Open SkyClan Journey Backwritten save me from going under // journey to a new home

[Quailstep Quailstep]

{$title} written during the SkyClan journey

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QUAILSTEP

Quailstep wasn't going to complain. She knew that with Coffeestar dead and the rats overrunning the gorge, they'd had no choice but to leave. And she knew Hawkstar, though new to the mantle of leadership, was capable of leading them. But stars above, she was tired.

Tired in body, from the seemingly endless trek across foreign lands.
Tired in mind, from needing to keep her wits about her as new and old dangers sprang up around them.
Tired in soul, from the wriggling question burrowing into her mind like a cruel worm.

Has StarClan led us astray?

She hated to even question their ancestors, but with another day travelled and still no new home in sight, the question lay heavier and heavier on her mind. And yet, despite all this tiredness, she couldn't help but stay awake tonight, guarding over her beloved Clanmates as they slept. She knew she was running herself ragged trying to help care for her Clanmates, but she couldn't bear to stop.

Open to other SkyClan founders!

 

[cygnetscratch]

[ the tonal whiplash i'm about to experience ]

Cygnetpaw feels a now familiar ache in her legs as she trots alongside her mentor, nose tilted up and eyes still shining. The white furred apprentice, freshly made just for this journey, did not have many memories of the gorge, and as much didn't feel the great loss in leaving it behind. She cannot commiserate with Quailstep in the older molly's forlorn demeanor. And, for better or for worse, the young apprentice isn't too keen with reading the room, so to say. So while the older cats feel their hearts weigh heavy with all they have lost, Cygnetpaw cheerily starts a conversation.

"Do you think there'll be places to climb, Quailstep?" She pulls from her mentor's side to pester the warrior, her plumed tail flagging behind her. "I couldn't really climb the gorge - I was 'too small,'" she puts a bit of emphasis on the words, as if mocking the idea. She ignores that she was not only small, but often sickly. Perhaps in the future she wouldn't blame the nursery queens for keeping her rooted to the ground. But today's Cygnetpaw is more than eager to scale something. "Maybe we'll make home in... a... big, massive tree hollow! And we'll scale the inside of it, like - like termites!"

 

[Quailstep Quailstep]

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QUAILSTEP

The queries from the younger cat shook Quailstep out of her musing. She cast one more look up at the stars, hoping it was in fact her ancestors up there and not some strangers, and turned to the apprentice. Cygnetpaw... She was one of the newer apprentices, barely out of the nursery, and would likely consider their new home more of her origin than the gorge Quailstep so fondly remembered. Still, her mother had said that was part of growing up - realizing that the world would change around you and that the next generation of warriors would view things in a different light. Even at this age, however, Quailstep didn't consider how vast the divide could be between the current warriors' memories and that of the new apprentices.

"If there aren't places to climb," she mewed, her voice low to keep from waking the sleeping cats. "Then I don't think it will be a home for our Clan." What would SkyClan do without branches to leap into?

And despite her sinking attitude towards the journey, she can't help but huff a laugh.

"A tree hollow big enough for the entire Clan would be a sight to see. I don't think Twolegs let them get that big. They're more likely to tear it up like fresh-kill than to allow something so magnificent to stand." She tilted her head. "Though if you're right, perhaps you'll be called Cygnetbug when you're a warrior. In honor of this excellent prediction you've made." An older warrior might be able to sense the sarcasm in her tone, but would an apprentice?

Tagging

@cygnetscratch

SPEECH

THOUGHTS

 

[DUSKPOOL]

DUSKPOOL​

Standin' close, Duskpool raised a brow, amusement hid in' deep within molten amber. "Don't think that'd be plausible, less ya risk havin' a youngster come tumblin' down." His wooly plumage swished lazily. His hardy bones havin' long since started to ache this time around with the amount of walkin' they've been doin'. It ain't nothin' special, not for a raggedy bag of bones as he was, jokin' or not, Duskpool was slowly climbin' the totem pole with every new moon that came around. Pretty soon he'll be considered a grandpa, and he ain't too sure he wants to dwell on that thought. Nothin' like gettin' old, eh, ya old fool?

"Even if an upwalker left it, I ain't gonna be around when somethin' like they falls." His nose wrinkled at the destruction it'd likely cause. Mother Nature ain't peaceful, Duskpool learned that the hard way moons ago. "Nothin' lasts forever." He remarked lowly, tone a rough guttural thrum.

His gaze softened when it settled on Cygentpaw. "Careful, now, kid. Keep talkin' about climbin' trees, and StarClan might give ya wings. Then I'll have to call ya Termitepaw." His tone amused, but deadpan, playin' along. It ain't till his paw came to ruffle Cygentpaw's head, likely messin' up the fur.

