camp WRINGING MY HANDS IN MY LAP // a change

[FORESTSHADE]

Some of her clanmates might have noticed Forestshade has remained in the warrior's den for much longer this morning. Perhaps many are guessing she ishaving a hard day, grieving the son she has lost a moon prior. Others might guess she is sleeping in after one of her usual moonhigh hunts. In truth, it is none of those things (though she continues to mourn for Sweetpaw, she has learned to function...). Memories of a day moons ago resurface every so often. A gift given to her by her friend, one she supposedly shared many qualities with. What had that gift been? A moldy piece of twoleg garbage dragged here from the Carrionplace. At the time, she'd merely given Sharpshadow a rough cuff over the ear and a few choice words. It had been nothing more than a joke, right? No one would expect rough-around-the-edges Forestshade to give any sort of care about it!

But whenever that memory does resurface, she can't help the bit of sting that accompanies it. Does she really look like a moldy piece of trash? Does she smell like one? Forestshade has never been the kind of cat to outwardly show she cares about such things...stars, she doesn't know if anyone has ever called her pretty before. And she doesn't care, she doesn't! But...she doesn't know if she wants Sharpshadow to think she is anything like a moldy piece of trash.

After what feels like forever of combing her fur with a bristled tongue, the mottled warrior slips out of the den as casually as she can. She feels...good. Her tail, once tangled, now flows in a feathery stream behind her. Her pelt, usually dusted with dried mud and pine needles, is soft and clean - shiny, even. Her face, often framed by knots, is now instead framed by fluffy, feminine cheek fur. Her chest, normally matted down, now flows out like the beginnings of a lion's mane.

She pads towards the fresh-kill pile to grab some breakfast, trying her best to look like she isn't overthinking her appearance. She has no idea if what she has been working all morning on even worked. What does pretty look like to a blind cat, after all? Biting the inside of her lip, the usually confident and uncaring she-cat takes a hesitant seat and plucks a frog from the pile. ​

 

[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] As far as Snowpaw could recall, he never once had seen Forestshade... clean, or well more so with her fur all smoothed out and looking well-groomed so, it would be his surprise to see the molly finally emerge from the warrior den looking... different, to the point where, Snowpaw wasn't fully even sure if it was even the lead warrior or not. The way she moves was that of a self cautious cat too, not the normal stride of the confident warrior at all which puzzled Snowpaw even more. Perhaps, Swansong had decided to take some time in helping to groom out Forestshade's fur for once.

Slowly he approached on awkward paws, making sure his steps were loud enough to alert her to his arrival, eyes staring still awkwardly at the warrior before him. Snowpaw was normally, in some ends self cautious about his own looks, especially when it was hard to get a mud stain out of white fur over something fairlg darker but... "You look...nice today" he expressed to her, his voice rigid and awkward as it usually was, not sure how to go by this. Besides, what made the lead warrior want to change how they look so suddenly, especially when she seemed to not mind in the past.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ He/Him, apprentice of Shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[smogstar]

Forestshade's looking all prim and proper today. Not kittypet prim and proper, no, but put-together in a way that lifts her well above ShadowClan's scruffy standards. His head's folded atop cradled paws when he first notices the lead warrior, one eye open and the other sloppily closed. At first glance, she might seem confident, poised, or dare say, at peace.

His chin lifts slightly, a closer look not revealing any obvious nervous tick. No twitchy whiskers or shifting paws, no signal that her self-assurance is little more than a sham. Forestshade does a good job pulling the ruse off. Smogmaw cannot rightly call her bluff. Something must've gotten into her spirit, some sort of epiphany or maybe an emotional breakthrough, to explain her calm. A marsh-born cat can't mellow so suddenly. It's in their internal design.

Snowpaw greets her at the fresh-kill pile, flattering his superior, as was his habit. Smogmaw's inbound as well, though his thinned lips don't hold any words of a likewise bent. The clan's blind cat looks better than he does, and the fact creates an irreconcilable ache in his ego. Compared to her, he's all cowlicks and patches, topped off with the usual grimace. Nevermind his colourful personality.

