Shipyard staring into an open flame - open

[Smokewreath]

all you have is your

FIRE

─〃

⟢

He had not seen a single ship in what felt like moons, since the kits were born he'd found himself lingering near the den he and Willow had made of the derelict fishing shack further up from the shore, still in view of the docks but far enough the wave could not lick their paws when they tread out the cracked opening in the side to leave day and night.
It was hard forcing himself to leave them unattended, often times he and Willow could take turns or leave one of the other kits with them but they needed to learn to hunt and fish as well and he couldn't constantly keep bothering his sister to keep an eye on them; eventually he had to grit his teeth and dart off when they were sleeping, nestled in an old tire with a dusty old blanket dragged across the top to keep them hidden and warm while he crept over crunching sand and dipped his paws in tidepools - searching for any kind of flickering silver fish, crab or clamshell he could get his teeth on.
The kits needed to be fed and as a result, he had to keep himself at the very least mostly sustained to be able to do so. Thank the sea that Duck and Goose were both weaned before Night died, he couldn't imagine having to feed five of them when three were already so much.

Smoke's dark paws carried him along swiftly to the edge of the water, his pelt blending into the shade cast by the dock piers above and he inhaled deeply the rich salty scent of the ocean as he continued to scavenge about. Sometimes crabs would linger beneath the rotted old boards down here, he could flip several and find just enough for his small family and extra for Willow and the older kits, but tonight there is nothing. Every crumbling old plank is crusted with barnacles and sand, nothing more and nothing less. He'd once tried to eat one of the scabby shell-like things, crunching through it from a rock he had found covered and found them to be bitter and inedible - barely any meat worth substance unless you got a particularly fat one. With a dejected snort he turned, tail lashing in irritation - that meant he would need to hop across the stones leading further out into the water to try and fish but it was always a risk with the tide and waves, all it took was one too big, too strong current and a cat was gone in an instant; he'd seen it happen before to an older tom named Gull who hadn't been fast enough to dash out from under the towering water. It had snatched him in the blink of an eye and if Smoke hadn't been watching intently he'd have missed it entirely.

─ & the place you need to reach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ & if I fall, I fall ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•  
• 

  Smoke

  
  — Future RiverClanner (Shipcat)
  — He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — Solid black tom w/vitiligo and one orange eye.
  #ff7d46
  
  
  
  
  
•  

 

[Frostmoth]

FROST

It's hard enough to hunt or fish for a small family of adult cats. Frost does not envy any of the other shipcats who are so unfortunate to worry about feeding young or growing kits. He agonizes enough over making sure he and his siblings are eating just enough to survive. There are days that are more plentiful than others, but even 'plentiful' is a word with its ambiguity. Many of the cats who make their homes on this shore are still angry, hungry, and sickly. Even Frost, if the sun strikes his long coat at just the right angle, displays his ribs if he takes too sharp an inhale.

Today, however, he is fortunate to have snatched up a sardine. Whether killed by the rough seas or disease in the garbage-fettered water, he does not care. He spotted it a few tail-lengths down the shore, its silver scales glistening in the sun. Frost is moving with haste back towards the dock that he and his siblings live under when he spots shadowy movement. Frost slows his pace in caution, and recognizes the shadow he sees is the figure of Smoke. He does not greet the tomcat, but watches him scavenge in a manner that appears frustrated to him.

His stomach growls. A likely response to the sardine he has gripped between his jaws. He shifts his weight from paw to paw in his thoughtfulness. He and Smoke are by no means close, but in their shared proximity of the colony he knows that the tomcat has a family of kits and a mate to feed. Frost casts a glance over his shoulder, and then finally decides to approach Smoke. "Here," he tosses the sardine between them. His stomach gives another growl in protest "You could use it more than I can."

'It isn't even fresh,' he reasons selfishly to himself 'And it's not like it would have even made me any less hungry anyway.' Frost wonders if Smoke will even accept the fishy offering. Again, he doesn't know the other tomcat particularly well, but he doesn't seem like the charity type anyway.

"SPEECH"

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

 

[STORMSWIRL]

Hunger haunted her dreams and her waking hours. Inescapable. She tried to keep her head about her and soothe her siblings' worries, but Storm felt the hunger clawing harder everyday. In her youth, she had gorged herself on fish thrown from the fisherman. It felt like a dream now. Frost had soothed her worries that they would not go hungry today by insisting he could scrounge something up today. Hope was a poor way to fill a belly, but it was what they had right now. The blue she-cat had spent her morning waiting patiently under their dock with wide blue eyes scanning the horizon. She watched and hoped for a bicolored figure dragging something sizeable behind them.

No luck there. Frost had been missing since he departed and now worry joined hunger in gnawing at her stomach. Storm gave a quiet groan and moved from her perch. Someone had to keep an eye on her brother, despite his assumption he was the one watching her. She padded over rough sand until she caught glimpse of her brother talking to that tomcat Smoke she had seen around. Not only this, but Frost was handing over some kind of fish. She huffed and stomped over, anger bubbling in her chest.

