private Back to the old house ⸙ Privetpaw

[Brackenpaw]

It was becoming increasingly commonplace for Brackenpaw to find some excuse to leave camp. Wherever it be with Bluefrost's permission or not didn’t matter, they'd still sneak out. This time they had been given a task, punishment for something they refused to do. A fruitless task to look for bedding across the tarnished moors for the nursery, as if anything had really grown back enough for her to salvage it. Still, an excuse to leave for a moment was greedily taken. The tunneler apprentice finds themself wandering aimlessly, as long as they were back within the hour it was fine so why can't they dawdle just a little?

Delicate paws dance across the growing moorland, stopping occasionally when they can find the rare plush flower or adult grown greenery. Her paws grow to a steady halt as they reach WindClan's border, yellow green eyes scan across the world beyond home. Jaws part in an attempt to scent the air, they were trying to get better at identifying scents around them. If they couldn't accomplish it up here then what good would she be in the tunnels?

Her perception clearly needs work as she narrowly avoids missing the black pelt of Privetpaw. She feels her fur raise in defence as they set their odd assortment of clippings down. Kicking them behind her and pressing a hind paw ontop of the flora of the moors. “You're far from home aren't you?” They call out despite their better judgement howling at her to shut up. Not being immediately jumped by him is enough to have her not make a first move to attack. It's enough to convince herself that he wouldn't immediately win if it boiled down to a scrap. So they find that they keep talking.

“If you're trying to look for food then you should turn right back around” her tone is monotonous in delivery. Too busy trying to figure out why he would even be this far out right now to dignify anything overly friendly. Just talking instead of trying to scare him off was deemed too friendly, giving too much of an olive branch here but she wasn’t aware of that fact. Nor was she aware of the irony for her to be critical of his distance from the presumed safety of his clan since they were also deemed far from home. It takes two to talk on the border after all.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. @PRIVETPAW
  
•  
• BIOGRAPHY
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 8 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Fleeting darkness cut from night's wool, Privetpaw swayed to the rhythm of the wildgrasses of Windclan's territory, as though he were the evanescent dusk melting into morning. Stealthy paws made sure not to happen upon a stray twine or twig, for that certainly meant death in an unfamiliar country, and he would rather not meet his end by the blade of his unassuming opponent. The rogue did not know what he was doing here, of all places, where the beast of evil surely slept within its beauty. A curiosity like obsession hungered at his very heart, as though a volatile oil had benighted any other intention, obscuring all that did not lie between he and the enemy. THe desire swam within him, roiling violent and voracious, and he could feel the tides churn within his gut. He simply needed to know more of Windclan, and he had taken it upon himself to scout out any impurities in their defense and any chink in their armor. Shadows found even the most well-concealed blemish, curling and coating it in the purity of darkness. He stopped, suddenly, as white-tipped ears caught upon another presence with him. Ducking downwards, he squinted his eyes as he attempted to catch upon who would accompany him at this dire time. The wine-dark apprentice had seen Brackenpaw from afar, calico colors like light along brittled glass, an ephemeral break between the sawgrass and the heathers. They did not appear to be seeking him, or any cat for that matter. She must have been a wanderer, then, with footfall imprecise and almost bumbling.

He could not hide from her any longer, for they had both detected each other. They had called out to him, in all the brazen heroism that Windclan donned like the veil of day, as though it would absolve and illuminate them if they spoke louder than he. Kindling that he could only attribute to unalloyed hatred rose in him, the smoke almost choking out velvet throat, though he did not act upon childish impulse. Perhaps there was another way to gain what he wanted... Slowly popping his head up from the verdant sea, he quickly gauged the situation between he and Brackenpaw, fern-green eyes darkening for moments as if it had been beset by twilight. They could not have been much older than he, though perhaps a little more built than the skeletal framework of his own body. Sheathing claws that he had not known he had taken out, he attempted to relax himself as much as he could, uncoiling and straightening out the tension that lie like livewires upon his spinal cord. "Ah, I'm sorry. I'm not looking for trouble or food." Quickly did the Duskclan apprentice straighten himself into a more presentable position, facing Brackenpaw head-on though detracted his pooling eyes from her olivine one, feigning an abashed and weakened sort of self. "My name is Privetpaw. Ever since I visited Windclan a moon ago, I couldn't help but be enthralled by how beautiful the moorlands are compared to the scrublands of my home. In fact, sometimes I wish I lived here instead of Duskclan..." Falsehoods woven into pariah's decree, and Privetpaw could only hope that it would work on the feebler kind.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• SORRY FOR THE DELAY UWAHH
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 8 Moons
  —— Apprentice of Duskclan / 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.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

