ALL APOLOGIES — blazestar

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Why the leader had wanted Slate to accompany him on a casual check of the twolegplace's borders was unknown to him. He was no deputy, no lead warrior, hardly a full-fledged warrior at this point as he was still actively learning about the customs and etiquette of living in a clan. Maybe the guy just wanted a bodyguard; Blazestar was plenty big ( on top of having multiple lives to spare ) but Slate was a pretty sizable tom as well. The both of them could probably make an even match to two, maybe even three rogues should they run into any trouble.

The pair roam near the wooden fence, the charcoal male casting his amber gaze upward toward the very top of it. "The old stompin' grounds." Slate huffs. It was no secret that Slate had hailed from the city, having lived on the streets for years. However, he doesn't suspect that Blazestar nor the rest of the clan knows that he was a rogue ( besides Silversmoke, that is ). Rogues were not met with friendliness according to what other SkyClanners had told him, though he supposed his decent behavior and familial connection were enough to grant him passage at the time.

He wonders if he should even bother trying to chit-chat, as he was never the greatest conversationalist, but he's already opened his mouth. Maybe he ought to force himself to socialize. "That's where you came from, right? Ain't that why they call you the kittypet king?" Slate says with a glance toward Blazestar. There is no snark in his tone, a rarity for the likes of Slate. He is simply a tom who always manages to make any comment sound snide. "... No offense." He adds with a flick of his ear, genuinely not meaning to ruffle the leader's feathers. Slate would be lying if he claimed that he wasn't genuinely curious about Blazestar's background, before he had earned such a title for himself amongst the other clans.

@BLAZESTAR ​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar cannot help but remain curious about Slate. The tom had a rough edge to him, a tongue sharp as an adder's bite, scarred and fierce. Still, he'd joined SkyClan and has done his best to acclimate to the admittedly strange customs of the five Clans.

Despite all of that, Slate had fought nobly for their Clan against WindClan, had protected cats he still hadn't developed true loyalty to, and Blazestar can't help but respect the gruff black and tawny warrior.

The two of them match pace along the fenceline, and Slate tilts his head towards the top, where they score the sky. "The old stompin' grounds," he says. Blazestar inclines his head, one ear twitching. "The big Twolegplace, right? Where all the monsters are?" He remembers it clearly -- a little too clearly -- their ill-met foray into a city teeming with monsters, Twolegs, and strays with bad intentions. "I can't imagine living there," he says. It's true. If he could not be a forest cat any longer, Blazestar would prefer finding a Twoleg nest again with a pair of kindly housefolk to living on scraps and refuse on the streets.

Slate then asks him, "That's where you came from, right? Ain't that why they call you the kittypet king?" Blazestar looks at the other warrior with a wry expression. "Yes, but my upbringing was no doubt different from yours." He laughs, eyes wandering the fenceline. "The only life I'd ever known before I left my housefolk was as a kittypet. They took me from my mother when I was only a little over a moon and a half old. My Twolegs raised me." His whiskers tremble as he thinks back, back to the days where he'd lost his familial connections, where blood bonds had been replaced with something strange but strong.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — It's no surprise that Blazestar seems to know the difference between the city — or the twolegplace, as the clans called it — and a cozy little suburb where a lot of kittypets tended to reside. The ragdoll was clearly not a city stray; no notable scars cover his form, not much of a fighter from what Slate has noticed. Plus, he possessed the luxurious coat of a purebred; had his parents been show cats like Slate's, perhaps?

The charcoal tom doesn't tend to stick his nose into business that isn't his own, including prying about the stories of cats he barely knew, but it seemed that Blazestar was willing to freely give insight into his upbringing. Slate couldn't deny his own curiosity about the ragdoll male, now knowing that he had once been a pampered pet and was now the leader of a wild clan.

He can't help but give a raise of his eyebrows once Blazestar mentions just how old he was when he was taken. "A moon and a half, huh? Sheesh." That had been a whole moon earlier than the separation from Slate's own littermates. He could only imagine how small the leader was, how scared to be ripped away from his own blood. Or maybe his parents had prepared him for the fateful moment from the day he was born. "Always thought it was cruel, how twolegs did that." Slate grumbles with a shake of his head. It was only on the streets where Slate was exposed to the cruel realities of the life of a kittypet; destined to be taken away from the moment they were born, and if a twoleg no longer wanted you, then you were thrown out onto the streets or taken away to a strange holding place, sometimes never to be seen or heard from again.

Giving a shrug of broad shoulders, Slate sighs before resuming their stroll, "That's how life is for a house cat, though." He's practically echoing his father's words at this point. Hmph. Sometimes Slate wonders how his parents are these days; funnily enough, they probably assume that he is living somewhere with his housefolk being pampered and being shown off for entertainment purposes, just like them. It was easier not to think of his family, though. Had they ever truly loved him or his siblings? It stings even thinking such a thought, but at the same time, it would make sense not to grow attached to children that you would one day be forced to give up... right?

How strange, to think that he and Blazestar could have lived similar lives had Slate not taken the opportunity to slip out of his home and into the outside world. He wonders if he would have been given a new name, been forced to wear a jingly collar, never allowed to smell fresh air ( if he was one of the unlucky ones ). "... Did you have a kittypet name?" Slate inquires with an inquiring glance in the leader's direction.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar regards Slate thoughtfully. "Always thought it was cruel, how twolegs did that." "Perhaps it is," he agrees idly. "I never thought about it, really. But if a Twoleg were to give my own kits away... I couldn't bear it." He wonders if his mother had cried to see him and his littermates separated from her, but he doubts it. From what he remembers of Wanda, she'd had numerous litters -- and she'd likely prepared them all with the same warning. "You will have a new home soon, a better one than here. You will be happy."

