camp the way things go // early morning

[brookstorm]

[ pls wait for @robinheart <3 ]

The sun ekes over the distance by the time the two warriors return to camp. Brookstorm keeps good to her promise - that they'll make it back to camp before dawn patrol has officially left - however as she slips out of the water and onto land she notes just how many other warriors are already up and about. The stone blue she-cat never considered herself a lazy bones by any means, but seeing the bright-eyed and bushy tailed cats (alongside a few drastically opposite ones) made her feel like she was slacking in some way. She wrinkles her nose and makes notes of her personal disparity before turning to Robinheart.

"I'll see you later, yeah?" she asks. To anyone glancing by, she appeared normal - stone faced, half lidded angular eyes, paws planted firmly on the ground. To those actually looking, however, they would see a stray tail flick, gracing her mate's flank. "I'm on dawn patrol, I'm pretty sure, and then another one or two later," she continues, and then pauses. A brief thought tells her that Robinheart's schedule will not align with hers so easily, even if they forced it to work. And so, she awkwardly bids the other a, "I'll see you when I see you, I guess," before turning to trot away.​

 

[robinheart]

Robinheart has no doubts that Brookstorm will keep good to her promise of their return, though she finds herself surprised to see so many RiverClanners roused by the weak rays of sunlight beckoning forth a new day. How many of them will see her and the stone blue she-cat returning together and put two and two together? The brief thought makes the tips of her ears burn. She thought she might have more time to share Brookstorm with only the moon, river, and stars… oh well. Life had a funny way of changing plans, didn’t it?

The tortoiseshell looks to Brookstorm as she speaks, bidding a farewell draped in normalcy. Only one night together and already Robinheart aches to stay by her mate’s side. But she knows their duties must come first. The hopeless romantic in her must wait to have time with the stone furred molly again - whenever that may be. “Uh y-yeah, see you later,” Robinheart stammers (how can Brookstorm appear so calm and collected?). She wracks her brain thinking of when later may be, realizing her schedule may be completely opposite of her mate’s. “I’ll be on a couple hunting patrols and then dusk patrol…” she adds after a brief second of thought, citrine eyes locked with grassy green eyes momentarily before Brookstorm bids a final awkward farewell and turns to leave. She has a dawn patrol to attend after all so Robinheart offers a final, “see you tonight probably,” and leaves it at that.

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) despite their injury, the smoke molly is up early. their ear still stings like a thousand wasps, and although it is wrapped by several layers of cobweb interspersed with whatever poultice ravensong and moonpaw had smeared it with, they can still feel oozing, stagnant blood dirtying their fur beneath. they’re doing their best to manage this predicament - it’s a miracle they’re even out of their nest this soon after the battle - but watching their fellow warriors prepare for patrols and apprentice hop about, ready for the day’s training, they can’t help the melancholy they feel. curled just outside of the medicine den in an attempt to catch what weak rays of newleaf sunlight filter through the weeping-willow leaves, the scarred feline has an excellent view of the entrance to camp.

it is this, and her gossip fueled mind, that allows her to notice the two young warriors entering, murmuring close together. their conversation is too low for even a cat with two functioning ears to hear, and alas willowroot is too far away to read their lips, so she settles for simply watching, curious and eager. brookstorm bids robinheart farewell, offering her a rare smile. a slate-blue tail flicks across charcoal dappled fur, a hidden fond gesture that willowroot notes only because she is paying too much attention. there has always been something between these two - barely hidden resentment when they were small, turning into a healthy rivalry between friends as they graduated. they’ve been spending more and more time together, and while willowroot has phased out of daily gossip, she’s heard the rumors circulating camp. she remembers herself and poppysplash’s courtship, the awkward delight at being seen as mates for the first time. there’s a quirk of a smile on the older warrior’s maw as her former apprentice turns away from her pseudo niece with a small farewell.

“robinheart!” willowroot calls, beckoning the girl over with their tail. should the femme approach, her former mentor will blink fondly up at the tortoiseshell. “come entertain your poor ailing mentor for a moment, would you?” fern hued eyes flick back towards brookstorm, glimmering with curiosity. “have a nice night?”

THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // lmk if willow is too observant n i'll edit hehe " speak "
  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• 
  WILLOWROOT ☼ SHE / THEY, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORING ROBINPAW. PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smokey long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, with friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape. her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.
  
  
  
  

​

 

[robinheart]

“Robinheart!”

The young warrior startles easily as her name is called, vibrant eyes widening as she scans the area for the source. She almost expects to be admonished but is relieved to realize that Willowroot was the one to beckon her over. “O-Of course, I can talk for a moment,” she replies with a shy smile, hoping that Willowroot wants to talk about anything other than the events they had witnessed. The hope is short lived as she pads over and aims to touch her nose to her former mentor’s uninjured ear in greeting, listening as the smoke molly asks about her night.

Busted.

Blood rushes hot and fast to her cheeks and Robinheart stammers an incoherent string of sounds as she takes a seat, staring at her paws for a long moment before looking to Willowroot, noticing the older warrior’s fond and curious gaze assigned to the tortoiseshell and blue furred mollies. “Yes,” Robinheart whispers as she tries to compose herself. Willowroot has always been a safe haven and a source of comfort to her - there’s no reason for her to be so afraid to share her happiness. “Brookstorm asked me to be her mate and I accepted. It’s… it’s all still new,” she continues, her plush tail wrapping around her paws, “but I am happy. Even if I don’t entirely know what I’m doing.” There was no training for love and taking a mate. But if anyone could give her sound advice it would be Willowroot.

