pafp BLAME PARADISE [†] SPAT

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Hunting goes best for her, when she does not think. When she does not think about what would happen if her prey sees her – because it wouldn’t. When she does not think about what would happen if she returned empty - pawed – because she would not. When she does not think about her tail, less than half - fuctional, and something that she’d once thought had been dead forever – because it is not. And if she just relaxed and felt; if she just thinks back to the words of her mentor, her body will go through the motions. The part of her that is still whole will follow through, and soon enough, there would be warm prey flooding her senses, and she could return home with pride in her eyes.

It was a little different, out here with strangers. It is better, and it is worse. The pressure is a different kind, because these cats did not know just how he was, and what they learned was up to him, really. That power was too much and too little. Relieving, and stressful. Sharppaw attempts to slip into the same sort of non - thought, she did back home. His paws are light across the ground.

She hunts in the world beyond highstones, and apparently, it is not so different from the world she already knew. The prey she tracks as a rabbit – not the same as the ones within the marsh, but vaguely… she could tell it was one. The chance at the catch brings anticipation thrumming through her paws – a rivalry that was entirely one - sided, but important to her, isn’t that what mattered?

His eyes are swallowed whole by black, and there is a little more than a leaps length between them. On a journey like this, every piece of prey counted. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up. Dont mess up.

The stupid thing is suddenly upright, and Sharppaw goes still. She mentally screams at it – you didn’t hear anything, trust me! And she lunges. The same moment, it breaks into run. A rabbit let to run is as good as gone. Sharppaw nearly rips out her own fur. “ No–! ” Disbelief strikes her, and then, a flash of fur.

Someone else was here. “ Wh– ” the apprentice is whipping around to meet the golden tom with undisguised anger. “ Are all ThunderClanners as clumsy as you are? ” she shouts. ( And clearly – this is an accusation based on nothing, considering that she had not noticed him until now ).

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 09.17.2023

• OOC: @LIGHTSTRIKE . .. private for now! >:3
•  

• SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Though recently, she has realized it still has some use, she has wholey believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this. Prone to occassional bouts of impulsive behavior, as it has proved to benefit him, so far.

​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Lightstrike was hungry, and it was doing little to help the sour mood he'd awoken in.

The morning was still young. Many cats had departed from their makeshift camp already, presumably to hunt and gain the energy needed for another long day of insufferable walking. His paws were already sore as it was, but he opted to keep it to himself.

He didn't know if cats of the other Clans were hunting for themselves or sharing. He didn't care. He intended to share prey with his Clanmates and his Clanmates only. That was, if he actually caught the damn prey.

The ThunderClan warrior was crouched low, eyes narrowed and fixated upon the twitching brown fur of a rabbit. A prize for certain, and he didn't plan on letting it get away. One step, two. Abruptly it reared, alarmed, and bolted. Although Lightstrike was up on his paws and briefly pursued, it was gone. But I didn't even make a sound! he wanted to scream. His lips curled back, staring in the direction it went.

A voice reached his ears then, clearly not of ThunderClan origin, and spitting insults at him. Shouting, and no doubt scaring away what little prey was left in the area. His own eyes were wide with anger when they turned upon the dark feline. Even with the cats' recent proximity mingling scents, this was undoubtedly the rank smell of a ShadowClanner.

One thing was for certain: he was not in the mood to be held up by this damn porcupine of a cat. "Clumsy?" he immediately snapped, storming over and closing the distance. "Real rich, coming from an overgrown rat! You scared it away with your blubbering!" came the returned accusation, snout crinkled in the beginnings of a snarl. "What's next, everything else in the area?"

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Insecurity runs deep. And unlike any matters of skill, her complexion is something that she would never be able to get away from. If he had meant to make Sharppaw mad – he succeeds; her coat – apparently rat - like fraying in her indignance. The ThunderClanner suddenly in her space, she would at first flinch away, jaws parted in a comeback that that seemed to evade her. But he had almost had it, hadn’t he? A morsel that more than the pack of dogs that was ShadowClan would see. Something that even Smogmaw would have to look on at – and Sharppaw would rub it in his face. Senses set alight, she’s too rational to care if it would even matter to the deputy. It would matter to her.

