pafp ⋆｡°✩ I wanna be everywhere that I'm not || PAFP ٠ ࣪⭑

[Batscreech]

Bat was restless- not for any particular reason- it was not uncommon for the callous tom to find himself teetering on the edge of complete emotional dysregulation. He was reactive by design- or rather, by circumstance- his inability to control his outbursts a flaw he had yet to remedy. He paced in an endless circle, his body a swinging pendulum with tense muscles and a gaze unseeing- an attempt to escape himself to fruitless avail.

In his trance, he was unaware of the perambulating bodies making their way around him, towards him, behind him- clan life and the duties it called for were eternal, the beings which co-existed with one another in permanent motion for one reason or another. Should this ever be broken, the clan in its entirely would die along with it- he understood this by now, and yet it was all too overwhelming- he couldn't stand the suffocating atmosphere any longer. He needed to escape.

He turned towards the camp entrance, a motion made with such desperate ferocity he could have sworn he heard the vertebrae snap inside his neck. Barreling forward at an unsteady sprint, his tightened chest heaving with the effort, he neglected to notice when he expelled his full weight square on top of @QUILLSTRIKE 's tail. He was so close now, the world passing by in a blur as he closed the distance between the heart of the camp and the path leading out into the wider world. So distracted by the idea of peace he failed to register the presence of another pressing their way inwards from the very same entrance- Bat was unable to halt himself in time, the two bodies crashing at intense speed into one another- a sonorous yowl splitting the air as the two wrestled to free themselves before staggering onto dazed unsteady paws.

This was it- the catalyst which brought Bat to ruin, unable to be harnessed. He could have easily just continued onwards without a word, it would have been the more logical option- why waste precious breath spewing venomous words to a stranger when it would be so much easier, so much more beneficial to save it for yourself, or perhaps another who deserved it more? Despite his subconscious instructing him to do otherwise, he let himself unravel. "Useless wanker! I've seen half-dead prey whats got better footin' than ya!"His thunderous confrontation left the recipient stuttering, mouth agape in an attempt to make sense of a situation blown entirely out of proportion, the speed of which was so quick anyone with a more reasonable mindset would be unable to keep up.

The silence only further ignited the fire that had been so hastily lit within Bat, his body shaking along with the metaphorical sparks flying from his mouth between bared, yellow-tinted fangs. "Oi, I'm talkin' to ya! Yer ears ain't work 'neither? Lucky ya got the bloody camp calvary eyein' yer flanks, 'else I'd 'ave flogged ya to bone, ya dodgy git." The octave in which he spoke seemed to excel with every word, so reverberant in its expenditure it caused Bat's head to buzz, the blood flowing through every inch of his ears causing them to roar from within. He was gone now- everything around him was nothing more than shapes, the overlapping chatter a muffled echo carried towards him by passing wind. It wasn't what he wanted- wasn't who he knew he was, or who he should be- and yet he was reduced to so much less, by nobody else's actions other than his own- all over again, just like before.​

​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

---

There was nothing else in the world - save for perhaps Twitchbolt and a starry night sky- that Quill enjoyed more than some peace and quiet. It might sound basic or cliche, but he didn’t give a fuck about any of that. Arguing. Screaming. Crying. Throwing insults. His kithood had been filled without enough of that to last him a lifetime, and he would have been perfectly content if the entire pine forest was empty save for him and his mate. Hell, some days -the ones where he didn’t let his guilt get to him- he might have preferred it.

Of course, there was no such thing as real peace and quiet when you lived in a clan. There’d always be the background chatter of distant voices in the camp, or the excited squealing of kits who’d discovered some new trouble to get up to. Thankfully, none of that seemed to grate on him anymore. It was almost calming, a relaxing white noise that he’d become accustomed to in the many moons since he’d first joined. A welcomed static that was unlike the unpleasant buzzing that droned in his ears whenever things took a turn.

Regardless, he’d been content in his spot, lounging on his side in the shade, just dozing as he waited for Twitchbolt to come back from wherever patrol he was on at the moment. Maybe they’d want to be lazy with him for a bit when they got back from-

”Ow! What the fuck?” he hissed as his head shot up, tail swiftly pulling towards his body in a protective move as pain shot through it. He’d expected to hear an apology - even if it was a half hearted one- only to find the back of Batscreech as the other tom made their way toward the camps exit.