The Ragdoll blinks, looking at Slate. "Forgive me for asking, but... were you ever a house cat?" He can't place his paw on it, but the tone of Slate's voice as he laments the life of a kittypet sounds oddly personal. Had he known someone who'd lived with Twolegs? Or -- had he himself been as pampered as he had been once?

Blazestar flicks an ear and smiles at his follow-up question. "A kittypet name? Of course. It wasn't terribly exciting -- just Blaise." He laughs and shakes his head. "Dawnglare, though? He was Valentine. What a strange name... I always called him Val."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — "Forgive me for asking, but... were you ever a house cat?"

In the midst of walking, his head tilts up instantaneously and his dull eyes flash with a rare gleam; a match striking stone. The former rogue finds himself caught off-guard by Blazestar's inquiry. He hadn't expected anyone in SkyClan to catch onto the fact that he was once a pet; not even Silversmoke, who likely believes him to have been a street-born stray.

He finds no real point in lying to the leader's face about this matter, especially considering that Blazestar had once been a kittypet himself. What would he be trying to prove if he did? What mattered is that Slate didn't let his early life dictate his future; if anything, his upbringing taught him more than he would have ever known had he stayed behind with the twolegs. Starting a new life on the streets had been akin to a revelation breaking through the haze, providing clarity and answers as to why things were the way they were. Slate had found out why his parents had prepared him and his littermates to say goodbye from the day they were born, why they had to be given up.

Why the life of a kittypet was truly so hollow at its core.

Heaving a sigh, Slate reluctantly admits, "I was born one." He hadn't chosen such a life, that was for sure. "My brother and I both were." The Maine Coon refers to his SkyClanner sibling, the one who had played such a pivotal role in convincing Slate to stay in the pines in the first place. Without him, he wouldn't still be here. He knows he wouldn't. "I didn't stay with my twolegs for long. I escaped the day they brought me to their nest."

Did they ever look for him? Did they replace him?

His features are stony, though a brief moment of silence suggests that something is on his mind. Slate blinks slowly, a million thoughts swarming about his brain. Was it the right decision to tell Blazestar? If the leader somehow leaked his past to the other SkyClanners, to Silversmoke... His prejudice against kittypets and daylight warriors was probably one that the leader was not fond of, but it was his opinion nonetheless. Slate, despite the circumstances of his birth being out of his control, was better than a kittypet. He would always be better and stronger than those kibble-munchers, those twoleg accessories. The leader that stands before him now has not been hardened by moons of wandering the alleys and picking fights for scraps. He may have multiple lives to spare and a sizeable stature on his side, but up against a streetwise rogue... would he stand a chance?

Still, even as a former kittypet, Blazestar possesses one thing that Slate has never had — honor. There was no need for morality back in the city, no need for fights to be fought fairly. All that Slate and the other street cats had been ever occupied with was survival. The way that the Ragdoll had stood his ground for his clan and fought until his dying breath, all for a purpose greater than himself... It had struck Slate in a manner that nothing else ever had. The Maine Coon still struggles to understand it. However, the life of a clan cat is slowly but surely growing on him. It was nice putting his strength and skill to use, to have a purpose besides meandering about the concrete and wondering what his next meal would be. The idea of pledging undying loyalty to a group of cats, none of whom he knows particularly well... it's intimidating, truthfully. Would he ever be able to do so?

In some respects, maybe Blazestar was a better cat than Slate was. The amber-eyed tom still preferred to keep his kittypet lineage a secret, though. "Just... don't tell anyone. Rather not spread that around, y'know." It would look foolish of him, especially after all of the smack he talks about them.

Slate listens as Blazestar reveals a tidbit about himself; his kittypet name, Blaise. Of course, to a creature who couldn't comprehend reading or writing, that name sounded identical to the one he has now. It seemed that he didn't need to adjust all too much. "Dawnglare sounds better than... whatever that is. Why didn't he keep his?" Why had Blazestar ( seemingly ) kept his name but Dawnglare chose something entirely different? Could Slate change his name if he wanted to ( not that he did, of course ).​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar can feel the tone shift as soon as he asks Slate the question. The tomcat's amber eyes are lit-up as he regards his leader. The Ragdoll can imagine it's a sore spot -- and he truly hadn't expected an admission. Slate is blatantly critical of kittypets, after all -- just like Silversmoke. But it's why the Ragdoll had felt something lying beneath that hatred, even if it'd just been a hunch.

"So you really weren't a kittypet for very long," Blazestar comments, his tone neutral. He is sure his choice of words will irritate Slate, but it's nothing to him -- he's been crowned king of kittypets, has worn his weaknesses like a badge upon his pelt for many moons. "Not like I was. Where did you go, then, after you left your housefolk?" He imagines Slate has been a rogue for a long time, but he again is only making assumptions.

The dark-pelted warrior asks Blazestar to keep the information to himself, and the Ragdoll dips his head to his companion. "It's not my information to share," he promises. "But I hope someday you'll be able to reconcile that part of yourself with who you are now." His eyes drift, and he's thinking of his kits, their kittypet blood hindering them for the rest of their life in this world where cats kill one another for prey. "Either way, I will not tell anyone."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​