Sunsetgleam slowly emerged out of the warrior's den. Is it just them, or were they just..lonely? They shouldn't stress about it, the clan were their friends and if they wanted someone to talk to they could probably go approach someone. They weren't lacking someone to talk to; there's plenty of cats everywhere. they were lacking anyone they're actually close to. Anyone they hold close to them. They never realized until now. Guess it's because things had been a bit quiet in their life. Maybe they should go out and take a walk instead of re-thinking most of their life. (good idea Sunsetgleam! Your roleplayer should also do that!) The young cat padded through the clearing, small rocks quietly shuffling beneath their paws. They gave a small glance to some of the cats they walk pass sometimes, just...weren't actually paying much attention to any of them. Maybe they could try to catch something while in the territory. They'd like to just tell themselves to try and dedicate at least a few minutes to bring back something. After all, it can't possibly take that long. But this time...well, they'll see. They..can't say no if given the chance to suddenly catch something off guard but those chances simply being given to them that easily is...unlikely
[Closed]
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My characters are not me. Don't confuse my character's thoughts and personality with my own
Starrykit felt sleepy and hungry at the same time. The problem was, she couldn't sleep with a hole in her stomach. Neither could she eat, because on the freshkill pile there was only land prey with blood gurging out their necks fromctheir catch. She couldn't stand the sight, let alone eat.
No, the more she thought about it, the more she would feel worse.
The little white gray-spotted kit was resting near her sister Elderkit (@Estelle), who had just eaten a whole... lizard. Starrykit felt a quiver for a moment, thinking about the little creature being crushed in flesh and bones.
She decided to stand up and walk out of the temporary den that was the nursery, curious about how hot it was out here in the sunlight. Her pelt glowed under the warm rays, but soon she felt thirsty and weak. She laid down, almost collapsing on the ground, under the shade of some plants whose names she didn't know - and care.
The poor kit knew she ought to drink, but something about her previous thoughts prevented her to do so.
Instead, she closed her eyes and focused on her on slowing her breath.
@carmen
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Brokenstream | 22 MOONS | HE/HIM ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ sleek golden bengal tom with light green eyes, jet black ears & back legs
header by @/Marigoldwhisper
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Jumping with a start, Brokenstream’s head whipped around towards the sound of his name, the tom clearly alarmed. To his surprise, one of the queens was calling him over to have a chat. She said it in such an authoritative manner that the warrior wondered if he had done something to upset the she-cat. ”But what could I have done? I’ve never spoken to her before.” He mumbled quietly to himself before scurrying obediently over towards her. His eyes narrowed briefly as he studied her, trying to remember her name. Finally, it clicked. ”Swanberry, right? Are you okay? Should I get Mistyshard or Berrypaw?” He asked quickly, concern lighting his gaze as he frowned. However, he stopped speaking as she mentioned she was…lost?
”Lost?” He echoed, confusion clear on his face. After a moment or two of processing what Swanberry said, his gaze softened. The bengal tom moved to settle down beside the queen. ”It’s understandable to feel stress under the circumstances we’re in,” He began cautiously. The last thing he wanted to was to upset her even more. ”How about I grab you something off the fresh-kill pile and we can talk a bit more? What’s your favorite?”
He was up again, already taking a few steps towards the store of food. ”We need to make sure you stay healthy. A nice full belly should help you start to feel more like yourself and give some clearer thoughts.” At least Brokenstream hoped. He always thought it was better to have a conversation over food. Made it feel more natural. ”And I’m here to listen, so fire away and hopefully a young warrior’s advice like mine won’t make you roll your eyes.” He joked with a purr, green eyes glowing playfully.
Caveclaw was sitting in the camp.
Honestly, her form of resting after an outing was sitting, though she never quite fully relaxed unless she needed to sleep.
Their ear twitched as she silently watched the others in camp.
She found herself wanting to do something, but she wasn’t quite sure what.
[OOOOPPEEEEN]
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Witheredstar is the current leader of SunClan, she has an open den policy! ART SHOP! PURRKS: Rapid Recovery-Raccoonsun(RiverClan), Silver Tongue-Whitekit(ThunderClan), Chill of Death-Leopardpaw(WindClan), Dreamwalker-Ravenpaw(ThunderClan)
Last edited by Idiotic.Bean101; Today at 10:06 AM.