An annoyed huff escaped him at the sight, his sore tail giving a small flick in agreement, but he would have been content to let it be until the next time he crossed paths with them. He wasn’t gonna waste his time in chasing down some asshole over something that was probably an accident anyways.

Unfortunately, and attempt at letting it go and getting back to his nap was completely thrown out the window when none other than the tail-stomping idiot Batscreech began yelling at some poor cat who hadn’t gotten out of their way in time. The chimera could practically fel his mood souring more and more with every unintelligible word that left the asshats mouth- to the point where his fur was spiked up in the telltale fashion along the back of his neck and shoulders, jaw clenched in an attempt to reign in his mounting anger.

Just who the fuck did this guy think he was?

”Better footing? That’s laughable coming from the loser that just stomped on my tail.” the towering tabby deadpanned coldly as he got to his feet with narrowed eyes, and like always, his anger was one of the few emotions that seemed to have no trouble translating itself, easily bleeding through the stone mask he usually wore. ”Should have called you Bigfoot. Or fucking Loudmouth- though I guess Batscreech isn’t too far off, is it?”

A flick of his tail was enough to dismiss the other cats victim, who gratefully took the opportunity to try and disengage from the situation, seeming to have enough sense to note that these two toms were a recipe for trouble.
​

---

skyclan - male - 29 months (Feb 17th) - mated to Twitchbolt - a very tall, dark chimera tomcat with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

 

[ThistleBack]

Thistleback is amid chatter with a fellow warrior, touching lightly on his training methods and plans for Teeveepaw and his latest assignment of Batscreech. Speak of the devil, he spots the small brown body bolting for the camp entrance but not without a trod on Quillstrike’s tail. The resting black tabby roars out in alarm, to which Thistleback teeters between amused and annoyed with the sudden yelling. The smaller crashing into an unsuspecting clanmate, a yowl unfurls so loud it echos and from there it was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. A chaotic crescendo, the orchestra of camp goes silent and eyes fall on the pair.

How many times had Thistleback had to break up a fight in this very camp? Peeling Quillpaw off Snowpaw, narrowly having to step between Silversmoke and Slate. Now it seems it would be Quillstrike off Batstreak. The percentage of these being his own pupils, should this be a testament to something, A red flag strewn out over the several odd moons to be pieced together like a jigsaw?

" please excuse me " he mutters to the warrior he was speaking to. " I need to go tend to the children " he growls, pushing off the ground and crossing the clearing on paws aching with the fatigue of a long day spent in the sandy ravine. The hard mud had pressed his calluses, and his shoulders felt like they were on fire. He wasn’t particularly in the most pleasant mood himself, but he also wasn’t one to put things like that on display. He bottled it up, having learned patience in his days as a father.

" Batscreech, If I hear you shout like that at someone over an accident again… I’ll make you pick nettles off a pine until it's bare, understood? " he warns in that military tone he takes with his students, scowl pressed over a scarred maw and eyes shifting to Quillstrike. " Go back to your nap, yeah? " he nods dismissively, a smirk ghosting crossing his lips as he recalls a memory, of flipping a young Quillpaw out of his nest, it tickles him a bit. " and enough with the cussing, there are kits in this camp. " he flings out, rolling his knuckles against the dirt to ease the tension of overworked tendons. He spins on his hocks, ready to attend to his own nap.

⛤ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛤

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  forty-eight mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
  — Father of Coyotecrest, Eveningsun and Scorpionpaw
  — mentoring Teeveepaw formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

He'd been looking forward more than anything to sinking into Quillstrike's side, to letting green eyes flutter closed in a wave of pleasantness before duties would scruff him and steal him away again. That distant dream was dashed the second he glimpsed his mate, pelt brushed with the spines he was named for, squarint up with Bat; in bewilderment, blinks twitched oddly across his eyes. Stars, they weren't apprentices anymore- and why did it seem like every time he came back from hunting there was sme species of shouting match going on?

Thistleback got there first- Twitchbolt offered the tom a relieved, tired smile. He knew Quillstrike would listen, at least - though it seemed it was Bat who'd thrown off the handle, who'd tornadoed this into domething awful. And he loved Quillstrike, but he was a very pokeable bear...

