WITNESS & . RIVERCLAN PATROL

[CICADASTAR]

its beginning to rain as they make the trek over the twoleg bridge — avoiding the risen waters and dog - scented sunningrocks at all possible. a faint drizzle that layers soft over his curled pelt, feathered ends whisking in the faint tug of wind. the falls are rancorous, casting a heavy haze of cold spray over the small patrol — he leans just slightly upon one of his warriors as they walk, limbs stiff and the chimera works to convince himself it was probably good for him to walk about like this, stretching sore, aching limbs. his face burns, frostbite eating at the thin skin until it shines raw, reveals just a sliver of arching canine beneath the red exterior. the man lifts his maw, parts dark lips to take in a deep, tasting breath. the stench of dog is not present, “ they’re still downstream. “ pallid eyes cast down the river, where the waters disappear into the heavy morning fog, “ keep your wits about you, and this shouldn’t take too long. “

shouldn’t. cicadastar slowly adjusts himself, settles along the border and roots himself still, unwilling to risk another wobble before any watching thunderclanners. he clears his throat, “ ive come to speak with emberstar. ” he speaks aloud, voice thunderous above the babbling, risen waters and rancorous falls, “i believe there must have been some sort of.. miscommunication. “ surely, that was it. he holds to the hope that the molly has come to her senses when howling wind had returned with their word — he truly did hate being a bearer of such bad news.

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

​

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

she is approaching thunderclan's border once more, but this time with cicadastar by her side. though they say little to nothing to each other, the riverclan deputy is more so looking forward to seeing howling wind once more. appalled and embarrassed that smokethroat had handled something yet again with tact nor grace. it is not that buckgait doesn't wish to help thunderclan of their dog problem, if howling asked, she'd offer herself right away. but the entirety of riverclan can't. they are tired and hungry, waiting patiently to return back home. it would not be fair to ask of them to chase away dogs from stones they cannot use yet.

the earthen molly is silent and still for the most part. at the very least, she is hoping for cicada to settle this as a leader should. and she hopes for the bond between thunder and river to remain untouched and calm. they've helped their cats from fire, but she can only hope and pray that thunderclan can attend to the dogs themselves. the silence is uncomfortable, and she can only wait for the shining face of emberstar. such a bright she-cat. she feels they could have gotten along, if there wasn't a border in the way.
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[HOWLINGSTAR]

The fresh scent of RiverClan and the voice of their curly-furred leader draws the ThunderClanners close. Howling Wind herself steps out of the undergrowth, green eyes narrowed with confusion to see Cicadastar perched at the end of the twoleg bridge where the wetlands meets the oak forest. Whiskers twitching, her gaze then shifts to Buckgait, a respectable molly, her RiverClan counterpart. Wouldn't be for much longer, She thinks grimly, remembering the trek she must still make to Highstones. "You may speak with me, Cicadastar, but I'm afraid that's all I can offer." She mews calmly, striding forward to stand before him. The older she-cat offers him a sincere dip of her head; she is always one to show respect when it is due, and to be in the presence of a leader is all the context that is needed.

Straightening herself once more, she does not delve further into why Emberstar cannot be here, but she hopes they won't question it further. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel relief at his words. Perhaps the lead warrior from the day before misspoke? RiverClan would do something about on the dogs on their territory? "I'm interested in hearing more, and I do hope it was nothing more than a miscommunication," The tabby replies sincerely, her attention focused on the leader. "You see, the dogs are on your rocks, Cicadastar. And they're causing us quite a bit of trouble. We've lose ThunderClan lives over here. We are more than happy to offer our help to get rid of them. Together, it would be much easier." She cannot hide the hope within her voice, and doesn't even think first that she may be getting ahead of herself.​

 

[BURNSTORM]

"SPEECH"
Burnpaw has been decently sad since the death of Emberstar, and understandably so. The flame point had been his mentor, his teacher. He had spent a good deal of time with the orange molly, she had taught him to hunt, to fight. He wants nothing more than to have the opportunity to avenge her, to sink his claws and teeth into the monsters that had taken her from this earth but he knows he himself cannot. He even knows that ThunderClan on their own probably would not last in a fight against them on their own. He had been shocked when he had heard that RiverClan would not help them, had seen his grandmother's outrage and had decided to match it. How dare they deny them help? Did they think they were above the problems of the forest? He secretly hopes the dogs suddenly get an affinity to swimming so they could go be their problem instead. Perhaps that would wipe the smug looks off their faces.