"Now come on, the two of ya, we've got a long road ahead of us." He jerked his chin forward, "We're burnin' daylight."

we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept

ooc

information

main ref

• xxx
• 

  DUSKPOOL stands like a storm given flesh, broad-shouldered and unyielding. His frame was built from the bloodlines of a Norwegian Forest and Maine Coon, every inch steeped in the weight of a life hard-lived. His pelt is a wooly black smoke mantle, thick as winter fog and marked with faint mackerel stripes. Old scars score his flanks and shoulders like lightning carved into the night sky, with each one telling a story that was paid for in blood.
  
  One molten-copper eye burns fierce and unblinking, sharp enough to cut through lies, while the other is nothing but a hollowed ruin. A sunken relic of a battle he walked away from when he shouldn't have. His tail is a heavy, swaying banner of shadow, and his paws are silent despite their size, measured by someone who's learned patience the hard way.
  
  He carries himself with the gravity of an old war-chief, regular in ruin, yet brutal in beauty. His very presence is a warning that some storms don't pass. They wait. And they return.
  
  

  "there's two kinds of cats in this world. those who learn from others' mistakes, and those who are the mistake."​

  
  senior sun guard of skyclan during coffeestar and hawkstar's reign (mentor to sweetpaw)
  eighty-four moons; ages on the 1st of every month
  brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike; half-brother to flowercloud; father to almondpaw & cinderpaw (wolfstorm & lostmoon)
  his voice is a low, gravel-rough baritone, measured and deliberate, carrying the weight of old battles and unspoken truths
  his scent is a deep grounding mix of cedarwood and patchouli, laced with the sharpness of pine and a lingering curl of smoke
  pinterest | playlist | theme song
  speech thought action
  peaceful/healing powerplay permitted
• ​

 

[SWALLOWBREEZE]

swallowpaw wanted to complain. her paws ached, she spent her time following behind rowdy kittens, and her free time was eaten up by learning the different herbs. she stayed busy until the moon rose high into the sky, and the clan settled in for the night. quiet, idle chatter filled the makeshift camp and the young medic fell asleep.

until, she was awoken by hushed noises. a trio of cats sat hunched together, and swallowpaw found herself slowly crawling over, careful not to step on anyone's tail. "what are you guys gossiping about?" she mumbled, her tail tip flicking in subtle irritation. "did some twolegs walk by carrying trees.... i don't get it...."

ʚɞ

 

[Quailstep Quailstep]

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QUAILSTEP

Quailstep chuckled at Duskpool's comment.

"A cat with wings, huh?" Quailstep looked at Cygnetpaw, imagining the young cat with feathery wings sprouting from her back. It certainly would be a sight. At Swallowpaw's comment, her mood soured a bit.

"We're not gossiping," she mewed, her voice neutral as she balanced respect and frustration for the young medicine cat apprentice. "We were just joking around."

Tagging

@DUSKPOOL @cygnetscratch @SWALLOWBREEZE loving this convo lmao

SPEECH

THOUGHTS

 

[cygnetscratch]

"Cygnetbug...!" She squeaks, nearly incredulous. She would rather be named Cygnetchick, or Cygnetfur, or something stupid or boring - than Cygnetbug! The white furred apprentice ignores that it had been her musing in the first place that inspired the faux warrior name - and the subsequent name change her uncle provided. With the same withering tone, she squeaks "Termitepaw...!!!" Oh, they would have her growing extra sets of legs next!

Swallowpaw joins them, and though Quailstep takes a dive into forced neutrality, the apprentice pushes towards the medicine trainee, pushing her face into the she-cat's fluffy pelt. She's grown comfortable with the other, due to her frequent stays in the medicine den as a kit - though, admittedly, they've drifted apart since then. Still, she whines, "You don't think they'd call me Termitepaw, d'you, Swallowpaw?" as if nothing's changed between them.

 

[[SNOWVEIL] [SNOWVEIL]]

Where the north wind meets the sea
There's a mother full of memory
Come, my darling, homeward bound
When all is lost, then all is found

.

Snowveil listened to the chatter around her, her torn ear twitching as she tilted her head toward each voice in turn. A faint smile tugged at her muzzle when Cygnetpaw spoke, the young cat's enthusiasm stirring something deep within her. She missed those days herself… the rush of wind under her paws, the solid strength of bark beneath her claws. Hunting, climbing, everything that once defined her life as a warrior. But she was blind, now. Not all things were possible anymore....

A soft, wistful sigh slipped past her before she padded forward, whiskers brushing against the cool air. Laughter rumbled low in her chest at the apprentice's suggestion. " Quailstep is right. " she hummed, her tone warm with amusement. " We need a place where we can leap and climb, otherwise SkyClan is not SkyClan at all. " She snorted at the name that followed, the smile widening on her muzzle. " Cygnetbug. " she repeated with a scoff that couldn't hide her affection. " And Termitepaw... What a names. "

Her whiskers twitched as she lifted her chin slightly, a teasing huff escaping her. " No. " she said, voice softening. " Your name suits you just as it is, little one. "

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

98 MOONS

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