Past the piebald tom, Twitchbolt brushed up against Quillstrike's flank- attempted to get his attention before he probably wrenched Bat's tongue out or something and sent blood spinning across the camp, scarring a herd of kits for life. He shuddered at the thought, tail swatting suddenly at something unseen. "C'mon, dude, let's- let's go for a walk," and that bit was audible... still, with a feather-marked tail he beckoned Quillstrike a little closer, and then murmured to him only- "We'll find something you can sink your teeth into."​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[Batscreech]

Searing words combated Bat's own upon the arrival of Quillstrike, the dark pelted tom pushing his way forward and inserting himself into an argument that didn't even involve him, a detail that only caused further unrest in Bat's already overstimulated body and mind. He wasted no time in directing his fury to the newcomer, completely forgetting about the unnamed feline he had been screaming at moments before. "Yer gobby, innit? Ya usually one 't go about playin' hero?" He thrust his face closer to his newfound adversary as he spat, yellow fangs bared in full, a perfect row of glinting canines save for the singular space where one was missing. "Best be mindin' yer P's 'n Q's mate, or I'll 'ave ya rinsed right quick. If a nick to yer back end's 'nuff 't get ya in a fit, I'd bite yer arm off 't see what a proper swing'd do."

Before Quillstrike could offer a rebuttle, Thistleback was on the scene- like a doting parent, he ensured punishment would be in order should his underlings continue in their brash display. Usually, this would have been enough to ward off the worst of Bat's antics, a strong and domineering presence Thistleback always proved to be. It almost worked, Bat slowly backing away and shutting his mouth with a click of his jaw- until the addition of 'Go back to your nap, yeah?' settled deep within Bat's ears. "Really?" His head twisted to a right angle- so far down it was almost unnatural- the forested green fire once again igniting within his eyes. He couldn't believe it- Quillstrike being dismissed to laze around camp and make a nuisance of himself, while Bat would continue to slave away for a hoard of cats he hardly knew just to prove that he was deserving enough to take up space among them. Why had Quillstrike gotten off so much easier when he was the one to approach him? In a situation that didn't even involve him? "Yeh- Go back 't yer uncle ned innit? Oh, I'm sure yer proper knackered after all that effin' n' blindin.' Seems like bein' a knivin' tossers' all yer good for, eh?"

He didn't care who heard him, didn't care who saw him, he was so lost in his own violently expressed emotions he didn't even care what Thistleback would say to him- what he would do to him for such an embarrassing display. A grown tom, unable to show any control over himself when faced with any form of stress, just like a pathetic kit and their revoked toy. He would regret it later, he knew, and perhaps feel even just the slightest shred of guilt- he always did- but not now. Suddenly the whole world was against him, and if he didn't defend himself in the only way he knew how save for a flurry of battering claws and teeth, what would become of him? What else would he lose?

And then another cat- Twitchbolt, Bat remembered from a past scuffle between Slate and Doeblaze- inserts themselves into the fray.
Bat couldn't stand him, the way he walked with an anxious gait yet somehow carried such a stifling air of self importance. A high position could infect even the most timid of cats with trips of power, it would seem. Bat watched with a rigid stance and flexing claws as the newcomer pressed himself against Quillstrike, the action eliciting a confused expression to distort his face even further. Was this his mate? The concept of anyone being able to tolerate much less love such a volatile creature was a concept that strained credulity to him. However, he would not allow this newfound connection escape him- no, he would use it to further light this incessant bonfire until it inevitably exploded.

At the suggestion of a walk from Twitchbolt, Bat's grimace morphed into a twisted smile- the likes of which seemed slightly too wide for his face- the edges of his lip twitching as the skin around it peeled back, his eyes turning to upturned slits as the shape of it pushed upwards. "Listen to yer darlin' patsy n' bugger off now. Just 'cause yer a pillock don't mean ya need 't stand 'round lookin' like yer dead from the neck up."​

​

 

[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

---

The chimeras tail gave a silent lash of warning as Bat turned to face him, stepping toward him with bared fangs that had Quills blood spiking with the beginning of adrenaline as instinct readied him for a fight. Not that he intended to start a brawl in camp with a clanmate but, you know, sometimes shit just happened.