There was a strong sense of disbelief, their nerves light up like the moors were still aflame. Their instincts screamed to treat this apprentice as a threat and yet in her foolishness they can't help but underestimate him. Privetpaw claims to not seek trouble or food, against their better judgement they're inclined to believe him. Body remains tense yet there's a softness to her features that indicate she wasn't going to lunge at him any time soon. Paws remain firmly behind where WindClan's side of the horse lies, a false safety behind layers of scent.

Their fur stands on end at the base of her tail at the mention of his visit, was he there when DuskClan brought havoc? Brackenpaw didn't see why he wouldn't be since those scraps of rogues needed all the forces they could get. He phrases it as a visit, they barely catch the bitter chuckle that threatens to spill. Clearing her throat instead to mask it, though she's not sure why she would want to. Strategy she supposed, to leave this potentially unscathed. “I'd hate to see how your home looks compared to here if this is beautiful” With a tail whiplike in movement in gestures to the sight of steadily growing life from the charred ashen remains of what once her home.

The tunneler apprentice sighs, shoulders slumping as she allows herself to relax. “You should see it in it's glory, it was really pretty before the fire- from what I could see from camp anyways” She never really got to see it before the fires, her apprenticeship forming from the charred remains just as the greenery anew. They heard stories though, from both her parents and from clanmates. Even if she pretended to not care her brain latched onto those details, painting vivid imagery in her memory. She mulls over his words, how he wished to live here instead of DuskClan. They never considered themself overly sympathetic but he orchestrates the right words to sway her.

“You could. DuskClans committed crimes against us but you're young- impressionable right?” She feeds him the right words he could use if she were to bring him over the border. “Sunstar would probably be lenient” it's the one thing she liked about him, he always at least listened to everyone. Against her better judgement she moves to sit, it's languid movements and she never takes her eyes off of him, ready to retreat at a moment's notice. “I'm Brackenpaw. It's uh- good? That you like it here. I could tell you more about WindClan I guess, like our beauty or whatever. Would you talk about these scrublands of yours?”

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. grabbing you and throwing you around /lh you don't have to apologise <33
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 9 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Brackenpaw stood motionless upon their stead at the border, like cashmere coat meeting a oil sea, never daring to traverse beyond that which opposed them at every sense. Privetpaw could tell that they still wore their wariness upon their sleeve, cape of their people's own hatred lagging ahind her. Privetpaw could not say that he was unaware of the consequences of trespassing, as nettle-sharp claws lie just beyond the wool of neatly-groomed paws. And yet, they continued to speak, as if humoring him in flocculent fantasy that he had only gotten glimpses of. They commented on how Privetpaw's home must be drab if hers was so beauteous, as though she spoke of Windclan with a sort of dripping derision, tandem grievances of their birthplace astern upon their uncertain tone. Perhaps derision was not the right word... A state of mourning was more appropriate for him to describe it as, for their naivete had not allowed them to believe that it was not divine judgment, and rather an uncontrollable act of freak nature. He almost pitied Windclan and how the worsted blindfold had fit so snugly between their eyes. Fern-green gaze scanned upon ash-tipped wildgrasses, like the razor-sharp blade of fire had struck them down, until they only remained as stark reminders of Starclan's righteous hand. The verdancy had been slow to return, but it had done so regardless of its speed.

