Open Camp sinking feeling | culture sharing

[Plague]

𓆝 . ° ✦

Clan life was strange and unusual. It was almost nothing like her home - similar only in that they were communities. Plague envies her kits, sometimes; their brains are unadjusted to everything, absorbing all that they see with ease. Unlike their mother, they did not have to struggle relearning a lifetime worth of laws and duties.

"You know, where I come from, to have only one leader is a weakness,"

Plague comments to the Clanmates nearby that share tongues, while she keeps to her own fur between words.

"My colony, for generations, was always lead by a pair. The eldest of their last litter was to be the heir, and their mate was carefully plucked by the leaders, to both take the throne when it's their time."

It was the safest way, she had come to realize throughout her life. There was no risk of a corrupt higher power, no risk of the colony being left leaderless after an untimely death.

"Perhaps it is strange to you Clans, but to us, it was a sacred balance between compassion and rule. One to guide, and one to nurture. Unity."

It could have been me, Plague thinks, plainly with only a hint of melancholy. Herself and Hemlock would have made great leaders, and their kits would have followed in their footsteps. What kind of mundane life awaits them now?

That was not the only difference, of course. In the Clans, all but a select few became warriors, sharing duties amongst themselves. It seems almost impractical to her - what if one cat did not excel in their assigned patrol? Who would heal the injured from far away if something terrible happened?

"We all carried the roles that we were designed for. Kittens with good noses and quick reflexes trained to become hunters. Kittens with muscular builds and attentive eyes become guards."

A small pause, as Plague lets her gaze flick to the Medicine Cat's den.

"Everyone knew of basic herbs and wound care. But kittens born with superb memory and curiosity became our healers with higher knowledge. There were many, so that no one or two cats become burdened, and so that no cat risks death in their absence."

Would she like it here better, if WindClan followed the customs of her home? Would she like it better if she took the time to learn? Plague lets out a small sigh, drawing a licked paw over her forehead.

"Perhaps we are not too different, at our foundations. I can see that the Clans are structured and communal. But, tell me, what keeps you all in check? What keeps a throne-hungry warrior from usurping? What keeps our neighbors from marching into our camp right now and stealing our young?"

The biggest difference - her home was the only of its kind for miles, only picking off solitary rogues and fending away small groups. To have more was not always to be safer.

✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: — open to multiple cats! meant to take place during sharing tongues so anyone can jump in!
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  PLAGUE — SHE/HER ･ 25 MOONS ･ QUEEN ; WINDCLAN ･ PENNED BY IXORA

  a complex molly; timid and meek on the surface, but what dwells beneath?

 

[charitypaw]

Charitypaw quite liked this conversation. The young tom didn't often flaunt where he came from - appearing the day of the barn fire had been enough to throw some discontent around his appearance. Another mouth to feed in the face of tragedy, and all. But for it to be a near open floor to discuss old customs, no matter how different they may be? Sign him up! For now, however, he gives Plague the space to speak on her background. She's the most recent face to WindClan, after Dimmingsun (he believes) so her memories of whatever came before must be the freshest. And, he'll have to admit, having two leaders almost sounds ideal... Eighteen lives between their ruling powers makes them sound impenetrable.

And yet, the haunting of eighteen lives weighing down on only two sets of shoulders... Dustystar wouldn't be able to stand with that weight. And who knows? If the stars drive these cats mad, and the blue furred molly is anything like that SkyClan leader, then she'll have more souls clinging to her pelt in no time.

"Hopes and prayers," Charitypaw offers, eyebrows slightly lifted though his eyes remain half lidded. "Though, I'm sure checking for... muddy paws, is a nice way to keep an eye out." Not that that's her job at the moment. Her mind and body should be focused on rearing kits, given her rank here. Still, that draws a new curiosity out of the young tom. "Were you... deigned to be a caretaker?" he doesn't think it impossible, but Charitypaw is almost sure some days she would rather drive her head through a wall than 'nurture' anyone.

