pafp AS I SEE IT [ ✿ ] INSULT

[LAMBKIT]

Lambkit is an observant young tom. Blue eyes and big kitten ears hungry for any information he can devour and store away in that growing brain of his. So he does not miss the way his foster mother acts around certain cats, who she is warm to, who comes into the nursery and alights a smile on her features. But on the other paw he notices who makes her nervous, how whenever a certain cat is around his bright-eyed caretaker tenses up. There can be a lot said in just body language, he's learning, and everything in Butterflytuft's reads one thing around this cat. Discomfort. Nervousness. Fear. So, naturally, he doesn't like her either.

Ramkit is off somewhere with Butterflytuft, another queen watching over him for a moment as he bats a moss ball back and forth between his paws, a bored expression worn on his features as he looks out upon the camp. Hes tired, and due for a nap soon, and his low energy makes him feel groggy. The second he sees her though, that changes. He's not afraid of her (at least thats what he tells himself) he could be big and strong and protect Butterflytuft from her if he had to!

The hulking snow-pelted figure of Bloody Mary stands over him, but he does not balk. Instead, he looks right up at her and before she can say anything to him, he speaks first. "You're ugly." he states plainly immediately followed by "Why?" As if there could be any other reason other than just unlucky genetics.

// Please wait for @BLOODY MARY to post first!
Optional tags @SLATESNARL @RAMKIT @butterflytuft @budkit

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- but I’d stand in the garden with you

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  LAMBKIT SKYCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM
  SLATE X ORANGESTAR LITTERMATE TO RAMKIT; HALF BROTHER TO CHERRYBLOSSOM, OWLHEART, GLIMMERSUN, TAWNYCLAW & EGGBOUNCE
  

  A fluffy cream coated tom with mismatched white socked toes, a white marking blazing a trail down his face, and striking blue eyes.

  ✿ easy in battle + no formal training
  ✿ difficult to befriend
  ✿ Peaceful + healing power-play allowed, anything else with permission only
  

 

[BLOODY MARY]

This place isn't one she ever aches for... Too dangerous really, with its residents often chick-sized, and her jaw large enough to gobble up a hen. She's not like that thing inside, patchwork pelted, small and dainty-like... They were hardly the same animal, really. It's all frivolous, really; but the littluns held the potential for a different sort entirely. Her brains were at risk of mimicking their own mush. It's a wonder the mother hen can still tell a frog from a toad, stewing in the company of nothing but mewls and milk teeth... Mary'd never want to sit pretty in a cage all day. It's a difference between them she's almost glad for, really.

Pure accident, yeah, that she ends up here. Or is it carelessness...? Eh, no shame in it being both. She hardly sees the scrap she casts a shadow over. A brutish paw lifts then, as if it's planted pad-first in some mud. Mud puddles usually don't talk though. Even less are they this funny. " HAH! " Punch from her lung. She hardly had any say in it, honest! Shoulders still shake, even as a cackle is cut to the tendon. Kitty asks why then, as if there was some reason that the sky was blue.

She's no peach. Not stupid enough to think it either... Life meant an awful too little for her to care any, though. " Just for fun, " she says with a snort. " Must be real funny to you. Bet wild cats are only ugly for the best of reasons. " Snickering filtered through overshot fangs... that's probably what he wasn't keen on. Or maybe it's the ears, bobbing odd as she cranes her neck at him. Maybe still, the bug-eyes; the grease-slicked lids that draw over 'em when she fixes him a look. " You see yourself a moon ago? Moon phase, it must've been. Thought your head was gonna tumble right off. " A snort at the memory. Funny, kits didn't know the half of how stupid they looked. Just 'cause she can, she aims to knock the kitten over with a paw. She bets a breeze could bowl him over.

THEY SAY I CAN'T KEEP MYSELF FROM TRYING ⬪ 𝒜 𝐵𝐼𝒯𝐸 𝒪𝐹 𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒴𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐼𝒩 𝒮𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯 / ( 12 . 05 )

• OOC.

• 
  BLOODY MARY ⬪ DAYLIGHT APPRENTICE. SHE - HER - HERS. 26 MOONS.
  

  A dog-like woman. Large, with bulk in some places, and only lean muscle in others. Elegant at some angles, acutely strange looking at others. Has a longer, wolfish muzzle and gleaming dog teeth near-always on display due to an overbite. Skull presses insistent against her skin. Eyes are almost too - large, and not all sunken in her skull. Has large, tufted ears. Polydactyl, with a curved spine and recently-chopped tail.

