The Colony i am a sinner, you are a saint // dissenting

[SABLESTAR]

A hunger gnaws at him as it had the day before, and the day before that, so far back that the days of when the Colony had plunged into aimless suffering melted into one another. Sable has grown antsy for action, some divine act to strike the den Fray withered in, and free them from the shackles of this tireless game of waiting.

"Another day passes, and who will be surprised when Hawthorne still does nothing but watch us starve." Sable grumbled through gritted teeth. "You think he even cares anymore- about us? Are we just collateral to his fathers demise? Are we expected to go down with him?" The tuxedo lifted his head to look over the cats gathered at his attention. "Why do we keep letting this go on? What's stopping us? Tell me, I want to understand."

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• //this thread is mainly focused for sable supporters! but hawthorne's allies are free to.. linger
  "mew"
• 

  SABLE— he/him ･sixty-two moons ･colonist ; no clan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[Mothbite]

┍

Moth huffs in annoyance. He had been trying to take a nap in the sun, but all the fuss had woken him up, and made him once again susceptible to the gnawing in his belly. He rolls over to face Sable, ears flattened against his skull.

"What are we supposed to do about it? Just shake him down until he shows us the secret forest full of prey, that he's just been hiding away from us?" He scoffed. Surely, if there was a solution that easy, someone would have already done it. It's not as if they all enjoyed sitting around and starving to death. It was the only thing they could do.

"Unless you have a proper plan, shut up and let me go back to sleep"

┙

 

[spider]

"Now now," Spider chirps, stretching as he says it and then sitting down, tail wrapping around his paws neatly. "No need to be unpleasant. We're around friendly paws, no?" He looks around at the other cats, blinking benignly. "On my part, I'm not particularly fond of fighting. Especially on an empty stomach. But where the opportunity to present itself... to let's say, break away, from this bunch..." He unfurls his tail, gesturing towards the colony, "I'd be more than happy to help it along. Especially if our dear Sable was the one to present such an opportunity."

 

[Smogmaw.]

Smoky is content to observe from afar as the restless few kick up a fuss. Something that never changed—cats would bicker and complain about the conditions and Fray and his ilk, but no one was willing to do a damn thing about it. They're all prisoners to an emaciated and decrepit corpse, but its burial is forestalled at every turn. Hawthorne keeps vigil over his father's rotting vessel, stubborn and indignant; whereas these ones are keen to hash out the dilemma, and merely pluck at its wounds. A pointless waste of breath, to be talking on the topic so much without action to complement.

Even Sable's assertions have a flimsy basis. What is he to accomplish by imploring the others to echo the same concerns which every cat already knows? His chin raises as he casts upon the mutinous cluster a deadpan, judging stare. They're talking in circles around an inevitable outcome. That isn't how problems are solved. Either carve a way forward, or force a compromise from those who would oppose you.

Of course, the silver tabby would be remiss not to join in the fray. Within him is a mutual interest to see change—and Halfy has made it abundantly clear to him that the change he seeks shall not be found outside of the colony. Smoky angles his hefty shoulders over in their direction, prowling toward them in large, lengthy paces. "Opportunity?" he jibes, narrowing his glare to mere slits. "Every passing moment is an opportunity wasted. Decisive action doesn't wait for the right chance. It makes its own." Speaking vaguely, now. The urge to bluntly tell them how simple the solution is crosses him, though he squanders it for propriety's sake.

Instead, his posture bows with a confrontational cant of his skull. There is aggression to his tone, although nothing to its heat. Smoky wasn't angry, not with Sable. They were all on the same side of this equation. He lets out a puff of breath in a short chuckle. "Yeah, Hawthorne's just sittin' around doin' nothin'. A blinkin' kit if I ever saw one." It was ludicrous to see cats heed his judgment for no reason other than blood. And the continued suzerainty he held over the colony was galling. "But we ain't doin' much better blatherin' about it. C'mon." He addresses Sable and the rest. "All he's giving us is talk; we can do better than that."

