camp TURN THE NIGHTS INTO DAY [bones]

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ ShadowClan is a shimmering palace in comparison to the junkyard he’d once lived in. For one, there are no rats skittering around the place like deadly little plague bearers, and the camp doesn’t smell entirely like garbage. Stryker can only imagine how he himself smells to these clan-dwellers, the acrid scent of garbage still clinging to black-and-white fur. He feels the weight of their gazes, both suspicious and welcoming, but he pays it little attention. He was accepted into the clan—kind of, for now—so if any of them have a problem, they’re better off speaking with Chilledstar than scorning him.

The tom has settled down for the evening after a long, grueling day of patrolling and hunting—or, rather, failing to catch anything. His stomach rumbles its protests, demanding food, but he hadn’t caught anything, so surely he isn’t allowed to eat anything. He did snatch a decent-sized bone from a carcass that another cat had discarded, however; chewing at its end takes a bit of time, but eventually he’ll get to the good part.

The tom is absorbed in his meal, but not so focused that he doesn’t notice the movement of paws nearing him. "Hm?" Mismatched eyes flicker up to his observer, falling half-lidded with interest. He isn’t bothered by staring—he’s new around the clan, so it makes sense the members of ShadowClan would be curious about him. But he’s got bigger problems right now, like digging the marrow out of this bone. He licks his chops, blinking slowly at the other cat. "Food’s good around here." The comment is flat-voiced, but not hostile. As strange as it may be, this is a regular occurrence for him. After all, there weren’t many chances to be picky with the threat of starvation hanging over him. Surviving off scraps and bones is nothing new.

➴ i think i found a home

• ooc: —
• 
  STRYKER ❯❯ he/him, former carrionplace loner
  ➼ thin black and white tom with mismatched blue and yellow eyes. calm and nonchalant, difficult to anger.
  ➼ currently on a probationary period; shadowing forestshade.
  ➼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ➼ penned by foxlore

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[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] Stryker was odd, even if she had not been on the same patrol as the other she still found the black and white tom strange. From his weird carrion scent to him choosing to est scraps over taking a decent meal when the clan was running plentiful with frogs. Yellow gaze trained on the other before making her cautionary approach to the newly taken in cat, a nicely size frog in her maw before she placed it at the others paw.

"I don't know if chewing on bones is good but I do know this is, so here" the apprentice stated calmly. She didn't fully trust the other but it would be wrong if she just stood there and watch the other decide it was better to have scraps. "We have plenty, and I can always catch more" she commented with a shrug, not seeing any appeal to stryker's odd meal

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ She/Her, apprentice of Shadowclan, 8 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[Willowburn]

THE GODS CAN KNEEL ⋆⁺₊⋆
The stench that clung to the pelt of the the clan's newer addition was rancid, to put it mildly. The junkyard and its natural aromas were hardly Willowburn's favourite things, but he made an effort to avoid drawing attention to the matter. Though he was thankful that he had already eaten before Stryker's arrival, otherwise he might have found eating somewhat difficult.

A merry smile adorned his features as he finds himself drawing closer to Stryker and Snowpaw with the intention of joining them for a little while. "There's nothing wrong with eating bones, though there are certainly better parts to consume." He was rather partial to hearts and livers himself. The tom eyed the frog that the apprentice had offered up to the newcomer. "Aren't you the generous one, Snowpaw. Very good."

- ⋆ -​

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[SHARPSHADOW]

How the hell was this guy here?

And how the hell was Forestshade, or himself for that matter, not confined to tick duties for the rest of their lives because of this new, thin black pelt between their own. Sharpshadow would be lying if she said he didn't look like he could fit in. He didn't, though— he didn't. He hasn't seen all that they have, and so he wasn't one of them.

It's on multiple fronts, that Sharpshadow pauses to gawk. Like a curious kit, she stops to ponder the stranger that now slept amongst them. Perhaps that was unbecoming. Or perhaps, like a Lead Warrior should, she turned a vigilant eye to ensure he didn't break the rules. Or maybe, lke something close to a friend, she watches to make sure Forestshade wouldn't be sent to the rats over his flea - bitten hide. Food’s good around here, he says, and in exchange, Sharpshadow offers a dubious, " ...Really. "

He cares more about what Stryker isn't doing than what he is doing. And it seems he at least comes with the sense not to eat their prey. Not as if ShadowClan didn't have plenty to go around right now, but... ShadowClan earned this. Not him.

Her eyes screw up, just barely as Snowpaw sets a frog at the stranger's paws. She didn't have the authority for that kind of decision, she thinks. And who did? Sharpshadow?

Silver eyes peer sideward, as if he'd find the right answer waiting eagerly on the tongue of Chilledstar right there. Of course, that's not what actually happened.

Sharpshadow just continues to squint at her clanmates, but as far as they know, that's pretty normal.​

 

[smogstar]

The preceding moons have seen Smogmaw relinquish the concern he'd held for ShadowClan's joining policies and procedures. Ripple, Rook, a clutch of Briar-spawn, and Stryker entered the clan solely by knowing the right names to drop. Really calls into question the sincerity at which the clan handles its own security. This is not a swipe at those prior-mentioned names, nor at Chilledstar's approach to decision-making, but a glaring point he's come realise. He simply cannot recall the last time a cat was turned away from their territory.

