pafp AMNESIA [✶] scar talk

[GHOSTMASK]

✶—— rosemire, then. he is mentor to one of the older apprentices, she wants to think comfreypaw—the dark-pelted one, a rather pathetic creature. daughter to betonyfrost, if clan conversations overheard and participated in hold true, and ghostpaw does not envy her that in the slightest. not only is betonyfrost a disappointment of a mother and a nasty piece of work, she's also the closest thing shadowclan seems to have to a social pariah in a clan full of cats worthy of pariahship in any other clan. the clan's gossip hasn't yet yielded anything really useful on why betonyfrost is so shunned, but when ghostkit finds out (and she will find out), she'll be sure to avoid behaving in such a way.

"good afternoon, rosemire," she greets warmly as she draws close to the pale warrior, her own dark pelt dipped in mud to the elbows after a training session out in the muck. her dark gaze is a carefully hidden appraisal, finally settling on the curving scars over his neck. interest pools in her gaze and she tilts her head, tone mingling playfulness and curiosity as she asks, "where did you get those scars? sorry if that's too personal, i've just never had any of my own, obviously."

I LOOK AT THE SKY (✶) 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑭𝑬𝑬𝑳 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮

• ooc: please wait for @rosemire to post!
  
• disclaimer: it is extremely important to note that ghostkit is an immoral character with a warped worldview, and her actions and thoughts do not reflect my own opinions as a writer. the way she behaves and thinks is morally reprehensible, and i do not condone these actions outside of roleplay in any way. she may refer to other cats in demeaning ways, including as "things", and this is not an attempt to oocly dehumanize anyone's character, but a reflection of her unfortunate outlook on the world.
• 
  — ghostpaw
  — she/her ; apprentice of shadowclan ; 4 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by dejavu
  

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[hitch]

Rosemire tries not to spend much time —if any— near Granitepelt's family, especially Flintkit, who closely resembles his father. As for Ghostpaw, she may not be an identical version of him, but she's...odd, to put it plainly. He's known many strange cats, and there are people who'd call him one, and understandably so, but it's a different kind of peculiarity. She's young, yet already unnerving, and he's bad enough at interacting with kits and apprentices without an added serving of eeriness.

She manages to startle him when she speaks, so engrossed in freeing his fur of mud mats that he'd lost track of his surroundings. "Oh, uh. Hi. Good afternoon, I mean. Ghostpaw." He clears his throat and means to beat a hasty retreat with some excuse or another, but her gaze is...tangible when it lingers on his throat. Rosemire nearly sets a paw there, suddenly self-conscious. And she asks, because of course she does, she's young and curious, but no one's ever thought to ask before and his pawpads are starting to sweat. He licks his lips and swallows, and it tastes— wrong, like biting into a rat. He hasn't eaten yet today.

"Obviously," he echoes with a quick chuckle. He's not about to tell her he doesn't actually know, that he can only assume it was something awful because he can't remember and gets sweaty when he tries. Shit, he thinks he might throw up. "It wasn't anything interesting. I know they look pretty gnarly, but I just uh. Fell down a really steep hill with some terribly sharp rocks." Rosemire smiles at her apologetically for not offering a juicier story, all while wanting nothing more than to run in the opposite direction and find a frog to tear into with desperate zeal.
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[STUMPYSPOTS]

STUMPYSPOTS​

Stumpyspots ears perk in disbelief from where she was, sprawled out and taking up room without a thought. "Fell down a hill? I never took ya for being a complete clutz!" Her intrusion on this conversation was unlikely to be shocking. The older molly tended to invite herself into any conversation held in her earshot. "To think... Crowpaw... that this here the same tom I chased off bears with..." She shakes her head to dramatize her disbelief. "When we finally kick some moor cat rear, someone will hav'ta watch ya and make sure you don't fall and hurt yourself. Huh-ahahaha!" She guffaws, but alas, she was only giving Rosemire crowfood.

*.☽ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Halfmaw . Stumpyspots
  » ShadowClan Warrior
  » She/her ․ Twice Widowed
  » Calico she-cat with rounded features.
  » ”speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A heavy hitting foe capable of standing her ground
  » Excels in slow, but powerful blows and kicks.
  » Fights to defend and protect
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

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[NETTLEPAW ♡]

If only Nettlepaw knew that straying nearer family would likely exacerbate Rosemire's worry- but he could not help his like for the leggy tom, who'd offered him a healthy dose of advice a little while back. Even when Nettlepaw had asked about tribulations, Rosemire had been the one to know what they meant better- it had been an impressive show, and the cinnamon tom often caught the other out simply to listen to what he had to say.

Stumpyspots positively guffawed, and it was slightly contagious- Nettlepaw found himself already giggling as he joined in on the conversation. "Rocks can be as sharp as bear claws, I'll bet," the snow-footed tom said, clear that he wasn't being entirely serious in the way his voice lilted with laughter and his tail lazily swished. "We should find that same hill and shove them down it," Nettlepaw joked, miming said push with a dramatic rush of his paws.​

penned by pin ♡​