 

[WOLFPACK]

AND I AM SORRY MY CONSCIENCE CALLED IN SICK AGAIN​

---

"He's right." Wolf quipped lazily, nodding toward Smoky. The grey tabby had basically stolen the words from his mouth. "If you can do a better job, Sable, then do it. Like you said– what's stopping you?" he asked, tail giving a lazy flick from where he lounged a few paces away. He seemed mostly disinterested in the conversation, having nothing really invested in it– worst case scenario he could just leave and return to his life as a loner if they were so inclined to let themselves waste away like this. It was hardly any sweat off his back. But it did leave the question unanswered; what was stopping the rest of them? Loyalty to a dying cat? To the son that refused to lead them in his stead?

"The colonies too big to sustain itself on what it has. You either need to expand your hunting grounds, or start getting rid of cats." It was an obvious answer if Wolf ever saw one. They had too many cats hunting one stretch of land, burning through all the resources. And while the answer to solving that questions was simple enough, he didn't imagine it was one that the majority would be happy to hear about.
​

---

loner/future shadowclan - male - a large, monochrome chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars​

​

 

[Frostbite]

An empty stomach does wonders for someone's attitude. Like Frost, for example. Three days of failed hunts makes for an absolutely incredible state of mind. He kept his foul mood under control for the most part, but after failing his hunt this morning and the stray thought of being unable to feed his family and watching them starve to death tipped him over the edge. Littleblue and Snowfern were everything to him....

And he was NOT about to let Hawthorne's dawdling take them from him. He respected Fray. Was grateful for his kindness.... But did the rest of them have to waste away with him?


"Hawthorne has a good heart, but I don't think he has what it takes to lead. Our current problem is a perfect example." Frost chimes in, glancing to Sable. "Truthfully, there's nothing stopping you from doing anything. Like Smoky said... Every second is an opportunity wasted. And since Hawthorne is incapable of doing so..... Perhaps it's time for some of us to make the decision for him."

Was he talking about mutiny? About assassinating Fray? Possibly. Whether it be murder or leaving to another area of the forest, Frost was more than happy to try and plant any of those seeds in someone's head. His gaze lands on Wolf as he speaks. He's partially right..... But getting rid of cats could only mean one thing, and only adds to his resolution to shed blood to protect his family.

"Instead of getting rid of cats.... The better option would be to just move." He says. But if he had to throw claws, he was going to throw claws.

 

[THUNDERFLASH]

☆ "Ge' rid of cats?"

Thunder's voice is sharp, loud- true to his name, he is a whirlwind of sound. Sky blues snap towards the group of dissenters, all crowding about Sable. Listen, he hadn't really been there to eavesdrop. Hell, he had been walking past them, nothing more. He wasn't stupid, either. Thunder knew damn well what was going on, the utterings of those who wanted to break free from this famine, to make things better. A difficult task, but one that could be done. But getting rid of cats?

He had dropped the piece of prey in his mouth, ever the dutiful cat, working moon in and out to catch prey for those that couldn't. Older cats, kits, queens with mouths to feed. He was ever a bleeding heart if you could lay eyes on them, and he might be exhausted, but... "I'd like t' see y' get off yer rear n' make anything better, Wolf." Thunder snapped back, fur bristled and tail lashing. "Gettin' rid of cats. Honestly." He snarked, tone bitter and full of fire.

He all but ignores the rest of them, giving them a scathing look with his eyes before picking up the piece of prey, intent on marching it to the nearest hungry- and unopinionated- cat.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ITS TIME TO DO IT NOW ☆ AND DO IT LOUD

• "speech"
  // not out yet! yell at him :3
  

• 

• THUNDER he/him, future thunderclanner, nineteen moons.
  ☆ a sh/lh chocolate tabby with low white and stunning baby blue eyes. stands of average height with a 'mohawk' and spiky-shaped mane.
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[hazelheart]

(🜲) "the tom's father is dying, sable" the sharp tone echoes from the maw of the striped she-cat as she sets down her meager catch. hazel arrives to the conversation on the heels of thunder, the two apart of a larger hunting patrol who had managed a bit more luck than usual. as her mouse thumps to the ground, the muscular molly curls her lip. "if you don't have a claw of pity for him, then figure this problem out for yourselves. you all chose to be here. if you don't like it, leave." honeyed eyes harden in the chill, narrowing at her friend and his lackeys. thunder scoffs at the gang beside her, and hazel has half a mind to join him in his determined march away. still she stays, eyebrows raised at smoky, at wolf, at sable of all cats, whose heart had once had room for laughter.

