enough to call eyes to them and that there are those in DuskClan who will wish to observe him—his reaction. They’ll hope for fear. They will see it in him for only a single, raw moment. Thriftfeather knows how to right himself from any shock. He straightens himself and (fears that his heart has stopped completely) pads on steady paws to the front of the scant crowd.

The first protest finds him only when he processes the words in charge—will a moon be enough time to learn what in charge means, beneath a watchful Rumblerain? It doesn’t show on his face—he has had a lifetime to practice swallowing his every protest. He recalls what he said to Granitepelt—bringing more mouths to feed into DuskClan when they could barely feed themselves—and wonders with a smile that still hasn’t gone brittle how Rumblerain could be making the same stupid mistake.

“It will be my honor,” Thriftfeather doesn’t know what else he is supposed to say—he doesn’t know if even those few words are correct.

Deputy is an inhibiting factor; the ever-worried part of Thriftfeather’s mind howls that this is all a ploy, that Rumblerain somehow knows what Thriftfeather has done and has named him for no other purpose than to keep a closer eye on him.​

DUSKCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[GRAVELPAW]

Granitepelt had died. Ghostmask had very well confirmed his death as did Privetpaw. This meant Rumblerain would take the mantle from Granitepelt and bear the pain of a thorned crown. Rumblerain calls forth Possum and renames him. The change is weird. The name is weird. Maybe one day Gravelpaw will receive a name like that.

Their mentor does not cheer for newly named Possumscratch and so Gravelpaw keeps their mouth shut, head twisting to look as if they were an owl, missing the widened eyes in change for a quiet, complacent frown.

Rumblerain talks about returning to the twolegplace and Gravelpaw finds themself wondering what that even was. What is a twoleg? Are they scary? Scarier than running from Windclan? They're not sure anything could be as scary as that, the fear of being cornered... But in their absence, they speak of a deputy. Thats what Rumblerain was before Granitepelt died and they force it upon Thriftfeather. The slight change in their leaders eyes does not go unnoticed.

They cannot shake the fear that something terrible is about to happen. They give their chest fur a few licks while waiting for the pause to be broken.

Thriftfeather accepts and instantly does her eyes flick to the Stars, searching the quiet place above for any changes. Thriftfeather had said Starclan does not watch them, but what if they do? Thriftfeather was once a clan cat. Do they look upon him softly, proud of what their boy had become? Are they angry? Nothing changes in the sky. Nothing ever changes, not since Gravelpaw had begun to keep a lookout.

Icy eyes settle upon their mentor.

𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙰 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴, ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝙰𝚁𝙼𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚁𝚂

• 
  ❥ baby ,, gravelkit ,, gravelpaw
  ❥ demi-girl ,, she/they ,, 04 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice ,, mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" ,, thoughts
  ❥ too young to be interested in anything ,, single
  ❥ smells like heather and pine needles
  ❥ art by woodlandpest ,, penned by chuff

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Olive-green eyes pierced the darkness and rested upon Possumscratch, as though the weight of dusk settled around the gathered crowd of Duskclan, congratulating a warrior who Privetpaw felt had been inadequate for such a title. Was Privetpaw expected to soon share a title with the rough-hewn, mange-hemmed former rogue? Possumscratch had been a stray, a mongrel, and someone that most likely knew little of Duskclan's true mission. So, the wine-dark boy held his applause. Fleecen facial features crinkled at Rumblerain's next statement, though he did not allow such gloom to benight his spirits or his will, even as the last expedition to the Twolegplace had not returned with the fruits of their labor. How can you be so sure this time? Unaware thoughts sparked within his mind, consternation a heavy bow to bear. Finally, his attention rested upon the shoulders of Thriftfeather, the man who still seemed to cling to the ideals of his old life as though the skirls of a former life had punctured his ears. I do not know if I trust you yet. However, if Rumblerain sees your potential, then I shall give you a chance. Was this stirring of the winds a portent omen or a new beginning for Duskclan? He did not know, and he hated to be kept in anticipation.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• OOC:
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 8 Moons
  —— Apprentice of Duskclan / Mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) 'Possum had been an unsuspecting success on Hollowcreek's return from twolegplace. He had expected to see them mangled from a moment of weakness, to find their way of life overbearing and fall back to the days of scrounging twoleg trash from a bin. But evidently, he had been proven wrong.

Possumscratch is their new name, an official statement to their place in DuskClan. Alongside his success came another, Thriftfeathers.

There is a subtle rise in his expression, surprise, but it is short-lived. The two had grown up together, trained in one of the most brutal eras WindClan had and may still ever face. There is an eerie silence that fell, but Hollowcreek gladly broke through it to chant, as they always had.

"Possumscratch! Thriftfeather! Possumscratch! Thriftfeather!"
​

( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

"One more ceremony." Rumblerain decides, white-tipped tail twitching with a faint agitation, though it is soothed somewhat by the pawful of cheers that arise for their new warrior and, thankfully, deputy. The look they fix upon Thriftfeather is unabashed gratitude, as if a weight has been swept off scruffy shoulders. Then, blue eyes turn upon one of the Clan's youngest.

"Hungerkit, you're four moons now. From this day until you are ready to become a warrior, you will be known as Hungerpaw." Rumblerain renames her with a faint warmth, akin to the gentleness they'd shown the ShadowClan kits who had been brought to WindClan for a time. It's something patient, vague even, but their attention sharpens somewhat as it alights upon the cat Rumblerain decides will mentor her. With a beckon of their tail, Rumblerain gestures a white-faced warrior forth.

"Ghostmask, I believe you're ready to be a mentor. Teach Hungerpaw all you know."

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦

• // extremely belated @HUNGERPAW ceremony<3
• 
  
  [ art by antiigone ]
• RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan
  
  
  — "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
  — single ; mentoring privetpaw
  — speech is in #858AC0
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

​