He peers at the patrol with glowing yellow eyes, suddenly as hopeful as Howling Wind when he heard the word miscommunication. Perhaps they were not as fox-hearted as he had originally thought. He nods along to her words solemnly, pursing his lips to keep himself from saying something completely mouse-brained. He knows now is not the time for his sharp tongue, as much as he wants to insult those flea-ridden mongrels that currently occupy the rocks, he holds himself back for the sake of diplomacy. For now, he will bide his time and wait for the River Clan patrol to confirm they would indeed offer their aid.
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[SMOKESTAR]

Howling Wind would be disappointed to know he never mispoke. Smokethroat was not the kind of cat to cover his words with false pleasantries and when he spoke it was with confidence and the assurance he would remain firm in his stance. Buckgait seemed bothered by his words and his response but he didn't hear her have anything to say and if she wanted to bend to ThunderClan's whims then she could just go join them for all he cared. He had no care or patience for the cinnamon molly's desires to give grace and good wishes to other clans when she offered her own very little unless they were her own kin.
Perhaps it was true that he needed to phrase his words more carefully in the future, but his ears prick up to the ThunderClan deputy's comments and he is immediately irritated once again.

He listens to the black tabby and resists the impulse to snort in amusement at how different her words were now than before. She made it sound as though she intended to help them the entire time, to work together as allies, when her prior comment had come across more asking what RiverClan intended to do with no offer to aid them of the problem ThunderClan had pushed upon their territory. A 'what does Cicadastar plan to do' remark and no more. How quickly some cats changed their tune when face to face with a leader. The dark tom keeps his head held up and tail lashing but adds no further commentary, giving the smaller black cat near her a quick glance but no other acknowledgement.
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[CICADASTAR]

a small scattering of thunderclanners rally forward, prying themselves from the brittle undergrowth — he is thankful for the sparse crowd, even more thankful to have his leads at his side, strong and looming. buckgait had even attended, crowding close along the strongly scented border. she does not speak, not even as they reach the end of their cobblestone path, waiting only moments until.. a familiar face. an aging black tabby, fine lines printed upon her prim face. she is tired, he is as well ; though he walks with poise and posture, heaviness pulls at icy eyes, all the heavier now, “ howling wind. “ a surprised trill, ringing pleasant to listening ears. it’s all i can offer. the man inclines his head but does not linger, merely squinting haze - blue eyes in the aging tabby’s direction, “ ah, you’ll do just as well — i was hoping you’d be along. i’ve fine warriors, but as usual, their tongues could certainly use some work. ” amusement rings in his tone, though firm. they’d been reprimanded — enough.

she gets right to the point, and the mottled tom respects it ; appreciates it, even, as the spray of nearby falls dampens his coat, frosts their curled ends. in no time, she speaks of help and though his expression does not twitch in surprise, the gradual lowering of perked, coiling whiskers signifies a darkening shadow over bicolored features. he says nothing, not immediately — merely purses lips to the best of his ability, rides the beat of silence in which nothing stirs but the roar of water at his backdrop. in that moment, a shadow approaches from his peripheral — a whisper of his mother in his dark coat, stocky like his kittypet father. he knows not his name, does not find it imperative to learn ; pallid eyes survey him a split second, slitted pupils bobbing about ice pool irises before lowering half - mast, a friendly purr rumbling deep from his chest, “ my.. one of yours, howling wind? they’ve grown so fast — kleiner, you were nothing but a thought in your mothers mind when your family had taken shelter in my camp, many moons ago. “ it’s deliberate. a smile dances along his frostbitten maw and he plays as though it were wistful, nostalgic, a breathy purr riding on his low, rumbling vocals. kind, kind. the child did not seem too enthused to see him, nor did he expect the boy to respond.