"besides, i don't see any of you lot out hunting right now. go find something to scrounge up, otherwise stop talking like this. it's no help to anyone." the older feline bends, plucking up her mouse by the tail and flings it at her friend. "there, 'cause you're starving." her lip curls, a huff escaping her maw. the idea of fray's death has lingered in her mind for moons now, and hawthorne's inaction does no help to the colony. still, all of these cats had chosen to live with his group, chosen this life. it hurts to hear her friends speak this way. hunger does nasty things to cats.

I NEED MY GOLDEN CROWN OF SORROW 🜲 MY BLOODY SWORD TO SWING

• // " #b8a300"
• 
• HAZEL ☼ SHE / HER, WARRIOR OF THUNDERCLAN. 54 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a stocky, medium-haired brown tabby with hazel eyes. this is a large cat with a rippling musculature. hazel's frame is wide and tall, shoulders broad, muzzle and eyes heavy in her skull. chestnut and chocolate fur swirl across her pelt, sliced through with tabby stripes of shadow. her eyes invoke images of a sweet summer's day, green and brown mingling into a hue quite similar to her namesake.

 

[SABLESTAR]

Sable watched as the numbers slowly grew. Moth, then Spider, Smoky, Wolf and Frost. Not all of them chime to his tune and he sees their resistance the same as lost hope. Moth may have very well given up, but who could blame him when they faced this hunger for so long?

Will it be our loyalty to this bloodline that kills us?

He's confronted with the very thoughts he had tried to push away for the sake of his mate. Juniper wouldn't leave Hawthorne and this clearing if each blade of grass was replaced with thorns. If it had just been one of them within the crowding voices it would mean one thing. That he wasn't alone, that the colony was scattered with likeminded brains. But it is as though a wall had closed him off from what he was trying to convince himself of. That Juniper had sense in still finding hope in her friend.

Thunder and Hazel don't seem to level with what's been considered, shrugging off the tabby's chiding. "Pity won't help him, he's beyond it." Sable's maw tugged into a frown at her accusation- that he sat here to mope. "Don't let your success in scrounging blind you, Hazel. I thought you to be smarter than that..." The tuxedo dismissed her with a flick of his tail and turned his head away, back onto those he favored.

"Maybe we should look to other places... Perhaps our haven isn't here anymore." The tom despised being forced into change. It only frustrated him more, knowing the solution he would take, how easy it would be for him.

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• "mew"
• 

  SABLE— he/him ･sixty-two moons ･colonist ; no clan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[Lowlight]

☼ ✧

Something was bound to give eventually. They all knew it, from the moment Fray started deteriorating: things couldn't go on like this forever, not with so many cats with so many diverging opinions hunting on so little land. No without the old tom to keep them together. Dunny feels like he's been waiting forever for that moment: the moment things start to tilt one way or the other. And now that it's there… He's almost disappointed.

"Is that it, then?" He tilts his head back to look at the grey sky, fur ruffled by the cold wind. Leafbare will be there before they know it. "We've been trying to build something here, and now that it's not working as well anymore we're just going to cut our losses and leave?"

He agrees with Smoky, in truth: they should be acting, not talking around, making plans that are just running away to do more of the same somewhere else. They have loved ones here, friends and family that might not be so inclined to move as the few of them are turning out to be. Viper would come with him, he's sure of it -- but does he want to bring his brother on such a perilous journey?

