bow to the queen / joining

*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Weasel's heard scraps of information pertaining to those feral colonies in the forest. They'd gone to war, a straggler had confided as they lazed about the hay. Killed one another and then split off.

"One close by, now," the old grizzled tom had complained. "Moors're filthy with 'm."

He'd done his best to hide his interest, had given the elder a lazy look before nodding and going about his business.

The moor. He hasn't been far enough to find this so-called colony, but it isn't for lack of trying. The wind scatters scents, and he thinks there must be other cats looking for their nests as well. The once empty scent of heather and hare has been tainted by other loners and cats from the marsh.

But he's been waiting for this, hasn't he? Away from the barn, towards the smoky blue queen who'd proclaimed her love for the hills--he thinks there's no way she isn't here. If the colonies had truly split, he cannot see her having gone anywhere else.

The smell of foreign cats grows closer, and he attempts to stifle his hackles. He hopes it won't come to a fight, but if the other cats attack him, he will unsheathe his claws. He isn't afraid of them.

His heart pounds not in fear, but in excitement.



Horse shit is what she's learned to identify this smell as.
It was primarily the scent of hay, but just the faintest bit of the hooved giant's waste was enough to overwhelm the rest of the scent for Soot.

Usually, her fur would be a bristlin' and beady eyes would turn into slits, but not this time. Instead, her heart flutters. Was it him?
Only the stars know what draws her to this tom. Again, he wasn't much of a looker to Soot's standards, and... sorry- that scent was unignorable! Besides that even with manners, he lacked... Soot was very picky on manners.

Yet somehow for him, she was casting all her standards and expectations aside. Ridiculous.
She supposed after her experience with Flint... toms either came handsome and foul or average and slightly less foul.

The she-cat looks like she's about to burst, feels like it too, yet before the brown tom she stands.

She gives a smug smile.
"You're in the presence of Soot. WindClan leader."

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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ When she appears, it's on stately cerulean-gray paws, green eyes luminous on a tufted, well-shaped face. Despite all of this, however, there's an enormous pregnant belly dragging almost to the grass, and even though she's smug and confident, there's an ungainliness to her that Weasel catches.

"You're in the presence of Soot. WindClan leader."

Weasel wrinkles his nose and laughs. "WindClan. A bit on the nose, isn't it, Soot?" He flicks the tip of his tail to take the harshness from his statement. He quite likes the name, but like hell is he going to admit that to her.

Blue eyes flick from her lovely smirking face to the fields behind her. There's longing in his gaze. "So. Soot. What does one have to do to join this 'WindClan' I've heard so much about?"

He sits, gazing at her with most of his playfulness gone. She's leader of this territory now, after all, and Weasel isn't the type to question that. There's an itch beneath his own striped fur to mark this place, too... the territorial impulse to guard what is his. He can understand her pride, he thinks. She should be. The moor is as beautiful as she is, though he hopes not as cruel.
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"I don't think I asked." She nips back rather seriously. She licks her chest fur with mostly hidden embarrassment, he didn't think the name was stupid, did he? To hell what he thinks, a confident inner voice is quick to chime, and just like that, she regains her pride.

Despite her fur getting into a bunch at his comment, she appears quick to lighten up. His interest in joining causes a fire to be lit in her eyes, "Really...? You'd leave that barn of yours to join?" shock is notable in her words. This was the last thing she had been expecting out of this run-in!

As much as she'd love to eagerly let him in she refuses to show her excitement... "Well, you're no kittypet clearly... and I assume you're a capable feline..." She trails on in pretending thought, "To be honest I'm looking for more cats for WindClan. Can't be much of a chooser right now. So... you can join on one condition." Her gaze is serious.

"Bathe that scent from your pelt. It's disgusting."

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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Weasel smirks at Soot's offended response. His comment had had the intended effect, he thinks, but he flicks his ear to acknowledge her statement. He's trying to join her Clan, after all, not get chased off the moors by a cat so pregnant they can barely walk.

"Barn life isn't for me," he affirms. He doesn't know what it is he's expecting from her Clan, but he imagines there will be fighting to keep their moors from other cats, and he knows he can help with that at least. And he's not a terrible hunter--rabbits are new to him still, but he's fast and determined. He'll get the hang of it. He's sure he isn't the only one who will have to learn a new hunting style.

Soot looks at him with a neutral expression. He expects nothing less. He stands before her as she thinks aloud. "So... you can join on one condition."

He twitches his tail. "What's that?" He wonders if she's going to give him some arduous task. He wouldn't mind, of course, but--

"Bathe that scent from your pelt. It's disgusting."

He wrinkles his nose. "Coming from a swamp flower like yourself?" But he gives a short, embarrassed laugh despite the slight injury to his ego. "Fine. I'll go for a dip once you show me where WindClan resides. That should get the worst of it." He smirks at her, tilts his head.

It seems he's a WindClanner now.

Excitement flares in his blue eyes.


Soot huffs, "Best drop those remarks when talking to me from now on. I'm now your leader after all." Half joking, mostly serious... she sticks her tail in the air with authority. In reality... Weasel was the last cat she minded biting back at her... she liked it admittedly. Though she couldn't encourage it, let one cat do it and the rest will follow. That is what she thinks anyway.

"I'll show you, but don't rub your stink off on everything." With that and another motion of her tail to signal for the tabby to follow, she leads him to their makeshift camp. Many likely wouldn't notice... but there was a shimmer of joy in her gaze and a warm feeling that resonated in her heart.