Sharppaw surges to meet the cream tom, their heights not dissimilar – even if he, in comparison, packed much more of ThunderClan’s telltale strength within him. Sharppaw doesn’t have it in him to care. “ Blubbering? ” she shrieks. Her broken tail curves at an odd angle, lifted as high as she can manage so that severed bone has any hopes of hanging a whisker above the grass. ( Had she been blubbering? ) “ Who should I believe would be a nuisance: ShadowClan, or the cat that’s too impatient to walk across a Thunderpath with any sense? ”

What's next, everything else in the area? It sounds like something Rainshade would’ve said – or Smogmaw, his monotone drawl stretched just enough to let him know he was mocking her. The cat Sharppaw would do anything to get a good swipe across.

He knew, didn’t he? He knew what Sharppaw was, and he thought himself better for it. Hit back, and harder, is a lesson she now unwillingly follows. Sharppaw offers a warning swipe, messy and not thought about. She doesn’t care. She wants him away from her. She wants the rabbit between her jaws.

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 09.17.2023

•  
•  

• SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Though recently, she has realized it still has some use, she has wholey believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this. Prone to occassional bouts of impulsive behavior, as it has proved to benefit him, so far.

​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
That stupid shrill shrieking was grating to his ears, and with each word spewed from a frog-licking mouth, more teeth became visible from behind a curled lip. His fur was rising, making himself bigger, and of course the stupid fucking thunderpath had to be brought up. Every cat had been watching, giggling. He'd been scolded over nothing.

For a moment a tense silence hangs, and then claws are swiping at his face. With a pull of breath he jerks back, hooks nicking his nose and leaving a blooming sting in their wake. That was it. That was the final straw.

A snarl rose in Lightstrike's throat then, head lowering and body surging forward to all but barrel into the ShadowClanner, legs lifting to grapple and drag them both to the ground. With no particular care for anything but leaving a mark to remember him by, he attempted to sink his teeth into whatever he could reach.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Sharppaw couldn’t say that she did not expect it whatsoever. This cat is clearly frog - brained, too used to living in the most prosperous forest and throwing his weight around like a damned idiot. Of course someone like this would not be deturbed by a few swipes. The spike of her fur is a midnight rendition of the warrior’s own, unevenness obvious in his bristling.

And then the warrior is lunging for him. He is the pinnacle of an overgrown ThunderClanner, large enough to simply crash into anyone and get his way. Sharppaw is brought down to the ground with a furious hiss. The ThunderClanner’s movements are followed with wide eyes. She squirms as the scrape of teeth looms near – maybe he’d be enough of an idiot to mistake fur for flesh. The goal of getting him off is the only one in mind, and with it, Sharppaw would slash near the warriors face in an attempt to deter him – hind legs kicking frenziedly all the while. She fights without decorum, solely focused on getting what she wants.

What did he want, even? To feel better, he guesses.

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 09.17.2023

• OOC: this thread is now open!!
•  

• SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Though recently, she has realized it still has some use, she has wholey believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this. Prone to occassional bouts of impulsive behavior, as it has proved to benefit him, so far.

​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Duskpool jerked his helm toward loud shrieking, torn ear swerving with rapt attention. He cursed, tossing a glance at the nearby cat before taking off, abandoning his catch. Someone can have it. He thought, coming to a halt to stare at the two with a look of blistering annoyance, overshadowed by indifference. Of course. He couldn’t help but stalk towards the two, teeth bared. “Knock it off!” He thundered, calling out to the two idiots who couldn’t keep a grip on themselves.

His muzzle crinkled, molten gaze blazing as he reached, sinking teeth into one of their scruffs in an attempt to pull one of them away. “You two should know damn better than goin’ about attackin’ each other.” He rumbled, but knowin’ was one thing, but acting on it was something entirely different.

