caidil mo ghaoil ✿ trespasser!

[PRIMROSE.]

˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　 Whiskey had said SkyClan, and Primrose's curiosity had been piqued. She so rarely thought of going past her fence until recent moons. Life had been simple. Content. When had it changed? Was it the moment that she first found her paws atop the garden fence? Her twolegs had clamored after her, cries of panic in each distinct mew. Soft, hairless paws scooped her up and cradled her close, her answering mrrp? of confusion seeming to settle them some. The next time she stood there, they allowed her a moment. Cautious. She still remembers it vividly. Past the fence there was a world she had never seen before. Eaters rolling lazily by. Twolegs in other yards. Dogs, and sometimes even other cats. Birds. So many birds, far more than the ones that would visit and peck at the hanging home her twolegs offered for them.

There were cats out here like Slate, who even as a kitten had yearned for freedom. She'd thought it silly at times. Perhaps her desire for exploration had just. . . bloomed late. Hopefully his had been more fruitful. As she treads closer to the forest, the intimidating height of this new land strikes her. Looking up, they scrape the sky. The clouds must break on those highest branches. Primrose sucks in a breath — suddenly she wants to climb it. To be there. Feel it. She stretches, one paw lifting as if she might try it, and her collar jangles a delicate noise against the fur of her chest. It quickly silences itself as she settles back down. Before her, just within the trees, a barrier of unfamiliar scents rises up. Her pelt prickles. Each individual cat that has passed here merges into one. A unit nearly as imposing as the trees. Was this SkyClan? Is this what it felt like?

Not knowing any better, and clearly a little out of her depth, Primrose takes a few hesitant steps past the scent line, searching for anyone within the guarded area that might give her a place to go.

perhaps in a different time . ✿  i would have named us hope ╱ 05.29.2024

• ooc: —
• "speech"
• ˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮.  she ╱ they. kittypet and prospective daylight warrior of skyclan. littermate to slate and cloverjaw. purebred maine coon  ——
  ——  a black smoke ╱ silver tabby chimera with soft green eyes despite the boxy breed standard of maine coon cats, the edges of primrose seem invariably soft. her thick, sleek fur is silky to the touch and eternally well-groomed, broken only by the lines of chimerism between her pelt colors and the pale purple collar she always wears. its rose gold bell is often muffled by her fur, but not entirely.

​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

If it had not been for the collar that peaked out from behind plush fur Figfeather may have outright attacked the she-cat then and there. In the heat of the moment, Figfeather would’ve been able to forget their difference in size and laid down her life to drive out a rogue. With their recent problems, there was little room to trust anyone or anything, it was important more than ever to boldly and unapologetically challenge outsiders.

The giant intrudes the pine forest with hesitance, it might be enough to save her from an outright attack but not a spitting hiss, ”Step back!” Figfeather warns, appearing from behind the trunk of a large pine. Red fur bristles like wildfire and her lashing tail triples in size. Her back arches defensively as she tiptoes forward, amber eyes grow furious , twin black moons warning the she-cat not to take another step into her territory.

♡ INFO BATTLE

• @Daisypaw
• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Lead Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Sire to Sangriapaw & Coffeepaw
  » Mentoring Daisypaw
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and to aid her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

​

 

[Howlfire]

Death seems to linger over SkyClan like a persistent cloud. Once again, they find themselves in mourning, a clnmate dead by the paws of a rogue.

Strangers are not uncommon to the SkyClan borders, Howlfire finds. Their general tolerance towards accepting new joiners of kittypets and loners means they tend to attract a few more wandering strays than other clans might. Not all join, of course, but some follow their curiosity all the way to their camp in the trees. The unfamiliar scent hits Howlfire and she halts warily, looking around to determine where the scent is wafting from, before she hears Figfeather's hiss. The chocolate torbie bounds in the direction of her friend's voice and finds Figfeather face to face with a kittypet. Howlfire's eyes narrow into a suspicious glare, not knowing what to think of the new arrival after Tatteredlight's recent death, but her posture does not become as hostile as Figfeather. "State your business," Howlfire demands in a level tone. "You are trespassing on SkyClan territory."​

 

[SLATE]

〔✦〕Not far behind the others is one of SkyClan's massive guardians, an amber-eyed hulk who glowered across at the clueless kittypet. The faint jingle of the bell on their neck and the glimpse of pale lavender, as well as the stench that wafted from their silky coat, signaled almost instantly to Slate that this cat wasn't a threat. They were just foolish.

