CLEARING CAMP 1 ╱ TO GO HOME ´ˎ˗

[GRAVELSNAP]

Around him, chaos breaks out as rogues and clan cats clash together, blood spilling and flying and staining the dirt beneath them all. The land surrounding their camp will stink of death for days to come, surely. The black-patched warrior rushes forth from their hiding spot, claws sinking into the flesh of the nearest rogue. The rogue is dark-furred and practically towers over them, but Gravelsnap is fueled by fear and by rage—they want their home back. The filthy outsiders will not keep this land any longer than they already have.

The rogue shrieks when his claws dig into her, dragging her closer to himself. He attempts to kick out at her stomach with his hind legs, but the enemy is faster, and throws him off balance with a brutal shove to his shoulder. "Shit!" He goes toppling over, and the rogue is on top of him in the blink of an eye. Her breath, hot and rancid, washes across his face, and he has only a moment to dodge out of the way of a bite to his neck. The rogue’s teeth scrape, but they don’t find purchase in his throat. A small mercy, but Gravelsnap can only feel relief for a few seconds. The rogue doesn’t let up, claws tearing into him as he bucks and rolls, trying to throw her off in any way that he can.

The rogue is only shoved away a few inches, but it’s enough. Gravelsnap surges up, climbing to their paws with a snarl. Blood drips and runs, bright red against the fur of their leg, but they pay it no mind. Their focus zeroes in fully on the enemy before them, and they manage to step to the side before she crashes into him once again. They have the upper hand as the rogue is thrown off balance, and it is merely a quick movement to charge forward and knock her over. Their claws tear into her shoulders, and they can feel an answering rip of claws into their stomach. Warmth floods the fresh wounds that the rogue has torn open—but blood also springs up to coat their own paws where they dig their claws in deeper.

Their vision blurs, darkness creeping in at the edges, and the rogue kicks out again at their stomach. Gravelsnap sees their chance as she leaves her own underbelly exposed; they strike out with both hind paws, snarling and spitting into the rogue’s face as they throw their full weight down into her abdomen. She screams, ear-splitting and devastating, as their claws tear through her in harsh, jagged lines. Their victory is assured, even as more blood than they’ve ever seen before stains their pale pelt. The enemy struggles for a few more moments, but then gradually goes still with a few final gasping breaths.

They watch the light leave her eyes with a grimace.

As they stagger away from the rogue—no, the body—the moor runner is hit with the full realization of just how close they had come to death. The wounds across their stomach burn. Any deeper, any more powerful… and they’d be gone. Ice floods their veins—they could have died. They could have died, guts ripped to shreds, and they would never have seen their apprentice again. They would never have seen Bluepaw, or Periwinklebreeze, or Houndthistle, or even stupid Addervenom ever again. But they didn’t die, they didn’t, and they managed to leave behind a corpse that isn’t their own.

For once, Gravelsnap looks at WindClan’s camp, the dirt drenched in blood, and doesn’t feel the usual tightening within their chest. They won. And so, with a terribly unbalanced gait, the warrior stalks back toward the tall grass in search of a new hiding spot. They will continue to fight for their territory, for their clan, even if this fight is what kills them.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Azaleafrost]

The battle has begun and the moment a rogue crosses her vision, she strikes with a serpents swiftness. She does not relent, she batters them with a flurry of strikes to disorient and overwhelm them. Her prey struggles to get the upper hand even if they have no hope of getting it. Fury burned within Azaleafrost, and these rogues were going to feel it tonight. Her victim is cowardly though, and frantically tries to escape their impending demise. They do manage to escape her grasp, but only after losing an ear to her jaws.

Azaleafrost is not satisfied with this though, and gives chase. This rogue had the nerve to drive them out of their territory, threaten their kits and elders.... And then run away thinking they can escape? No. They would die here tonight like they deserve, or so thats what Azaleafrost wants.

