sensitive topics 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 ╱ 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋

[SUNSTAR]

WindClan's strenuous peace ends as all things do. It was not so long ago that Sunstride had returned from his journey to the other four clans. They know now what they could expect in the moons to come, and StarClan's words still echo within him through Blazestar. A decision must be made. Two days wait is long enough.

In short, stalking steps, the burnished tom claims his place beneath the rock where Sootstar had once berated the stars. His place is not among those heights. Not now. Not with what he must say to them. Ocean-tide eyes skip to shore at the entrance to Sootstar's den as he begins to speak. "WindClan!" he shouts. All of them. Not the oldest and strongest of them. The kittens that peek their heads from the nursery walls are as welcome as those that had served alongside him in the moor snake's council. "I have returned from my journey to speak to StarClan, and to the leaders of the other clans with news. Though distrust remains, each heard what I had to say. And in speaking with all of them, I came to understand what must be done."

With a serious, drawn expression, his gaze searches the crowd. "We cannot remain under Sootstar's shadow. That she lives is a blight upon our clan, our home. StarClan told me of the choice that sits before me — before all of us — and to see again the forest's hatred of her, I know with certainty that she cannot live out her days within our camp, or upon the lands that her followers fled to." These are the words that should have been said before the molly's eyes once again opened. That he had hesitated at all was not a sign of compassion or understanding, but weakness. And the vulnerability he has allowed now threatens the clan that he had wished only to protect. He looks to her kin that he can see from the crowd. "Should any of you speak against this, I would know your reasoning."

And to the shadowed figure, barely visible through the entrance to her den, "Come stand beneath the light that has not touched you for moons and face your judgement."

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. hi guys! more info about this thread's intended direction will come out soon, for now please wait for @SOOTSTAR and don't attack her ALSDFKJH
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

There was little hope left to be had, in her final moments Sootstar's self-delusions had subsided. An eerie sense of peace had washed over her in her time of solitude, prisoner in her own dark den. Whatever happened it would not be her end, this she truly believed.

Still, as the viper slips from the shadows now, she looks at the clan that glares with malice as a failure. How had she allowed them to fall this far down? The silver molly wonders if there was anything she could've changed to stop this, or if it had always been inevitable the day StarClan shut her out. Written in the stars.

They may have won the battle, but her war was them was far from over. To whatever grave they made for her, rocky, watery, bloody, she'd take it with her. Sootstar would rage war again, maybe not now, maybe not in the next passing of seasons, but some moon, someday she'd teach StarClan and the clans a fatal lesson. This was the only hope she clings onto.

The sunlight stings her night adjusted eyes as she casts a glare toward Sunstride. Out where daylight could touch her it became transparent how truly weakened, she was. Clumps of fur matted together and blood from the battle still crusted into her pelt, the wound on her neck ugly and inflamed, infected. Bags weighed heavy underneath her eyes and her fur no longer carried a healthy shimmer, and not even its length could hide her ribcage that juts out beneath her flesh.

Miraculously, somehow the adder brings herself to stand strong. A sliver of the ambitious, war-raging, iron-pawed leader still nestled inside of her. No matter how much her clan tried to break her the monster she was would never retire.

"Do what you must," She meows, though her voice hoarse there is no hint of fear for whatever is to come. "but I'll not fall without unsheathing my claws." A promise that to whoever dared approach her she'd push out maximum damage before she was slain. Sootstar was not willing to leave this world without fresh blood on her claws.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Prisoner
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

From Wolfsong’s den, Bluefrost marches as though to her own grave. Sunstride sits not on her mother’s throne, but at its base, his voice stretching to the furthest corners of the camp. She still carries the wounds inflicted not only by Rattleheart’s claws, but by Sootstar’s voice. To see her dragged from her den, her fur unkempt, her eyes glassy, is another thorn in her heart. “Mother,” she murmurs, her voice wretched, strained. She knows she will garner glares from the cats who’d rebelled, but she cannot afford to look away from Sootstar in this moment.

The mother and leader who would damn her stands as proudly as she can. Her tone is as barbed as the fangs that peek from curled lips. “Do what you must,” she says, her voice parched as the moorland under a baking greenleaf sun. “I’ll not fall without unsheathing my claws.”

Sunstride will put her mother to death, and there is nothing she can do to stop it—there is nothing, she thinks. Hopelessness blossoms in her chest like a bloom withering on a barren branch. “Please,” she whispers, but she dares not vocalize her displeasure too loud.

Her mother is right. She is a coward who should have died—if she’d been a true daughter, a good daughter, she’d plant herself in front of Sootstar’s body and die first, die bloody at the claws of traitors and rebels.