Howlfire and Figfeather had things covered, though the Maine Coon would not pass up an opportunity to utter an icy remark toward the chimera, "You're lost, kittypet." Why was it that the twoleg pets liked to stray into places that clearly were marked by a scent? Maybe all of the kibble they were being fed dumbed down their brains and made them stupid. Oh, how it made Slate mad! Now was not the time for anybody to be trespassing; this she-cat was lucky that neither of them had attacked, especially since murderous rogues had been lingering around the borders as of late.

oh no, ive said too much ( i havent said enough ) //

• ooc.
  
• SLATE —— lead warrior of skyclan , mentoring coffeepaw ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 40 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ single / bisexual & monogamous / closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— hard combat difficulty & weak to agile, quick fighters / will start fights, will kill if necessary
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a scarred longhaired maine coon with amber eyes. a large, 20lb tom with thick locks of fur. his chest and underbelly is ruddy from sun exposure. notable scars decorate his face and his ears are both torn with one being folded over.

​

 

[DROWSYNOSE]

STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME​

---

what the heck does it matter that she's a kittypet? seriously, what's his deal? drowsynose, if you weren't such a fragile little thing, I'd tell you to say something about his insults. you are of kittypet blood.

his inner voice is awfully loud today. kittypet or not, they were trespassing. his tail swayed back and forth and the kinder side of him ( which honestly is most if not all of him ) wants to ask if she's okay. so, he will. he doesn't care if older warriors are here, someone's gotta be nice. and drowsynose can take being yelled at later.

"hey, a-are you alright? are you l-lost?"

he asks, turning his head to figfeather, howlfire, and slate. such barbarian ways. yes, he understands that the current threat of the land leaves everyone on edge. he's more on edge than usual. but... kindness always went a long way. it just worked like that. why couldn't they see it? whyd they have to be so mean to her?

"th-they're right. you are, uhm, tr-trespassing. but if you're... hurt or you n-need something..."

always the fool with the slowest heart. it's going to get you killed one day. he knows that. he knows and yet he is still kind first. he can't be any other way. he cannot be rude and brash like some of his clanmates. he can't. he won't. someone has to be different.
​

 

[Daisypaw]

Had it not been for the patrol that surrounded the apprentice when they'd come upon the tresspasser he might have thought of running - to get help or to simply hide he wasn't 100% sure - at the sight of the other. She wasn't exuding intimidation, after looking towards her more she wasn't even trying to be threatening in any way and had been simply walking, but the size of her mixed with the recent attacks on others around the area caused him to be on edge.

Fur rose on end as more and more gathered, Figfeather told her to get back, Howlfire demanded to know her business while Slate and Drowsynose mentioned her being lost - one notably kinder than the other. Instead of saying anything or asking any questions the apprentice waited for an answer, eyes narrowing as ears angled in the direction of his mentor. Say the word and he'd run off to get more cats, run to get one of the medicine cats if things did end up going south.

CAUGHT YOU RED 🌺 HANDED IN THE BISCUIT TIN

• 

• 
  ♡ SH blue w/low white & blue eyes
  ♡ cannot properly control emotions
  ♡ born november 8, 2023. ages realistically
  ♡ sexuality unknown ; interested in no one
  ♡ adopted by Butterflytuft and Dandelionwish
  ♡ brother to Weedpaw and Fluffypaw
  ♡ easy to befriend ; easy to upset
  ♡ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ♡ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[PRIMROSE.]

˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　 They demand that she step back and Primrose, on sheer instinct, does just that. Tapered ears flatten not in a sign of aggression but wide-eyed concern. They'd sprung from nowhere at all! More cats than she had ever seen at once outside of her family so many moons ago, and even then they are far larger than kittens. Trespassing? How strange a word. As if this place were a walled-in garden to defend; a bird's nest that twolegs would shoo her from. No, leave them alone! Get down from there!

