WEIRD SCIENCE / intro

[BARBELHOP]

The other clans likely had a lot of thoughts when asked to describe RiverClan. Excellent fishers, greedy, perhaps righteous. All of them had something to say about their affinity for water, which now threatened to swallow the clan whole. In his downtime for the day, the red tabby clung to the outskirts of the lapping water, watching with a mixture of intrigue and fear as it got ever closer to reaching his toes. Barbel was not a drypaw, it would be a cruel irony if the one who'd named himself after a fish couldn't even swim, but braving deep waters was still beyond his ability. He didn't know how deep the river was, only that if he could, he would avoid getting his aging paws wet until it had calmed down again. He was a short, scrawny-looking tom, with heavy scarring on his face and similar wounds splitting through the fur across his alabaster body. If he did have to face his concerns, he would do so knowing that it wasn't the hardest task he'd ever endured. Barbelhop lowered his head to give the river an experimental sniff, humming in consideration when nothing seemed to be different there.

A tickle entered his nostril not long after and the tomcat lurched back, rubbing his nose with a pale paw. His pupils expanded and contrasted like a heart before eventually, he let out a bombastic sneeze, the noise erupting through the nearby area. He blinked, stunned, before quickly finding the presence of mind to address the animal closest to him. "Pardon me. Allergic to rising water, perhaps. Or, suffering from some unknown sickness. Hmm..." Barbelhop tilted his head at his hypothesis. No, neither option seemed right, rising water was common enough for him to have noticed earlier and if he was sick, then he was likely to have felt so earlier. Maybe it was a simple anomaly, though the answer caused him to shake his head. "Won't spread it though if that's the case. Don't worry. Will ask that you take a look at the water too though it's... fascinating." Life could be a pointless thing, prone to drudgery and questions of worth in an untamed world ready to kill over honour and grudges. RiverClan's ability to adapt and find meaning through StarClan and togetherness was inspiring, and though his brain was mulling over solutions, he was curious how his clan would decide to deal with a setback.



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[SMOKESTAR]

"Careful you don't fall in then, you'll match your name more proper and we'll be down a warrior."
The waters were rising steadily each passing day, he couldn't fathom why or how bad it would get but it was a worry that gnawed at the back of his mind all the same. Smokethroat didn't fancy taking a dip into it as he once used to during long, tireless nights, but its glistening surface still had an appeal to him that drew that lone fire and brimstone eye into focus. The cold would kill you quick in that myriad of sloshing currents and ice, yank even a skilled swimmer down into its depths to grip with a merciless set of freezing claws. It was a terrible death, he imagined, uncertain if the cold or the lack of air would kill a cat swifter and not inclined to find out anytime soon.
Stepping carefully forward with his head up and polite nod in greeting to the much older tom, he glanced down at the water expecting his reflection only to be met with rippling waves and chunks of ice and melted snow drifting by at an abrupt pace and he frowned contemplatively.
"Hope that sneeze was actually just a bit of water, be unfortunate to get sick right now..hard to warm up." When he was younger it was a wonder he survived any illness because Moss's teaching had amounted to basically 'walk it off' and 'get over it'. That there were ways to cure ailments was still something mystifying and intriguing to him, but he had no interest in learning on it as Beesong did; but he could appreciate it from the side.
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[RAVENSONG]

"It'll kill us." The dark apprentice shuddered, his blue-green eyes round with existential worry. A moon or so again, he feared death by WindClan claws. Now, it was death by the very namesake of his adopted Clan. Ravenpaw's tongue darted nervously over his lips as he looked at the two warriors. He had never seen the river as something nice. Terrified of the water, he had been designated as the only dry paw apprentice of RiverClan so far, expect for perhaps that ShadowClan apprentice.

"I hope it doesn't get higher." His voice shook. He looked at Barbothop, noticing the age in the older cat. "Have you ever seen such a thing?"


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[wolverinefang]

"TURNS OUT I'M PRETTY GOOD AT RUNNING MY MOUTH"​

Wolve has no idea what a barbel is so after a brief perplexed look because of Smokethroat's jest, he shakes it off in the name of not looking stupid. Nor does he have any idea what the titular orange cat could be doing sniffing around at the water. Like most cats beside his new weirdo clanmates, Wolve hates the water but he's been grinning and bearing it as best he may. He can't even begin to fathom getting anything useful out of risking sucking it up his newly bruised nostrils. When Barbelhop doesn't seem to gleam anything from it and only sneezes, it seems about natural to him. He might technically be a Riverclanner himself these days but the river is more a nuisane to him than a lifeline. Maybe he'll change his tune when it's not freezing and they're hopefully blessed with some much needed abundance but he wouldn't be on it. "New way to drink water?" the barrel-chested tom jokes briefly but there's a nervous trill to the back of it that sounds strange for someone normally so relaxed.

