pafp watching the clock; checking in

[Ratshadow]

CALLED TO DEVIL AND THE DEVIL DID COME ✧​

Pitchstar had upped and died. Again. Ratshadow was not his mother and did not want to baby him. The leader was a full grown cat. Perfectly able to take care of themselves.

“You should take better care of yourself.” The senior warrior comments, dropping a pathetic looking snipe. Her eyes narrowed at the leader to look them over. She was no medicine cat but they seemed better. Which wasn’t a high branch to reach considering they were dead the other day. She places some wet moss next to the bird.

The scarred warrior sat down. Wanting to see them at least take a bite. Content with sitting there in silence if Pitchstar preferred. She would even leave him alone if requested. Ratshadow’s emotionless face wasn’t looking anywhere in particular but she was listening. ​

// @PITCHSTAR

 

[PITCHSTAR]

dying twice in the span of a half-moon is pretty high up on pitchstar's list of utterly embarrassing failures. it might even rival dying not even a day after receiving his nine lives. and the worst part? his clan had been witness to his incompetence. seeing him in his weakest state, as life fades from him like the flicker of a flame being smothered. a fucking rodent had been his demise, twice.

to protect himself from the self-loathing that claws at the corners of his skull, pitchstar tries to pin the blame on starclan. telling himself that they didn't protect him- that they never have. they keeping taking and taking from shadowclan. how could they let him die twice in one moon? how could they have let briarstar die nine times over in the span of a couple of heartbeats?

starlingheart claims that they saved shadowclan, by giving her a sign of burdock root. but pitchstar is convinced that is her young naivety speaking- starclan does not care for shadowclan. it was starlingheart's own intuition that saved them.

a shadow falls over the rosette tabby, in the entrance of his den. there is a snipe dropped at his paws, a pathetic little thing that seems to be more feathers and bones than meat. and ratshadow speaks, telling him that he should take better care of himself. pitchstar huffs, ears pressing tighter against his nape. "as if i wanted to be killed by a fuckin' rat," he mutters to himself under his breath. "why don't you give that to someone who actually needs it?" as if his own ribs do not protrude dangerously from his ragged fur, as if his own empty stomach does not beg for anything at all. but he has six lives left to lose; his clanmates don't.

pitchstar stares at the damp moss ball that the senior warrior sets down next to the snipe. with a roll of his eyes, he leans forward and takes a quick lick at the droplets gleaming on the moss ball's surface, intending to do so just to appease the complaining molly. maybe it would earn him some quiet from her. but as his dry tongue rasps over the water, his body seems to realize how parched he is. when's the last time he's had a proper drink, one that wasn't dewdrops on the walls of his den or a mouthful of snow from just outside? in his fuzzy mind, he couldn't remember. maybe when he'd been clinging to consciousness, battling against the infection.

the rosette tabby snatches the moss ball and begins to lap at it with eagerness.​

 

[Ravenwatcher.]

So I walk alone down the darkest roads​

---

Ravenwatcher did not concern herself of Pitchstar's death, it was not her problem to deal with truth be told, so why concern herself of it? Her eyes flickered towards Ratshadow as she approach, watching as Pitchstar desperately lapped at the soggy mossball, refusing to eat the snipe. With a shrug she settle herself near the senior warrior "Refusing to eat... very well then, your choice of starving and losing another life, I'm sure Starlingheart needs that" she quipped bluntly, a sort of way of allowing the leader to fuck around and find out. "It isn't like no one's going to miss you when you're gone" she stated, indirectly calling him foolish, but she shrugged a bit. Why did it matter to her? All she had to worry was making sure she did her duties, she wasn't in the paws of leader, healer, or advisor.

