camp would you search and search ࿐࿔ return


✦ ˚  ✧ ˚ .˚ ✦  ✦
  • The journey back is somehow more exhausting than the trip there... though there is a crown of pointed spines in a staggering display of nine, they do nothing to give life to their paw-steps. They travel gorse plains in remote silence, glancing occasionally across the fire-torn territory with a wariness taught in blood-shed... Smokestar had died out here once... and now again but this time more permanently. With no body to bury, there is only his memory to sink under the dirt. Is there a swatch of his fur left under the willow branches that might be preserved in shaking-pawed reverie? Could they bury that and feel at peace...?

    The return meant admitting what had been gnawing at the base of her skull for weeks... the unavoidable reality that who she begged to be found would not be. Could not be. Their march is scored with the marks of those who have witnessed the dead, counted them.. and found one more amongst their ranks they'd hoped not to.

    It still feels... surreal... wrong... like some celestial prank, if you could even call something so cruel a prank and not a torture. "I'm so sorry..." Eyelines reddened by ceaseless tears sting again to hear it... an apology she didn't want. She knew why... but wanted so vehemently to deny it in case that might take it back, might change it. Don't be sorry, just come back... But there's no undoing this one... there is not sleeping off the bad feeling and waking up rejuvenated.

    There is just exhaustion... and an isolating storm that brews in crackling grief.

    RiverClan's territory appears under-paw like they have been teleported... but the way her muscles ache suggests she has simply lost the time spent walking. WindClan did not stop them... was not willing to bar them from their solemn pilgrimage... and for that, they can be thankful for Sunstar's rule of the meadows instead. "Do you have anything... for sleep," she asks Moonbeam suddenly, blinking from her fixated stare at the pebbled ground as they draw closer to RiverClan's camp. It hardly matters... and she won't press it if her medicine cat is in short supply (it's not something she has the capacity to keep track of and doesn't need to).

    Whatever the answer is, she nods as an end to the conversation, the camp guards rise in alarmed greeting to see them both safely returned and without acknowledging them, or offering explanation, the blue point slips into the reed-crested camp to see the busy hustling of cats headed for patrols... of normalcy despite suffering... and knows she'll have to admit to them that it's over. There is no one left to search for.

    But just for a moment, she hesitates... and just watches with exhausted gaze as they flutter around like eager spring fledglings.

    Lichenstar is home.

  • about

    speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
    ooc notes ✦ this would be the morning of march 13th, two days before the gathering
    tagging ✶ @Moonbeam bc she was present but no need to wait
    penned by tieirlys
  • ˚  ★⋆. ࿐࿔  ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦     ˚     .
       .     ˚     *     ✦   .  .   ✦ ˚      ˚ .˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .   ✦   .  .   ˚       ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦  ˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
       .     ˚     *     ✦   .  .   ✦ ˚      ˚ .˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .             ✦  

There was a gaping wound in all of their chests- and Claythorn knew that Lichentail (who would not longer be Lichentail upon her return) had come to terms with it first, and would be one of the last ones to know it closed. An empty trek, one that Claythorn could not imagine making herself. Wounded and forced to understand that their previous leader was dead, a new stars upon the painted skies. Silently, she had wondered how Moonbeam was handling all of this. How her friend could manage such a position at her age.

Claythorn was perhaps not the first to notice the return of the quiet leader, but her eyes shifted over her body for injures- then straight for the doors to the soul, mismatched goldens pinning against stormy blues. A soft exhale left her- knowing the aching pain that Lichenstar had found still remained somewhere in her gut. Flamed marble pushes to her paws, gently padding closer to that of their new leader. She does not crowd, but instead she watches, ears twitching.

And finally, after an aching time of yawning silence, her head lowered in respect. She did not make assumptions in name, did not announce Lichenstar's triumph for her- for it was a triumph, regardless of how she was awarded those lives. She did not presume to know that the Stars had yet granted her that privilege (burden) of leading a clan. "Welcome home." She meowed, picking her head up after a moment.

Vision shifted next to that of the medicine cat, looking her over similarly. Did the ghost-pale pelted offer any kind of explanation, any kind of outburst?
  • "speech"
  • CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
    LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
    mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
    no current love interest / / only child
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.