Instead, she trembles, feeling more worthless than she ever has. She will not cry—she will not beg Sunstride for her mother’s life. She will stand as regally as Sootstar raised her, as stoic as she trained her to be, and she will watch her die a death she no doubt deserves.

But I deserve it, too.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 13 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue and white she-cat with emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[Bluepool]

The icy cold of leaf-bare still held its tight grip over the moors. Every turn of the seasons it was like this. The snow always came. How many had she seen now? Three? No. Four. Four leaf-bares and she was still fighting, still kicking. She had seen so many others, cats younger and older alike, come and go. This life that they lived was not kind, it’s why StarClan gave their leaders nine lives, she thinks. So that they might stand even that just little bit more of a fighting chance than they once had when she was just Blue and her sisters were just Mint and Soot and they were eking out a life together in the unforgiving marshes.

Soot had always been the favorite. Her fathers favorite, StarClans favorite. She has always been stronger, smarter, more, in every way that Bluepool could not be. But she was content to live in the shadow of someone much more glorious than her. As long as her sister was happy, as long as she was being the best version of herself, then Bluepool could be content.

The cat that Sunstride presents before them is not the same gray molly that she had grown up with. Those venomous eyes belong to a stranger and Bluepool looks upon her sister like she might look at a puddle of mud she had accidentally dipped her toes in. She does not bother to hide her disgust, does not worry about suppressing the slight curl of her lip as she sneers and most of all she does not beg for her sisters life.

There is someone who does though. Bluefrost. She calls out to her mother and a pang strikes at Bluepools’s heart like a claw imbedded in her chest. Her nieces and nephews, did they not realize? Their mother was already gone. Had been gone for some time now. Maybe in the beginning, when WindClan was new and something beautiful had she been there. But not at the end. Now, Bluepool thinks, it would be a mercy to end it as quickly as possible.

But she says nothing, just digs her claws into the cold dirt, as if her toes curling into the snow are the only thing keeping her anchored, the only thing keeping her from flying forward and testing the merit of her sisters words. In her silence, she hears only her heart pounding against her chest, a beat that screams and begs for them to just get this grim affair done and over with. A soft snort of air is all that can be heard from the blue toned warrior as she stares icy daggers into a smoke gray pelt that once, she had known better than her own.

( ✦ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The tom who takes up Sootstar’s former place atop the Tallrock appears more a leader than the volatile, smoke-sullied adder had been. Bright as the sun that shines upon their territory, as his namesake, the rosetted tabby is more deserving of the position than the monster who thought it wise to steal kits—and not only steal them, but take them from a clan who had sheltered their own while the moorland was overtaken by a band of rogues. Sootstar had once been a friend to her, and a leader who held her respect, but she had burned it all to ash when she put the entire clan in danger. She has done nothing to dig herself out of the pit that she’s found herself in, either; speaking blatantly of her disrespect toward StarClan was not the final straw, but it could have been.

Sunstride’s words are unmistakeable. Sootstar will not see another sunrise. She may still have some of her star-blessed lives remaining, but if the clan is to wash itself of the stain upon them, then she must die. The calico’s gaze trails after Sootstar as the condemned cat draws herself from the den that has been her closely-guarded prison for far too long—this is a turning point for the clan, the most final of them all. After today, WindClan will lift itself anew. Scorchstreak is uncertain whether she looks forward to it or not.

Sootstar does not appear shaken by the fate that she is sure to meet, but Bluefrost does. The girl looks at her gaunt, bloodied mother as though she is already seeing her ghost, and whispers words that Scorchstreak’s ears cannot catch. The calico’s sharp gaze cuts to Bluefrost for a heartbeat. She would be dead if not for Rattleheart’s mercy, and while Scorchstreak has half a mind to wish pain upon her for standing at Sootstar’s side for so long, she knows that she, too, is guilty. The scar that still cuts a jagged path across her chest marks her forever as guilty. Bluefrost is about to be an orphan, and for that Scorchstreak can dig up a scrap of the sympathy that she’d believed she had buried months ago.

The fallen-from-grace leader promises that if she is to die, she will not go down without a fight. Scorchstreak does not speak and does not move, but narrowed golden eyes shift away from Sootstar to settle on Sunstride. Finish this, Sunstride. As you should have days ago. Realistically, she knows that she cannot lay blame upon Sunstride for leaving Sootstar alive whilst he spoke to the stars, but she still believes that this could have all been much easier dealt with, had he murdered the serpent-scaled queen. Of course, Scorchstreak cannot stop herself from turning to glance quickly at Bluepool, but the silvery tabby’s expression is one of nothing more than disgust. That, the way that Bluepool so clearly despises Sootstar, is reason enough to end her here and now.