1 moon ~ RiverClan ~ he/him "i believe the storybooks i read by candlelight"
The little tom had barely ventured out of the nursery before he had been suddenly commandeered into a game by another one of the nursery kits. Ashenkit's bright introduction made him giggle and he attempted to match her proclamation with the same amount of energy. "Adventure" was a fun word and one he very much liked the sound of, so he squeaked and bounded around in a delighted circle, "Adventure! Adventure!" He started off running ahead of her, turning back to check if she was still coming while his bicolour eyes glowed with excitement.
@carmen
Go With the Flow | Silver Tongue [Perm] | Mind Reader
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Pain.
Lots and lots of pain.
Each footstep, each breath, each waking moment was pure agony.
Many times during the walk to the newfound camp, Fishfreckle had to pause. Whether it was due to the lack of strength held within his short limbs, or he had to stop and catch his breath. He hurt. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he should feel about Dusklion finding him. Had the deputy shown up just a little later, it was possible that he would’ve met his end in that half puddle and wouldn’t have had to deal with the pain. Perhaps he deserved this though. Perhaps this was some sort of divine retribution for all the times that he harmed others (verbally and emotionally). Thinking like that though simply pissed him off instead of bringing him some sort of existential solace.
He hated it.
When he limped into the camp that he presumed would be his new home, he paused just at the entrance. Wincing, he craned his neck to take in the surroundings in an attempt to gain his bearings. He wanted to sleep. He should eat, he knew that, but he had no energy to attempt to find food. He knew should he fall asleep in his current condition that he might not wake back up, but he didn’t care. The call to the ever-familiar darkness was a comforting lullaby inviting him with promises of freedom and relief – a grandeur proposition that he was ever tempted by.
As he considered sleeping where he stood, a familiar scent forewarned him of an approaching nuisance cat. At a snail’s pace, he fixed his gaze onto a tortoiseshell she-cat. Honestly, Fishfreckle hadn’t thought he would see her again. A sense of relief washed over him and he couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips when she pointed out his sorry appearance. He blinked. A slow blink, one with a meaning he’d never admit out loud before stumbling forward and resting his forehead against Larkwing’s. It was a little awkward with the slight size difference, but in this moment, right here, right now, he did not care.
”I’ve seen better days,” The emaciated tabby admitted casually, voice soft and hoarse from underuse. ”I feel like hell too.” He added, closing his eyes as he inhaled the sweet scent of the former leader. ”I told you that I’d catch up,” He said in a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. A moment of silence filled the air as he took a moment to rest his eyes ”I kept my promise, Larkwing.” He declared.
”I’m home.”
[ @/Neptune. ]
Larkwing
~<>~
24 moons || she/her || RiverClan Warrior || Kitty Softpaws, Mind Reader, Beefed Up T2 scarred, scrawny dilute tortoiseshell; green eyes
As Fishfreckle leans forward, his forehead resting on hers, Larkwing stills, and for just a moment, the contact scares her. It's an affectionate, intimate gesture, and Lark has no idea what to do with that. Fish had never struck her as the type to initiate, let alone enjoy, physical contact for comfort, and maybe if he hadn't been half emaciated and delirious with the sickness Lark can smell on his pelt he wouldn't have done such a gesture. It's selfish, and she doesn't know exactly what it means, but the tortoiseshell finds herself wanting more of this.
Maybe she shouldn't.
"Took you long enough," she whispers, eyes watching him, worried. She wanted to know what happened, how it had gotten so bad, but she wasn't sure he'd tell her. "Welcome home."
Regrettably, Larkwing quickly returns to her senses, concern over the warrior overshadowing her relief that he'd returned home, and she broke their contact, stepping back to look him over. It was obvious he's hardly eaten, and obvious, too, that he looked as though sleep had been a mere afterthought. But, what concerned her more than that, was how sick he looked and smelled, the odd, sour tang of illness tinged with what she thought might be a hint of old crowfood worried her.