Hopelessness gripped them all fiercely, day by day... until there had been one option. Ferngill remembered the shock of returning from the mountains to find Smokestar stood in Cicadastar's place; the sudden onslaught of pain was like an elk ramming its antlers straight into his throat, staggering him to the ground with the additional news that Steepnsout had died in his absence, too. The slow, agonising realisation that Smokestar probably wasn't returning was much different. Like fox-claws, raking right down your stomach... even Ferngill was finding it difficult to smile.

If there was one thing he knew, though... it was that he had the utmost belief in Lichentail to do the right thing. They were a fantastic deputy, and if it had to be this way, Ferngill knew she would make a fantastic leader as well.

He rose with the dawn, bright like the sky- through the gentle haze of morning misty-eye, the fiery tom spotted the pair of Moonbeam and Lichentail moving toward camp. Attentive, he was quick to rush over... though, he was mindful enough not to crowd her. A verdant eye settled upon the pair, darting between them, waiting for a word. It was Claythorn's voice he heard first, though- welcome home. Ferngill's ear flicked.

"Was he..." He trailed off before he'd begun, really... in his bones, he knew the answer. "You're... Lichenstar?" Nine lives... and this time, he prayed he wouldn't see her lose all nine.
penned by pin

Though Moonbeam was happy she had gone with Lichentail - Lichenstar now - she was tired. Under normal circumstances when traveling to the Moonstone she prepared all day, napping where possible and taking herbs if needed before the journey to make sure she'd have the energy to make it back fine. Last night she hadn't prepared however, nor had Lichenstar, so when the question of whether Moonbeam had anything to help sleep got brought up it surprised her, though head would shake. She knew there were herbs like this somewhere but there were none within RiverClan. "None grows here." She'd admit after the shake of her head, tail flicking for a moment before she watched as the new leader of RiverClan moved into the camp, head low before looking up to the others that soon begin moving towards them.

She expected words, expected Lichenstar to tell the clan what had happened and the information that they had found out, but nothing came and a small frown etched itself onto Moonbeam's face before she looked to her friends, looked to Claythorn and Ferngill and her eyes let it be known before her words did, grief-filled though bright all the same. As soon as Lichenstar moved to leave the medicine cat would clear her throat, awkward words being shared to the clan as more began to gather, as more questions were asked and soon to be answered. "Smokestar is with StarClan," She'd start, not allowing to let the nasty word of "dead" leave her lips, for though he wasn't with them in body he could still be with them in spirit, in StarClan watching over the clan, over his children, "We found out last night when we went to the Moonstone."

She wouldn't mention how Lichenstar had gone off on her own at first, how Moonbeam had to follow her out or else she would have gone alone without telling anyone. "There Lichentail was given her nine lives, and named Lichenstar by our ancestors." It had been bittersweet, finding out the Smokestar was dead while Lichenstar received her lives, but they had closure, and life ticked on.

  • --
  • 76563872_jZr368yA5Er3eOs.png
    ꕥꕥꕥ ILLNESS
    ꕥꕥ KITTING
    ꕥꕥꕥꕥ POISONS
  • 76807578_J7HAFb99CicY51c.png
    SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
    speaks softly & often found humming
    12 moons old; ages the 17th every month
    homosexual homoromantic ; interested in beepaw & redacted
    currently mentoring none
    easy to befriend/interact with ; hard to anger/upset
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics
    peaceful powerplay allowed
  • Love
Reactions: wolfie
Fogshore knew Lichentail wouldn't be... Lichenail for long. He had come to terms with it when the news of the death of Smokestar losing all of his lives. He understands that their previous leader was dead. But not, drifting above the stars as anyone else who was dead. However, he wonders how Moonbeam is handling all of this.

The feathery chimera lifted his head from its state of grooming a paw, noticing the quiet leader's return. He lets his odd-eyed gaze rest on the new leader. Pale paws pushes himself up, his tail swept against the ground. Fogshore doesn't crowd the newly crowned leader. He simply lowers his head in respect as he meows out a soft. "Welcome home."

