-ˋˏ ༻ ☀ ༺ ˎˊ-
Roeflame’s ire had always been easier to earn than most, she had grown up always having something to say. What possessed the brassed queen now makes her usual bite seem nearly weak in comparison. The disrespect that had been circling around camp as of late was now pure vile, infecting their young. After Coltkit had been consoled to the best of her abilities, Roeflame’s next destination had been to Howlingstars den to tell her leader of what had happened. The leader was no stranger to the she-cats temper, Howlingstar had named her for it. With her superior aware of what was going on, the rosetted queen hopes it would be easier to earn her wiser leaders forgiveness later on.
While Roeflame likes to think she would feel the same on this matter no matter which den she slept in, the lead warrior knew that the ferocity that put an extra sharp pep in her step was driven by something only the nursery could have given her, the maternal drive to protect and the anger that borderlines rage that one of the kits she helped look after would be treated so disgustingly. When she finds Redflower settled somewhere in camp, it’s almost unsurprising that Ravenstrike is nearby. Blazing sage optics are beyond disappointed to see Wrathpaw nearby and mixed up in all of this.
“Stand up. Now.” The order is barked, any defiance would be met with a promising snarl. When the two adults have complied, slivered pupils would sweep across each face, stopping on Ravenstrike. False warriors she had muttered. Roeflame’s chest burns. “You should pity yourselves. Are your heads so shoved in the dirt you don’t see how pathetic you have been behaving?” Her wrath is shot towards the two warriors, and Roeflame would aim to turn away from Ravenstrike and shove her muzzle little more than a whisker-length from Redflower. “Picking on kits. Should I ask Howlingstar to stick you back in the nursery? that’d be more respectable than claiming yourself a warrior.” Roeflame knows their type all too well, words alone would not be enough to teach them a true lesson, they’d simply bounce off hollowed brains. Taking a step back, her glower is unwavering. “Your clan-born’ blood means nothing when you cannot act the part. The only false warriors-” as she speaks, her tail lashes. The words are spat from her tongue white-hot as her attention is turned
towards Ravenstrike again, making it known that the irate warrior had heard each word the other had uttered, “-here are those who disrespect what it means to be one. Stay away from the nursery. If I catch either of you talking to any of the kits like that again, I’ll make sure you don’t get out of that conversation with the ability to ever speak again.” Her tone is cemented with promise. Finally, the warrior spares a glance in Wraithpaw’s direction. “Find better company, Wrathpaw.”
While Roeflame likes to think she would feel the same on this matter no matter which den she slept in, the lead warrior knew that the ferocity that put an extra sharp pep in her step was driven by something only the nursery could have given her, the maternal drive to protect and the anger that borderlines rage that one of the kits she helped look after would be treated so disgustingly. When she finds Redflower settled somewhere in camp, it’s almost unsurprising that Ravenstrike is nearby. Blazing sage optics are beyond disappointed to see Wrathpaw nearby and mixed up in all of this.
“Stand up. Now.” The order is barked, any defiance would be met with a promising snarl. When the two adults have complied, slivered pupils would sweep across each face, stopping on Ravenstrike. False warriors she had muttered. Roeflame’s chest burns. “You should pity yourselves. Are your heads so shoved in the dirt you don’t see how pathetic you have been behaving?” Her wrath is shot towards the two warriors, and Roeflame would aim to turn away from Ravenstrike and shove her muzzle little more than a whisker-length from Redflower. “Picking on kits. Should I ask Howlingstar to stick you back in the nursery? that’d be more respectable than claiming yourself a warrior.” Roeflame knows their type all too well, words alone would not be enough to teach them a true lesson, they’d simply bounce off hollowed brains. Taking a step back, her glower is unwavering. “Your clan-born’ blood means nothing when you cannot act the part. The only false warriors-” as she speaks, her tail lashes. The words are spat from her tongue white-hot as her attention is turned
towards Ravenstrike again, making it known that the irate warrior had heard each word the other had uttered, “-here are those who disrespect what it means to be one. Stay away from the nursery. If I catch either of you talking to any of the kits like that again, I’ll make sure you don’t get out of that conversation with the ability to ever speak again.” Her tone is cemented with promise. Finally, the warrior spares a glance in Wraithpaw’s direction. “Find better company, Wrathpaw.”
┌── SHE BLOWS OUTTA NOWHERE
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ROMAN CANDLE OF THE WILD ──┐
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Interacting w/ — @REDFLOWER @Ravenstrike & @WRATHPAW but no need to wait ! feel free to get involved >:)
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ROEFLAME ✩ she/her, Lead Warrior of Thunderclan, twenty-two moons.
⭃ petite cinnamon silver ticked tabby with murky green eyes & a small scar over her left eye.
⭃ mate to Burnstorm ☀ mentor to Foxpaw
⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ☀ underline and tag when attacking
⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
![Tybalt [Stagstrike]](/data/avatars/l/0/397.jpg?1666054888){kind=avatar}