"Woke up on the right side of the nest, did ya?" He speaks from a rabbit's leap behind the white apprentice, pawsteps making his spotting approach known. Always, the tom's been able to cover intense obsession with an air of casualness, and now's no different. With easy silence, he sits behind Snowpaw, striped tail sweeping a claw-length away from his paws. ​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Forestshade is almost always... A constant. A really annoying one, but a constant, just the same. And those were... hard to come by, in ShadowClan. Even when he wants nothing to do with her, he often finds herself scanning the clearing just to make sure she was there, as if she'd up and disappear in the middle of the night... Which, now that he thinks about it, isn't that unlikely with how braindead she is. I was just craving a nighttime badger - tusstle! or something, she'd say...

It takes him a little bit longer to find her than normal, but she eventually does. She's a little bit... different today. Less like her entire morning routine was rolling out of bed and that's it. More like a twig would simply feel too rude to ever get caught in her coat. Less like... Sharpshadow. That was, unkempt, unruly; nothing, no one.

He doesn't know how to feel. Or, more like, he knows what he's feeling is the wrong thing. Self - consciousness prickles at his pelt in regards to Forestshade in a way it never really has before. No matter how he felt about himself, he could say, at least I'm not as dumb as Forestshade. At least she's no better (a lie), at least she's no more experienced (another), at least they both look like... like nothing special.

But now, she looks...

Snowpaw says it, nice.

" You do, " unintentionally, he mumbles, and he hopes it doesn't sound as despairingly pathetic as he feels. " Look nice, I mean, " now that he's spoken he needed to clarify, because cats would be looking at him. Smogmaw would be looking at him. Forestshade would be looking toward him. And he... he got up on the wrong side of the nest as usual, hadn't he? Grey eyes cast themselves downward.​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Seeing her mother emerge from the warriors den almost doesn’t even earn a second glance from Briarthorn, she saw the other nearly every day, even if mostly in passing. There was something off about the frame of patchwork caught in her peripheral. When Briarthorn looks again, it takes a couple blinks for the difference to click. Her approach is slower than the others, not in any rush to pitch in on the plethora of compliments being hummed her way. With her mother all prim and proper, their likeness drifts even further, Briarthorn noticed. Where her mother’s features were round, full, and her pelt thick, Briarthorn’s were hollow, her ears much too large for spindly features, her fur lacking the density of the older mollys. While Briarthorn wouldn’t consider herself vain, she knew what she looked like very well- more than the young warrior would prefer, in all honesty.
Sharpshadow’s mumble earns an unintentionally steely glance from the ebony she-cat, if anything for the eerily familiar soft, jumbled tone that reminds Briarthorn of being made to pick mud out of pale patchwork fur. It is almost uncomfortable when thrown in Forestshades direction. Though where she and her mother stood was still in a rocky place, Briarthorn feels comfortable with a quick quip of, "What’s the occasion?" Keeping her tone as even as possible.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[MIREPURR]

Forestshade unknowingly helps Mirepurr out in that moment. They're already by the fresh-kill pile, enjoying a piece of food before their paws inevitably itch to orbit someone, so they do not need to undergo a decision oh how to approach her. She does it for them and emerges from the den like a new cat.

Is that rude to think? Is it rude to stare, when Forestshade won't be able to tell- except maybe feeling pairs of eyes on her?

Mirepurr seldom cares about appearances. The marshes mean it's harder to stay clean, and it would probably be wholly wasteful to keep tidy with all the pine needles strewn about and murky waters idling by. Their own fur is more or less low-maintenance, only requiring a few thorough licks at the start of the day to remain... presentable. Forestshade's own style rarely caught their attention enough to give it a second thought. Forest debris stuck to pelt? Natural. Such long tail ending up in knots? Natural.

And yet, they cannot help but admire how well this look suits her. A mother with such great loss weighing on her heart- a mother who has picked herself up againts all odds. Her very existence is to be celebrated.

"Must there be an occasion?" They wonder out loud, flicking their gaze to Briarthorn. Then back to Forestshade. "Snowpaw's right, you do look great."
​

 

[lilacfur]

Lilacfur had been pacing between the apprentices den and the nursery that morning. Going back and forth waiting for Shadepaw to appear and listening for any trouble with her kittens. It wasn't usually so hard to sit and wait, Lilacfur could enjoy the short break here and there, but newleaf was quickly nearing an end and with their frog issues gone prey source had shifted.