He doesn't crowd the newly crowned leader. Lifting his head from its bowed state, his ear flicks towards Moonbeam. Listening to the medicine cat's words of Smokestar being with Starclan now. He silently prayed that Lichenstar didn't lose all of her lives in one fell swoop like Smokestar had.

  • no ref yet </3
  • ( night swimming.. hm ) ࿐ ࿔*:・゚ FOGSHORE.riverclan warrior.
    𓇼 non-binary ; HE / HIM, accepts gendered terms ; 34 MOONS & AGES EVERY 16TH.
    𓇼 bisexual / sort of looking / open to crushes & romance
    𓇼 a LH blue smoke & SH white chimera with amber sectoral eyes and yellow sectoral heterochromia
    𓇼 battle notesthoughts ; "Speech" ; attacks only
    𓇼 may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
    𓇼 smells like freshly baked cinnamon buns & distant rain
    notes: has light-sensitive eyes, tilts head towards the ground. tends to squint in the sunlight, sticks to shaded areas.
    — all opinions are ic

    biography / @ on discord for plots
    — penned by calzone

A celebration, even the chanting that comes with the gift of a new name, would betray the somber atmosphere of Lichentail-- Lichenstar’s return. Snakeblink clamps his jaws around the questions that arise, the cry or congratulation at the news -- there is a hole like a mouth opening in the pit of his stomach, gnawing on his heart at the thought that Smokestar is gone, and at the sight of Lichenstar’s grief. It’s impossible to get words past that confusion and upset.

Still, he tries. ”Welcome home,” he murmurs, echoing Claythorn and Fogshore. He pads up closer and, tentatively, brushes his tail against her side. ”I will handle the patrols this morning -- or ask Ferngill to, if you prefer. You should rest.” He will grieve in his own time -- when he's no longer needed.

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely

  • 2h3Dnip.png

    Snakeblink • he / him. 51 ☾, riverclan warrior
    — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
    — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo


( ) she has never dreaded the return of any riverclan cat moreso than she dreads lichentail's return from the moonstone. as the gray ghost of a queen slips into camp, willowroot's heart thunders out of her chest, a cacophony only she can hear, built of grief and crashing hope. verdant eyes find crystalline blue for a moment, a silent message of support passing between the two felines as the smoke makes her way towards the newly arrived duo. moonbeam's mouth opens and willow braces for news she already feels is known. the words still hit like a claw in the chest, grief puncturing her lungs and deflating her chances at breath.

smokestar is with starclan, the star-blessed girl admits. willowroot flashes back to the sweet-sour smell of monster breath, the cries of now-dead apprentices and their now-dead father, the wide eyed periwinkle gaze of her best friend stolen by beings she had up until that moment not felt animosity towards. now she can smell rain and hear the slicing of claws through mud, the powerful splash of a body hitting the current of an unyielding river. buckgait gone in one turn of the seasons. smokestar gone in another. willowroot will never again call someone a best friend.

to loose a friend is to have one worth loving in the first place. death is eventual for all, but no cat imagines burying their loved ones so close to their own age. in the watery morning light, willowroot stands with her tail low and ear flat, holding back tears that she will forever believe are a sign of her weakness. snakeblink murmurs aid, and the smoke furred feline will glance at the tabby, wondering if he has found it strange yet to be one of two remaining of cicadastar's original council. how odd, to outlive cats you idolize.

willowroot picks herself back up again as she always does. she will break down in the privacy of her nest, with poppysplash there to comfort her, but for now, she blinks away the haze over her eyes, straightens her back and offers a respectful nod. "welcome home, lichenstar."

  • // "#91A26C"

  • 70579232_8S53CwfR3WpaY1R.png

    a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smokey long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, with friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape. her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.


I HEARD, I HEARD ACROSS THE MOONLIT SEA — The daughter of the river kings dreads the return of the deputy and her best friend, she doesn't want to know if her only parent was truly lost to the stars or if he still lived. She spots the familiar pelt of Moonbeam first before noting Lichentail beside her, her breath hitches, and she stands there in a slightly stiff posture before letting her muscles relax. She wishes the pale molly hadn't opened her maw at all to speak the next words that fall from it, Beepaw can feel an overwhelming pain in her chest as if someone pierced their claws into the flesh of her heart and tore at it eagerly. "Smokestar is with Starclan." The bicolored molly finds herself mute unable to utter a single word as she takes time to process this, she doesn't allow a single emotion to slip onto her face when the news is received.