She spots Marmotpaw from the corner of her eye, tripping up rogues and making their lives absolutely miserable. A small, faint smile crosses her face until she sees a particularly strong looking rogue catch sight of her. He rushes for Marmotpaw, but Azalea won't let him reach her. She bares her teeth and bolts across the field of battle to intercept the rogue just as he's about to reach Marmotpaw. She is fortunate, colliding with the rogue's neck and shoulders.

The two tumble for a moment, but Azaleafrost has already latched onto his throat. He gets up and rakes his claws down her chest as she does the same to his underbelly. As claws push on her throat to try and dislodge her, she bites down harder and and wrenches her head back, tearing the flesh from his throat. He dies in moments, leaving Azaleafrost to shove his body off of her and covered in blood.

She looks to the hole Marmotpaw is in. Did. Did she see???? She hopes she saw. She just killed that guy for her.

(( @Marmotbite. the lesbian has murdered for her fellow lesbian ))​

 

[SUNSTAR]

✦　　. 　 ˚　.   He jumps and does not consider the consequences. First to battle with these rogues, and then to Bluepool's aid– it is unlike him to be incautious, to jump without thinking, but he knows the lead warrior as one of the faces in this clan that he can wholly trust. Who had helped with Scorchstreak's kitting, and carried the other through Badgermoon's betrayal. Not a close friend of his, but a friend to WindClan. And that was more important than anything else. There are teeth to her neck, and so the burnished warrior abandons his prey (a slim, agile rogue with claws as terrible as a hawk's sweeping his skin), and races towards her. He is no moor cat in his heart. He is not meant to race after rabbits as much as he is to corner, to fight. In this moment, however, he may as well fly.

The speed gives great weight to his charge. The rogue is larger than Bluepool– then again, so is he. Sunstride's bulk meets the dark tom's shoulder, slamming him from the slighter molly and rolling into the fray of bodies. He chases after him, his teeth meeting a flailing paw. There is a crunch and a yell, but minimal blood in his maw as he pulls back to shout at the other warrior: "You will not go to StarClan today! Fight with me!" Stepping back puts them near one another, so that their blows may flow more efficiently. He aches for Wolfsong, for a time when it was the two of them in the midst of bloodshed. There is too much at stake with him now.

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. fighting alongside @Bluepool !!
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
  
  
  ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

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[Marmotbite.]

♢​♢ THE BEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE ♢♢​

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marmotpaw & 11 moons & female & she/her & windclan tunneler apprentice​

---

her efforts are more successful than expected, and it earns her the rogues ire. SHe's too lost in the rush of adrenaline, in the tase of blood upon her tongue, to really recognize this fact until it's almost too late. Claws and teeth and bulk set upon her in an instant - yes only getting the chance to widen, fur bristling. And then she swoops in like a hawk, a blue-furred ball of fury. The fight is short, but marmotpaw sees all of it from her hiding place within the tunnels entrance. Azaleafrost sinks fangs deep into flesh, the strangers attempts to escape seeming almost comically feeble. Flesh tears - blood gushes like rain, and all she can her is her heart beating loudly in her ears. Truth be told, she is mesmerized - her blue one is bathed in blood, as shiny and red as a rose.

Beautiful.

A purr rises in her chest, something soft and warm leaving her head fuzzy as eyes meet - and then the moment is over. She is moving again, diving into the fray - a gentle brush of her small figure against the moor runners, a silent thanks that she cannot bring herself to voice over the lump in her throat, before she moves on just as swiftly. Teeth sink into yet another rogue as she yanks upon their tail, meeting the small feline in a flurry of blows, and she has no time left for such happy thoughts. They're at war after all.

— it sounds so fuckin' beautiful when you say my name ♡

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: romanization of gore/bloodshed. girl has issues.
  
• 
  — a shockingly tiny she-cat with pale blue and cream ticked tabby fur, save for a single patch covering her right eye that is brown instead, and mismatched green-orange eyes. she has heavy scarring along the entirety of her left side, from her face all the way down her chest, belly, and flank; which has been there since kithood. she is a twitchy little thing, known for her bad attitude and an unfortunate habit of biting when startled.
  