She does not know exactly what Sunstride intends to do with Sootstar, but she can take a guess. She is ready for this all to be done with. Only then, under a new leader in a new WindClan, can she begin to right her mistakes.​

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

What Rattleheart wouldn't give to have mercy and kindness be the right decision in every scenario, rather than bloodshed.

He had never been a warrior that had thrived in the middle of war, seeking out battle and the glory that came along with it. He'd always prefer talking and negotiating to fighting tooth and claw, even if he had never considered himself to be the greatest at either option. In this scenario, though, he knew that clemency wasn't truly an option, no matter what protests came from the crowd that had gathered around Sunstride and his prisoner. Sootstar would never accept a defeat that ended in anything but her death, and that much was clear just from the way that she responded now. There was still that unforgiving fire in her eyes, a fury towards them all that Rattleheart knew would never fade.

Even if he wished so desperately that it would, if only for Bluefrost's sake over anyone else's.

The tunneler was deathly silent as he moved forward, heavy pawsteps carrying him over not to his sister or Bluepool, but to Bluefrost's side. Her trembling form told him enough, even if he couldn't hear the silent plea that she had sent forward to her mother. He sat stiffly down beside her, saying nothing as he surveyed the scene before them all. Even if he had been able to forgive the past crimes of many cats - perhaps even some cats that he shouldn't have forgiven, if common opinion was to be believed - Sootstar was not one of them. She had inflicted too much damage on all of them. On Windclan, on Sunstride, on him. On Bluefrost, and on all of her children. For any other cat he would've wailed to the sky for such a fate, and pleaded with Susntride to keep him from enacting such a brutal punishment. But this time he just remained mute, trying to catch Sootstar's green gaze with his own.

Rattleheart had already said his goodbyes to her when she had first been imprisoned - could still hear his cold goodbye, Soot ringing on repeat in his own mind. So instead he focused his attention on Bluefrost, head hung low as his nose pressed lightly to her shoulder. "No matter what has happened, or will happen... I'm sorry you have to see any of this, Bluefrost. I wish you could be spared that much." He far from disagreed with Sunstride's decision to give his clan a chance to speak in Sootstar's defense. After all, it was a huge demonstration of the differences between his and Sootstar's leadership styles, with Sunstride actually caring about the thoughts and opinions of the cats around him.

It was a bright sign for their future, even if it was accompanied by the darkness of finally putting the viper of the moors to death.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

TASTED LIGHT BUT FED THE DARK
WAITING FOR THEM ALL TO SEE​

---

periwinklebreeze ❀ 18 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ he/they ❀ windclan moor runner​

---

Once, periwinklebreeze had thought sootstar to be infallible. Immortal, immesuareble. A goddess who reigned starclans wrath upon them, pathed windclans path with blood and death and still stood tall. Once, hed thought to follow in her pawsteps - clumsy as he was, as sick as the sight and scent of blood had left him, he'd still worshipped her like the rest. One thing after another - hurting his family, exiling them, waging endless wars and starting battles they could not win. He'd watched as his fiends, his family, his loved ones dwindled down one by one, until there was almost no one left.

Hyacinthbreath. Wisteriapaw. Moonshadow. Dandelionwish. Snowshadow. Dazzlepaw. Vulturemask. Snailstride. Names and faces lost to time, to sootstars tyranny over the moons. Perhaps, if they'd had a better leader, he wouldn't be standing here alone.

Once - he'd thought to bow to her reign. Had come home cowering beneath the weight of her power. He'd thought that's what starclan had wanted - seen it as visions of red painted his dreams and waking moments alike. But the sootstar he'd returned too was not the same one he'd left. Starclan no longer guided her paws, and he'd left - it hadn't even been a question, hadn't been a choice. Once - twice - thrice. Again and again his clanmates had rebelled, while he'd remained a corward. But no longer.

As sunstride steps forwards, calls the she-cat forwards, periwinklebreeze watches. Head held high where he stands, for once his gaze does not shy away - no, he feels no fear of her now. Only disgust - anger, rage. He thinks of everything she has done - and for what? It'd all been for nothing in the end, her throne crumbling beneath her very paws. He's never been a violent cat - no, he's always been haunted by the blood staining his paws. But now? Now he only feels that creeping sense of satisfaction, of power - the very same as when he'd chosen to hold the fox cub down, had felt it's life drain as it struggled in his jaws.