"You need to see the medicine cats," she said, and if the statement came out more like an order, well, maybe he'd actually listen - though she doubted that. "Can you make it there yourself, or do I need to drag you?" She would grab him by his scruff and drag him like a misbehaving kit if he'd refused, she wasn't afraid to do so.
Compartmentalizing, she took stock of the situation. Fishfreckle needed to get medical attention, but he needed to eat, too. The fresh-kill pile had some things, but nothing was super fresh. Perhaps she could go and grab a fresh mouse or two for him while he was being looked over... nothing too big, she knew from personal that eating too much after not eating for a while could make your stomach even more upset, so she'd have to take that into consideration.
Beachkit
Male / About 5 Moons / RiverClan / Sexuality Unknown / Pending Purrk
Pale bluish gray tom with tufts on his ears and nose and sandy patches with bright/light gray eyes / Bewitched Purrk: Nervous Wreck
“O-Okay. I’ll swim the rivers, climb the mountains, reach the skies… yeah… but first I’ll have to learn to walk without falling on my face, I think,”
~Beachkit
TW: This character experiences frequent attacks of nervousness, panic, anxiety, and similar emotions that may be triggering to some readers.
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- The Nursery -
Beachkit awkwardly hung from the jaw of his new adoptive mother, his gray eyes locked on the ground beneath them. So far, the young tom-Kit still had yet to visit a meeting where something significant did not occur. As lovely as it would be to simply enjoy the life of being a RiverClan kitten, the young tom-Kit was never one to simply gloss over such a significant change. It was a miracle from his perspective how Owltalon was putting to much effort into caring for him, even being his mother in spite of the fact that he had casually abandoned his last one. Beachkit could not remember the last time he was carried gently to a destination, and in fact, his mother over in the twoleg place had not needed to carry him. The home was easy to travel around, and Beachkit never went very far anyway. The most he had ever done was stare out the window longingly lile a Disney Princess with his sister, Sorrelkit, awaiting the day they would finally agree to venture out into the wild in searches for their sister. He hated himself for leaving his family in the dust, and he wanted to love himself for ridding his mother of his presence, too, but it was nearly impossible to do both simultaneously. She had not been cruel. She had not been abusive. And most importantly, she had been a loving, caring parent, and he left her anyway. And yet he still abandoned her, and even them, Owltalon still pulled him back up onto his feet- how was that fair? He deserved the punishment, did he not? He voluntarily abandoned his family, and didn’t that mean he deserved to suffer from the abandonment? His mind fought him until he could feel hot tears bubbling up in his eyes again, screaming, She’s here out of sympathy, she’s temporary, she’s here because of pity, she’s not here to love me, she’s here to leave me, she’s stuck with me, she’s- He blinked once and took a deep breath once they reached the temporary nursery, and when it entered the young tom’s viewpoint, his ears flicked. Here it was, home, but not quite. This was only RiverClan’s evacuation home, anyways.
As painful as his sorrow was, it was far better than the panic. The sorrow was painful, sure, but it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of his mind racing, his heart thundering, and his body trembling itself into oblivion. Beachkit had not even experienced his issue with his curse yet, and even still, panic was officially his least favorite emotion. It was humiliating. It was painful. It was… loud, and too silent to be properly heard. It was annoying. But all he could do was simply endorse it until somebody like Owltalon had to suffer the misfortunate of rescuing him from it. Sorrelkit was there sometimes, but he did not want to bother her much, that would just make him a burden. So instead, he just sat and waited it out. It had never been this bad until he came into RiverClan, so the little tom-kit promised himself that things would improve for him when he moved over to RiverClan’s actual home, and when he adjusted to it. Everything and everybody was too unfamiliar at the moment… RiverClan just was not fully his home yet. But then again, the twolegplace had never felt like his home, not even with Sorrelkit by his side, so… where was his full home yet? Nowhere, really. But maybe Owltalon could change that… could she? Did she have it in her? Did she actually want to be his mother anyway, or was he correct to consider the idea that she was only loving him out of sympathy? In Owltalon’s maw, he shuddered slightly, tearing up again. By now, he was just giving up on trying to hide his tears from the Lionheart. She had seen so many of them by now, even crying up her own at one dramatic point in time- specifically during the adoption- he saw no point in covering them up. But as they neared the nursery, the little tom-kit realized that there might be a few kits and queens sticking around, so feeling his heart give a quick jolt of discomfort, the pack of his front paw sprung up to his eyes to brush away the tears. He swiped them away, and as they entered the nursery, he accidentally whimpered. As awkward as it was, he couldn’t help but make the little sound whenever he was growing more nervous than he would like to.