  — physically medium && mentally medium
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#9ab973]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[Maggotfur.]

🕱 NO I DON'T MIND YOU ARE A BEAUTY 🕱

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maggotpaw & 11 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan apprentice​

---

Windclan is even stranger than Maggotpaw expects. There is something about this vast, open wasteland, that leaves her skin crawling and pelt twitching. It's too open - there is hardly anywhere to hide out here, no shade nor shelter. She doesn't know how they do it.

The plan seems simple enough at least, though she loathes having to be forced to listen to not just a warrior bossing her around, but a windclan rat at that - eyes frosty and cold as she stares black faced and impassive. She is confident in her battle skills - second only to her ability to find and eat food, the massive blue tabby is a powerhouse. Purse muscle and heavy limbs lay beneath her glossy coat - an impressivelly towering figure evn now that she is surrounded by those not from shadowclan.

but her confidence is her downfall. All around her, battle rages on - shouts and cries of fear, encouragement, hate, pride, joy - none of it reaches her ears, deaf to the world as she is in single minded focus. The target she seeks out first is easy prey - a skinny thing, all but foaming at the mouth in rage and fear. Powerful blows reign down upon her target, drawing blood and a sicking pop as she shatters the smaller cats shoulder, drawing a pained screech from them. Lips curl back to reveal a smile that in any other scenario would be appealing - but blood-slicked pearly whites paint a much more sinister picture after ripping fur from flesh.

They run - the smart choice really. The only one if one wants to live. And then - it's onto the next. The next fight is more evenly matched, and it draws all her cods. Blow for blow, dodge for dogge - its getting harder to aim her hits, to dart away from snarling teeth and snapping jaws, to avoid sharp claws and powerful paws. She won't back down though - this may not be her clan, and she could hardly care what happens to the moorland filth should the rogues remain - but it is an opportunity she can't turn down.

Not this close to her assessment, to getting her warrior name. She craves it - power, approval. Recognition. She is tired of being the poor pitiful orphan who killed her mother by being born - no, she is much more than that. And someday, they will see that. They will know her name, and they will fear her. But for now, she must rise through the ranks - prove herself useful. "Come on you coward," she snarls, lilting voice all but booming in her rage. At last, teeth sink into flesh for what she thinks to be the final blow - either death or retreat will await the tom lying at her paws.

She doesn't see the cat sneaking up behind her until it's far to late.

— not temptation, you're my creation ♛

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: doubleposting rip. pre planned plot with @SUNFLOWERMASK please do not intervene
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a massive tabby she-cat with striking turquoise eyes, there has always been something not-right about her. cold and apathetic, and more than a bit unhinged, the monster that is maggotpaw is a volitile presence within shadowclan. she seems strangely taken by magpiepaw, putting herself in role of both tormentor and protector.
  
  — physically medium && mentally hard
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay not-allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=mediumpurple]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[Ebonylight.]

*+:｡.｡ //TW for romanticising bloodshed and a particular gruesome attack!

This is what Ebonylight lives for.

A surge of darkness broken only by the burning muted cream above their heart slithers into the fray. His eyes, thin slits are now blown wide with the hungry need to drink in every inch of the battle before him glimmer and glow with familiarity. This - the reek of blood, the screams of agony, the hoots of victory, and the firework flashes of claws glinting in the light - is home. Ebonylight recalls fondly the many times as a young tom having to defend scraps of nothing against behemoths. How often he'd lose. How often he'd long for vengeance. He'd never quite gotten it, a true tragedy as he'd joined the clan young, following Sootstar's path of crimson into a better life - the same story of desperation just painted with a different hue.
He wanted to like it here. Enjoy the crisp moorland air, the camaraderie of a colony of cats that didn't bite and nip for the first - and last - bite. He didn't need to fight starvation in Windclan, didn't need to fight for a dry spot to sleep on or an ounce of respect. He didn't need to fight at all.
But that in itself had been such torture.