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[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft hadn't been distracted for too long. She just had to help Ramkit figure out how to detach a mossball that had been stuck on her claw before she's turning around, eyes flicking to find her brother. There! She spots him, talking to…Oh no. Not her. "Lambkit!" The queen's voice rings with sharp concern, a rare edge breaking through her usual softness as she hurries toward the pair. Her yellow eyes widen upon the she-cat standing over him, her hulking figure casting a long shadow over the kit. She swallows her nerves quickly - there can be no room for them now. Her first priority is Lambkit. And, oh StarClan, he did not just call her ugly!

Sliding to a stop beside him, the tortoiseshell bends her head, inspecting him with a quick, worried glance after he'd just been pushed by the massive kittypet. "Are you alright, little one?" She murmurs softly as she checks for any sign of injury. Seeing none, her tail gently brushes over his back in a touch meant to soothe. "We do not call cats names, Lambkit," She scolds with as much firmness as she is able to muster (which is not much). Finally, she lifts her head to face Bloody Mary, and stars she can barely meet her unnerving gaze. Her heart thuds wildly in her chest, and she's unable to keep her voice steady as she stammers, "I am…so sorry for him. I don't know where he learned to say such a thing!" She forces a wobbly smile. "Thank you for stopping by, but...perhaps not the best day for a visit. The kits are getting ready for their nap, and I'd like to settle them down without too much excitement." She flicks her tail slightly, a subtle but pointed gesture to go anywhere else. A tiny part of her hopes that keeping her tone neutral, almost kind, would prevent any further escalation.
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[SLATESNARL]

A shadow of discouragement lingers upon the male's dark features as he hobbles into camp empty-jawed with a hungering pang in his belly. Slatesnarl would not provide for his kin today. It's difficult to call himself a worthy father and mate when his stiff hip and leafbare conditions only hinder his physical abilities, but every day, he goes out and at the very least tries.

His eyes wander around camp before eventually finding the little cream form of Lambkit interacting with one of the Daylight members. Slatesnarl does not pick up on whatever his son says, his tattered ears' hearing seeming to fail him, but he does witness the oddball white-furred she-cat knocking Lambkit over with a single paw.

Like a mighty beast of the jungle, amber eyes set afire in a hellish blaze, the Maine Coon storms forth and lets forth a guttural roar at the Daylight apprentice, "Touch him again 'n I'll bite that paw of yours clean off, freak!" Slatesnarl is nearly a husk of the brawny, muscular beast he once was — only his hefty paws, thick bone structure, and shaggy pelt make his form the least bit impressive nowadays. However, no matter how Bloody Mary compared in stature, Slatesnarl would fight with all his might to protect his kits if need be. He'd lunge and maul in a heartbeat like that mindless rogue he used to be; all sense of honor and self-respect swiftly abandoned if his paternal instincts took over.

The mane around his neck bristling with reddened fury, the former lead warrior growls at Bloody Mary, "Stay away from my kits." Slatesnarl didn't care if she was a clanmate or not. She had done nothing to earn his trust or respect and, if anything, this incident put her on his shitlist. If she had any sense, she would watch herself from now on ( or he'd deliver on his promise ).

His intense stare flicks toward Lambkit and Butterflytuft now, a deep scowl still etched onto his maw. The male briefly looked the cream tabby over, checking if he was alright, but nothing more. Lambkit did not need to be coddled, and eventually he would have to fight his own battles, but he was still young and vulnerable. Slatesnarl didn't want anyone putting their paws on Lambkit or Ramkit, not unless they had permission to do so like Butterflytuft or Fireflyglow.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

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  — slatesnarl / 45 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to lambkit & ramkit
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

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[LAMBKIT]

"Hey!" he cries out with no small amount of indignation as a large paw comes out of nowhere to knock him over. Tears start to form in his eyes against his own will, despite the anger that he feels. He hates it, he realizes, feeling powerless against this adult. Hates the way his vision blurs, his body shakes. He opens his mouth to speak, something about how he hopes the boogeyman comes and eats her in the night, but he is spared when Butterflytuft comes to the rescue. But - what? She was scolding him? How was that fair? His mouth opens and closes like a fish. "But-" he starts to say, the tears threatning to spill over onto his cheeks now as the bitter sting of betrayal hits him worse than any cuff. He had just been telling the truth, isn't that what he was supposed to do? So why was he the one being scolded right now?

Luckily, his father comes to save the day. He watches from the shelter of Butterflytuft's leg with blue eyes wide with admiration as his father tells the no good meanie off! "Touch him again 'n I'll bite that paw of yours clean off, freak!" Yeah... YEAH! It was okay that Butterflytuft hadn't protected him, him, he thinks. Slatesnarl could protect both of them. He could do anything, after all.