He wants her dead.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

---

T O ━ L O V E ━ M Y S E L F ━ I S ━ W A Y ━ T O ━ H A R D

---

 

[cottonsprig]

The idea of the other Clans cheering for Sootstar's demise had made Cottonfang feel uneasy - and in truth, this show does no better. She understands it fully, as certainly Sunstride wants all of WindClan to understand and agree to the potentially inevitable outcome. Yet still, Sootstar is her mother. At this point, the title feels as if it's only bound by blood and blood alone, but it's a title nonetheless that Cottonfang used to eagerly wear with pride. Cottonkit, daughter of Sootstar and Weaselclaw. StarClan, what she would give to return to simpler times? Now she must watch her mother spit and hiss like a cornered rabbit.

She doesn't try to stare at Sootstar, the other's matted, bloody fur causing her to frown. She's tempted to sink deeper into the medicine den, in fact, and ignore all of the goings-on of this... trial. But she sees her twin, hears the other's feeble cries, and finds her energy useful elsewhere. Her tail taps Rattleheart's side in a silent, Thank you, before she takes up Bluefrost's other side. Despite their differences, Cottonfang loves her sister - the other allowed her and Downypaw to escape, after all.

They both deserve better, she decides. All of them do.

"We don't have to watch, Bluefrost," she suggests, though if she knows her sister, she knows that the other will want to make sure their mother doesn't rise again. Not out of malice, no - out of fear, maybe. "She's... she's long gone, now. She's not our mother anymore," though she speaks to Bluefrost, she also speaks to herself, trying to settle the unease in her gut.​

 

[heathermoon !!]

Heatherpaw is a quiet face in the crowd for once. Of all the times WindClan had faced trial after tribulation the tabby could always crack a joke to break the tension. This time, Heatherpaw couldn't dig up a simple word in response to it all. SO much blood, so much hate, how had things gone this bad? Was there ever really a turning point, or had his Clanmates simply grown tired of it all? Unable to rationalize what was irrational in the first place.

Like Cottonfang he wished for more simpler times. The moons where they were just training to be the very best for their Clan. When all they wanted was to make their family and the stars proud. Instead they faced war, they tasted defeat after defeat and the cost of victory.

Heatherpaw remained not too far away from his friend, not wanting to insert himself between the sisters. So much had happened, between the days of youth and now, he isn't entirely sure they're even the same cats. He wanted her to know, though, he could still be a friend.

For a brief moment mismatched eyes turned up to the sky and wondered if his mother was up there, waiting to condemn Sootstar a final time. Would all of WindClan's fallen soldiers rejoice? It didn't feel like the type of celebration he was used to, this was no petty squabble they had won. ​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ RED MACKEREL TABBY ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

She should be dead already, slain over and over again in battle until she did not rise again, away from his eyes as he worked on clearing the tunnels of Loyalist ilk. StarClan had proven itself to be a cruel bitch, keeping his mother alive long enough to deduce what he had done, to breathe her last breath knowing that even her oldest son had betrayed her. Her eyes never met his as he watched her step out into the light, in quiet relief, he hoped that meant she did not think of him, that her last memory of him would be of a loyal Lead Warrior. Hatred and exhaustion rippled off of other cat's scents, with more certainty than he had had in a while, he deduced that no one was looking forwards to this, they just deemed it a necessity to rip the snake's head off for good. Sootspot, calm Sootspot who wore ambition on his paws and did his best to stay alive, did not know what to make of it all. Popular opinion stated she should die, but even now, his mind wandered to times spent nibbling on her ears with Shrikethorn, or showing her amazing finds in the tunnel.

'The way things used to be... before they forced her to turn her fangs on herself.' He waited for someone to speak up in her defence, but his siblings were silent, save for the occasional murmur to themselves that the tom pretended not to hear. Burning eyes shifted, spotting Bluefrost and Rattleheart in the crowd, spotting Periwinklebreeze carry a conviction he'd never expected from his timid denmate. Only then did he feel gravity sink in his stomach - his mother truly was going to die today. She was going to fight, she was going to fall, perhaps more than once. Sootspot looked for an exit, things had always been easier to rationalise when he did not see them, easier to justify when he knew his claws played no part. He watched some cats shift towards his only escape, as if afraid the grey-furred demon above them would break through her captors and haunt the meadows. There would be no pushing past them, not unless he wanted to prove to them that conflict still racked his brain. The camp was so quiet that he could hear the blood in his ears as he stepped forwards, mouth parting against his better judgment. "Over and over, WindClan has insinuated it wants to be better than her."