Life isn't truly life unless you have to fight for it.
Ebonylight can't keep the smile off his face as he digs his claws deep into the shoulders of the first rogue that challenged him. This one is just as hungry as he, just as desperate for a secure home, just as scornful of those that threaten his safety. He feels his opponent fight with everything he's got, battering Ebony's belly with desperate hind paws. The two roll, kicking up dust and patches of fur as they claw and bite, the taste of blood on his teeth, flesh ripping under his talons, the roar of his heartbeat in his own ears - can you name a more beautiful experience? Nothing is more intimate, more loving, than holding another's life in your paws. The scars that will forever mark your lives intertwining, the infection that follows even after you escape death, like a persistent heartache for the one that got away.
Oh, how he missed this! How he loves this!

Ebonylight bites down on his opponent's cheek, using his paw to hold his head down lest he try and rebuff Ebony's loving kiss. With a shake and a jerk of his head, the flesh is rent at his command. Blood splatters his nose as screams dance upon the air, twirling around his ears. Lovely. But he'd lost himself to the music just long enough for the bleeding rogue to pull himself out of Ebony's grip, running as fast as he could with the new hole in his face dripping a trail, a red string of fate, back to Ebony.
Spitting out the fold of skin, he looks around with the serpent's eyes for his next playmate.
​

 

[whitedawn]

Home. A return to the moors was within reach. Whitepaw had come to help with the battle to chase off the rogues and take their home back, despite her least favorable skills in fighting. Rose-colored hues narrowed in the night and she sped forward despite her heart pounding in her ears. Whitepaw has never been in a full-on fight, despite Ambertail giving her some preparation for such a thing. It was a nerve-wracking thought to be in the midst of battle for the first time. She felt dreadfully unprepared, even more so without the stable figure that was her mentor. She inhaled as her eyes locked onto a rogue while battles began to erupt on all ends. She could do this. Digging her claws into the dirt, a familiar and comforting pelt caught the corner of her eye in a split second. It reminded her of the brief sparring lesson Addervenom gave her when they were younger apprentices.
"At the very least you should put on a convincing front. Ears back, eyes narrowed, a hiss exploding from your mouth...picture the world beneath the weight of your paws. Maybe fluff yourself up a little. You'll look more intimidating."
With another inhale as the words danced around her mind, she surged forward, eyes locking onto the rogue from before, the cat sneaking up behind the blue and brown form of Harrierstripe. Teeth bared and ears pinned back, the albino apprentice darted forward and tackled the rogue into a small scuffle. Maneuvering away a moment later, she narrowed her eyes with a low hiss erupting from her maw as she moved out of the way when the rogue attempted to lunge at her. Zipping forward, she jumped onto the bigger cat’s back, digging her claws into their skin and biting into their shoulder. Yet in this moment, the albino has a moment of hesitation. Should she try to kill the cat she was clinging to? The thought was truthfully terrifying. To take another life, even if in this moment, there’s no doubt her own could be easily taken. In her moment of hesitation, she reacted too late as the rogue rolled to knock her off, a yelp leaving her as she scrambled to her paws. She attempted to escape, only for pain to bloom on her tail as the rogue bit into it to pull her back. In her struggle, her eyes darted around before locking on a striped pelt again. “Addervenom! Help!” She cried out, kicking at the rogue’s stomach as the larger cat pinned her. “Get off me!”

// pls don’t intervene this is a plotted rescue with @Addervenom <3
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[I'M BREATHING]​

 

[FOGBOUND]

your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Returning offered an array of complicated emotions, ones that Fogbound despised, but curious. To call it home was a bit much, but he wouldn’t ever admit that. He cared little for the covered skies ThunderClan offered or the decaying marshes of ShadowClan that made his pelt itch and grooming became even more difficult. He took pride in his appearance, ruined by the mesh of newly gained scars and mud, but perhaps his devilishly handsome looks wouldn’t despair.