To reiterate, it does not trouble him. The fact remains that the leader's word is law, and the leader's word is true, always and in all ways. He will not actively castigate the former loners and rogues for their entry into the clan. Conversely, they will be treated as the clanmates they've been appointed to be, and castigated only if and when necessary.

Castigated, for example, if they're indulging in unsightly eating habits.

Chance has willed it upon Smogmaw's eyes to witness Stryker going at a bone in a manner which bordered on desperate. Forestshade's two-toned recruit perched with a stoop over his paltry meal, dissecting the bone, gnashing and licking at the marrow within. Each pass his jaws made on the cracked bone provoked a pitiful groan further up the deputy's throat, threatening to claw itself out before the situation grew worse.

ShadowClan, granted, has never held lofty standards for what was consumed and by whom. But someone ought to inform the newcomer about the prey boom before he get a bone shard stuck somewhere tricky. "What're you doing?" he probes, tail slung low and unassuming across the ground, as though embarrassed at himself for the very sight. The silver tabby draws up alongside his former pupil, Sharpshadow, whose critical stare is fixed likewise onto the feeding tom.

"Stryker, don't be eating bones like that, c'mon," he continues to drawl, brow skewed inwards by a minimal margin. Amber eyes snap off black marrow and onto the fresh-kill pile, where an umpteen amount of frogs remained for all. The clan wasn't starving in any capacity what with the ballooning frog population in the marsh. "If you drop a piece of fresh-kill off by Starlingheart's cave, you may have a piece for yourself."

Though they stand in his visual field, he looks right past Snowpaw and Willowburn as he speaks; the apprentice didn't need such an uncouth example to learn from, and the warrior need not encourage it. ​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Strangers were like mossballs to the cinnamon tabby, but this one was less of a plaything and more of a kindred spirit - she too liked to eat anything she could get her paws on. She nodded her head in reverent agreement with the stranger. "The food is very good. So... so moist and... squishy. Like eyeballs." Not that she had ever eaten eyeballs, though she imagined them to be as soft as a pawpad and twice as delicious. Making a mental note to try such a thing one way, Ferndance quietly hummed. Shuffling away from the group as others began to talk to Stryker, Ferndance began nosing her way through the fresh-kill pile before eventually returning. Wordlessly, she sat down close to the newcomer, unblinking as she stared at their eyes, her own teeth latched around a bone still flecked with frog flesh. With long, exaggerated gestures of her muzzle, she began to chew, gesturing to Stryker to continue his meal in spite of the council's protests. Not because there wasn't anything better, simply because it was funny - if this was some tradition of the tom that she could learn, then all the better.
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[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ Mismatched eyes raise to meet Snowpaw’s as she approaches, seemingly with good intentions. The younger cat drops a piece of prey at his paws, and Stryker tilts his head slightly to the side as he observes it. Snowpaw says that she isn’t sure whether eating bones is good, but Stryker is certain that it is good. Besides, he hasn’t caught any prey today, so he can’t eat—isn’t that how clan life works? He doesn’t mention the predicament, though, finding it more important to explain, "See, the good parts about bones are on the inside-" As he speaks, his voice becomes muffled in his efforts to scrape the marrow from the bone he holds.

Willowburn declares that there are better parts of prey to eat, which of course the bicolored tom agrees with, and praises Snowpaw for her generosity. That’s a bit embarrassing, Stryker thinks. Having to be fed by a cat so much younger than himself… yikes. If he’s going to justify the space that he takes up within ShadowClan’s camp, then he’s got to figure out how to hunt better. His eyes snap to Sharpshadow, wondering whether the lead warrior will ever like him to any degree. She shows a sense of disgust and suspicion toward everything that Stryker does, and he isn’t quite sure what to do with that. "Thanks, but I-" He’s cut off by Smogmaw’s interruption, asking what he’s doing. The deputy expresses a similar disapproval, but his appearance is much less prickly than the darker-furred lead warrior.

Ferndance’s comment is met with a raised brow and an incredulous look send in her direction. "Eyeballs?" He echoes, disbelief clear in his voice. Stryker has been hungry before, near starving, but never desperate enough to eat eyeballs on their own. The only eyeballs he’s eaten have been portions of whatever he could get his paws on, not some delicacy that he’d popped from their sockets to feed the squish of. It sounds… unappetizing. But then again, he supposes that gnawing on bones isn’t too appetizing either.

Smogmaw speaks up again, offering him a task to perform—if he takes food to the clan’s healer, then he can have something to eat for himself. "Oh." He murmurs, dark tail flickering against his flank. "Well, if you’re sure it’s allowed," he says, rolling his shoulders and rising to his paws. Sky blue and sunny yellow eyes trace across the camp, trying to recall where, exactly, Starlingheart’s cave is.

➴ i think i found a home

• ooc: —
• 
  STRYKER ❯❯ he/him, former carrionplace loner
  ➼ thin black and white tom with mismatched blue and yellow eyes. calm and nonchalant, difficult to anger.
  ➼ currently on a probationary period; shadowing forestshade.
  ➼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ➼ penned by foxlore

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