 

[Ravenmask]

Ravenmask listened as Plague described her previous home, the structure and rigidity with which they were ruled.

"Yer sayin' that the leaders could only be leadin' if they were born to it?" he asked, scratching behind his ear with his good leg. "What if the cat who was leadin' didn't want kits? Or what if they were better suited for one of them other jobs, like ya mentioned?" He could see a certain appeal to it - and most of his life wasn't spent in the hierarchy of a Clan in any case.

"As for what keeps us in check... I s'pose respect is a part of it, y'know? Our leader is picked as the one who is most capable - and our ancestors affirm their right to the position."

Though, Plague made some valid points. Wouldn't things be easier on Meadowpaw and Dimmingsun if it were more than the two of them handling herbs and injuries? If everyone knew a little bit to help the others out?

___________________ UPHILL IN THE SNOW ☆ BOTH WAYS ___________________

• "speech" || "thoughts"
  Tagging:
  @Plague
  
• 
  
• RAVENMASK he/him, windclan elder, 93 moons.
  ☆ White and black tom with smoky stripes, bright green eyes, and a twisted back paw.
  ☆ brother of Mallowfeather
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline when attacking/physically interacting
  ☆ penned by plot ↛ plot_twists on discord, feel free to dm for interacts.

 

[HoneyflowerHoneyflower's icon]

Slow Down, Just Breathe

There's something about how Plague describes her old colony that ruffles Honeyflower's fur the wrong way. Perhaps it was her tone. Or perhaps it was how matter of factly everyone's role there was chosen... Either way, she didn't like it.

"When the barn we all lived in burned down," She pauses to gently nibble a particularly stubborn foxtail out of her tail. "Dustystar was chosen by the stars themselves, and led us all here. She was given nine lives and the suffix -star as a symbol of her leadership." Or at least, that was how the gale guard viewed it.

Green eyes briefly dart to Charitypaw, laced with curiosity. She still did not quite know his own story. Ravenmask's comments, too, brought a new line of thought.

"Respect is a large part of it," Comes the echo. "I suppose having a council helps. So that Dustystar and Goldenroar have more eyes and ears on an issue. Though I suppose everyone having at least some basic herb knowledge would be helpful, it might be a good idea to bring that up in the next council meeting..."

xxx

All We Have Is All We Need

Tags

Honeyflower

✿—Gale Guard Of WindClan
✿—She/Her
✿—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
✿—Dilute Calico Shecat With Green Eyes And A Floppy Ear
#a4e1ba

 

[Swiftwatcher]

'Cause you are loved, you are loved more than you know
I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so
Though your heart is far too young to realize
The unimaginable light you hold inside

.

Curiosity licked at Swiftwatcher's mind as he peered at Plague, a faint frown pulling at his features. Her name always ruffled him just a little, not quite what one would wish upon a kit, at least in his eyes. Still, he said nothing of it, choosing instead to listen quietly as she spoke of her colony life. No single leader, but several... and many who knew the basics of herbs. It was a smart way to live, he thought, and he found himself nodding along with Honeyflower's words. To mention such an idea at the next council meeting seemed wise. It would harm no one to know a little herbcraft, especially if patrols stumbled upon plants that could aid their medicine cats.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Gladebloom, the poor medicine cat who had gone missing moons ago. His brows furrowed, and a sigh slipped from him before he turned his attention back to the conversation. Ravenmask spoke wisely, too. No cat should feel forced to bear kits or take on leadership if their heart wasn't in it. That kind of pressure only made things fall apart faster than any battle could. Plague's question lingered in the cool air, heavy and thoughtful. Swiftwatcher's whiskers twitched as he considered it, before finally he inclined his head. " Respect and love, I should hope. " he murmured, his tone quiet but sure. " And a bit of decency. " The tip of his tail flicked once, his gaze momentarily distant.

He could only hope no other Clan would be mouse-brained enough to march into another's camp to steal kits, or pick a fight over them. That would be madness. " I should hope the stars choose each leader wisely. " he added softly. " And that none of them would do such a thing. "

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

64 MOONS

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