instead, the man lifts his neck, stands at full height to cast his gaze over the frozen waters, churning with ice. a sigh befalls dark lips, loud, “ this river once marked a safe haven for your clan. a boundary no flame would dare touch — the waters are a boundless resource for us, howling wind. but as i’m sure you know.. “ like a band his gaze snaps back towards the tom’s grandmother, weary blue eyes glinting against the reflective cobblestone underpaw, “ leafbare has not been kind. my clan has suffered many losses — thankfully not of life, starclan guide your clanmates souls, but losses nonetheless. “ their camp, their food, their security. his teeth nearly grits to admit just that, but he refrains, forces his smile steady. placating, even as a dry chuckle falls from his maw, “ and so you must understand suggesting that i send my warriors across frozen waters to drive these mongrels from rocks even a mouse dare not touch.. is absurd. why would i fight a war starclan has protected us from? “ that was why the river had frozen, wasn’t it? it was why they were huddled at the beach copse, miles away from the milling beasts.

his great tail lashes, coming to hold even over the ground. confidence, “ perhaps in a warmer season, i would have extended a paw in help again.. but what sort of leader would i be if i did not put the well-being of my own before others? “ it’s a blatant, and a sharp turn, a slight fall of lilting vocals into a near disinterested drone, punctuated with the slightest backward dip of large ears. another sigh and he sounds remorseful, sad, only briefly, “ i understand how difficult this must be to hear, and i offer my deepest condolences for the lives taken.. but that is all i am willing to offer. i do wish you all the best of luck, ah.. now, smokethroat, cindershade — “ he’s prattling. dismissive, already letting his gaze travel to each member of his patrol, counting heads for the trek back home. that is all need be said from him, “is there anything either of you’d like to add? “ an apology. he was looking for an apology. the man looks at them, widens his eyes pointedly. an apology.

− ♱ information out of character ⟐ visual reference translated ♱ −

• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
• none.

​

​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

Mottled storm-colored fur speaks a thousand words to every one he had ever spoken himself, Cicadastar is eloquent in a way he finds both fascinating and mildly annoying. Bastard of a tom, he cared for him dearly but sometimes he wished he'd talk less and now was another great example of it. He did not disagree with anything the River King said, he had no complaints whatsoever with his admission to Howling Wind of their own struggles and how they would always choose to take care of their own cats first. The dark tom scans the ThunderClanners there, checking for signs of aggression he might need to respond to but they were rigid in stance and stature; this would not come to blows it seemed-thankfully.

Cicadastar finishes speaking, glances back at them and he is awaiting the order to leave that does not come just yet.
His orange eye narrows, a mix of confusion and irritation because he does not know what is being asked of him in that silent stare. Agreement? Support? An acknowledgement to ThunderClan that they offered condolences to their losses? Smokethroat feels his fur bristle as he stands there, a glance shot to Cindershade to gauge her reaction as if it would offer him any insight to what was being asked but he could discern nothing from the dark molly. Well, fine, he would dredge up some kind of politeness even if he did not actually care nor wish to speak at all.
"No, you've said it exactly-" Because he had, talkative tom that he was, "-but condolences for your lost clanmates and best of luck with your ordeal." He'd said as much before, perhaps the fact he had been amused at the audacity of the request had made him come across as callous but he expected ThunderClan to be more sensible than that. Why fake pleasantries when the pine forest cats were so quick to expect the world to bend to their every desire?
Politics, he would never truly understand them. One day allies, another expecting them to fight their battles, the relationship with WindClan was easier for him to parse. Eternal war and hatred was something Smokethroat preferred, it was easier to know who to kill than who to give thought to otherwise.