Along the many, Fogbound’s bulky frame prowled forward with a wicked grin on curled lips, ruby optics gleaming with the promise of bloodshed when they caught sight of their infected camp.

With a rumbling snarl, the smokey moor runner dug his back paws into the ground, claws ripping into the grass, shooting forward with a powerful spring of his hindlegs. Blue smokey fur whipped around him as he slammed into an unsuspecting rogue, baring his teeth at the startled feline, ruby optics crinkling murderously. “I warned you.” He whispered, tone dripping like fresh honey despite the clear edge in his voice. “There will be consequences.” Ignoring the blossoming pain that sprung as the rogue kicked its legs uselessly, claws digging into the soft flesh of his underside.

The moor runner paid little mind to it, sinking teeth into its shoulder with a satisfying squish as canines sunk into tender skin. He bit back a grunt as the rogue squirmed, knocking the warrior onto his side, swapping jabs and searing bites.

His fur was freshly decorated with surface wounds, trickling uselessly with lifeblood, but the same couldn’t be said for the rogue bearing deep gouges, reflecting Fogbound’s burning anger. He sneered, standing over the rogue, maw parted to deliver the killing blow when the air was knocked out of him, sending the bulky warrior falling.

He cursed his lack of vision, scrambling up only to be slammed down with a choked wheeze, teeth-gritting with a harboring snarl that vibrated his entire frame. “Seems you have the upper paw.” He grinned, ruby optics glistening mischievously with a paw pressed firmly against his throat, cutting off his airways.

/ late post, but feel free to save him ! ​

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thought speech​

 

[Addervenom]

He kept his hold on the rogue pinned against their will, watching them buckle in retaliation against the fangs of his brother. Crimson splatters his visage, marking him in gruesome warpaint as he releases the trespasser. A crooked grin spread across his maw, his heart thrumming with coursing adrenaline as the body lay crumpled at their paws. Like a well oiled machine the two functioned perfectly in sync, finishing off one another's movements without so much as a word between them. It was their first victory, the first of many. His eyes skimmed the horizon, ready to pluck his next victim from the fray until a shrill cry shouted his name.

There were very few things that could make the warrior feel as if leaf-bare frost was crawling up his spine. But the endangerment of the ivory molly was another box to be ticked off on that list. Without really thinking his limbs surge forward, snapping into action upon their own accord. The world seemed to move incredibly slow, every second lost felt entirely too long as he darted across the field to reach her. Claws gouge the ground as he leapt forward, desperate to close the gap before the rogue could cause irreversible harm in the form of life threatening blows. Stiffening his neck Addervenom headbutted Whitpaw's attacker, following up with a quick swipe of his claws across the rogue's face during their dazed stupor. Crimson blooms across his own chest as talons rake through chocolate tabby fur. But none of that mattered in the face of his goal. Another jagged swipe sent the rogue off for good, sending them reeling backwards at the loss of an eye.

Lungs heaving he dared to turn around in the midst of war-torn battle, seeking the ghostly white apprentice. Despite how fleeting, relief flickers across his eyes. "Get up, quickly." Addervenom huffed, head still ringing from the blow against the other's skull. That was too close, far too close. Why was she out in the open and not in the tunnels? "Stay behind me until the last of them are gone." He called over his shoulder. He could at least protect her if she stuck close. ​

»»———- windclan warrior / ten moons old / he/him ———-««​

 

[Bluepool]

"SPEECH"
Death had been a thing she had accepted into her heart long ago. If her time came, she would want it to be just like this. Gone while fighting for her clan. It would be an honorable way to go, she thinks while she waits for jaws to puncture her throat.

It never comes.

The weight of her enemy is being lifted off of her and when she looks she is surprised to see Sunstride of all cats. 'You will not go to StarClan today' he calls and then he is summoning her to fight and she can feel energy building up behind her muscles. She sends one grateful nod in his direction before her face is pulled into a snarl. more fierce than ever, and her claws feel like those of a badger, she feels as if she can rip a thousand rogues to shreds and not even break a sweat. Quickly, she rallies to the deputies side and together they exchange blows with the two rogues who, moments before, had been calling for her end.

