Open Camp JUST THE BEGINNING OF LAVISH ✦ FRANTIC RETURN

[MIREPURR]

The entire way home, Mirepurr is plagued with doubts. Am I doing this right? Their battle-hungry Clanmates are surely going to hiss and puff at them for alerting their leader, akin to a cowardly kitten begging their parent to step in and break up a fight. But this has to be the better alternative- staying and idling about would not have helped anyone. Certainly not the likes of Fleakit and Sealpaw, or even Pepperpaw. They do not need yet another battle. Over what, anyway? A random strip of land? There are plenty of other places to hunt at.

"Sablestar!"

Mirepurr all but explodes into camp. Were they fast enough? If they think of the scene that they had left behind, they swear they can hear the frenzied and angered yowls of their peers, fastening teeth and claws into former friends...

Stop it. Mirepurr has to focus.

"Where is Sablestar? Quick, there is.. there is going to be-"

Their lungs cave then, unable to give Mirepurr any more leftover oxygen to speak. Faded limbs shake with adrenaline and fear, and they must take a moment to collect themself — all the while forcing ShadowClan to fill in the blanks without any proper context clues to start off with.

Happening in tandem with the trespassing thread.
@SABLESTAR

 

[SABLESTAR]

Cicadabuzz's den is a sanctuary away from all the noise at times. When his warrior's cannot keep themselves aligned with one another and fall into bickering, when he is snapped at for old lingering failures instead of what he has won them, when his mind is plagued with all the ways he failed to keep Juniperstar from falling prey to Hawthorne's weakness... he is there. Tucked away in his own quiet respite until the hot anger simmered once again and the pocosin was ready for him to face it.

Sablestar had thought it odd that peace had fallen over camp so quickly, though. He had even managed to do something as scandalous as nap, for how long he is unsure. But he is awoken with a start and of course it started with the shrill of his name tumbling forward. Sablestar sighed as he rose to his paws, hardly able to stretch the sleep from his muscles when he moved to face Mirepurr's twitchy approach. "Going to be what?, Mire?" He demanded with flattened ears, glancing around in quick assessment. No blood, scent or sight, and no... "You smell like the Thunderpath, and..." The tuxedo squinted as he recognized the new scent that coated Juniper the last they met. Sappy and full of oak.

"I can take a good enough guess, you can explain on the way there." Sablestar's tail lashed in irritation as he shouldered past them, breaking out into a sprint. He had promised her no blood- stars be damned he promised.

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• "mew"
• 

  SABLESTAR— he/him ･fifty-four moons ･leader; shadowclan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[GROTTOWATCHER.]

Worn upon Mirepurr's visage was the haunting sort of ghastliness that only conflict may arouse. Colorless, stricken, wrought with grave concern and a vested interest in curbing what soon may come to pass. In their breathlessness, little room is left for accurate assumptions on the why or the how, but the words they find themselves fumbling through paints a clear enough picture. Their fraught attention, sweeping every which-way, indicated desperation; and demands for the leader are never without substance.

For their part, Sablestar responds accordingly. Half a breath spent upon deduction and assessment of the situation, before he concludes a rather neat picture from what little is provided.

Twin fangs dig uncomfortably into his chin. Padding against a tremoring heart, as though bidding his leader farewell may pacify it, Grottowatcher levies the great black and white tom a cagey, deeply saddened stare. What peace they've known in their wake of relocation is unmistakably short-lived. "Be safe, but swift," he murmurs. He scans camp briefly then, confirming those who are missing from the grove. "I believe there is a kit among them."

And, these words, tinged in sallow dread, may be all Grottowatcher can do to provide aid. He offers little in the way of skills for offense, and does not wish to hinder his leader.

 

[SHADESIGHT]

☆ He is silent, watching Mirepurr run into camp. Eyes squint gently, but he isn't about to get up and start running based off of nothing. They call for his brother, and vision shifts towards Sablestar as he emerges from the den. Just as expected, he thinks, his brother quick to assess Mirepurr and catch himself up to speed. A breath left him. If Shadesight was to go based off of the faces missing from camp, which he had noticed quite a few gone, then... well, it wasn't good.

Grottowatcher speaks, and his head nods once or twice. Yes, Pepperpaw, Sealpaw. Fleakit. A breath left him, head shaking, bangs hanging heavy over his eyes. "Not good at all." He agrees, tail twitching behind him. Well, we can only watch and see, then.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED ☆ TO LIVE LIKE THIS?

• "speech"
  

• 

• SHADE AMAB he/him, WARRIOR of SHADOWCLAN, twenty one moons.
  ☆ An average sized dark pelted tom with heavy bangs over gray eyes. A notable scar on his left cheek. Looks at you with skepticism (and awkwardly.)
  ☆ mentored by npc / mentoring no one (currently)
  ☆ npc x npc / no mate currently
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.