pafp all the kings horses | kitten play

[Skunkpaw]

The temporary camp was boring, he hated it here. It wasn't as big or comfortable as the old one and the new nursery they were in was cramped and had the occasional cold chill pushing through the walls that made sleeping difficult. It left him wired, energetic with nowhere to put that energy towards and in turn he wanted to do something with it that would bring him joy in this place stripped of all delight. The other kittens had been talking of playing pretend and he joined them, their voices hushed in playful whispers and a paw dipping in mud to paint tabby stripes on cats without or mark places where scars might be; a few used leaves to imitate spots, sticks to replicate bristling fur. Skunk-kit listened as the others claimed a warrior to be for their game, of course an argument ensued over who would get to be Cicadastar because he was the leader and obviously the most powerful; eventually a few of the more volatile kittens and apprentices would volunteer to be bad WindClanners or stinky foxes, tall leaves stuck to the back of heads with mud to act as long vulpine ears. When it came his turn he considered what might be the most fun. Some of the cats were not as scary or intimidating as he wanted to pretend to be and the ones who were had already been taken! So he slapped a paw down into the mud and drew himself a set of tabby stripes, puffed himself up as he toddled forward with his head high and tail straight up.
"I'm Houndsnarl!" In a garbled mimicry of a dog based only on what he had heard in stories, he barked and plodded around, face set in a perpetual snarl with one of his snaggly teeth jutting out of the grimace on his maw.

- @HOUNDSNARL. | Other kittens and apprentices can pretend to be any other warrior they like! Claim your part in the play!
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[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

His name'd never been a thing of pride. It was something fitting, that was all– something he carried as sure as the pelt on his back. A part of him and nothing more. It had never crossed his mind that it'd turn to something sour.

Only when the kitten's voice crosses his ears does Hound realize that he's rarely thought of himself with the full thing. Houndsnarl. It's foreign, then it's homesickness, then he's numb to it all over again, fighting down nostalgia like the tide. It's rolling up his heavy throat like the icy leafbare water with all of its memories. He's from a time before this sort of nonsense, when names and life both were simpler than they are now. Before clans, and leaders, and StarClan's incessant watching. It'd just been Hound then– maybe he still was, and always would be. Maybe the name that'd come from this river's birth was not the one that he wore, or wanted to wear.

All this, he thinks, from a child's game. They'd not even been worth his notice until they'd said it, but now that he looks the numbing frost starts to warm. A few of the others have noticed him now, but not Skunk himself. Approaching at his back with the sun at his face, shadow cast away from the little game that they play, some of their eyes widen and flicker between the two: Houndsnarl and his living mockery. They must expect some kind of rebuke, but it doesn't come. Instead, he scoops up a pawful of mud and stretches out, reaches– presses it to the top of the kitten's head and ruffles, leaving a spiky mess of mud-brown fur in its wake. "You missed a spot," he deadpans.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• ──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
  ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
  ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
• "speech"

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[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

Sablekit beamed at the idea of playing pretend as other kittens milled and rummaged about to gather source material for their game. She listened as several kits argued over who would be who, rolling periwinkle eyes. She didn't believe it was that serious, there was no need to argue over spots. "I call Buckgait!" She chimes, calling out to her brother. Just then Sablekit strides around in a tight semi circle, doing her best to imitate the brown molly's poise and serious demeanor. The other kittens would simply have to use their imagination because she refused to slather mud across her fur. "Gather around for patrols! Houndsnarl you and some more warriors have to go track a fox near windclan's border!" Sable voices, standing proud and strong. Although her stance diminishes as the real Houndsnarl creeps in behind her brother, coating the the top of his head with a thick glob of mud. "Eww." The kitten grimaces, disgust flitting across her features. ​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[POOLPAW]

poolkit does not oft participate in the games of her peers. she has a particular image she would like to maintain, one of poise and dignity unbefitting of running around as a pretend-badger. it's what is expected of her, as the daughter of a lead warrior. (that, and... well, poolkit would be quite the liar if she claimed she wasn't trying to enjoy what's left of her placid lifestyle before her approaching apprentice ceremony, wouldn't she?)

but this doesn't stop poolkit from watching. they laze in the sunlight, half-lidded eyes observing the game taking place in front of them. it seems to be one of pretending to be one's favorite warrior; skunk-kit has proposed that he will be houndsnarl, moments before the true houndsnarl delivers a pawful of mud onto the tom-kit's head. poolkit nearly giggles, one paw coming to cover their mouth, quirked up into a smile. sablekit, who has declared herself as buckgait, expresses disgust with this. she grimaces, lips pulled taut and nose scrunched. the giggles only worsen, to the point that poolkit must bite their own lip to stop it from spilling.

"boys are gross, aren't they?" poolkit comments, once she's in control of herself again. it's directed towards the other she-kit, but poolkit doesn't mind if the houndsnarls overhear. it would seem that she's wanting them to, as her gaze cuts towards them for a heartbeat, before returning to sablekit.​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

Her paws shift underneath her as she dozes. Eyes half open as she allows the sun to warm her body. It's been peaceful as much as it can be and she takes the opportunity to relax at least she was till she hears her child proclaim loudly to be Houndsnarl. Her eyes open and for a moment her sleep addled mind doesn't process it till she looks at the mud streaks down her son's sides. The mother smiles, her jaws parting as a yawn pulls from her muzzle before she rises to her paws and makes her way over to the small game that is being played. Her daugher proclaims to be Buckgait and starts assigning a patrol to go and handle a pretend fox near Windclan's border. Though when she notices the actual Houndsnarl glop more mud on her son's head she almost grimaces herself. Her tongue swipes against her sharp teeth and she settles near Poolkit and Sablekit.

"Since you both like mud I expect Houndsnarl to give you a bath after you are done playing Skunkkit." Her words hold a measure of seriousness but also some playfulness as she looks at the both of them. No way is she about to go through the trouble of cleaning up this mess after it has been made even more of a muddy disaster.​