She voices her confusion: "Trespassing?" The word is a gust of gentle laughter, disbelief and surprise wrapped with nervousness. "I'm not lost. I don't think I'm lost. I was looking for SkyClan." Uncertain if she had stepped back far enough before this point or not, Primrose takes another few back to be certain. Each of their scents muddied into the line that spread like a ring around these lands. Was this their idea of a fence? It didn't feel so protective. Then again, they hardly needed a wall if they had so many cats prepared to fight over it. It makes sense, she thinks. It clicks into place with what Whiskey had told her of the clan. That there were many of them here; that some of them would need help. "Whiskey told me about this place."

perhaps in a different time . ✿  i would have named us hope ╱ 05.29.2024

• ooc: —
• "speech"
• ˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮.  she ╱ they. kittypet and prospective daylight warrior of skyclan. littermate to slate and cloverjaw. purebred maine coon  ——
  ——  a black smoke ╱ silver tabby chimera with soft green eyes despite the boxy breed standard of maine coon cats, the edges of primrose seem invariably soft. her thick, sleek fur is silky to the touch and eternally well-groomed, broken only by the lines of chimerism between her pelt colors and the pale purple collar she always wears. its rose gold bell is often muffled by her fur, but not entirely.

​

 

[SLATE]

〔✦〕Unexpectedly, the molly mentions SkyClan, which prompts Slate to begin lowering his hackles. Once in a blue moon will a stranger mention the clan by name — often times they are merely referred to as "the wild cats" that have been illustrated in the eyes of kittypets as fabled felines who could soar from the tree tops and fight like lions. Obviously, they had learned of SkyClan's name from somewhere — Whiskey, one of the newer additions, had been the one who'd told them.

For a moment, the Maine Coon studies the stranger. There is something oddly familiar about them that prods the crevices of his mind, the dark depths that he has not dug up for seasons upon seasons. The way that their pelt splits — from solid to striped, from dark to light — spurs within Slate a sense of faint recognition... but Slate quickly brushes it away. He's met many cats over the moons, including various of rogues and passersby on the streets. It's possible that he could have seen this cat near the rows of twoleg nests at some point, or maybe even a cat that looked like them.

The scarred tom does not appear so defensive now, though he still looks as gruff as ever as he stares forth at the chimera. "And you think you have what it takes to be a warrior?" Slate drills her, gauging just how serious she is about committing to a clan. He doubts that Whiskey told her about the expectations of daylight warriors and the sacrifices that she would have to make. It was not a decision to be taken lightly. "You'll have to learn to hunt 'n fight — your pelt won't look so shiny 'n perfect after a bloody battle." That is, if she cared about her appearance ( as some prissy kittypets did ). This wasn't just some fun game of pretend; the kittypets had the luxury of retreating to their cozy nests after a day's work. The rest of them considered the pines their full-time home, their only territory that they would defend with their lives.

oh no, ive said too much ( i havent said enough ) //

• ooc.
  
• SLATE —— lead warrior of skyclan , mentoring coffeepaw ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 40 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ single / bisexual & monogamous / closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— hard combat difficulty & weak to agile, quick fighters / will start fights, will kill if necessary
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a scarred longhaired maine coon with amber eyes. a large, 20lb tom with thick locks of fur. his chest and underbelly is ruddy from sun exposure. notable scars decorate his face and his ears are both torn with one being folded over.

​

 

[PRIMROSE.]

˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　 She looks at him with the same curiosity, the same glimmer of half-recognition — and then, almost the same time that Slate does so, she likewise shelves the thought. (Her appearance is distinctive, but aside from his size, this cat's is not. It could tickle any place of her memory; she doesn't linger.) Her pale stare shifts from him to the rest of the patrol, patiently measuring each of them. Some were kind, some were hard. Each of them had seemed prepared to fight her had the moment called for it. This territory was theirs to defend, and they did so with far more ferocity than she did her own yard. It had never seemed. . . pertinent, until now. But she does not need this tom to tell her that their life is difficult. She realizes it automatically as she looks between them.