And they never would be. A dozen leaders would rise and fall, but none could claim the influence that Sootstar had had. There had been only two flaws he'd seen in the Queen: one was that she was too complacent, letting worm-ridden traitors he'd pinpointed moons ago nestle into the hearts of WindClanners who might have been loyal; two was that she never had trusted him enough, her love had instead been given to bratty siblings, her attention given to an indiscreet ShadowClanner and an unpleasant former Deputy. His tail lashed rapidly as he fuelled himself up. He was confident he could've made a difference had she been different, but convincing himself of such only made the guilt rest heavier upon his head. "I believe we can be, we can do things differently, but, that means we cannot succumb to anger as she would." he rasped, looking to Sunstride. He never had quite understood why they were angry at Sootstar, only that differentiating from that emotion meant walking on a cliff-face - Sootspot just hoped they would not push him off for asking one thing of them.

"Do not torture me. Kill her quickly, "



​

 

[SUNSTAR]

PLEASE WAIT FOR AN IC POST AND A DISCORD ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE CONTINUING TO POST IN THIS THREAD <3​

Kill her quickly, Sootspot requests, and between this and the heavy silence of his the younger kits, tied to one another by this traitor's blood, he sees the finality of what they must do. If even they are not terribly opposed to this inevitability, who left would defend her? Weaselclaw's love had died with him. Though he had not lived to see the end of her, he has no doubts that he would have been the one running these remnants out to distant lands. He would have been her deputy. He would stand alongside her still. But now they had none other.

What remained was a clan that would finally be rid of her influence. Flowers who could finally grow outside of her looming cloud. He is the final gust of wind, the firestorm that would cleanse this heaviness and scorch the earth of her winding weeds so that WindClan's roots might finally sink in. With great trust to his clanmates in how his body turns, Sunstride paces back and forth alongside the caged viper. Like a bull gearing up for a charge, his head swings low with each turn of his forepaws. "This is all that you have to say for yourself? To the clan that you have tormented, to the cats who you have harmed? You have killed those we care for, harmed a great many others. And you have nothing to say for yourself?"

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

HE COULD NOT BREAK SURFACE TENSION
HE LOOKED IN THE WRONG PLACE FOR REDEMPTION ​

---

periwinklebreeze ❀ 18 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ he/they ❀ windclan moor runner​

---

'Do what you must,' Sootstar had said.

'Kill her quickly,' Sootspot pleads.

'You have killed those we care for, harmed a great many others. And you have nothing to say for yourself?' Sunstride accuses.

'I hate you,' Periwinklebreeze thinks.

For a moment, time almost seems to stand still. It is as though a million flies are buzzing in his ears, vision pulsing black as he stares at her. There is madness is those eyes, he thinks - and perhaps, there is madness in his own, too. Body is moving without his control - paws carrying dainty figure forwards until, at last he has closed that distance. For a heartbeat, he stares at sootstar and wonders.

Why she had ever semed so... big. Why he had ever been scared. She is smaller than him, like this, pulled down from tallrock on which she'd always lorded over them. Just another cat, just another face in the crowd. He hates her - but it is not hatred that fuels his motions, pushes him forwards. No - it is grief. For those who he has lost, they have lost, windclan has lost. All because of her.

Perhaps those who have fled are sitting in their new homes safe and sound, dreaming of this moment the way he always has. Perhaps starclan is looking down upon him, watching his every movement as he carries out their will. Perhaps they will thank him for doing what needs to be done. For doing what he should've long ago, we're he not weak.

Or perhaps none of that is true, and it's simply the delusions of a boy pushed to far. Shattered to pieces over and over and over, again and again until he can no longer remember the shape the pieces had once made. He no longer recognises himself, what he has become. Blood stains his paws, his heart, his mind.

But he does not regret - can't, won't. He is only what he has been made. It only takes another heartbeat for the smoke furred figure to reach her. Shoulder slams its way into blue furred frame - blackened paws scrabbling against her frail frame in an attempt to pin her and teeth snapping towards the former queens throat. He will see her dead - they all will, he thinks. And then - then, it will finally be over.

Sootstar will haunt him no longer.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

---

D O N ' T ━ L O O K ━ A T ━ M E ━ W I T H ━ T H O S E ━ E Y E S

---

 

[SOOTSTAR]

Sootstar scoffs upon hearing her children be offered shelter from what was about to happen. Green eyes set ablaze she looks at them with a snarl, "No. They'll watch every second of whats to come! One final lesson I'll teach to my kits. Cottonfang if you're to win a war don't cower like a kitty-pet when it comes time for the final blow." Traitor or not, what type of kit had she brought up if she could not even gaze upon the results of her own actions? This is what she fought for.

To her other daughter, dirt stained into her pelt. "Bluefrost, you've lost and this is the cost of losing. Use it to fuel you, what kind of warrior are you if you shield your eyes now?" Both kits needed to face the consequences of their actions, perhaps if they do this, they'll make her proud one last time.