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[Badgerstrike]

From the treeline she emerged to join those gathered. She had been listening. The riverclanners were telling them to deal with it themselves, were they? So be it! The bulky she cat prowled up to them and stood beside Howlingstar, eying the Riverclan cats, sizing them up.

"Oh, no hard feelings, Cicadastar.... It's understandable. Our side of the river.... Our problem!" She said.

Yes, indeed. If Riverclan didn't want to fight for their rocks, then...... Don't mind if she did!

She looked at Smokethroat. Yes, he looked strong. He would be an excellent opponent.... And he sure had nerve, just like his leader. Sorry for their lost clanmates? Please.

" Spare the sympathies, hot stuff." She said with a smirk. Sure, Cicadastar was hot too, but she wasn't about to flirt with a leader. Was this flirting? It was hard to tell with her, honestly. She flirted as a threat and legitimately and it was impossible to tell which one.

"You can offer us  thanks when we send those dogs running for their lives...." She added. Yes, for defending their territory.

"We've all suffered this leafbare, as you've said.... It would be unfair of us to ask you to come help by crossing this very bridge to deal with a problem on your territory." She continued, looking back to Cicadastar. "And as you've pointed out, you have helped Thunderclan before.... So I guess this will make us even!" She finished with a smile. A crooked one. Badgerstrike didn't have straight smiles, they always looked menacing somehow.

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[HOWLINGSTAR]

Howling Wind feels Burnpaw approach alongside her and she brushes her tail against his heel, eyes remaining focused on Cicadastar. She nods back to the tom, responding smoothly, "My grandson, born to one of my eldest." An introduction to a clan leader is no small thing, and she casts a glance to the black-furred tom expectantly. Whether he gives his respect or not, her attention is grabbed back by the curly-furred river king. At first, her ears prick up with hope. Is there finally a light at the end of this tunnel? Her clan has bled, suffered, and starved - will their neighbors pull them out of the pit they've found themselves in?

Her ears will then fall as it becomes clear Cicadastar is saying no. Disbelief shines in wide eyes as her jaw falls slack. "But- But they're on your stones," She argues, desperation dripping from her voice. For once, the usually-regal and composed she-cat almost comes across as pleading. How can RiverClan ignore them when they're camping on their territory?

Badgerstrike sidles forward with a sneer, oozing confidence. As she speaks, Howling Wind can't help but continue to stare in deadpanned shock. Truly, she believed Cicadastar of all cats would take responsibility for claimed land rather than offering nothing more than condolences for the lives lost. Anger begins to burn within her as she straightens herself, finally composing her expression and drawing in a breath. "Very well. Come on, Badgerstrike, Burnpaw." Her clanmate is entirely right; their side of the river, their problem. With a new distaste for the clan across the water, she turns and pads away, tail flicking for the warrior and apprentice to follow. She wants no fight to break out here.

// out!​

 

[Cindershade]

