Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
Its been... a difficult adjustment, to say the least. Not hard in the normal sense, no, Cinnamon was more than happy to rebuild after disaster struck, she was happy to lend her help to those who had possibly needed it, she had believed in Pike when he spoke of something better, somewhere greater, and she had followed dutifully behind him when he lead them to the new camp. She accepted their new group, she accepted the fact they had something called ancestors, she accepted her new name with ease: Cinnamonbloom, and she hadn't complained in a single breath throughout it all.
But adjusting to swimming, adjusting to the fact that she had to get her fur wet, adjusting and confronting the fact that she was terrified of getting sucked beneath the river waves? That was hard. And its one of the main reasons she sits there at the edge of camp, done with most of her duties for the day anyways, the waves lapping over her paws. Her face is set in a deep-rooted frown as she watches it, cold in leafbare clutches, and even colder with the dread that seeps in to her blood. Its a wonder shes even managed to get here, but not really- shes assisted across the river by a patrol, or by another each time she has to... And yet, she could never get it down. Swimming, ugh, the churning motion of her paws feels unnatural and she can never, ever seem to adjust to the random currents. Her face screws up even farther. How is she going to manage...? She chose the worst place to settle down in, and its too late to turn back now.
Pawsteps have her flicking her ear, her head snapping to see who it was: a familiar orange-pelted feline approaches her and she relaxes a little bit.
"Bonjour," she greets gently, accented with a quick flick of her tail to the left. "Tu vas bien? How are your kits settling in?" she takes a step back from the water, letting out an inaudible sigh as she relishes in the relief that the lack of sensation of it brought her. It's not hard to discern he had a family in the Shipyard, but now, with so many cats crammed in to one tiny island, its hard to keep track of whose who, whose whats, and all of that. She stares at him, waiting for a response and hoping her hesitance to the rivers edge wasn't watched.
@Tugger
But adjusting to swimming, adjusting to the fact that she had to get her fur wet, adjusting and confronting the fact that she was terrified of getting sucked beneath the river waves? That was hard. And its one of the main reasons she sits there at the edge of camp, done with most of her duties for the day anyways, the waves lapping over her paws. Her face is set in a deep-rooted frown as she watches it, cold in leafbare clutches, and even colder with the dread that seeps in to her blood. Its a wonder shes even managed to get here, but not really- shes assisted across the river by a patrol, or by another each time she has to... And yet, she could never get it down. Swimming, ugh, the churning motion of her paws feels unnatural and she can never, ever seem to adjust to the random currents. Her face screws up even farther. How is she going to manage...? She chose the worst place to settle down in, and its too late to turn back now.
Pawsteps have her flicking her ear, her head snapping to see who it was: a familiar orange-pelted feline approaches her and she relaxes a little bit.
"Bonjour," she greets gently, accented with a quick flick of her tail to the left. "Tu vas bien? How are your kits settling in?" she takes a step back from the water, letting out an inaudible sigh as she relishes in the relief that the lack of sensation of it brought her. It's not hard to discern he had a family in the Shipyard, but now, with so many cats crammed in to one tiny island, its hard to keep track of whose who, whose whats, and all of that. She stares at him, waiting for a response and hoping her hesitance to the rivers edge wasn't watched.
@Tugger