To Sootspots she gazes silently upon as he bargains with the clan to kill her quickly, Sootstar wonders if they have intent to torture her, tear her apart limb by limb. It would be fitting for the band of rogues they now were, even led by one to boot... To think she had thought the lawless cats would've empowered her reign, turns out one of them had been its demise.

Sunstride paces and challenges her lack of words, she lashes her tail. "It is. Nothing I say will change my fate. This is not a trial Sunstride. It's an execution. You and your hare-brained followers already made up your mind before even dragging me from my den." The viper hisses, still remaining surprisingly composed despite everything. "I'll not beg for your mercy." Unbreakable the fallen tyrant was, she was no dog to tie a leash around, no dog that would show her belly.

Sootstar would go out with all her self-proclaimed dignity. She would die knowing she's never tucked tail to this dung-eating flea-brain.

That's when a gray blur rushes towards her. With a heavy SMACK her shoulder is hit sending the blue she-cat backwards. Black paws push her onto the ground and with a thump her head hits the snow. Hissing she twists herself just barely out of the reach of fangs and attempts to out her hindlegs into the soft underbelly of her foe. If that does not work she repeatedly tries to thrash an unsheathed forepaw at his face, anything to throw him off top of her.

☾ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Soot ․ Sootstar
  » WindClan Leader
  » She/her ․ Mate to Weaselclaw
  » Tiny blue smoke she-cat with green eyes.
  » "Speech" ․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A high-stamina foe who can be difficult to hit.
  » Excels in quick, short moves.
  » Fights to kill and maim
  » Fatal attack of choice is an underbelly dive.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[downyfur]

”WindClan!” Downypaw watches a row of curious kittens peek out from beneath the gorse bush, its barren branches more than enough to afford them a view. A light, contemplative frown crosses their muzzle like cloud-shadow, but they make no move to shield young eyes with their body. Their queens would take care of it, if they thought it a thing fit to care for at all. So instead, she finds a seat at Sootspot’s side. Their mentor, they garner, has even less friends than he did under Sootstar, whose eye he’d been so keen on earning, to the detriment of his future self.

Deep blue eyes mournfully study the matted little beast in the center of the growing ring. Downypaw can’t tell whether this is the same creature Pinkpaw had dragged them and Heathpaw before. She still stands like a leader; she must be a martyr, in her own mind. Downypaw wonders if dying eight times was enough to crush the fear of it, like some supernatural exposure therapy. They’ve only heard the stories, of needless exiles and needless death. Pity worms stubbornly through their stomach and softens the tightened edges of their eyes. Sootstar, they think, like a fool, is still someone to be sorry for.

They hold their breath when Sunstride calls to the deposed’s kin. The order Sunstride holds is backed by Sootstar’s silent threats, and she is just as awed as she is unsurprised. She watches one of her saviors comfort the other, the broken strings of family around them twisting back into shape.

They twist their gaze to their mentor as he speaks, no, pleads. The torture isn’t watching his own mother die, they realize. It’s watching her live in such a state, death walking, a decrepit shell of what he’d likely known when he was their age. Maybe it was even watching her succumb to it over the moons they had not been alive for. Downypaw’s gaze slowly returns to Sootstar, lips drawn into a wobbly line as Sunstride continues to press her.

A gasp tears from them as a black-and-white blur sends their prisoner sprawling. Periwinklebreeze rises from the snow-dust, his single eye blown wide with fury. Sootstar, to her credit, lashes back with the remains of her strength. Downypaw cringes at the blows to his belly, at the way his teeth crunch the air so perilously close to Sootstar’s throat.

All around them cats rise to their feet, a wave of bristling fur and flesh. Sootstar will drown in their wrath. ”What’s happening?” they cry, whipping their head towards @SOOTSPOT . Already they assume he’s not as eager as everyone else to dogpile his mother, whose merciful death he’d begged for minutes ago. ”Are–are they–?” Are we really doing this? Surely, in the chaos, no one would notice her hesitation, or even her lack of participation at all.​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

It was not morality that dictated his mother to die; should death be the sentence to any who had wronged another, he imagined there were many rabbits keen on sending WindClanners to greet their ancestors. His words, as authentic as he could make them in a den of lions, began to feel overshadowed by the very anger he'd protested against. Proud shoulders slumped as inevitability choked his thoughts. Sunstride started, question after question directed toward her piercing his ears, Sootstar did not waver, amidst the slew of anxiety, he saw a strength that made him briefly forget what had brought him to this point. 'I could not face death so fondly.' Predictions rang through his brain; a fight between Sunstride and Sootstar, his mother hanging limply from the Deputy's throat, an execution... but a dignified one. A gasp next to him registered faster than the two-toned blur charging towards the prisoner. Periwinkle bursts through the crowd and Sootspot jumped to his feet when he realised who it was, a paw extended towards the fleeing figure, protests falling silent in an ash-filled throat as he watched the creature collide with Sootstar.