Slowly, she says, "I would like to prove that I am capable." Primrose looks back to the dark, looming tom and tilts her head subtly towards the right. "I don't think my word will mean that much to you, so let me show SkyClan that I can, and that I will."

perhaps in a different time . ✿  i would have named us hope ╱ 05.29.2024

• ooc: —
• "speech"
• ˚ .  ❀ 　˚✦　. ✿ 　𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮.  she ╱ they. kittypet and prospective daylight warrior of skyclan. littermate to slate and cloverjaw. purebred maine coon  ——
  ——  a black smoke ╱ silver tabby chimera with soft green eyes despite the boxy breed standard of maine coon cats, the edges of primrose seem invariably soft. her thick, sleek fur is silky to the touch and eternally well-groomed, broken only by the lines of chimerism between her pelt colors and the pale purple collar she always wears. its rose gold bell is often muffled by her fur, but not entirely.

​

 

[SLATE]

〔✦〕So far, the bi-colored cat is proving to be one of the more tolerable kittypets he's ever met. Something about their humble nature; they are not overly eager nor obnoxious but they still maintain a determination to prove themselves to their new clanmates. "Fair enough." I guess. She was right — actions spoke louder than words, and if she was going to prove herself worthy of SkyClan's time, she had to be at least given a chance. Slate did not want to invite another cottonbrained, soft-hearted pet into SkyClan's ranks, but perhaps this cat will turn out to be an asset after all.

He gives another sniff to the air, his gaze momentarily analyzing the chimera before him. No rogue scent, at least not from what he could identify. They smell of a twoleg nest, and their pristine collar and clean pelt indicate that they're pampered. Hmm... The lead warrior is hesitant to completely rule out that they're lying about being a house pet, but for now they do not appear to be a threat. They also mentioned Whiskey, who they would have to find and talk with as soon as they got back to camp.

"You are to come back with us to camp to meet Orangestar. She'll give her approval first." Slate explains, nodding to the other members of the patrol and assuming that they hadn't any objections at this point. "I'm Slate, one of SkyClan's lead warriors." He introduces himself with a rumble before adding, "I assume you have a name too."

oh no, ive said too much ( i havent said enough ) //

• ooc.
  
• SLATE —— lead warrior of skyclan , mentoring coffeepaw ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ cismale / he/him pronouns / 40 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ single / bisexual & monogamous / closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— hard combat difficulty & weak to agile, quick fighters / will start fights, will kill if necessary
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a scarred longhaired maine coon with amber eyes. a large, 20lb tom with thick locks of fur. his chest and underbelly is ruddy from sun exposure. notable scars decorate his face and his ears are both torn with one being folded over.

​

 

[Orangestar]

"No need, Slate." Orangestar calls, a few trees away and masked by dapples of pine-scented foliage. She drops from the lowest branch with a scattering of bark, expression tightening at the bolt that ricochets up her hindleg. It distracts her, at least, from the oppressive heat of the day, even if it forces her to hobble towards the gathering of SkyClanners who surround a silk-furred stranger. They bristle less than she expects; just how late is Orangestar to this interaction? White paws find their way to Slate's side, pausing there and seeking no solace from the night-furred giant as she tips her chin up to meet striking green eyes.

"My name is Orangestar." She waits, briefly, for this stranger to introduce herself in turn, before she launches into her usual spiel. "SkyClan life is not easy. Even if you intend to join us as a daylight warrior and stay with your twolegs at night, you will be expected to learn our ways, and hunt and fight for us. In return, SkyClan will treat you as kin: the loyalty you show will be returned. And ..." Brown eyes flick over her coat, "greenleaf is the hardest season for those of us with long fur. We patrol through the hottest parts of the day, and it is not always comfortable."

ooc ✧ 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦

•  
• 
  
  [ art by pin ]
• ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | eight lives
  
  
  — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
  — single ; mentoring springpaw & ashpaw
  — speech is in #F18C47
  — tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.
  
  
  
  

​