[fancypost borderwidth=0px][justify][sup]"'EYO, TidalClan!" Pompeii's amplified voice, it was, still ridden with that boyish charm. It bounced off the silver lining of the lighthouse walls, hitting the third story and back again, reaching the ears of everyone indoors. He expected a decent sized crowd for this to work. "In short, we should start shaking off the rust, getting into shape again, alright? Meet up outside, PRONTO, if you're up for some sparring, of sorts. No, it is not mandatory, and please be older than, uh, five moons." Good, good. First step, done.
Overpopulation among the youth of the clan had always been an issue, Pop knew. The ratio of available warriors to apprentices was out of whack, for instance, meaning delayed training for most. Litters were being brought into the world all at once, with far too little queens offering proper TLC. The island had been like this for quite a while, for as long as the tom could remember, and perhaps this would tidy things up, in the slightest sense. The Spy Apprentice wasn't seeking major boosts of improvement from this exercise, no, but it was a start from simply nothing. Maybe this could inspire others to do their duty, get off their fat asses, host their own sessions, and everything in between. Maybe this would, too, clear his mind, and his clanmates', of all the bad things that were happening, that had occurred, or that would soon, without a shadow of a doubt.
The blue smoke straightened his poised posture as he sat out on the beach, alone, the little patch of forest behind him, the ocean filling up his view. His pale gaze become somewhat wanderlust, searching for those who would answer his call.