"Even if the few of us inclined to change picked up and moved to the other side of the forest, there'd still be dozens of cats overhunting this side, and that's bound to be trouble eventually. Any further than that and we're just choosing between starving here or starving on the move -- either way, we're not seeing the other side of leafbare." Just leave if you're unhappy, or get rid of cats; none of these options appeal to Dunny. It just sounds like giving up: on this place and on these cats. "Why don't we just… go over Fray and Hawhtorne for the time being? Make things easier on them? We don't need them to tell us what to do. We can organize hunting parties further away, broaden the territory so we're not so hard on this patch of land…"

He trails off; frankly he's not sure what it would take to make things better, only that he desperately wants them bettered. His tail is lashing side to side as he turns to face Sable -- asking for a solution, without quite knowing what answer he'd want or need to hear. "Why leave? Why not try to fix things here?"

✧ ° . ☼ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: —

• DUNNY — HE/HIM･ 25 MOONS ･ COLONY CAT ･ PENNED BY @Kangoo

  A solidly built flame point/red tabby chimera with golden eyes and a small nick across his lips.

 

[spider]

Spider sighs, shaking his head. In truth, he was not very fond of the cats surrounding him– they were brutes, most of them. But useful brutes. If they'd just stop spending so much energy arguing... He licks his paw, smoothing back his ears.

"Fix things? And how do you suggest we do that? We could go over the old cat and his son's head now, but once he's dead his son will take on his position. And personally... I am not sure if he's up to the task. Soon he'll be a father, and given his personality... I think it's likely he'll worry more about keeping his kits alive through leaf-bare than the colony," he looks over at Sable now too.

The older cat looks troubled, and it's no surprise. Would his mate share these thoughts, given her closeness to Hawthorne and his family? Would she leave with him, if Sable were to ask her to? Surely there's a reason Sable is bringing these worries up in a group without her good-natured presence.

 

[Smogmaw.]

Smoky wavers, unsure on what rankles his hide the most—the absurd lack of purpose overshadowing this impromptu congregation, or the inflexibility with which Thunder and Hazel adhere to their old ways. The chronic hesitation on all sides. The resistance. He turns to glower at the latter pair - the molly more so than the retreating tom, as he finds his ears folding back, eyes a fuming amber. She chucks a meagre mouse toward Sable's paws, and for a fleeting second he's tempted to kick it back.

A low growl rips from his chest. Smoky's lips peel back to bare twin rows of opaline teeth, all whilst his hackles stand on end. "Shut it. Just shut it," the broad-shouldered silver tabby snaps, a snarl bubbling on the cusp of every uttered word, and although his glare is fixed on Hazel, he makes no effort to disguise the fact that his ire extends further. All the cats who so fecklessly place their faith in precedent, in bloodlines, in this belief that there is a virtue to be gleaned from misery. It is sickening, watching them tread on an empty path that they long accepted as the one worth walking. And then they ask why?

"This isn't about food. Or pity." He plods forward and stomps on the fresh-kill, pushing until it is well embedded in the dirt. "It's about cuttin' away a gangrene limb before it spreads to the rest of its body." Hazel's assertation of an impasse comes off as trite, ignorant at best - dishonest at worst. There are other families here, too. Other vulnerable cats and their caretakers and providers. Pardon Sable and those around him for considering this, rather than pretend such an option is beyond reason.

He never envisioned himself taking a belligerent stance, yet there was not a fleck of remorse in his eyes. Wiping whatever gore and dirt was stuck to his claws on the ground, the tabby straightens with his shoulders squared, chin high and a volatile tension bound within his taut muscles. "Hawthorne's provin' unfit to lead. Already, he's too a-scared to make the hard decisions." He looks to Sable, then, buoyed by the nodding approval of Frost, Dunny, and Wolf. "If change is callin' your name, answer it here. Not out there. Take charge." And that's a tidbit borrowed straight from Halfy's maw. No running away, only adaptation and commitment.

 

[Mothbite]

┍

Moth lays his head back down on his cold paws. The conversation was making him uneasy - the talk of 'getting rid of cats' and 'cutting away gangrene' was far to familiar. This time, at least, the claw of blame was pointed at someone other than him. He'd do his best to keep it that way.

"I-I agree!" he replies, nervous. "Hawthorne's a liability! Someone else better take his place, and soon. We should just go around his back to show everyone else how much better they'd be off without him!"

He'd much prefer if fighting didn't break out - although with the way the impromptu meeting has gone so far, a peaceful solution is seeming very, very far away.

