camp WHY SHOULD I CARE — hotdogs

[SLATESNARL]

Trotting back into camp, the sun now slumbering beyond the outcrop of Highstones, was the twolegplace dusk patrol. Dangling from their jaws was not a typical menu item for clan cats, though perhaps recognizable by current and former twolegplace residents. The smell was smoky and meaty; Slate's maw watered even as he carried them.

Satisfied with their "catches", figuratively wiping his brow that nothing went wrong, the burly Maine Coon deposited them onto the fresh-kill pile."Dinner's served." He remarks, though mostly as a comment to himself. Maybe crossing into a twoleg's turf was controversial, but hey, they had left their food right out in the open! Why not take advantage of it, especially in leafbare when forest prey was scarce? At the end of the day, a full belly was a full belly no matter what it was filled with. Their clanmates ought to be grateful for going out of their way to secure the smoked meats.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• follows this thread @Cherrypaw @MALLOWLARK @TATTEREDLIGHT but no need to wait! retro to the rogue attack

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

As the deep purples of dusk streak the sky that SkyClan sits under, their warriors return to them, and not alone. Where he sits splayed by his dens entrance, outside only to escape the tang of mint and lavender— because stars know he does not invite this cold— he perks, of course, at the sight of his mate. He is a creature capable of patience. It isn't as if he ran to embrace him upon every return, no... But their bounty, he finds, is quite peculiar... An understatement. He may even dare call it malevolent in nature. He failed to think of a thing he could even compare it, too...

While he is typically eager to ignore the likes of slate, the dark tom looked the most at home amongst them. Dawnglare hates to imply this— well, no... That was a lie. Rather eagerly, he ponders if he had put a sort of pressure on the rest, fake status and all...

though as he steps forward, eyes narrowed with the intent to scold, the aroma that wafts toward him becomes increasingly... more appetizing, he supposes, even if the shape seems downright arcane. This is enough for him to weather his claws. Instead of hissing, spitting fury, Dawnglare approaches with subdued skepticism. He gives Mallowlark a once over, ensuring that his closeness to...whatever it was was not in fact detrimental to his health. So far, this seemed not the case. His jaws part with the intent to do some more eloquent questioning, but instead, all that comes is a slow, " ...Huh? What in the name of StarClan is that? " A frown pinches its way upon his face.

A WISE WOMAN SAID I'M ALIVE 🍷 NOBODY'S EVER TOLD HER SHE'S WRONG

• 
  
  

• 

• ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
  𓆩♡𓆪 He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
  𓆩♡𓆪 Currently 60 moons old as of 1.1.24. Mated to Mallowlark
  
  Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
  Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads

​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Oh, and didn't it look horrific! A patrol bringing back not food, but food all the same. There was no love in the creation of the creature that Slate deposited on the freshkill pile... it was boneless, like a worm, and yet eyeless. Without sense. But, but- it smelled like food, didn't it? Not prey, but food... and Slate was well-versed in the way the world worked, wasn't he? At least when it came to Twolegplace, and he bore a name that told of a loner's life.

Wide grey eyes met Dawnglare's moon-blue eyes, and he meandered over to his phantom the moment he drifted into view, snickering behind smiling fangs. "It's food, apparently...!" Mallowlark noted, voice as ever lilted by cheeriness, revelling in the absurdity of it. This wasn't a creation of nature, was it? She'd not have made something that looked this odd, this thoughtless.

"Looks like guts, though," he murmured with humour, greeting Dawnglare by brushing their pelts together and settling in welcome warmth. When wrongness descended upon them, some- some ungodly mesh of stuff, confusingly appetising, like squirrel-tails balded of their fur and knotted together, there was at least familiarity here.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[DOGBITE]

✦ The announcement of 'dinner' had Dogbite's torn ears twitching with intrigue. I am pretty hungry. Rising from his resting position, he peered over at the cats heading towards the prey pile. Curiosity compelled him to lean forward, smacking his jaws in a wide yawn as he sluggishly stepped closer to inspect coming around the opposite side of Dawnglare. Sleep quickly evaded him as his good eye found the strange oblong things resting atop the pile. Sniffing them blasted him with memories of rotten foods and strange blood-like and vibrant yellow stuck to them.

Immediately, he recoiled from the fleshy sticks, his pink nose comically upturned and crinkling his scarred features. One thing he had appreciated about Skyclan was access to fresh food and not whatever trash two-legs left out. Mallowlark's comment about 'guts' rang true to the former loner as his face settled into sheepish dismay. On the plus side was that they appeared to be untainted, but the idea of delving into anything similar to his past scraps made his stomach sour.

Sitting back, he did his best to put on a polite face for the inky tom. "Yeah. I, uh, have had these. Don't remember what It's called but they taste pretty alright." If Dogbite could've shoved his paw into his mouth right then and there, he would've. Instead, he opted for an awkward half-smile of reassurance. Now wasn't the time to be picky over food, but he couldn't deny himself the truth of how unappetizing it looked.