His tears dry up, he stands a little taller, desperately wishing he was as tall as his father but trying his best not to let it phase him. If Bloody Mary were to look his way again, she'd be met with a smug look followed quickly by him sticking his tongue out at her.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ- but I’d stand in the garden with you

• 
  
  
• 
  LAMBKIT SKYCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM
  SLATESNARL X ORANGESTAR LITTERMATE TO RAMKIT; HALF BROTHER TO CHERRYBLOSSOM, OWLHEART, GLIMMERSUN, TAWNYCLAW & EGGBOUNCE
  

  A fluffy cream coated tom with mismatched white socked toes, a white marking blazing a trail down his face, and striking blue eyes.

  ✿ easy in battle + no formal training
  ✿ difficult to befriend
  ✿ Peaceful + healing power-play allowed, anything else with permission only
  

 

[BLOODY MARY]

Yeah, she'd known it'd be easy. The little one tumbles over like a fawn without land-legs. What was her name today? Kitshover, maybe. Her looming's unintentional, bound to happen when she's a wolf and he's a morsel. Kitshover snickers at how easily he rattles. Uh... rattles good, really... Her eyes widen a notch. She looks about ready to fall over, tipping forward the way she is. A cotton tail makes strained effort to keep her upright, waving to and fro... She looks happy, really! Is happy, even. " Heh- You cryin'? " Her bewilderment is genuine, it is. Aren't wildcats meant to be tough? Surely even their young ought to be made of metal...

Here's a little bonus she finds, one she didn't even think about, honest. Mother hen comes stumbling from her dwelling. Only loud when she seeks her chicks, it seems. The dedication; something serious tryin' hard to furrow its way across the little round face of hers... Adorable, yeah. How can Kitshover not smile? Little lamb might as well not exist, now. She's so thoughtful the doll. Kitshover just wants to give her a squeeze. She can put that name behind her. Maybe she'll be somethin' like... Birdwatcher. Yeah, she's plenty happy just to watch the birdie do her thing. Doesn't expect to even be addressed, even. Her smile fixes wider. Real content, that's her. " Me? You don't hafta worry. Won't stop you if you want to though, hehe. " It's an honor, really! " Got here on accident, honest. They jus' seem to skitter under my paws... "

See, SkyClan keeps confusing her. Cause here was little Lamb, cryin' the way a wildcat shouldn't... Mother hen, too soft and too sweet to be a warrior, surely... And in rolls a third... Maybe she'd think him perfect, all large and brute-like, but he's kinda tryin' too hard, isn't he? Screaming his head off about, like... nothin'. Birdwatcher's smile doesn't waver. She hears him loud and clear, yeah; makes a show of it with batty ears jostling atop her head. Her smile's incredulous, peepin' from one side of her lip. " Yer kits? " She spares a glance to the tri-colored queenie. Uh... was this really her type? Kinda unbelievable, that. The mutt talks as if the big brute isn't even there. " Hey— Think I figured out where he learned it from, HAH! " Boisterous punch of a cackle— she wheezes like she's the funniest thing on this earth; and honestly, she very well might be if not for the thing making a fuss in front of her.

A wedge head finds him again. Head unmoving, the mold of her eyes flits between him and the kit both. " Barely grazed the kid! Wild cat blood's lackin' if that got to him, eh? Got tossed into walls when I was a kit, and I'm j-just— I'm just f-fine! HAH! " She could hardly even finish that one before devolving into cackles. Self-awareness, they'd love it, surely? One pale paw slams at the ground beneath, cause it's too damn funny for her not to. Again, it's shredded into a wheeze. She sounds like a strangled goose when she finally talks again. " Heheh— B-but, I guess M' no wildcat... "

Blood, violence, yeah... This guy was the real deal, even if he was layin' it on a little thick, heh. Birdwatcher shows a paw off to him, her smile like the devil's. " You can get a bite, but I'd have to fight you for it, heh. "

THEY SAY I CAN'T KEEP MYSELF FROM TRYING ⬪ 𝒜 𝐵𝐼𝒯𝐸 𝒪𝐹 𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒴𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐼𝒩 𝒮𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯 / ( 12 . 05 )

• OOC.

• 
  BLOODY MARY ⬪ DAYLIGHT APPRENTICE. SHE - HER - HERS.
  

  A dog-like woman. Large, with bulk in some places, and only lean muscle in others. Elegant at some angles, acutely strange looking at others. Has a longer, wolfish muzzle and gleaming dog teeth near-always on display due to an overbite. Skull presses insistent against her skin. Eyes are almost too - large, and not all sunken in her skull. Has large, tufted ears. Polydactyl, with a curved spine and recently-chopped tail.

​