duskclan A CAGE WITHOUT ME / MEETING

"Privetpaw, step forward."

Once they have clambered atop the low rock, Rumblerain calls their apprentice to stand before them. The fragments of their Clan join them beneath the dais, skinny but persevering, and Rumblerain hopes that they would join them in this meagre celebration. It is all they could offer before they take their temporary leave once more, Rumblerain and Hollowcreek facing another journey through the forest. With luck, more would return with them this time, but that is a matter for the future. For now ...

"Your training has finished. I welcome you as a warrior of DuskClan." There are no ceremonial words, though the seal point does their best to make the moment feel special, regarding their now-former apprentice with softer eyes than he deserves. A name for duty, a name for strength ... "From now on, your name will be Privetfrost. Wear it well."

  • // @PRIVETPAW <3
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    [ art by antiigone ]
  • RUMBLERAIN ✧ they/them, leader of duskclan

    — "a lanky, scruffy seal and white point with blue eyes."
    — single ; mentoring privetpaw
    — speech is in #858AC0
    tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.


 
( ) The final evening before he would journey beside Rumblerain once again. At the very least they will give the Clan a celebratory send-off with a new warrior, one Hollowcreek had seen and felt claw his way through to this moment.

His burnt honeyed gaze sought for the tom in the crowd, feeling the roll of his new name with a hearty chant. "Privetfrost! Privetfrost! Privetfrost!" How much he had grown from just being the kin of a two-timed traitor. Privetfrost had fit into the lands and laws of DuskClan well, but the tom assuredly already knew this.
( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )
 

The cold sun burgeoned through the scrublands, as though algid stare starved for excitement through the clouds, and would find what it pried for upon Duskclan's throne. There were not many times Privetpaw had seen the leader, current or former tyrant, ascend the dais. Scraps of rough-hewn shadows filtered through the gloom, eyes gleaming and hungered for something - perhaps anything to lull them away from the drabness of their territory. The boy stared upwards at his mentor - no, a ruler for the moment - as they called his name. His excitement preceded his beating heart, like biting into the bitter fruit, tantalized by an image of what was to come. He had waited for this day, as though it had been his fate from the moment he seized his first breath. The world owed him as such, at the very least. Still, the young man stepped forwards, his movements as sure as the rime that snapped at the sharp corners of a faraway winter. Fern-green gaze glimmered with icy light, so unlike the summer sunlight that fluttered through the barren branches. His stare had been illuminated by not the sun nor the moon, but his own ambition that roiled and burned at the wick's end of his heart. For moments more, he waited, in seconds that stretched out to an eternity and a half.

Privetfrost. Rolling the freshly-molted name around in his mind, like overexposing the sunless belly of an unearthed sensation, he had already worn it out by the time it would exit through his maw. How had they chosen this name? It must fit me, then, if it is the one I will carry. The moniker pealed within him, as he cut at the flesh of it with his own mental claws, bleeding out all possible meaning from what he had been given. It was like many other gifts in his paws; granted life and slowly exsanguinated of its use. The chants of his people rang through keen ears, almost as sunbeams shivering through his very being, for commendation and admiration were some of the most powerful things to ever achieve. He had worked hard for this prosperous day, and a lesser man would celebrate with feasts and soirees of indulgence. Privetfrost, however, knew there was still much work to be done. "Thank you, Rumblerain. I will serve Duskclan well as Privetfrost." The wine-dark newly-made-warrior dipped his head, though the fever within him chittered like it had a torrid tongue, a brandish that cut through all other sensation. There existed no smile nor any indication that he enjoyed his new title, merely a sparkle within frigid glare that spoke of little warmth, more of a predator's satisfaction at a hard-earned meal than anything borne of his gratitude.

  • Pretend this isn't so late LMAO
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  • —— PRIVETFROST / He/Him / 9 Moons
    —— Warrior of Duskclan / Formerly mentored by Rumblerain
    —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
    —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
    —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.