His eyes cut to Ravenpaw. "Be optimistic. If he's sick, maybe that'll kill us before the river does." Wolverinefang eeks his head over a bare sliver of water that's splashed on the embankment before leaning his head back and just as far away. Realizing then that Ravenpaw seem genuniely fearful, he adds, "I'm sure it'll be fine. If it floods, that wouldn't be the first time, right. What do Riverclanners typically do for that?" He looks expectantly to Smokethroat and Barbelhop like they have some super secret plan. Common sense tells him that the whims of nature is beyond any cat or any cat's plans but for the sake of their safety, he'd like to proven wrong. He'd almost burned up in Shadowclan, he's not keen for a dip on the opposite end.

BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH — ♤​

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[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw loved the river. Had always loved it, the clear shimmer of the water, sapphire in a mirror of the sky. Dotted argent when it was night-time; a gorgeous canvas to hold within it the beauty of above. And Riverclanners- weren't they lucky they could swim in it! And wasn't Fernpaw lucky he was such a Riverclanner! That his paws, at least, had taken after his father and the waters were not as arduous a conquest as everything else.

Now, though- it rose, and rising with it was apparently sickness and pessimism. Tiny ears pricked at the sound of nearby conversation, and the undersized apprentice was soon to toddle clumsily over, stopping a safe distance from the waters' edge. "Well, that's not optimistic ei-therr..." hummed the unsightly tom, nose wrinkling in a pout as he set a bug-eyed glance Wolverinefang's way. Shuffling a little further, Fernpaw caught the wavering reflection of his own face in the frigid river; a smile, small, curved his gawky muzzle. ​

( penned by pin )​

 

[BARBELHOP]

His ear twitched as Smokethroat spoke up, the other tom himself with both a pun and worry. His maw moved upwards at the former. "Good joke." Barbels had been his first meal in RiverClan, they were delectable fish, if not a little slippery (though the same could be said for most aquatic animals). He didn't answer the lead warrior's concerns at first, confident that he wouldn't die in such a silly way, but eventually, another worry seemed to gnaw at his associate - the sneeze. He shuffled his paws, moving a tail length away from the edge of the Island. "Probably fine. If not, it was nice knowing you. Will tell your tale in StarClan, might lie to StarClan and tell them you pushed me in the river." His brows quirked up mischievously. Even if he wasn't sure of StarClan's legitimacy, he felt no shame in believing he would go there. Everything he'd ever done had been for the good of an idea or a community, it was difficult to comprehend that as an irredeemable evil if it was for a righteous cause. He snapped his gaze towards Ravenpaw, tilting his head at the apprentice's hesitation. Right, a dry paw.

There would be no sugarcoating or downplaying from the red tabby. He had sympathy for those that couldn't swim, but it didn't do anyone any favours to lie about his own experiences. "Few times. Usually kept away from rivers when they were like this, easy to get swept away. Live on an island now though... have no choice but to endure and hope it doesn't flood." Measures could still be taken if such a thing was to occur, measures he hoped Cicadastar and the rest of them were considering as they spoke. Wolverinefang spoke up with similar curiosities but aimed it toward him and Smokethroat. Barbelhop blinked. He had age and experience, but it was not related to clan life. There were new measures in place and new authorities to adhere to, neither of which he wanted to be near longer than he had to. "Never happened before, wouldn't know what RiverClan does. Would recommend moving Kits and Drypaws to a safe place in case it gets any worse. Maybe herbs too. Don't know if drowning makes them useless. Don't want to find out either." His gaze finally settled on Fernpaw, who hummed something that the tabby strained to hear.

Eventually, he garnered it was about the earlier sneeze, prodded at by Smokethroat and later Wolverinefang. His brows briefly knitted, but the tomcat got over his frustration quickly. Leafbare did bring about all sorts of nasty illnesses, even if he proclaimed he was fine and was happy to leave it at that. "Optimistic, are we?" He asked the apprentice, speaking so rapidly he almost stumbled over his words. "Good to be so. Hope is a good thing. Hope RiverClan pull through this challenge..." Barbelhop tilted his head. "Hope it strands fish and shells on the shores for us."



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