Her blue gaze dare not meet that of their leader, her words like a blade across her tongue and that they would strike him, perhaps edge him on or make him snap at her for being so blunt to him. However, she dared not want to see their leader foolishly give up another life, especially to starvation, dying to a tiny rodent was embarrassing enough in her opinion.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[smogstar]

The food insecurity situation in the clan seems to have become an accepted doom. Where Smogmaw once reigned as the marsh's loudest sourpuss, wearing his misgivings on the sleeve for all to see, one-by-one have his cohorts sunk down to his level throughout this whole shitshow. More and more folk are comfortable in voicing their concerns, while the ruling class has fewer answers every day. This has given ShadowClan's rabble more leeway with what is acceptable for them to say, and a model case of this conundrum plays out at the entrance to Pitchstar's den.

If anyone had ever dared to speak to Briarstar like that, she'd have their throats. Such a shame she chose to be roadkill instead of an accomplished leader.

He is selective in his approach, halting a fair distance away from the oak tree. "I'm sure someone will miss him," remarks the tabby, though he glances around to see if such a someone actually exists. A lack of evidence indicates otherwise. "Just let him suffer in silence," he continues, clearing his throat quickly, "I dunno what good more lecturing will do." Dampening his ego any further is has to be impossible after he died to rats. Smogmaw doesn't know if his leader can ever overcome that level of shame.

His noggin tilts to the side, and he makes an effort to catch a glimpse of the going-ons inside the den. It's difficult to see more than faint outlines from where he stood, though he can espy the forms of Ratshadow and Pitchstar within the trunk's shadows. The absence of Starlingheart is off-putting initially, but he supposes it is a good sign if she can afford her time elsewhere nowadays.​

 

[Magpiepaw]

They had not let him leave the nursery when the patrol of cats returned to camp. The queens murmured uneasily about rats and wounds and Pitchstar dying and despite his best efforts to wriggle free to go see he had been caught and carried back without getting very far. Magpiekit was not a very stealthy kitten, nor did he have much speed when it came to movement due to his jerking limbs and lolling head, but he had tried at least. He had not seen Pitchstar since, sick in Starlingheart's den with some mystery ailment called infection and he had been told to not bother his bird-named friend while she worked; so like a good child he had amused himself otherwise for the time being. Now that the rosette tom was free his curiousity could not bare another moment of not knowing what happened and he wandered over to the cat's gathered around the leader's den to weave himself between the longer limbs of Ratshadow and Ravenwatcher, past Smogmaw's indifferent form perched nearby and right into the den itself where he plodded forward a few steps before slamming his nose into the ground due to an uneven step.
The black and white kit lifted his head, nose wrinkled and tongue darting out to check for blood but he was fine, it hadn't even really hurt. Upright once more he wandered over to lean in and hesitantly sniff at the leader as if scent could unravel the mysteries for him.
"The birds are sad you're alive. They were hungry. But I'm not sad about that." The kitten looks at the withered snipe, almost winces and his blue-violet gaze refuses to look too closely at the crumpled form. He didn't like seeing dead birds, he liked the birds, he was fortunate enough as the youngest of the clan to be able to be picky with what was given to him to eat and most humored his oddity by swapping the feathered prey out for something haired or sleeker, but just the act of seeing them was a lot sometimes. They shared names, there was a kinship there.
"I think you'd be poor bird food. They might like you morea after you eat."
​

 

[Ratshadow]

CALLED TO DEVIL AND THE DEVIL DID COME ✧​

She nearly rolled her eyes at his attitude. Ratshadow had known Pitchstar for a long time and the urge to bonk him on the head was strong. But he was the leader and she didn’t need to give the cats around them more reason to doubt him. Starclan picked him and she trusted their light. The older feline simply took in a deep breath and sighed to release her inner frustration at the tom.

“He isn’t going to starve to death. I’ll shove food down his throat before that happens.” a vague threat but she meant it. She didn’t want Pitchstar to waste away all the lives he had been given. “Shadowclan needs you strong. But you already know this and I won’t waste my time reminding you.” but she would sit with him. Ratshadow would stay by his side even if all he did was complain and lick moss. ​