Especially to annoying little ticks that didn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

Being screamed at was nothing new to Quill. Granted, it’d been a good while since he’d been made to stand there while he was insulted by another cat, but at least this one didn’t tower over him or mean anything in his life. It was just some random jerk barking like one of those yappy little dogs in twolegplace. He was tempted to shut them up, send them off yelping with their tail between their legs, but it was better to have Bat in his face than some innocent bystander who’d done nothing but walk near them. Plus, he’d promised Twitchbolt he wouldn’t try and kill any more of their clanmates, so… yeah.

But maybe a few new scars to teach them a lesson would be easier forgiven than having their throat torn out in front of everyone. At least they’d live to see another day- maybe with better manners, if they were all so lucky.

Batscreech, if I hear you shout like that at someone over an accident again… I’ll have you pick nettles off a pine until it’s bare, understood?”

While Quills expression of annoyance did not change, there was an air of smugness in his mismatched gaze as they glared into Bat’s, as if to say, ‘ha- you got yelled at’.

To Thistlebacks words of returning to his nap, he let out an annoyed tsk, but didn’t argue. All he actually wanted was for this idiot rogue of a cat to stop screaming at their clanmates over little shit, and his old mentor usually had a way of seeing things done. If it saved Quillstrike from having to waste the effort on Bat himself, he could live with that. What really took the wind out of his sails though, was the mention of kits.

Mismatched hues shot toward the nursery as if remembering it were for the first time, and the fur along his spine laid itself flat immediately, ears twitching backwards for just a moment in a purposeful display of guilt- the closest thing to an apology anyone aside from Twitch and the kits themselves were likely to get from him.

”Really?”

His attention was brought back by Bats apparent displeasure, and it only took the chimera a moment to figure out what it was over.

”I’ve earned my right to sit down whenever I want, newbie. Put in the time instead of screaming at your clanmates, and maybe you will too.” he said coldly, gaze flat as it met with those of the other tom.

Quillstrike was about done with this whole thing. He wasn’t allowed to claw the other in front of the kits, and Bat had been told to piss off and keep quiet, so they were at a stalemate it appeared (minus the other cats endless complaining). Twitchbolts arrival was quick to make the chimera lose the rest of his interest in noisy tomcat, fire and ice gentling as he looked to them at his side. His tail flicked dismissively toward Bat as he caught the words ”We’ll find something you can sink your teeth into.”

He could live with that.

And that should have been the end of it right there. Bat goes his way, Quill goes the other.

But they had to go and open their damn mouth one last time.

Any progress made by Thistle and Twitch at defusing the situation was smashed into the dust as the words registered. Patsy. Just another fancy word for a push-over- for a fucking victim- and the tomcat was seeing red. He whirled away from his mate, pupils narrowed to murderous slits as he stalked forward to stand chest-to-chest with the other.

”Say it again.” he snarled in their face, daring them to bring his mate into it. ” I’ll drag you out of camp and drown you in the river in front of everyone. You think I give a damn about being exiled? I’d skin you alive and give him the fur for his nest if he asked me to.”

He kept his voice low to avoid scaring the kits, but Quillstrike was visibly seething. Twitchbolt was one of the best cats he knew, not just smart and strong and funny, but genuinely good. And he had no doubt that his mate could kick this guys ass if he felt like it, because Twitch was no damn weakling either. But there were certain things that just weren’t going to fly with Quillstrike, and this was very much one of them.
​

---

skyclan - male - 29 months (Feb 17th) - mated to Twitchbolt - a very tall, dark chimera tomcat with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

 

[ThistleBack]

He’s stood there, eyes narrowly drifting off as the mocking display of warrior-aged foolish vaudeville continues like a circus on fire. Thistleback’s eyes close, and he reopens them with a side-eye to Twitchbolt who gives him a smile that thanked him wordlessly. No, it was Twitchbolt who deserved the gratitude for keeping Quillstrike at bay from himself. He shakes his head marginally, hearing the lead warrior reach out to tame the feral beast.

It’s almost over, and Bat pipes off again. Naturally, the black tabby is back in his face, a threat on his tongue. How exile would be worth the cost of seeing the other drown. It was funny how quickly this campfire became a forest fire.