The scarred and brown Lionheart dipped her head and gently dropped him near the entrance, and once Beachkit was back on his feet, he shook his pelt, sending a tear droplet or two flicking off into the distance. His stormy gray eyes caught her as she lifted her own eyes from the ground, searching the moss beds for a moment in thought. The blue-gray and sandy tom-kit joined her in gazing around the den at the nests. When the she-cat’s eyes landed on him, Beachkit turned his head to stare up at her with wide, tired eyes. He decided to not mention it to her that he had been avoiding nests recently, preferring to sleep on the hard ground because he was too awkward to know who slept in which den, too worked up over the idea of laying to rest in some random queen or kitten’s bedding. Who knew where Sorrelkit slept… but he had never wanted to draw too much attention to himself looking around for it. He liked to call the dark corner that he secretly rested in the, ‘Corner of Shame’, because… well, he felt shameful about his entire existence every single time he paused to rest there. It was quite a shame, seeing as he had always been a comfortable sleeper back at the twoleg-place. Nowadays, half of his nights were spent sleeping, and the rest? Thinking, trembling, crying whenever his body would allow him, and generally just dying inside. It was miserable, and son or not, the tom-kit was pretty convinced that he would not be getting any good sleep any time soon. But that thought would easily bring up more tears, so he shut his head up with the best of his abilities, pausing to listen to Owltalon.
Owltalon brought up beds, and his heart clenched uncomfortably. She told him that if he simply located a bed that did not carry any scents then it was not currently in use, and he could claim it. Then when she told him that he would have it all to himself, his gaze swept the floor again. As awkward as that was, it sounded better than sleeping eith some random kitten and their parent, so it was alright in comparison. He nodded slowly as Owltalon gave him a quick nuzzle, and he began his search for a good, open nest. She nodded to the scatter of empty beds, and with slightly flattened ears, Beachkit slowed his pace, crouching and dipping his head to sniff at the nests and test them for the scent of RiverClan cats. During this sniff-session, with a flurry of anxiety, he realized how different he smelled from the rest of RiverClan still. He had not fully picked up their scent quite yet. So after smelling the fifth nest in a row, he took a struggled step back, concern and humiliation flooding through his gaze. Then quietly, he mumbled to Owltalon, “I… don’t smell… quite like you guys, and wh-what if… what if th-they notice? What if they n-notice I smell funny, l-like a Twoleg h-home, wh-what if… what if they…” Eventually, his voice trailed off into a stammer, and fearing more tears, Beachkit shook those thoughts from his head. Then proceeding to scurry about the nursery, he dipped his head to sniff another nest, apologizing awkwardly. “S-sorry. I dunno. It’s just… weird. I m-mean, I smell weird, not R-RiverClan, yeah- th-that’s wh-what I mean, you um… ya’ll smell… great… I suppose.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, though. Beachkit did not like or dislike the scent of RiverClan, it just gave him a feeling of his lack of belonging, as if screaming at him that he still was not one of them. The little tom-kit recoiled. “I think it um… it might be a bit of a Seabreeze thing… m-maybe. It’s like my b-brain won’t accept that I’m s-supposed to be here… until he accepts it, s-so… yeah. I… d-dunno, though.” Then with a small grunt, he finally found an empty nest, and stiffly, he headed towards it. “This seems… empty, so…” But immediately, he hopped back and withdrew a paw, as if burnt. His eyes flashed. “But I dunno, I’m n-nose is probably not the b-best yet… you… check it… um… please. Sorry.”
- My characters’ opinions, thoughts, and behaviors are not necessarily a reflection of my own. I can assure you that we are certainly separate beings. -
Re: RiverClan Camp
