camp war of hearts — gifts

[DAWNSTORM]

die with memories , not dreams .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Despite his unease, Dawnstorm had gone out in the dead of night, leaving behind a warm nest that felt foreign now to hunt for something particular, less than ideal, but something the bi-colored male thought would be … He frowned, uncertain. What would they think? That they cannot do these things on their own? He had felt something similar when they brought prey. Would this be the same?

His paws halted, ears swerving to lie flat against his helm. He was not a RiverClanner, and these gifts—He breathed, shaking himself out of his stupor. If denied, Dawnstorm was certain the elders would appreciate them, or Hazecloud. The nursery could always use more.

Bi-colored fur dripped, water leaving in steady drops against the ground when he emerged, carrying pebbles with enough difficulty drop carefully beside a gradual pile of feathers, moss, and twigs. It was a measly attempt to thank them, his attention better suited towards hunting and fighting, but he’d always been someone who enjoyed giving gifts, searching for pebbles in the stream and offering it to the closest feline, usually Frondfeather or—He swallowed.

“Gifts.” He spoke to the cat approaching, soaking wet tail gesturing toward the miscellaneous things. “Thank you.” He added, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. ​

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thought speech​

 

[valesight ➶]

⸙͎｡˚⋆ ⍋ ѧѦ ѧ⍋ ⸙͎｡˚⋆

He said thank you... and Valepaw is stupefied for it. He tilts his head in curiosity, glancing between the sopping wet warrior and the collection of trinkets at his feet then back again. Gifts... Ferngill and Iciclefang had talked about looking for the perfect stone once. The orange sunshine tabby had mentioned being an avid collector of stuff and it had certainly intrigued him.

"R....really?"

He eyed up the colorful stones, delicately plucked feathers... "Very kind... horizon seeker..." No names. Never names. He wouldn't offend the generosity with exerting his will over someone else.​

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[hazecloud]

"Don't go on the ice!" Hazecloud warned to the kittens that followed her outside the nursery.

Streamheart had been kind enough offering to look over the newest batch while she stretched her legs. Encouraged to let herself out of the nursery more often, it was still an effort to remind herself she was allowed to have time without them. That there was nothing wrong about taking a few breaths for herself, but it's hard to deny the very moment her paws left the den her heart plunged in anxiety.

Seeing Dawnstorm, though, fur coated from ears to paw in salty river water, stilled her anxiety from the surprise of seeing him this way. Since when did he like to swim? Did someone push him in? Gifts, he says, and her maw curled into a smile.

"This is very sweet of you, Dawnstorm. Did Snakeblink teach you the customs of gifts in RiverClan?" She pawed through the pile until she found something that caught her eye. A smooth river rock, still glossy from the water and a beautiful swirl of onyx and clay-brown tones. She offered it to the odd-eyed tom with a smile. "I want you to keep this one. All my friends have a special stone from me, this one's yours." ​

 

[shellpaw]

her ears angle downwards at the instruction, but she offers a gentle, ” yes, ma’am. “ anyway where she toddles out after hazecloud and into the buffeting winds. in all truth, she didn’t even want to near the ice. since her near miss in falling victim to its icy depths, she had obeyed with a strict franticness, ever side - eyeing the hazy horizon layered clear with dark - colored pebbles she and her brothers had lain out for visibility. she casts her gaze towards where mist hangs low over the iced shore, keeping so close to the blue molly that she was nearly underneath her hind paws.

dawnstorm was nice, if a bit strange. he spoke like she did — in short, clipped sentences, echoed soft into the mist - ridden snowfall. despite the terror still circling the edges of her mind, the picture of her uncle slaughtered and bleeding into the snow, when hazecloud makes her way over at the call of gifts, she suddenly forgets the weariness she should feel over those colonists when she sees him. she bounces over, plodding heavily into the snow with every bound to appear from beneath the plume of valepaw’s tail to peer at the trinkets sprawled before them.

stones and feathers, moss and twine and sticks stacked into little piles. shellkit blinks, owlishly, before letting her attention fall towards hazecloud. she gives dawnstorm a pebble, and her mouth makes a circular ‘ o ‘ of awe, ” you’re so good at — um. finding things.. “ she breathes up towards him, ” the river must like you.. a lot. “ to grace him with all these trinkets, these gifts to bestow. he used them wisely, shared the meadowlands bounty instead of hoarding it for himself. shellkit thought that was pretty special.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𓇼 𝙎𝙊 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙎𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘿

• i.
  
  
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  SHELLKIT 𓆉 SHE / HER, KITTEN OF RIVERCLAN. KINDLING xx UNKNOWN, NIECE TO SMOKESTAR. TWO MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE SALT & RIVER BLOOMS. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
  delicate lilac - striped molly with sugarplum eyes.
  
  she is pallid ; platinum splotched with ribbons of shell - touched cream, wisped ends like memories of a distant shore. feather breath and elderdown fur conceals a body worn fragile by tumultuous youth, too thin in some places and round with baby fat in others. her face is short - muzzled, framed half mast by eyes coined warm, sugared amber ---------- ° ❀ ⋆
  

  currently exhibiting symptoms of whitecough. this includes a running nose, wheezing, sluggishness, and labored breathing. please keep contagion in mind.

  
  

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[GILLSIGHT]

In all honesty, Gillsight doesn’t know what to make of the remaining Ripple cats. Their presence was strange to begin with, but their continued stay — wittled down into less cats than what they’d joined with, an order to kill those who left looming over their heads — feels even odder, these days. The black and white tom doesn’t often interact with them, but it’s nothing purposeful, is it?

A clatter of rocks catches his attention as he walks past, sunny eyes shifting to the source. Dawnstorm, one of the Ripple cats. Gillsight doesn’t know what to make of this one in particular. He seems nice, but carries that peculiarity with him. His sentences are short and clipped, but Gillsight can’t really complain much on someone else’s speaking habits.

Gifts, the two-toned tom explains, a thank you following. Gillsight blinks, looking down at the array of trinkets, “ Th-thank you for what…? “ he slowly asks, gaze focusing on the assortment of pebbles more than anything else the outsider has brought forth. Is he meant to take one, even without knowing what the split-gazed tom’s thanking them for? Or should he wait until Dawnstorm makes a choice for him?

Ears twitch at Shellkit’s words, a nod following. “ Y-Yes, it’s… It t-takes a lot of hard work, to find so much, ” the warrior agrees, “ H-Have you been sh-shown the best spots to find them, yet? “​

✦ ABOUT

• 

  GILL ‣ GILLPAW ‣ GILLSIGHT
  ── Warrior of RiverClan
  
  ── ??? x ???
  ── AMAB; He/Him
  ── A scarred, black and white tom with yellow eyes.
  ── Mentored by Clearsight
  ── "Speech"; Attack​

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