Once above the crowd, suddenly, he was drowned by it. Creature after creature stood and Sootspot was dwarfed by them. Chartreuse eyes glanced at claws glinting against the soil and grew so wide that his scleras showed. He looked to Sunstride, begging for him to get his angry hounds back on their leashes. Whether he was not seen amidst the pelts, or if the other had chosen to ignore him, he didn't know, for despite everything, cats he'd tried so hard to pacify moved forward. They had killed Smokestar this way, he knew how slow it was and felt the bile rise in his throat. Sootspot saw the same creatures that called it cowardice stand up and charge his dying mother. 'StarClan will forgive the hypocrite, so long as they worship them.' Downypaw's voice was scarcely heard over his heartbeat, he whipped his head towards his apprentice, sides rising and falling as if he'd run the moors twice over. He stared silently, trying to find strong words, words that made their brutality a learning point for the long-furred creature - none seemed strong enough. A paw aimed to slam against @downypaw's back as he spotted movement in the corner of his eye, the chimera moving to shield her with his body as he felt fur brush past his bristling spine (another cat rushing forward, ignoring the pair).

"Stay down, stay quiet," he hoped to hiss her ear, gaze frantic between Sootstar and Downypaw. "Do not give them a reason to turn their ire on us." 'On me.'



​

 

[Bluepool]

Chaos erupts in an instant. Motion flashes before her eyes and Bluepool has to blink hard in order to process what she is seeing. Her former apprentice, the cat who she had to practically beg violence out of, had lunged and dig teeth into her sisters scruff. There is a breaking point that every cat has, a place they can be pushed past in order to snap, and it seems that Periwinklebreeze had finally found his. His courage is admirable, the way he flies forward, shoulder aimed perfectly. I taught him that she thinks and in this moment, if she were not so repulsed by the idea of what had to be done then she would feel pride. Instead she only feels a sick sense of duty.

For a moment, she closes her eyes. She could look the other way, claim that it was too hard to kill a cat she had once held in the same light as StarClan, the cat she had grown up alongside. No one would fault her for being unable to do what had to be done. No one except herself, that is. No. She had to e strong. For Featherpaw, for Periwinklebreeze, for all the cats she loved and cared about... For Scorchstreak. For WindClan.

She lunges forward with the speed of a viper, silver paws reaching out to cuff her sister hard upside the head, hopefully knocking the sense out of her. A brutal snarl unleashes itself from her throat "Don't you dare fucking touch him" in this moment she knows she is choosing her former apprentice over her own flesh and blood, but in her mind the Sootstar she had once known was gone. Replaced by an imposter, the shadow of a cat she had once loved.

Her sister was right about one thing, this was an execution, and Bluepool would do anything to ensure it is carried out, that she does not get to walk out of here alive after everything she had done. So she places paws on her shoulders in an attempt to hold her down. The whole time her heart twists in pain and agony, a desperate protest to stop as she looks down on a face that she has known since kithood.

She does not dare look away.

( ✦ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn't above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[Irispath]

Yewberry sits amongst the crowd with cold, tired eyes as he looks upon Sootstar. He never expected to live to see this day, nor did he expect it to come in the first place. Cold amber eyes watch as she remains defiant to the last. He hears comfort be afforded for Sootstar's kits, and he holds himself back from being irked by it. He shouldn't feel that way. His anger and hatred is for Sootstar, not her kits that he doesn't even know. Yet he knows that if it were him being killed, that his own kits would be made to watch without sympathy or comfort or even made to do the deed themselves.

But he has to remind himself to stop that train of thought. Everything ends here. It's over now. Sunstride will do what needs to be done, and maybe all those who have died because of her will find peace. He thinks of Hyacinthbreath and Larkfeather, killed by Sootstar directly. His heart aches at their memory, and when Sootstar speaks to her kits and says she has nothing to say to those she has hurt, he bristles. Of course she has nothing to say, she's never regretted anything she's ever done. She's right though. His mind was already made up the moment this meeting was called. He, like everyone else here, wants to see her dead.

It almost surprises him when Periwinklebreeze attacks. He'd never known him to be violent, but much has happened since he's been gone, and he's certain Periwinklebreeze must have been pushed to his limit. He looks again to the murderer of his daughter and his self control snaps as she fights back against Periwinklebreeze.