"Impressionable? I'd hardly call myself that." Biting winds upon his tongue blustered forwards for a moment, a saltwater taste too eager to shear at the air around him, though he quickly cursed such a fault of his temper. "But, you are right. I am quite young. Duskclan is all that I have ever known. I'm sure Sunstar would be understanding of that." Privetpaw tilted his head in a birdlike manner, as though a raven roving about the wilds, wading through the unknown with a more careful hand in tow. Sunstar, tyrant of the moors and former despot of his kin, did not deserve the kindness of spoken word. It took much restraint to hold back spats of anger, as though boyish impulse threatened to break the attentive facade, all in the name of satisfaction. Satisfaction would surely come later, though, for waiting for one's prey made it all the more tantalizing. "Brackenpaw, hm? I'm Privetpaw." Privetpaw granted her an open-toothed smile, though to the trained eye its disuse became quite apparent, as if the expression had been a mere twinge rather than anything germinating from pure mirth. Privetpaw sat down where he once stood, and he hoped it conveyed a sense of security, however molded in falsehoods it was.

"Duskclan is a harsh and desolate wasteland. The only vegetation we have is the thorny scrubs. Nothing like your open moorlands. We hunt lizards and mice, not hares and moles. There is not much to talk about. I'd like to hear more of Windclan. I am sure it is much more interesting than the scrublands. We don't even have any landmarks to call our own? But you, you must have plenty of places to explore." Snow-tipped tail flicked behind him.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• 
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 8 Moons
  —— Apprentice of Duskclan / 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.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

The attitude that Privetpaw carried was met with respect, much to Brackenpaws reluctance to recognise this. Of course their lip curls into a scowl in reaction to such biting words but beyond that they make no effort to voice any cutting words in response or try to leave and cut the conversation short. “All you’ve ever known? Were your parents rogues? Or Barncats maybe? You don’t seem like a Barncat though” most of them seem nice, as far as they can tell anyways. Not that Privetpaw wasn’t nice to an extent, he just carried more attitude than any she has met before.

They nod “yeah, Sunstar would probably be understanding of that.” Quite a few outsiders have made their way past the borders and joined WindClans ranks lately, so it was only fair to assume that leniency would be given to someone young. Even if he was part of Duskclan, it would probably just take a good amount of grovelling. She decides to omit that detail, the tom doesn’t look like he would take pleasure in grovelling for the leader's mercy. Fortunately for the DuskClan apprentice they weren’t the most insightful, taking his greeting and smile at face value they met it in kind. It was out of a rare show of politeness but they weren’t unhappy being here or anything, beating whatever chores were waiting for her back at camp. Eugh.

“Privetpaw, I’ll make sure to remember that. And yeah, Brackenpaw, it’s… a plant I think? Do you have plants?” Maybe it was a fern, she didn’t like to bother her parents that much these days so it would stay a mystery. The tortoiseshell sits up a little straighter, sitting right by the border's edge, they know better than to cross it no matter how seemingly friendly the apprentice seemed to be right now. Their large ears twitch as interest is apparent in her eyes, eager to hear more about the enemy clan. He paints a stark picture, a wasteland that seems to rot away any life there, they wonder if that also includes the cats. Surely it does. Lizards and mice, they saw a lizard once, nearly caught one on ShadowClan’s territory. Maybe their lizards look similar, it doesn’t sound like a diet really fit for cats though but that was easy to say when she was used to hares and moles as he oh so aptly put it.

“We do, there’s the Sun-Warmed pool. The waters always warm there, I think… It has something to do with the rocks, yeah, that sounds right. You can see across the whole moors from the Outlook Rock. ” They look to the sky as they try to recall what’s important. “There’s the Abandonded Badger Set, we hunt there a lot and there’s also the Horseplace, Barncats live there with all kinds of other beasts. I like the Horseplace- would go inside if I could” they think they would like to see it just once, on the inside anyways. Water, sky, fire and earth. That sounded right to her, that’s at least the landmarks that Bluefrost had taught them to remember.

“If you… Ended up joining and was allowed to, which do you think you’d go see first?” It was a mere hypothetical question, in an ideal world where his clan was no more and one where he may grovel for forgiveness. It was to think about as just a fantasy, but as they spoke they found that they liked the idea of it being a reality.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc.
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 9 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​