They were from different clans, tension was high and trust was lower than ever, but that didn’t give these two mouse-brained fools a go-to attack on one another, not when they all had to deal with each other as insufferable as it was for some of ‘em. “Wanna explain what happened, or ya goin’ to attack each other like kits?” He grunted, molten copper narrowing, tone dangerous. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[Magpiepaw]

He wasn't much of a hunter himself so when the other cats all prepared to go out he had opted to linger behind their temporary camp and rest for a moment, though he was quick to follow along after Duskpool to the sound of hissing and snarls erupting in the distance. Magpiepaw peered around the larger, scarred tom and starred forward to find Sharppaw of all cats fighting with a ThunderClanner - his nose wrinkled briefly in displeasure but he said nothing. The SkyClan warrior had already asked what he'd intended so he waited with a furrowed brow and pout upon his maw for an explaination.
This trip was already off to a rocky start if they were fighting one another so early, but probably best to get it out of their systems now rather than later when they needed to be more collected perhaps? Who was to say. He found himself almost instantly agreeable to the idea of cooperation, but having their starry ancestors insist upon the unity helped; who was he to question StarClan?
When Duskpool moved to forcefully break them up he crept back a bit so he wasn't accidentally kicked in the chaos.
​

 

[smogstar]

A mountain of factors conspired to hold Sharppaw back from achieving warriorhood. She inhaled insecurity, exhaled incompetence, and made a habit out of walking into the brambles of self-doubt. Within his skull was this thick, impenetrable mist—it left him unable to filter out his self-destructive obsessions, or to absorb the wisdom her mentor tirelessly tried to impart. Because StarClan knows how hard he's trying. But, only on one paw could he count the occasions where Sharppaw accomplished anything of merit. And in the days since WindClan's incursion onto ShadowClan lands, his apprentice failed to demonstrate any justification for a full name.

Hence his insistence on having Sharppaw's company for the journey. In his estimations, this entire ordeal doubled out as a long-drawn warrior's assessment, after which their mentor/apprentice union would be no more.

Either she will return to the swamplands as an adept and accomplished warrior, a strength, and not a burden, to ShadowClan's welfare. Or, she will die in the process, his shortcomings ultimately catching up with her, and subtracting ShadowClan's hindrances by one.

Whichever way it goes, Smogmaw isn't about to let some ThunderClan upstart spoil her chances.

Ebony-tipped ears press tight against the apex of his crown when snarls and shrieks reached them. He sprints in Magpiepaw's wake, overtaking the medicine cat apprentice to catch sight of what was unfolding: black and golden strands tossed about, as two young felines gave free reign to claw and fang. Whoever set off the altercation is a question that the ShadowClan deputy is largely indifferent to. What matters is it's his apprentice who's letting any semblance of victory slip further from her paws.

The SkyClan warrior's attempts at resolving their scuffle remained irrelevant to him. On dire pawsteps, Smogmaw bounds towards Lightstrike and does not falter until he's a whisker's length away from the younger tom's face. "You're embarrassing yourself," he spits, "and I'll see to it that you're embarrassed further, if you try to continue whatever this is. Sharppaw, get up!"

'How's and 'why's won't be entertained. This entire journey is premised on a magnitude so grim, so significant, that it demands everyone to rise above trifling conflicts such as this. ​

 

[nightbird]

signature sounds of a scuffle ruined nightbird's hunt, and she didn't have time to be angry, not when the familiar voice of lightstrike echoed in her ears. tail lashing, the molly abandoned her prey and stalked to where the sounds erupted from. guided only on narrowed eyes and pricked ears, soon enough she caught sight of entangled fur.

her former apprentice was wrapped up, quarreling with some shadowclanner that held more resemblance to a rat than her feline clanmates. it seemed relatively harmless thus far, blood hadn't yet stained the ground with rich crimson. but it didn't show signs of halting any time soon, the shadowclanner writhing frantically to free himself of lightstrike's hold.

somewhere, a skyclanner called for them to stop, went and attempted to pull them apart from each other, demanded an explanation on a situation that didn't pertain to him. nightbird wished a stray claw would find it's way to his face, teach the older warrior to keep his nose out things that were not his to handle. even if it did, she wouldn't see it. a silver streak of fur barricaded her view, rushing in and getting right up into lightstrike's face.

nightbird's fur bristled, ears pinned as she sauntered up beside her clanmate. for once, he was not the subject of her growing ire. 'you're embarrassing yourself', the deputy spat, a malicious bark of laughter was withheld. of all the embarrassments present right now, the way lightstrike held himself here was not one of them. "that's rich." she remarked coldly. all shadowclan did was embarrass themselves day after day without fail, but a threat to her clan could not go unanswered. "you'll make a fool of yourself following through on that threat."

a silver tinged tail swept to tap lightstrike's flank. "this is undeserving of your time," she noted quietly, head tilted to speak in his ear. they all had much better things to do than quarrel with shadowclan, what a joke of an altercation.