Her eyes catch Mirepurr as they stand over the prey-pile, and slowly follow their gaze which fell upon Forestshade. Forestshade who's coat looked shinier than usual and lacked any touch of the marsh. Lilacfur shared the sentiment of her friend, finding it fruitless to clean and pick the mud from every hair but she did her best to at least remain untangled and wholly unruly.

Several of their Clanmates highlight Forestshade's effort in her appearance, and Lilacfur nods slowly even though the molly wouldn't see it. The lead had passively thought Forestshade to be 'pretty' in the past, but a sleek coat in these muddy days was impressive.

Going out on a date? She would have asked but, unsure of what reaction that might bring, she opted to stay quiet.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  //app tag @SHADEPAW
  

• 

• LILACFUR ✩ she/her, 20 moons, mother to marblekit and sycamorekit
  ⭃ lh lilac rosette with yellow eyes (carrying cinnamon, solid), a torn ear and claw marks beside her eye.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by this loser ↛ @gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

As she settles down on her stomach to eat, an ear flicks to attention at the sound of approaching pawsteps. In a tense voice, Snowpaw tells her she looks nice. Thank you, She wants to say, but instead she impulsively quirks a lip to reveal a snarky fang. “Do I not always look nice?” She huffs back sassily, her tail lashing with a bit of amusement. She’s unserious about the whole thing; if anything, she just can’t seem to take a compliment. Smogmaw’s annoying scent hits her next and she tips her muzzle in the deputy’s direction, preparing to be teased and tease back. A smirk reveals itself on her off-white maw, “I guess I must’ve, if our esteemed deputy notices a difference!”

And then her scent hits her and she swivels her ears around, locating stiff paws nearby. Will she think she’s a smelly, moldy piece of garbage now? He mumbles, so low she has to strain her ears to hear it. Despite the lack of passion and energy in her voice, Forestshade can’t help the warmth that touches her cheeks. She gets up, turns to face him, and steps so she is standing right in front of him. Expression neutral as she fights the bashful quiver of her lip, the stout she-cat slowly lifts a paw, and in a swift, unaimed motion, brings it down in a smack where she thinks Sharpshadow’s ear will be. If she hits his neck or face, so be it. “Shut up,” She utters with a snort, smile cracking only as she turns and pads back to her meal. Not that she’d ever let Sharpshadow see.

As she settles down into a crouch again, her daughter asks what the occasion is and Mirepurr leaps to her defense, insisting there need not be one. “Yeah,” The lead warrior croons, rolling her shoulders back. “Just felt good today, nothing to it!” ​

 

[HEMLOCKNOSE]

you can count on me​

---

Hemlocknose himself wasn't exactly known for his tidy fur. He kept it mostly presentable, but by the end of the day he didn't have much care about it anymore. The stocky tom nearly purred aloud at the sight of Forestshade that morning. It was nice to see the effort taken. "Your effort goes noticed, Forestshade," He meowed warmly. His tail curled around to rest on his paws. Perhaps to hide his own knot within it, but that was neither here nor there.

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

NOTE: mobile post!

It's annoying, being surrounded by cats that were all saying the same thing as her, but in confidence. What's the occassion? a few of them murmur. Forestshade has never cared about occassions before. Why would she suddenly care now? The question is sort of rhetorical, sort of not. As subtly as he can, Sharpshadow pricks in ear, like he'd be able to pick an answer out of Forestshade's words.

But she seems... the same. Uncaring. Laid back. She teases those who dared to compliment her. Lazy confidence shows in a flicker toward Smogmaw's face. Sharpshadow's not sure what allowed her to look like that. To fix herself up and feel confident about it in the same breath. A pinched gaze watches her strut about. It wasn't... as unnatural on her as it was surprising. She wore the kempt look well, and the fact has Sharpshadow chewing on the inside of her cheek. Must there be an occassion? muses Mirepurr. Must there be? ..
Sharpshadow isn't sure which option he hates more. Mirepurr should probably just shut up, in her opinion, but no one seemed to agree with her on that front.

Suddenly, Forestshade is in front of him. Sharpshadow stares with bug eyes. Things are quiet, tense until...

" Ow, " Sharpshadow says, despite it having hardly hurt at all, the smack of a white paw onto her nose. Forestshade turns around before he can even ask anything. Hypothetically anyways, if he wasn't too busy looking like a startled hare right now. A bewildered gaze follows her motions. A low - spoken question is something only those around her would hear. " What was that for? " he couldn't stand her, sometimes.​