camp COUNTRY ROADS, TAKE ME HOME ☆ ACCENT

[CICADAFLIGHT]

Cicadaflight has never paid much mind to his voice. He knows he's got Smokestar's sound, the way a couple of cats have pointed it out—how he'd aged into the low, rough voice he remembers from his earliest days, the husky scratch of gravel - on - gravel. He also knows he bears a small trace of Cicadastar in the way he speaks—the slight way his r's carry a rounded trace of an h, a soft sloping sound that turns rabbit into hrabbit, a few other small differences in his speech he must have absorbed in his starry - eyed youth.

He's not particularly eloquent, not like his father had been, ever a cat of few words. He'd never thought there were any of those little unique particularities that other cats carried with them—Coyotecreek and Sandpelt and a few others who combined words that should not be combined and tossed in strange sayings at random, their meows a braying twang. He'd jabbed at Sandpelt a couple of times about it when they were younger, and at some point stopped mentioning it—probably because of the slight traces of an accent his own voice carried. But it was not the same as the way the tan - furred irritation talks, and he'd been safe in that knowledge, until . . .

" Have y'all seen— " he begins, then almost immediately stops, tufted ears swivelling back as two - toned eyes snap wide. The warrior looks mildly stunned—for it's the brassy twang of another cat carried in the stars - forsaken contraction—for all of a moment. Then his brows draw together, bottlebrush tail lashing a couple of times. Cicadaflight breaks into a scowl, muttering in a tone of undisguised disgust, " Great StarClan, I sound like Sandpelt. "

OOC : —

☆

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[Cricketchirp]

⋆ ｡° ✩ The more the siblings grow, the further their voices shift from an imitation of their parents. Cricketchirp is keenly aware of the way his own voice drifts, the faint hints of his father's accent slipping like water though his whiskers, making way for something new. A chittering sort of clipped insect-chirp, a warbling and shifting tone. She is not quite certain how to feel about it; and so she tries to put it out of mind.

It is hard to ignore the twang that worms its way into their brother's low rumble, the unfamiliar way that his mouth contorts around the word y'all. Cricketchirp straightens with a jerk as though pricked, teeth clacking together harshly. The culprit is named before long: Sandpelt. "You do," she hisses in surprise, nose wrinkling. Her eyes narrow, scrutinizing her brother. After a moment, she continues: "It does not suit you." The tone leaves no room for argument, affront slipping easily back to disdain.

‎‎┌── LOOKING UP TO THE SKY ⋆｡°✩ FOR SOMETHING I MAY NEVER FIND ──┐‎

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  "SPEECH"

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  CRICKETCHIRP ✩ he / she / they, warrior of riverclan, thirteen moons.
  ⭃ a wiry, curly-furred black smoke with clouded blue eyes.
  ⭃ intelligent, egotistical, and strange, with an eye always turned to the stars.
  ⭃ smokestar xx cicadastar, littermate to beepaw & cicadapaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[SANDPELT]

ꕀꕀ Sandpelt is, unfortunately, within earshot when Cicadaflight’s tongue betrays him. A simple y’all is seemingly all it takes to bring his enemy’s world crashing down around him, lost and left to the fate of sounding like Sandpelt. Of course, the tan-splotched tom hears nothing out of the ordinary at first, but with the black-and-white warrior’s reaction, it’s clear how he should feel about it. Disdain colors Cicadaflight’s tone, and as Cricketchirp approaches, they too are splashed in something that sounds too close to disgust for the tom’s liking.

Sandy paws carry him over to the two, and he gazes between them with a single narrowed eye. "Whadd’ya mean, sayin’ it like that? Wh’s wrong with soundin’ like me?" Faced with the two long-legged, curly-furred siblings, it suddenly dawns on him. They’re mocking him. Of course these two, perfect children of not one but two RiverClan leaders, would find something to make fun of him for. His tail sets itself to lash—but in a sudden show of relaxation, Sandpelt allows it to fall back into a neutral position. It curls around his flank, sweeping over silky fur and the decorative flowers that have been woven into it.

Cool. Calm. Collected. That’s what he’s supposed to be. A warrior befitting the RiverClan name, allowing insults to roll right off his back like pesky droplets of water. Deep inhale through the nose, deep exhale through the mouth. His eye slips shut, and when it opens again it is clearly less fiery. "Think it suits ya just fine," he says at last, still standing awkwardly before the duo. When is it appropriate for him to leave after defending his dialect? Does he need to say anything else?

𓇢𓆸 you get on my nerves

• ooc: —
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  SANDPELT ❯❯ he/him, warrior of riverclan
  ❀ pretty, silky-furred tan tortoiseshell with one yellow eye. calm and hardworking, but can become snappy if angered.
  ❀ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ❀ penned by foxlore

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[DogTeeth]

𝓈𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂𝓈 ♬

Drawing lines in the sand around his half-eaten minnow, Dogteeth is tired-eyed and smiley as he listens to the warriors speak among themselves. It was his favorite pastime, always the quiet but curious type. His chin snaps up as Cicadaflight’s words stop abruptly. The torn-maw warrior makes a face. He remarks on how his words mirrored Sandpelt, obviously put off by this for whatever reason.

Dogteeth’s ears flick back and forth with confusion but huffs out a laugh. Accents were beautiful, each of them weaved in their own way over the tongue. Dogteeth’s own was simply cheapened British, sometimes lazy but soft. Cicadastar’s had been a lovely German, one fascinating and lingered with his offspring.

Sandpelt wasn’t far from the siblings, clearly rubbed the wrong way but they go about defending themselves calmly. " y’all " he repeats, tail flicking. " aw....It’s a pretty way to talk " he nods, " I feel like mine gets a bit short and silly myself... " he thinks.

" let’s not - isn’t it " he exemplifies, " les’not … innit " he chuckles as it rolls off his teeth. " it’s just quicker words, gets you to the point faster, yeah? " he encourages Sandpelt.

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⛦ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛦

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• — Dogteeth PINTEREST
  — twenty-eight moons
  — VOICE & ACCENT
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle voice and laugh
  — deals a nasty bite | large teeth
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
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