---

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• NIGHTBIRD ✩ she/her, lead warrior of thunderclan, twenty-five moons
  ⭃ nightbird is a small black smoke molly with pale silver eyes. a loner turned thunderclanner, her loyalty and drive to provide for her clan is unwavering. however, she is not known for harboring a bleeding heart, instead equipped with sarcastically fueled wit, brutal honesty, and a sharply edged tongue.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Claws swiped haphazardly, blindly, and Lightstrike could feel the sting of scratches upon his belly, but he was wholly unconcerned at that moment. He was trying to grip the ShadowClanner like a snake, focused on restraining any and all movement. He wouldn't be the first to give in, not by a long shot. This had cost him his meal, and he was not having it.

A new voice entered the fray then, thundering and unfamiliar just before teeth sank into his scruff to haul him away. Although a leg kicked out in alarm, he was still focused on his adversary, expression crinkled in a furious snarl. "Scare away my prey and then attack me over it, see what happens!" he yowled at the other.

Seeming to fully realize the swarming presence of other cats, he angrily yanked himself away from the SkyClanner to right himself on his own paws. "Get the fuck off me," he snapped. Lightstrike's glare remained fixated upon his enemy.

Smogmaw was in his face next, spitting about him being an embarrassment, and he clicked his teeth in the deputy's face threateningly. "Speak for yourself and your pathetic excuse of a Clan," he growled lowly, eyes narrowed to slits. "Try me." He nearly missed Nightbird's words—of course she was here—but to his rare pleasant surprise, she wasn't joining in the pelts bristling his way.

Although his heart was still thudding in his chest from the adrenaline of the moment, he opted to sink his claws into the earth rather than flinging himself back into the fray. Lightstrike stalked over to Nightbird, head low. So Sharppaw was the name. An apprentice. Of course. "You owe me a rabbit, Sharppaw," the warrior growled, eyes hot.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

The ThunderClanner seemingly did not care for her repeated assault– and she wouldn't say it was the most elegant, nor indicative of her very best. He is just a brute, ignoring the claws that score into his pelt with the intent of storming ahead, doing his best to restrain her movements. Sharppaw's hiss is furious. As always– she laments her tail's dead weight in the fray; limbs caught between the pressure Lightstrike puts on.

The new voice that yowls out from somewhere, everywhere, is but another piece of static until her adversary is suddenly yanked away. Sharppaw scrambles to his paws, hackles lifted in the anticipation of a continued attack. He does not take away his gaze for a moment. Adrenaline pumps fast through his veins. He freezes, though– catching the tabby pelt of her mentor in a hurry, and surprise hits her quick when he becomes another bristling pelt in the conversation. Ringing in his ears. Sharppaw, get up! " I'm up! " he barks his reply, louder than he'd ever meant to– chest heaving.

There is a ThunderClan warrior speaking lowkey to Smogmaw, and Sharppaw feels the urge to finish what she'd started. But for SkyClan's aggravating presence; but for Magpiepaw, and his unsettling gaze on the edge of the crowd, does Sharppaw not surge upward once again to latch teeth into an ear, or a shoulder, or otherwise. The warrior stands together with his Clanmate, and Sharppaw stands heaving alongside her own.

Anger floods into him anew, till he is ripping the life up from the ground. " I owe you nothing! " she snaps, and she could not lash her tail if she wanted to. Would it be wrong of her, if she flung herself at him again?

Probably. A flash of blue eyes from the corner of her vision, and Sharppaw is turning tail, intent on stalking further through the forest– as if there hissing had not scared every morsel away.

OOC † LOOK SEE, ISN'T IT INTERESTING? NO, YOU'RE NOT EVEN LISTENING

• OOC: latest reply of all time but. <3
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​