[fancypost]

┙

 

[GECKOFLAME]

⋆｡°⋆ CAVIAR AND CIGARETTES ▬ڪ

"smoky is right."

a velvety voice drifts from the shadows, the words smooth and calm as a rosetted figure steps out into light having been drawn in by the dissonance created by the ongoing dispute.

"we cannot wait forever for hawthorne to finish his grieving."

aqua eyes sweep across the figures currently gathered, expression remaining ambiguous before continuing to speak.

"one life is nothing compared the many that will be lost if something isn't done now."

with leaf-bare breathing down their necks it's becoming increasingly clear that there is no longer enough to go around to keep everyone in the colony sustained.

"we are past the point of patience. we need a leader who will make the tough decisions without flinching, one who is unafraid to act when they see that our lives are on the line."

there's a sharpness to gecko's words now, gaze falling upon sable with a subtle look that reads i stand with you.

・ ✦ ʚ♡ɞ ✦ ・

 

[ember]

"If I could hunt properly like this, I would." Ember snaps from beside Hazel, the characteristic venom in her voice diluted by tiredness. Snapping is just about the only thing she can do now, her keen nose for tracking clouded by the waft of despair over the Colony and an acute awareness that every time her belly growls with hunger the chances of her kits surviving leafbare dwindle. Splitting the Colony would be their doom, but they are running short on options in Fray's inaction.

The mention of Hawthorne's own soon-to-arrive progeny makes her short fur bristle, tail lashing once in anger before curling around herself protectively. She thinks next of Frond, her mate in the same situation as she, and despite the rapidly growing frustrations between them a protective spark flares in her heart. "His kits aren't the only ones on the way. He needs to step aside; for now, at least."

 

[Manzanita]

*+:｡.｡

Manzanita watches closely from behind her mother, bright green eyes flashing from cat to cat as she watches this adult game of moss ball unravel. Young and well-fed by a caring mother, Manzanita doesn't entirely understand the gravity of the situation...She knows cats are starving, and knows others are willing to maintain loyalty until death, but at the end of the day, she's fascinated by the pull and prod of cats juggling their ideals with survival strategies. In any case, the girl stands by - metaphorically, physically she remains politely behind - her mother. Head raised high, she smirks at anyone who dares glance their way; Aren't you just so jealous of how cool and confident my mom is right now? the childish look in her eyes read. Because, of course, while the adults moan their fears over starvation and betrayal, Manzanita's only focus is whatever her mother wants her to focus on.

Perhaps Manzanita is more familiar with loyalty unto death than she thinks.

 

[serpentberry]

Serpent finds herself a fool to have been convinced that the nausea of her condition has long since passed, and now the only discomfort she has to bear is that of her round belly. No - she passes by the muttering felines with straight shoulders, her head held high and her tail along with it. And upon hearing their words, she feels that long distant but familiar churn in her gut and an anger burning in her chest.

It's a flurry of the same mantra - one that she had heard through maws of others who have heard, but no tongue and teeth have had the audacity to summon such awful, awful things with her so close by. And these cats - are cats Fray has housed! Hawthorne has accepted! Sable, he is among them, yet she cannot tell that it is his word that sparks the fire. No, some cats say Smoky is right. Serpent grits her teeth.

(There's a small moment, a betrayal of her own heart. Seeing Ember, knowing Frond, and then a glance to her own hiding ribs and well-swollen midsection. If she was not as cared for, like a monarch to her people, maybe she would be outraged, too.)

(It blips by, like a wayward fly racing away from a hungry frog. But the feeling of broken comradery still resonates within her.)

"The lot of you better scatter before the only choice you have is taken from you," Serpent bites into the air, watching briefly as Thunder leaves and Hazel attempts to quiet the noise. The pregnant molly does not yield, her eyebrows pinched together. "Disgusting. You each would be no stronger whilst watching a loved one die. Hideous -" she looks to Sable, briefly, as if he will back her up. She does not linger on Juniper's mate, for she does not fear his recourse. "Go on now. Gnashing teeth are only good for hunting, not petty gossip."