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[SUNFLOWERMASK]

( ☀ )　 The feeling of moor-grass beneath their paws is a welcome one, a grounding one. Home. Even as cats spill over the hillside in a battle charge, as the stench of blood feels the air, Sunflowermask does not feel out of place. This is what they trained for, this is what they've been preparing for their whole life.

Rogues. Rogues, like those that killed their brother. Now the beasts take their home, lay claim to the only place they've ever known. They tear teeth into the flesh of Clanmates, friends, family. Sunflowermask snaps and snarls, holding their own. Nips at the tails of rogues getting too close to those they love, draws them away. Bounces back and forth, weaves in and out, dodging and leaving little wounds. They watch as a cat near their own age retreats, peppered with bleeding bitemarks.

And then something catches their eye, someone in the corner of their vision.

Snowdipped head, elegant fur, moving through the battle like a dance, like she was born for it. A wild snarling grin on her maw, dripping crimson glinting like ichor in the sunlight. They know that this gleeful violence should twist their stomach, but instead it's mesmerizing to watch. They keep to their own battles, and yet their eyes keep drifting. Maggotfur sinks teeth into the neck of a rogue -- a killing move, they know that one -- and then --

Behind her.

A rogue, fur red like blood and marred with scars, eyes set upon Maggotfur like she is nothing more than a piece of prey. Stalking, licking its lips. She doesn't notice. The rogue's claws are unsheathed, a smile on its face like the molly's own yet far more twisted, more sinister. She doesn't notice. His claws are out, he crouches, preparing to pounce. To pin her, it looks like.

Sunflowermask feels their heart hammering in their chest. Their legs move almost without their own input and --

They spring with their back legs, catch the rogue mid-leap and send the both of them crashing to the ground. Their good paw gravitates to his head, slamming it against the dirt forcefully, pressing it down, pinning him and they don't have much strength in their comparatively tiny body but they shift their weight to hold it in place. No, no, no, runs like a mantra through their mind. This rogue won't take Maggotfur from them, Sunflowermask won't let them. Maggotfur is theirs, their secret companion, the only face they've ever longed to see from outside the safety of WindClan. And this is how a WindClanner shows their -- love? Devotion? No, that can't be right. They don't have time to think of it through the haze of panic, the violence that drives their paws something well learned.

Sunflowermask digs their claws into the side of the rogue's face. Shifts their weight to press his head further, twisted so that his neck is bared. His eyes widening as though seeing his death prematurely, legs kicking out fitfully and claws scraping desperately across their underside.

They move quickly. They do not think.

Blood stains Sunflowermask's muzzle as they pull away from the bloody mess of the rogue's neck, breaths heaving. Their head fills with the static hum of a swarm of insects.

They rise to face Maggotfur and their expression is blank, wide eyes fixing upon her. Safe. Relatively unharmed. Whatever cat she was fighting dead or gone, they don't quite care. Sunflowermask gives up all pretense of fighting alone and silently moves to take their place by Maggotfur's side, eyes sweeping across the battlefield in search of the next attacker.

YOU ARE THE DAYLIGHT ☀ YOU ARE THE NIGHT【 11.16.23 】

• // assisting @Maggotfur. !
  ignore that im literally a month late pls. i know this thread is dead but this was important for dev OTL
  ​

• "SPEECH"

• ˏˋ　•　* ☀ SUNFLOWERMASK. WINDCLAN WARRIOR. THEY / THEM.
  12 MOONS & AGES ON THE 7TH.　PENNED BY SATURNID.
  
  

  

  ➳ A MESSY-FURRED LILAC TORTOISESHELL WITH BRIGHT GOLDEN EYES.

  
  NPC xx NPC. HALF-SIBLING TO VULTUREMASK. LITTERMATE TO GOLDENSTRIKE.​

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