✦ OOC ✦ INFO

• 
  ———✧———​
  ✧ LH cinnamon tabby w/high white one blue eye
  ✧ child of npc x npc ; sibling to crescent and bear
  ✧ skyclan warrior ; ex-loner ; mentor to littlepaw
  ✧ 31 moons old ; birthday 07/01 ; ages realistically
  ✧ AFAB ; nonbinary ; he/they
  ✧ pansexual ; polyromantic ; single
  ✧ "speech", thought, attack, powerplay
  ✧ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✧ penned by tasmagoric
  
  ———✧———​

​

 

[Bumblebee!]

Radio Silence ♥​

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The return of the patrol and an announcement of dinner being... well, served drawn the young warrior over with green blue eyes of curiousity before they flittered onto the odd mushy shaped things that Slate had brought in, others already questioning what they were. Mallowlark's remark of them looking like guts while Dogbite said they tasted alright. Yet Bumblebee still was on the... questionable side of things. They sure did not look like... food and yet, apparently it was. Of course they couldn't exactly be picky during this time of moon but... Bumblebee shifted in hesitance.

Should he reach out and take a bit in an attempt to try the strange thing? Or wait until Slate or another to take the first initiative in eating the goofy things that had been brought in. He tilted his head while looking down at the strange two-leg food, the smell of smoke and meat mingling in his nose. Sure did smell like food...Tail flickering a bit before slowly reaching a paw out to attempt to hook a small scrap of the food, willing to be the first to perhaps try the strange thing unless someone else was quick to beat the muted warrior first in being a taste tester to the silly things.​

"speak""Thoughts"​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Cherrypaw carries two of the things in her mouth as they trot into camp, having been enlisted by Slate to do so. She spits them out onto the dirt at the first opportunity, swiping her tongue over warmed lips with a wrinkle of her nose. The small brown logs had seemed a lot more appetizing when her only knowledge of them had been through scent. The girl glances up as Slate calls the rest of SkyClan over, Dawnglare among the first to arrive with Cherrypaw's sentiments written plainly on his moon-sharp face. "It was Slate's idea," she mutters, just as the medicine cat's mate relates them to guts. Her expression of disgust deepens. While she has no qualms about spilling the intenstines of mice or fowl into her mouth, the squishy cylinders on the floor look big enough to be a cat's.

Dogbite and Bumblebee wander over soon enough, the former's remarks doing little to dispel the unease in her gaze. "You ate these before?" Cherrypaw blinks at the one-eyed tom with undisguised pity. "Well, you can have my portion if you want," she adds, stiffly poking at one. It's unnaturally rubbery. "Do you think they taste like salamanders?" It'd been all Sharpshadow could find for them in the caves. Perhaps her clanmates had suffered more when they all fled into ShadowClan.​

 

[SLATESNARL]

The introduction of the patrol's stolen goods draws a crowd — even Dawnglare seems genuinely curious about them. He hardly looks impressed, however, and Slate can't blame him — they're rather unappetizing at first glance. His mate clarifies, to which Slate gives a nod and adds, "Correct. It's meat." What kind of meat? Well, that was a mystery. Did it even matter? Slate had consumed his fair share of these things in his lifetime and had never suffered ill effects from doing so. If it kept him fed, then so be it. When Mallowlark points out their odd appearance, Slate shrugs. "It might be. Tastes good, though. And it's filling."

The Maine Coon glances toward the orange-splashed warrior as he confirms the taste of the smoky logs. Dogbite had come from the Twolegplace, hadn't he? It would make sense that he knows what these are. They were practically everywhere, from twoleg yards to the grimy city sidewalks. They would distribute them to other twolegs without ever taking any for themselves. It was weird, but the smell had been quite irresistible especially as a hungry stray. It had been many seasons since Slate bit into one.

A young warrior that he doesn't know very well at all ( Bumblebee, was it? ) seems curious enough to try one. Cherrypaw unsurprisingly displays outright disgust at the meaty sticks, sticking her nose up to them as if she was too good for food that did not even require much effort to secure. As prey only began to grow more and more scarce, maybe she'd think to appreciate his efforts ( though that was a big maybe ). "Suit yourself." He mutters before leaning down and taking one into his jaws with the intention of wandering off to his nest and wolfing it down. An urge to grab another surges within, his hefty appetite hungering, though he decides to leave the rest untouched. If no one ended up wanting to touch them, then that would be perfectly fine as well — that would only mean more for him later.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚

• 

• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[Honeysplash]

Sitting outide of the medicine den, they had been watching for a moment as Dawnglare, Mallowlark, Slate and other cats they couldn’t remember the name of huddled around something. What was going on? The ever strong curiosity of Honeysplash never seemed to die even with what she’s seen. The wounded cream tabby made her way over slowly and watched them bicker for a moment. She felt so guilty- their names slipped her mind. Especially the young tortie that claimed they must taste like salamanders.

What did? She peered between Dawnglare and Mallowlark with a raised brow. Was it another type of lizard or something? Then she saw Slate pick one up and intending to walk away with it- oh! She knew what this was- she has seen her two legs eat these before. Though the name of them she wasn’t sure of. They were meat though- or something close to it?

“Where did you find them at?” She asked Slate curiously, “My twolegs use to eat them all the time in new leaf, but- i dont know what they are called” She gave a meek smile.​

"Speech"​

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living in a world so cold​

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