"You could use it more than I can."

Oh. Alright. Storm paused behind her brother, gently bumping her shoulder on his hip as she approached. Her anger had simmered down to a light jealousy for the sardine at Smoke's dark paws. That's the hunger talking, she reasoned and pressed her shoulder harder against Frost. She forgot her brother's generosity, and she couldn't stop him from that. Despite the hunger and cold that clung to her ribs, the warmth of her sibling's kindness was a nice reminder of how things used to be. Storm tutted her tongue and she met Storm's eye. "We could help you find some more if you need it, or we could share what we find," she suggested in a gentle voice. Three sets of ears were better than one, and maybe this tom would have more luck than Frost did.

keep on moving till i die ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

• 
  ☾ STORM
  ☾ SHIPYARD CAT (future riverclanner)
  ☾ 15 moons, ages every 15th of the month
  ☾ open to peaceful interactions
  ☾ "SPEECH"
  ☾ penned by muddly
  

• ref will go here eventually

• toyhouse
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[Smokewreath]

all you have is your

FIRE

─〃

⟢

Black fur prickles, rising into stiff spikes along his spine as he lowers his head defensively. There is a scraping of claws as his paws shift, limbs twisting into a stance to allow him a better chance to fight should the need arise, but he is left reeling not from a blow but a gesture. Smoke was a prideful cat, his dignity had been wounded several times over the past few moons from the abandonment by the ship to his former mate's cruel turn and subsequent attack on him, but still he clung to his sense of worth despite it all. Accepting help was something he loathed, it made him feel weak and vulnerable, things he certainly was not by any means but he would be a fool to refuse the offer with mewling kits still too young to survive without him. The dark tom's head lifts, the faintest flinch of that lone orange eye registers as another cat slinks from the shadows and twines alongside the first in a gesture of familiarity. He recognizes the two though he does not know their names, he had never been one for socializing even before when life was easier for the ship cats of this area and he certainly hadn't tried now as it became a struggle to get by. He forces himself to relax, hackles lowering, jaw slackening as he stops clenching it tight. Smoke glances down at the sardine, a small token but food nonetheless and maybe he could try to wean the kits early - it might be easier to feed them with scraps here and there rather than fighting to keep his own larger body nourished. The dark tom can not stop his tail from lashing briefly in irritation, more at himself than the kindness before him, but he swallows his pride - it was only going to suffocate him out here anyways. "...thank you."
His words are curt, clipped, unfamiliar on his tongue - outside of his sister he is not used to care, not use to expressing himself positively. "We...that is-Willow and I, we've taken to scouring the rocks further from shore sometimes. There's fish there still. More cats might make it easier to hunt there, you need a lookout...for the waves that is." Eyes to ensure no one was swept away, that no predator above swooped down or below. He'd heard of sharks, but had thankfully never seen one outside a distant fin glimpsed beyond the horizon. "If you two are interested." Names. His ear flicks as he realizes he doesn't know them still, he's often hesitant to introduce himself to others but he finds his voice is scrapped from his throat more easily now that he feels less threatened, "I'm Smoke."

─ & the place you need to reach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ & if I fall, I fall ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•  
• 

  Smoke

  
  — Future RiverClanner (Shipcat)
  — He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — Solid black tom w/vitiligo and one orange eye.
  #ff7d46
  
  
  
  
  
•  

 

[willowburn]

(☾) a similar anxiety plagues the slender molly as she weaves her way between posts and under docks, brow furrowed in concentration. she has left duck and goose to their own devices, instructing them not to leave the vicinity of the fishing shack, and to look out for their cousins. still, she doesn't like leaving them, doesn't like that smoke has to leave his young kits either. thoughts cast back to her nieces and nephews, curled within an old tire. she knows how nervous being away from them makes her brother - stars, willow would do anything to allow him to stay with them. but prey is not running well, hasn't been running well for weeks now. even the fish among the waves keep away from shore.

tonight is no different. willow sighs internally, wondering if smoke is having more luck. despite his skill, she doubts he is. with the oncoming cold season, willow isn't sure how much longer they can manage on their own out here. not for the first time, the feline misses the ships. tufted ears swivel as willow pads slowly back up the shore, voices reaching their attention. verdant eyes glow in the evening gloom, their lithe form picking its way over to the trio of cats. recognizing smoke in the midst, she quickens her step. her brother has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. stars help their little family if he causes ire of the other dock-dwellers. the interaction seems generally friendly, but willow still approaches warily.

"brother?" her voice rings out, herb-toned eyes flicking from the minnow at smoke's paws, to the appearance of two young cats before him. "ah, hello," there is a guarded sort of protectiveness radiating from the feline as she presses up against her brother, eyeing the others. they are not strangers - she has seen them around in passing - but she still feels quite defensive. smoke elaborates upon hunting territories, and willow raises an eyebrow. those are their spots, not that they've necessarily claimed them. still, these young felines look hungry, desperate almost. and they've given smoke their only catch. a bit of the trepidation washes away from the woman's gaze. "willow," she will introduce herself, allowing a small smile to greet the two.