His eyes roll so hard he could swear he saw his own spine, he looks at Twitchbolt blankly " this… because of a stepped-on tail " he sees to remind the audience of irony, looking back to the scene. He could feel his brow twitch, he reaches up to push at his temple. Feeling the spike in his blood pressure already.

He sidesteps, body leaning and hocks bowing. Ready to intercept Bat, he hoped Twitchbolt was on the same page. This would need to be subdued quickly, his nose crinkles into a deeper scowl. He shakes his head, don’t do it.

" I swear if I get bit pulling you two apart, the teeth are coming with me " he mutters with a grumbly growl.

⛤ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛤

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  
  forty-eight mns. EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Former Lead warrior of Skyclan 12.22.22 - 06.2023
  — Father of Coyotecrest, Eveningsun and Scorpionpaw
  — mentoring Teeveepaw formerly Snowpath & Quillstrike
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[Batscreech]

Bat didn't falter as his searing gaze met Quills own, both alight with rekindled fire. He was so full of himself, so eager to boast about all that he had accomplished, how it all added up to his right to sprawl out wherever he pleased, his presence nothing more than a nuisance.

At the mention of his mate, he became inconsolable. Bat had struck the deepest and most sensitive nerve, he knew- whether he would pay the price for it would be up for debate and entirely based upon Quills own decision. Despite his sharp tongue and loose string of unwarranted insults, he would not be the one to strike the initial blow- he knew better than that, at the very least.

He smiled- an ugly, twisted thing- his stance relaxing slightly as he allowed his muscles to ease from their knotted positions amidst the initial adrenaline rush. "Another one gone 't the dogs..." He trailed off and his smile began to fade as his attention was drawn to the shifting of a monochrome body- Thistleback positioning himself defensively in an attempt to block off the two toms reach of one another should one or the other completely fly off the handle. This seemed to cause a shift in Bat, his expression growing momentarily inquisitive as though losing himself in thought.

It was his fault. He was careless, abrasive, inconsiderate, stubborn, nothing short of cruel. Truthfully, he wasnt sure if he felt at any sort of genuine guilt- perhaps he was simply afraid of suffering consequence, or he simply lost interest in whatever alteration this happened to be. He didn't even remember, he cared so little. Only when Thistleback mumbled something about a tail being stepped on did Bat realize how utterly pointless the entire ordeal was. He didn't need to involve himself with this tom- clearly he was similar to him in that his emotions controlled him, not the other way around. They were united in that they were unable to regulate themselves, pressing endlessly onwards about anything and everything so long as they had the energy to spare, even if it would amount to nothing in the end.

"...Right, well- clearly yer not battin' on a full wicket, mate, n' I ain't wastin' another tick on some mangy cur throwin' a wobbly. So-...Sod off." It was an awkward way to exit the argument, discomfort expressed plainly on Bat's face as he began to back away before he even finished speaking- so distracted in his own plan of escape that he nearly toppled straight onto Thistleback. Panic lit up his sleazy optics as he glanced at the older feline before turning away completely and slinking out of camp, as he initially intended to do before all hell broke loose.

As he pushed himself through the thickened brush and out into the open air, his mind wandered as his stare grew vacant. He would never admit it aloud- or maybe even to himself for that matter- but his hasty retreat was not solely based upon Thistlebacks domineering show of force. It was a part of it, naturally, but at the core of it, Bat knew it was more. It meant more. He was not afraid, nor was he giving up due to cowardice- he understood. He understood the ferocity brought on by the desire to defend and nuture the cats you hold so dear to you, so immense is the connection and devotion to them that you'd be willing to risk not only yourself, but everything else as well- all of it, just to ensure their safety, to ensure their happiness, to preserve the purity that radiates from within them. It drives you forward, it keeps your passion and determination alive- and it was something that Bat had lost. Seeing what he used to have, what he used to be, in another individual- and brought on by his own actions no less- it was not something that he could face. The familiarity sickened him, and the reminder was so much worse.

He broke into a run. At first, he paced himself, but it didnt last long. He pushed onwards at an angle that favored the wind as to gain momentum, on and on, gaining speed until he was flying across the ground in whatever direction he felt was right. Once again, he was running from himself, and like every other time before, the result would provide zero solace.​