Teeth bared and claws extended, he launches himself into the fray to attempt to bite and rip at any of Sootstar's flesh that gets close enough. He will have his vengeance. "I'll tear you apart for what you did to my daughter. To Hyacinthbreath." He growls.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He can respect that she does not beg. Sootstar would not have reigned so long without strength, which Wolfsong acknowledges easily. There was a time when her vision seemed clearer and he, despite his reservations about pledging her fealty, admired that willpower. But watching her now, surrounded by kin and former clanmates, bloodied by rightful vindication wrought by those she harmed— he sees a beast. A maddened dog. In unknowing tandem with Bluepool, he agrees: this is meant to be an execution, but more importantly, the stripping of a diseased root choking nearby foliage.

He draws in a deep breath and closes his sole eye to the din of growls. In the imposed darkness, Sootstar's shape remains, yet with an unusual clarity he has not experienced before, when the sun has burned other shapes into his eye. Whether StarClan speaks or he sees what he believes must be true does not matter— he will speak her fate into the blood-warmed air and see his mate wear stars in his stare.

"It is not my place to strip the star from your name," Wolfsong begins, looking upon her with the cool detachment of moon over moor. "But know that it will be the only star you walk with. You have no place in WindClan, and you will not find one waiting for you in StarClan. You nurtured ruin; now it shall groom your foul pelt with a smoke-blackened tongue."​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Losing a parent darkens your night sky. It snuffs out an entire constellation of guiding stars, and leaves you blind, disoriented to the point of losing your balance. No matter how many moons wax and wane, the brightness and shape those stars held will never return—and what light remains is forever altered without them, it never quite aligns in the same way.

Moorblossom will be losing her second parent today. Her mother, whom so many deemed the gravest of punishments necessary to enact upon. They cannot be faulted for it. WindClan needs Sootstar gone, and has so for almost a lifetime. But, she's still her mother, and the void that Weaselclaw left will only expand from here onward.

Raw, visceral grief swells tumour-like on her small heart, where it has festered and ballooned since the rebels' victorious moment. Ventricles strain under the pressure, and arteries squeeze against it. Her mother may have sought her bloody demise over the side she'd vowed loyalty to, but Moorblossom loves her still. In a warped, undeserved way, she knows she always will.

When tomorrow's dawn breaks, and a clan's worth of embittered blood has seeped from Sootstar's pelt, Moorblossom will find an uglier sky stretching above her. For now, though, she grieves.

She grieves and she weeps, a drearisome shadow hidden among the throng of her clanmates. Their closeness fails to grant her the sanctuary she needs it to be, and hearing morbid celebration, triumph, and anger aimed towards the condemned she-cat leaves her wilting inward. She hates being able to smell their glee, a vile, invasive stench worming in her nose, and she hates how justified every warrior is to rejoice in its purest form.

Violence wastes no time in claiming its due. Vengeful paws restrain WindClan's leader against the camp floor, even as she thrashes about like a snake in its death throes.

Every ebony strand along Moorblossom's sleek pelt shudders with unrest. How baffling it is to see a once powerful cat be so utterly reduced. How pitiful, and how heart-rending. Her mother will die humiliated before all others: stripped of rank, robbed of respect, left with neither honour nor dignity to accompany her into the afterlife.

Amidst her tears, her mouth finds means to act autonomously. There's no forethought, no intention when the words pour past her lips: a final plea, punctuated by the sobs that gurgle in her throat. "JUST DIE QUIETLY!" she hears herself scream. "P-PLEASE, SOOTSTAR—PLEASE!" Despair poisons the space between her words, and she hopes with all her heart that her mother remains deaf to them. ​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ Of all cats to crack, to give in to the urge to take a wild swing on Sootstar, it is perhaps the most surprising who cracks first. Scorchstreak cannot stop the gasp that arises from her throat when Periwinklebreeze, of all WindClanners, launches himself at Sootstar, fury in his eyes. More clanmates follow, and yet the calico remains still. Her paws only twitch toward action when Bluepool leaps into the fray, protective instinct drawing her limbs forward a few steps. She plants her feet, though, before darting in to take a swipe at the leader. The silvery tabby can handle herself—and besides, Scorchstreak does not need this revenge. Her connection to Sootstar may linger, but it is no stronger than the frozen pond that Sootstar’s reign is built upon. The ice will not hold for much longer. Everything will collapse as it should. WindClan’s flames have melted away the ice holding their former leader aloft; they will be free at any moment now.

The tunneler does not move, in the end. She merely watches her clanmates descend upon Sootstar with a grim sense of satisfaction. Wherever the smoky she-cat may go, it will be far from here, and that is good enough for Scorchstreak.​

​