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang yawns and stretches in the pale early morning sunlight. She’d dragged herself out of the cloistered noisiness of the nursery to see the dawn, to sun herself and feel the chill of sunrise in her lungs. Birdsong fills the air as they nest in the willows surrounding camp; leaves are sprouting every way she turns her face. There’s a contentment in her heart she hasn’t felt in nearly two moons now, a feeling like everything will be okay if she just perseveres. Her kits kick and tumble in her belly—stars, they’re active at this time of day! “Early risers, hmm?” She reaches around to attempt to groom her baby bump, ears flicking as sodden pawsteps alert her to Robinheart and Brookstorm’s return to camp.

She turns, blue eyes glimmering with sunshine and curiosity, as the two bid a strange farewell to one another. Willowroot is resting nearby, and the smoke-pelted she-cat clearly has more insight as to the going-ons of the pair than she does. She asks if they’d had a nice night, and Robinheart almost visibly blushes beneath her tortoiseshell fur. “Brookstorm asked me to be her mate and I accepted.” Iciclefang’s eyes widen with surprise. She’d not known the pair of she-cats to even be close, but then again… she’s not always the most observant. And she’s been wrapped up in herself and her own dire situation for the past several moons.

She lifts her muzzle from her stomach, tongue twisting about her lips to clean the fur away from her teeth. She offers Robinheart a polite smile. “Well, well. Congratulations on the new mate.” Her eyes dart to Brookstorm, and though she can’t quite quell the pang of jealousy that rises in her throat, she can’t begrudge the young warrior her newfound happiness. She deserves it, after the hell she’d been dragged through in her life.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 21 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior & queen. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

She tries not to pry. Tries to afford others the same respect for privacy that she wants from them in return. Had not shared of her affections for Hazecloud (Snakeblink had been sooo generous to make that information public on her behalf instead) to the general population. Didn't even dare to admit it was her fault her mate was pregnant, even if it was obvious enough now that the children's dark marks had become more obvious at their ends (spitting images of their mother, her daughters were).

But Robinheart does very little to lower her voice. And the deputy immediately starts choking on the bite of fish in her mouth to hear it. It's an embarrassing admission of her eavesdropping as the molly coughs to clear her throat, swallowing past the masticated food as her cheeks burn on behalf of her former apprentice.

This is private... it shouldn't be spread around like this. If they'd hidden away into the night to have that moment privately- anxiety pricks at her skin as if it were her secret being shared. As if Smokestar had just stood in the middle of camp and screamed 'Lichentail recklessly sired kits in leaf-bare' instead of a giggling, joyous admission between mentor and former apprentice.

Brookstorm? Mates? She'd been suspect of it when that whirlwind of a molly had burst into the medicine cat's den to demand Lichentail keep her confined to camp but... it had moved so quickly. There'd only been the one sign, right? Was this a surprise to everyone else the way it was to her?

Had she not told her because she was still angry?

Opting to run away from the tumult of uncomfortable feelings, the lynx point glances to the group of she-cats with a wild-eyed, nervous, "Fishbone," as an excuse for her hacking before picking up the remainder of her fish and leaving as quickly as possible to hang out with Hazecloud instead, where she couldn't embarrass herself further (or hear more information she didn't want to hear.)

She'd... just pretend she hadn't heard anything at all.

---

CLAIM THE BURIAL I SEEK IN DREAMS

FLOWING RIVER CEMETARY​

​

​

 

[robinheart]

There is a saying: you don't know what you have until it is gone. And in this case Robinheart didn't realize her privacy had been compromised. In truth she thought her voice had been low enough, her distance close enough, but sometimes fate had a funny way of screwing her over. Rambunctious unborn kits honing Iciclefang's attention, perceived early breakfast for an early start for Lichentail, and the quiet of the camp allowing Robinheart's words to carry farther than intended.

At Iciclefang's congratulations Robinheart feels like flames as bright as her chest fur could engulf her then and there. Embarrassment radiates in waves and she manages to tamp it down just enough to return the soft smile given alongside a croaked "Thank you, Iciclefang." The only solace she has in the situation is she does not believe the lead warrior to be a gossip. Hopefully her news would be safe with just Willowroot and Iciclefang for now.

As for Lichentail, Robinheart cannot be certain her words caused the coughing fit or if it truly was a fishbone. The mottled molly did not want to linger on the thought though, and the pointed deputy didn't seem keen on lingering on the scene either. A mercy really, one which Robinheart is silently grateful for as she dips her head in farewell to the retreating feline. She does feel bad for Brookstorm though if the stone furred warrior runs into her former mentor later and Lichentail had been privy to Robinheart's news meant for Willowroot's ear only.

She looks back to Willowroot in anticipation of a reaction and so long as she does not interrupt the other she does add a somewhat pleaded "please don't share this news with anyone else," as it is news she would prefer to share with Brookstorm if the two of them ever deemed it necessary. For now she can make herself feel comfortable enough knowing only a pawful know about her and Brookstorm - it would kill her inside if the news spread to everyone in RiverClan and it was entirely her fault.​

( penned by kerms )​