WITH THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // " #979c88"
• 
• WILLOW, SHE / THEY, SHIP-YARD CAT. 30 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a lithe black smoke feline with ghost striping and leaf green eyes. long smoky fur dashed through with grey and white adorns her frame, sliced across by darker stripes that frame her face and legs. eyes like sage, brilliantly green, gaze with an intelligent look. she is scarred across the bridge of her angular nose.

 

[Frostmoth]

FROST

When Smoke bristles, Frost feels himself stiffen instinctually. Even with Storm coming up behind him- angry that he's given away his findings, he presumes- he knows to be wary of his new acquaintance. He knows the tomcat distantly, and though he doesn't know him to be a troublemaker the scars that litter his black-and-white coat spin a weathered story. Perhaps it's his own misguided bias, but Frost chooses momentarily to believe that Smoke has left whatever has scarred him behind. Frost reassures himself. He forces his coat to stay flat.

Storm bumps him, but Frost keeps his eyes ahead. An instinct. Though he does still brush his tail against his sister in acknowledgement. When she speaks she does not sound too vexed, and he hopes her suggestion will be well-met. When Smoke finally replies, it's formal and sharp. Frost feels himself relax despite the lack of warmth; it isn't like there is much to be warm about anyhow. "The rocks are a hard place to look for fish," he replies, pressing his mouth into a line at the end of his words. "My sister and I used to be shipcats. It's like you said, the fishing is better out in the open water, but the waters are not so kind," Frost finally tears his gaze away to cast it over the rippling, uncouth water. He skims the seemingly unending horizon and tries not to think of what's happened to the other cats who have disappeared beneath waves and riptides.

"We'd be more than happy to help fish. Whatever helps," he finally nods. Frost does not look at Storm, and simply hopes that his sister is okay with being volunteered for this task. She had been the one to offer help after he had so ungraciously given away their bounty, after all. Then, as Willow introduces herself he realizes his impolite forgetfulness. "I'm Frost, by the way. Pleasure to meet you both."

═════════════⊹⊱ ⟡ ⊰⊹═════════════

 

[Seal]

𓆝 . ° ✦

The older cats are always looking worried and frowny, so Seal tries to look the part: a huge crinkle between her brows, and no idea how it got there.

"If we all fish together maybe we can bring back a really big fish,"

she pipes up from somewhere between two of the bigger cats. She knows the black one with a fearsome look has kits, the too-young ones that she can't play with yet, and she knows having kits means needing a lot of food, so a very very large fish seems like it could appeal to the majority, if everyone's worried about feeding him.

"Maybe one as big as me!"

In spite of her roundness, it wouldn't make for all that big of a fish, relatively speaking.

"Or even as big as a twoleg,"

she adds, which sounds so big it's hard to visualize. That's at least… three times her body length. At least!

✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  SEAL — she/her ･ 5 MOONS ･SHIPYARD CAT ･ PENNED BY @Kangoo!

  A round, blue silver rosette tabby with low white and blue eyes.

 

[Bubble]

𓆝 . ° ✦

Bubble, as per usual, finds herself poking around wherever all the people are. She is a social gal, but the hunger that runs rampant in the shipyard has made many of the colony cats substantially more irritable and territorial. The silver molly thinks of trying to hunt for something when she comes across the small group of cats on the shore. She watches them distantly and for a moment it seems like the two tomcats are bristling and might have a standoff, but they both seem to concede and come to an agreement. There, she sees her opportunity to join them, and catches the tail end of Frost's words. Similar to he and his sister, Bubble also used to be a shipcat. She and her family had been well-fed and looked after, but times had changed and she had found herself among the feral cats on the docks and shorelines.

"Hello," she greets the group with a sheepish and sweet voice "I can help you all too. I'm not much good, but maybe if there are lots of us the catches will be better...?" Bubble glances between all of them, and she smiles when Seal bounces over. Though she doesn't think it's a good idea to include a young kit in a fishing adventure, she nods along to entertain the idea. It isn't her job to quash the excitement of a youngster. "Ohh, a fish as big as a twoleg," she nods, eyes wide "I've never seen one that big before, but I'm sure you'd be able to find one for all of us!" Bubble cracks a smile.

"Oh, sorry! How rude of me," she blinks back at the adults with huge and apologetic eyes when she realizes that she hasn't made her name known "I'm Bubble! It's nice to meet all of you."

✧ ° . ✶ . ° ✧

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  BUBBLE — SHE/HER ･ 12 MOONS ･ SHIPYARD (FUTURE RIVERCLAN) ･ PENNED BY CARAT!

  longhaired silver classic tabby with moderate white spotting and blue eyes. bubble is the people's princess. i'll make a real description eventually go read her tags.