Beepaw refused to let anyone know that she's hurting, that it bothered her that her only remaining parent had lost his crown so quick, and that the taunts of Midnightpaw would not sway her. She's a parentless kit and the fact that she has to forcefully accept that now makes her mouth grow dry and tongue taste bitter. Her jaw clenches only briefly with teeth piercing the flesh of her tongue til it bleeds and she can taste her own blood. Bee can feel her eyes stinging yet she refuses to let herself cry in front of so many and she doesn't want her littermates to see her fall apart so easily especially when they needed her.

"Welcome home," The warrior to-be finally drones out in a monotonous voice and her mismatched gaze drifts over to Moonbeam briefly. She wonders what's on the mind of the other and would likely visit her later for... A talk.


  • bKn8fx1.png
    shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and mismatched eyes
    oftentimes comes off as untrusting of those around her, closed off, and not the easiest to engage in conversation with, she's not easy to befriend. all her opinions are IC only.
    11 moons old; ages the 10th every month
    sexuality unknown; currently interested in no one
    currently being mentored by houndstride
    firstborn daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
    sister of cicadapaw and cricketpaw
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    peaceful powerplay allowed

⋆ 。° ✩ He'd known. Of course he had. Cricketpaw had felt the loss deep in his chest, the hole in the world where Smokestar once was. Denial was a fragile sort of shield, brittle and gossamer as insect wings.

Lichentail returns Lichenstar, and it is all that is needed to shatter the illusion. Smokestar is with Starclan. They breathe. In, out. They keep their composure. Grief crashes over them like a wave, drowns them, all-consuming and terrible. They are alone. Alone alone, so alone, abandoned by the parents whose legacy bears down upon their shoulders. Only she and her siblings can carry it now, no shining light to guide them.

There is no one left to comfort her. Cricketpaw accepts this with what she considers to be a quite dignified amount of grace. There is only a quiet undercurrent of resentment in their voice as they speak, formal and stiff. "Yes, welcome back." It is dry, dull. A formality. Hushed in a way that is uncharacteristic of the apprentice; pensive, almost. Distracted.

Emotions threaten to overwhelm, but Cricketpaw's knees still do not buckle. He can grieve later, when there are not so many eyes to see.

  • 81495373_qvx6EJLrxQ82G3T.png
  • CRICKETPAW he / she / they, apprentice of riverclan, eleven moons.
    a wiry, curly-furred black smoke with clouded blue eyes.
    intelligent, egotistical, and strange, with an eye always turned to the stars.
    smokestar xx cicadastar, littermate to beepaw & cicadapaw
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.


✦ ˚  ✧ ˚ .˚ ✦  ✦
  • They beg for stillness.....

    Plead for the moment to freeze in place so that they might not have to witness the turning of hopeful eyes in their direction. That they would not have to watch hearts fracture, splinter and crash upon the floor through the tear-glistening eyes of their clan-mates. This isn't a hurt they wanted to share... but it is inevitable, isn't it? To admit they are not Lichentail is to announce it as a reality... and they are sure, so sure, that many of them have felt it too. This unspeakable certainty that they'd already known the outcome... the way the story ends.

    It's a special kind of hell then.. that Moonbeam's bountiful knowledge says there is no saving them from a fitful sleep... that whatever rest they find will be uncomfortable and miserable. Somber, nervous 'welcome homes' dig like claws pressed into stinging, tender flesh- she knows the question hidden in their tones. Knows the answer.

    Is unwilling to speak it.

    As if admission of her guilt, stormy eyes flee from Ferngill's face... They all knew. Did not need her to say it out loud and jab the blade further between their fluttering ribs. Snakeblink summons whatever courage he has to return an affection that is normally shared in reverse order... a tender touch and a hushed promise to release a fraction of the burden pressed against her back. They nod, an acknowledgement, an understanding, but ultimately cannot find the will to use a tongue that had only wailed like a spoiled child not to be left behind.