Moving silently behind Cicadastar, the molly saunters over the cobblestones of the bridge in step with Smokethroat and Buckgait. He had wanted to formally address ThunderClan about this pestilent problem with the canines on their side of the river, coincidentally on the very place where RiverClan claims their small plot of land with sunning stones that'd been barren for moons. The encounter with ThunderClan had left a bitter taste of bile in her throat, their sneering and audacity still fresh within her mind. Along the border they've stopped now, the fresh smell of rain upon them as it falls from the sky. She sits with poise, straightening her shoulders and stretching her neck for a regal appearance as they wait for Emberstar to appear.
But it is not Emberstar that appears from thick foliage like a shadowed ghost, it is black tabby fur with aging green eyes that were formal. Howling Wind, along her side is a obsidian younger tom she does not know nor does she care. She doesn't spare Burnpaw a glance of greeting, despite his gaze lingering on them with mistrust and lowly rage. Cindershade merely listens silently as they exchange words, watching Howling Wind's face fall as Cicadastar denies her their help. He was right. Their generosity had now depleted to nothingness now. It was time to think about RiverClan for once. No more taking of refugees, no more offering a paw to aid in other clan affairs. It was their problem, was it not? Howling Wind made it out as if she expected them to do something about it already, but why would they? Because they decided to settle onto a piece of their land that hadn't been touched in moons? They now resided in the Beech Copse, for away from ThunderClan and their dilemmas. She nods in agreement as the larger tom spoke, her velveteen ears flicking against the drizzle of rain.
Now he's suddenly looking at her and Smokethroat, his crystalline gaze locking with her virdian. Brows are raised in question, stealing a glance at Smokethroat as he also spares a look her way. What were they to say? Sorry? A sudden realization hits her and the rosetted warrior feels indignation flare within her chest. Why did she have to apologize? Because she didn't leap immediately in the frozen river to their aid? Cindershade scoffs, her face scrunching and twisting in disgust. She'd offer them an apology all right. Another figure reveals beside Howling Wind, an egotistical aura about her as she stares between them. Cindershade stares at her pointedly, clearly unbothered by her sarcasm as she spits on their direction. Smokethroat offers no apology and she fights down the urge to cackle, merely disguising it as clearing her throat as he spoke. She's hit with another cackle, this one escaping her as Badgerstrike called Smokethroat 'hot stuff'. Oh, he'd be seething after that one wouldn't he? "The shit that spills from your lips is almost as pungent as the smell radiating off your back." She interjects before the shaded tom could, a coy smile playing along her shaded features. While she was at it, might as well speak to the deputy before she was off. "I also offer my condolences to lost clan mates." She begins in a flat tone, but now irritation flares over her tongue as she continues. "And I, oh I apologize so much. I apologize for the misunderstanding that you'd thought we'd jump into the river the moment you asked and help you. Please forgive me." Sarcasm drenches over her tongue as she speaks, completely aware of her defiance against the ThunderClan deputy. It was clear of her stand on the situation and if her leader reprimanded her over how she truly felt, then so be it. Cindershade twitches her whiskers as the black tabby gathers her patrol, surely hearing her apology and ignoring it for the sake of keeping things clean. She didn't have to take it, though. It was merely the point of her sarcasm in tne first place. Though now a prickling sensation jabs in tne back of her mind. Would Cicadastar be upset over embarrassing him to another clan? Surely not, would he? Cindershade merely brushes it off for now. She'd have her answer soon enough. Her head snaps over to the chimera leader with another smile. "Ready to go?"

// IC OPINIONS I AM SO SORRY FOR HER
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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[BURNSTORM]

Cicadastar’s eyes on Burnpaw makes him uncomfortable. There is something about the marbled tom that makes him uneasy. Perhaps it’s his angular features, or the strange words he uses. Either way, he knows he must be polite. It’s what his grandmother wants after all. So he dips his head in acknowledgment of the leaders words but he does not say anything in response, allowing Howling Wind to take the lead with her words.

As they continue talking the fur along his spine raises. They had to be kidding surely? Sunningrocks was their territory it should be their problem as well. He doesn’t understand. Did they not hear? Cats have been dying. They had to help.

He does not want to roll over and just accept no for an answer but it seems like his clanmates are ready for it. Badgerstrike is coy, his grandmother protests her denial for only a moment before turning to leave but RiverClan isn’t done yet. One of the warriors starts hurling insults, starts sarcastically apologizing to them and it takes everything in him not to hurl himself at them, claws unsheathed. "Watch your mouth" he says with a snarl. "I hope the dogs jump over the river and kill someone you love. You’re an asshole" his grandmother would scold him for his language later, he’s sure of it but he doesn’t care. "my mom always told me that RiverClanners were kind and brave but you all look like a bunch of fox-hearted cowards to me" his yellow eyes narrow for a moment, darting over each one of them, daring them to speak before he turns to join his grandmother in a retreat through the underbrush, back to camp. It took all his strength not to claw the smug look off of Cindershades face.

// out!
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