camp WON’T GET A SNIFF // RTA, playing with food

[NIGHTMAREFACE]

The tiny molly stretches out near the edge of camp, batting about a thrush that has long since grown limp. Moving onto the moors has been a dream - Sootstar, like the powerful and independent leader she is, doesn’t follow some silly Warrior Code. Therefore, former rogues like herself weren’t obligated to give any prey to anyone else before she could get her fair share. And the fairest share she did take! Her stomach is full, but she bats around another meal anyway, planning on eating it of course! Just, not right now.

As a dribble of slobber hangs from the edge of her mouth, she sinks her claws into the bird and her mismatching eyes shift to a burrow near her, too small for any cat to tunnel through. Perhaps it belonged to field mice, long since abandoned after cats moved into the hollow. Her move is impulsive, driven by some desire to see what might happen when she does it. Gripping the fresh-kill with her claws the she-cat swings her forepaw down to shove the bird into the burrow, eyes wide as an amused smirk grows on her muzzle. Some cats nearby may even hear her low, haunting snicker if they got close enough.​

 

[sparkspirit]

Leafbare brought back memories that superimpose themselves across the present. There's no snow yet, but he still sees himself sliding around the frosted banks around camp behind where Nightmareface sits and– well, eats was hardly the right word. He remembers the care with which his mother had fed him. Brightshine and Heavy Snow, too, keeping an eye on their adventures. The warrior code had not been put in place then, but it had somehow felt like less of a lawless place even still. The rogues surely weren't the problem. Sootstar would not have brought them in without reason, without– without knowing their use, their worth. Without knowing that they could contain themselves, prove themselves useful.

If Nightmareface could catch her equal to the prey she consumes, the moors have known no finer hunter in the entirety of their existence. He's not close to her, but he doubts it regardless. The sound of her amusement alone is enough to make him uneasy. He's drawn to it like a scene of great violence, creeping closer to look around her to whatever the object of her amusement is– dirtied, twisted feathers in a claustrophobic embrace. Sparkspirit suddenly knows just how his mentor felt about the tunnels. Pressing down, surrounding, suffocating. "What are you doing?" the young warrior croaks, his voice not nearly as demanding as he had hoped it to be. "Can't eat a meal without it tasting like the tunnels?" That's lighter, at least, but still uneasily laughed.

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 11.07.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲　　. 　 ˚　.  SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  ————
  
  
  ——  a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

​

 

[juncoclaw]

Juncopaw was stationed at the edge of camp, not close enough to Nightmareface to suggest they were eating together for any reason other than coincidence - but close enough to be intrigued by whatever she was doing. If this were any other cat toying with her prey, the feisty molly would have been at her paws criticizing the act of wasting when someone like herself could have eaten that prey - even so, the rodent at her own paws was not caught by her. In fact, Juncopaw hadn't successfully hunted anything that day. But who's to know?

Though her criticism would have come easy with some average WindClan cat, this was one of Gin's rogues. No one that Juncopaw knew personally, but Nightmareface's reputation as such wasn't exactly a secret - especially not with this behavior. Her parents were part of the same rogue group, before her time of course, but that didn't bar Juncopaw from any loyalties towards them. Well, as far as loyalties go with this she-cat: they still weren't Sootstar.

That being said, all she did was watch as Nightmareface shoved the bird into the tunnel, curious about her intentions but not really caring that this was somebody else's hard work being ruthlessly wasted. As long as it isn't Juncopaw's bird, go ham. At the approach of another warrior, one she knew vaguely as Sparkspirit, Juncopaw couldn't suppress the visible eyeroll and scoff at his poor joke, but she wouldn't comment until Nightmareface did. Not that she would jump to the old feline's defense if she had the chance anyway; she simply didn't want to make a fool of herself by dismissing a joke if the other somehow found it funny.​

​

​

"Speech"​

---

praise be the heavens. praise me, i'm the lord.​

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

"Buh... b-b-bug-brain," Featherpaw snorted, looking upon the terrible scene with a distinct flare of disapproval in her eyes. What a disgusting habit- whatever she was even doing. Eating, presumably... eating in the manner that mouse-brains did. Without any sense, and coating a perfectly good meal in a layer of grime.

His nose wrinkled. Sparkspirit's lighter tone bounced off of his spine, punctured by metaphorical, defensive quills. Nightmareface might be an idiot, but she was a Clanmate still... he couldn't in good conscience just watch as she ruined her food for herself.

Featherpaw's stomach growled, and he resisted the urge to shush it. Instead, his ear flicked in Sparkspirit's direction before he followed on from the warrior in distinct disapproval, "It won't have t-time to t-taste like the tuh... like the tunnels. You'll wash all the guh... g-grime off of it anyway, with all that spit stringing out of your mouth." Acidity scorched the air around her. She'd probably throw up that meal after eating it, doubtlessly bug-infested by now. Let Nightmareface poison herself, Featherpaw inwardly, bitterly taunted. Maybe she'd learn a lesson at her big age.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

To those who had only recently integrated themselves into Windclan, it might have seemed surprising that Rattleheart didn't have particularly strong feelings on the rogues becoming a part of the clan. While they were now at least somewhat outspoken in opposing Sootstar's decisions, back then they had been perfectly happy to blend into the background. Keep silent and helpful, without a single word on the tip of their tongue as they just took in information without offering their input. A sad existence for some, but one that had suited them just fine - one that had allowed them to know plenty that others simply didn't.

Knowledge alone could be an incredibly powerful thing, provided you used it right.

While they had internally questioned the decision to welcome a bunch of unruly rogues into Windclan's ranks, things had at least seemed to work out fine thus far. The rogues hadn't caused any substantial issues, and seemingly none of them had tried to enact any kind of revenge for the mangled state that Sootstar had left their former leader in. Though, moments like this did highlight just how lawless they could truly be, even if playing with one's food seemed like a relatively victimless crime. There was a grimace on the tunneler's face as they approached, a shiver running down their spine at the sight of the poor bird half-shoved down into the burrow. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to respect your food...? Leafbare is coming up, it won't be long until every single piece of prey like that is scarce." And that didn't even seem to be an incredibly plump thrush, marking just how rough things could become during Leafbare depending on how the moons chose to treat them.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[NIGHTMAREFACE]

She has gathered a small audience, she realizes when she looks up at Sparkspirit. His attempt at a joke draws a snort from her, grin plastered across her face. "I wanna see how it fits," She hisses lowly, but not in aggression for her smile is still strong on her maw. It's the best explanation for what she's doing, for not even she truly knows. She's bored, and she's playing with her food. That's all there is to it.

Juncopaw sits nearby, silently watching while Featherpaw ventures to call her a bug-brain. Narrowed eyes settle on him, her teeth flashing and suddenly it's unclear if she's still smiling or if her fangs are bared. "Is that so?" The senior warrior rumbles, eyes not leaving the apprentice even as Rattleheart speaks. For such a young thing he truly is bold. For several heartbeats, she stares at Featherpaw challengingly before she finally tears her gaze away to peer at the young warrior. "It's my food and I plan on eating it anyhow. Got a problem with that?" She taunts, tail lashing. It's ridiculous how disrespectful the young cats of this clan are to their seniors!​