    The lynx point casts a wary glance towards Smokestar's children, sorrowful and regretful... They had no words strong enough to numb the pain of their swollen hearts... and perhaps alike a coward, Lichenstar simply turns... and walks away towards the illusionary comfort of her nest in the warriors' den... before it is no longer a den where she sleeps.

    They hear Moonbeam's throat clear as they press against shifting fronds and disappear inside...
  • about
    speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
    ooc notes ✦
    tagging ✶
    penned by tieirlys
  • ˚  ★⋆. ࿐࿔  ✦   .  .   ˚ .      . ✦     ˚     .
       .     ˚     *     ✦   .  .   ✦ ˚      ˚ .˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .   ✦   .  .   ˚       ੈ✧˳·˖✶ ✦  ˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ ★⋆. ࿐࿔
       .     ˚     *     ✦   .  .   ✦ ˚      ˚ .˚    ✦   .  .   ˚ .             ✦  

As far as Eveningkit is concerned, Lichentail- no, Lichenstar all but radiates. It's not a trick of the light, but rather a product of creative imagination that had not yet gotten stifled by the harsh realities of life... even if it tried already, once before.

Countless times over, Eveningkit had imagined what it's like to meet StarClan and receive nine lives. There are enough stories circling about in any camp to give some material for curious minds, but with how much of a secret it is amongst the only ones who experience it, stories are just gossip. And gossip always turns into something greater than itself. Still... even with that knowledge, that ceremony has been the subject of her dreams a few times before.

Pair of narrowed blues droop like water, something akin to a haunted house. Eveningkit overhears Lichenstar ask for something for sleep, but Moonbeam does not appear to reply positively. Had the trip been that exhausting? Or receiving all those lives? Either way, mom is not feeling her best self, and Eveningkit has to do something.

"Welcome home!" she purrs, so much more nicer and friendlier than the others. Golden eyes gleam as they travel upwards, all the way to the top where she can meet Lichenstar's tired gaze. Everybody is focusing on Smokestar and Smokestar alone... and she can't fault them, she really can't, not when she still remembers how tight her chest and throat felt in the wake of his doom.

But, mom deserves recognition too. She's here now, in his stead, and she's a hero in Eveningkit's eyes. Just like before... except she has eight more chances to be one.

Tiny paws hurry after Lichenstar's much longer limbs, right up until that kinked tail disappears into the medicine cat's den. There, Eveningkit stands guard. No one is allowed to disrupt this moment anymore.
Without a leader to spot within the shadows of the willow, and the lack of a deputy pacing about and waiting for the reports for the last evening patrol (or more importantly, to share the final meal of the day with her), it was quickly deducted Lichentail had left camp. Some had spotted her about further into the meadows, closer to WindClans border and another had said they even saw Moonbeam not far behind.

It was proven true, as the alabaster molly had left her den empty and Lichentail's most recent scent followed the path of reeds from the islands shore. Hazecloud had felt her chest weighted with worry, wondering where Lichentail had to go, so hurriedly that she couldn't share anything with her mate. Each hour crawled on and on, her appetite fell once the moon had appeared. She managed to tuck the kittens into their nest but she did not join them.

She waited. Where the scent of sedge grew faint and salty mist yearned for splashing paws, she waited. The camp guards murmured to one another, the waters tide continued to gentle trickle over stones and breathe in and out across the sand.

It's daylight. Birdsong greeted her from the top of the willow and a heavy eyelids part as she heard the crunch of dry bulrush underpaw. She has returned, finally, the both of them.

Clanmates gather and echo the warmth of her return though the lynx's pain is clear even through the blurry miasma of her own sleep deprivation. Hazecloud doesn't say a word as she sought for their eyes to meet. Look at me! I'm right here. She wanted to say, she wanted to help, but the molly doesn't spare a word in her grief. Though the stars may have gifted her she is more gutted than blessed.

Eveningkit is braver than she, trailing after the newborn leader but she's raised with practiced manners and does not intrude. "Leave her." Stars, her voice is sickeningly raspy from the fatigue and the sound of it has her cringe. "She needs to rest, we'll get a visit when she's ready."


  • 73582445_EEfwz37mLUqnNP7.png
    —⊰⋅ Queen of RiverClan
    —⊰⋅ She/Her
    —⊰⋅ LH blue smoke with green eyes.