Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished! It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.

Open Territory wolf house ⋆ rain storm

This thread takes place outside the clan's camp in its territory.
lichentuft

lichentuft

it keeps rambling on
RiverClan
RiverClan Founder
10
1
Freshkill
115
Pronouns
they/she
Played by
tieirlys
lichen

The air is warm... it blankets the territory in this heavy sort of atmosphere... but her whiskers tickle with the sense of something approaching on the breeze. It is as familiar as the Shipyard had been... a place scoured and explored in agonizing detail for the many moons she'd lived there. This place... this place is still too new, too strange... and their neighbors far stranger. They are grisly at times, toothy-grinned other times. Their unpredictable nature makes the blue molly wary for the future of her children, for the safety of her partners.

Still, she heads out dutifully into the territory, wading through the waters to venture out into grassier plains, determined to bring home something to eat, something to share with her loved ones. The air is heavier still than it was this morning... the earth underfoot seems to soften in sigh of relief the moment the first droplet cascades from the sky.

Aughhh... of course... Her ears fold against her head with a frustrated sigh, already noting the crescendo of the rain as it grows more and more into a downpour rather than a sprinkle. It was meant to be dry in the summer months but she was no stranger to the surprise of a warm-seasoned rainstorm... and her whiskers had warned her, hadn't they?

She's prepared to veer off into a patch of leafy ferns to wait out the storm when a small branch drops into the soggy earth in front of her, splatting mud everywhere, including the pale furs of her flank. "Right..." she grumbles to no one in particular, watching the muck slither down her coat as the rain continues to drench her.

"I'm going home- this is ridiculous," the fussy she-cat declares, turning on her heels to start making her way back towards camp with a disdainful grimace on her face with each squelch of mud under-paw.
 
There was a time once where Shimmerpaw enjoyed the harsh onslaught of rain, where it meant stories of ships rocking on the ocean and tales of how cats came to be on the shores. The parts where some died had been left out, eventually told to the now older apprentice when she was no longer a kit, and although at first she enjoyed it - soft sprinkles of droplets falling from the sky reminding her of nights spent by the ocean - the harsher the weather got the more the white-pelted moggie felt her ears begin to flatten against her head. The more she felt the corner of her maw tug downwards into a frown until tail was drooping and back was hunched over, paws moving carefully in the mud as she began to follow after Lichentuft who - in the older apprentice's opinion - had the right idea of going back to camp.

"Might as well, I doubt the fish are gonna be biting and if it keeps getting worse it'll make swimming for them more dangerous." It wasn't like they were struggling for food right now anyway, and although Shimmerpaw enjoyed swimming and didn't mind getting wet this was a different kind of wet, thrown at her by the weather by force instead of by her own choice and that wasn't something she liked.
​
SHIMMERPAW she/her, riverclan 10 moons old.
all white cat masking cinnamon tortie
mentored by NPC // mentoring none
littermate to none
NPC x NPC / mother to none / mated to none
"speech" // "thoughts"
penned by tikki ↛ rabbitcake on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
 

Like Shimmerpaw, Frostmoth had once held the rain with more favor. It had been exciting and soothing. The way it thrummed against the sand of the shipyard against the sounds of waves on the shore and firmed up the ground would always be somewhat nostalgic to him. But now... It rains almost every day. Like clockwork and routine. And it doesn't rain gently as it had when he'd been a kit. Instead, the sky only seems capable of producing a torrential downpour that fills the canopies of the trees overhead and grants them with random onslaughts of rainwater. And just like clockwork, the humidity gives way into rain as per usual.

What's meant to be a decent hunt is quickly soured by the unwelcome weather. Frostmoth doesn't want to give up, but Lichentuft and Shimmerpaw are well within their rights to give up. "I was taught once that sometimes the fish will surface more during rain," he shrugs halfheartedly "They think it's prey or something. I don't know. That might be stupid." He gets hit with a wave of self-consciousness and then turns away from the river as the rain really begins to pick up, pitter pattering over the riverbank and across the surface of the water.

"I'm not willing to get soaked to the bone to find out, though."

OH, MY GOD ★ MAKE ME IN YOUR IMAGE
  • "SPEECH"
  • ★ FROST — he/him, riverclan deputy, 21 moons
    — penned by carat, feel free to ping or dm for plots!
    — longhair black and white bicolor with blue eyes
    — peaceful powerplay ok! all interactions ok!
  • penned by carat!
 
Unlike Lichentuft, Juncopaw only relies on sight for predicting the weather instead of feeling. She does not share her parent's experience and way of being so in-tune with nature, at least not yet. The clouds up above seem to follow the patrol wherever they go. By the time rain finally allows itself to fall from those gray depths, Juncopaw's neck aches from having tracked it with her gaze sent skyward.

She barely stifles a laugh when mud decides to pain her mother's hide. Out of guilt, Juncopaw reaches out a paw and drags the slow-moving mud off of Lichentuft's side, but it only serves to make her equally pale fur dirty too—this had not been thought through, as most things with Juncopaw.

"But we didn't catch anything,"
 she protests. Weakly, as she often falters when faced with her family's differing opinions. Much to Juncopaw's dismay, Shimmerpaw seems to agree wholeheartedly. Has this outing been a waste of time? It had only served to make them wet. But we're RiverClan, she ponders, brows furrowed as if deep in thought. A bit of rain shouldn't stop us!

It is Frostmoth that ends up pouring back some good feeling into Juncopaw.
"That makes sense!"
 Surely, he must be right. Maybe the fish enjoy the ripples that the drops create on the water's surface. From underwater, it must look a lot prettier. Determined to make the most of this hunting attempt, Juncopaw crouches by the riverbank, her body pressed low to the ground; evidently, she is completely okay with getting dirty. Her gaze is focused only on the water, but as he patrol keeps on going, so does Juncopaw—her head doesn't even move an inch as she keeps stepping sideways to avoid getting left behind.

 
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