death doesn't discriminate

[hyacinthbreath]

Hyacinthbreath cannot pretend to not notice the stares of disdain from her clanmates- rumors spread far and wide, and fast. Part of her is reminded of the gossip-mongering that happens only in WindClan when she hears the whispers of disappointment around her. She'd let that young warrior live, instead of letting him drown in the river back then. Why did she do it? She cannot answer that question, for it even plagues herself with confusion.

A rough shoulder bumps into her in passing, and Hyacinthbreath snaps her head around to face the Warrior that shoved into her. "Move, WindClanner." They scoff, and Hyacinthbreath has to hold back the snap of attitude that threatens to spill over. "I'm no WindClanner." She growls under her breath, head lowered and shoulders sagging as he walks past. I didn't want to cause another Juniperfrost case again. I'm no monster. Perhaps her softness came from her insecurities, or from nervousness. She didn't want to be known as a killer anymore.

She wasn't a monster.

Quickly, she makes her way to the riverside, where a bunch of reeds stood high above the water. She settles in beneath the canopy, ears laid flat against her head as she tried to make herself smaller. Smaller than she already was. I miss Pollenfur, She thinks to herself sadly. I should have gone with her. I should have escaped under the cover of night and joined her. Perhaps then, I'd finally feel at home. But she knows she can't. If she did, she'd only be branded a traitor twice. That wasn't who she was, and Pollenfur knew that.

The sound of wet footsteps draws her attention upwards. Someone's come. Hyacinthbreath stands up to attention, muscles tense with nervousness. Was this it, was she going to be chased out?​

RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ✦ WARTORN SOLDIER ✦ 54 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[Aspenhaze]

The tortie point is quick coming, like the reaper who sweeps over those soon to be culled. They are not here to spill blood, however. They intend to hurt the other way, with their words. Hyacinthbreath was not theirs to deliver the final blow onto anyways, but that doesn't mean she would be free from them. Better they talk to her first before anyone else; they were not Smokethroat, not Cicadastar, and maybe that was mercy.

Aspenhaze's smirk is filled with vile, and it's clear to see. "Hello there," they purr, but not in a pleasing way. "I thought to stop by before anything bad happens. Assuming it does." It will, but they try to be somewhat positive, more for her than themself. "Someone seems to have forgotten what clan they belong to now, hmm? That wasn't even your child, so you should have had no problem finish him off. WindClan doesn't deserve mercy. You should know that better than anyone." They shake their head as if talking to a child, before returning to their former position, eyes dark. ​

 

[CLAYFUR]

The thing about wounds is that when left untreated, they begin to fester. They get infected, they grow larger and larger until there’s nothing to do but rupture. Clay watches idly as it bursts, right in the face of a cat who, for once, is deserving of it.

Hyacinthbreath is a scourge upon the clan. What good has she done for them, anyway? Killing a WindClan enemy? He’s taken the life of an enemy; that’s nothing special. And besides, any points he may give her for killing a WindClanner are canceled out by the fact that WindClan retaliated. Clearsight died. And then she turns around and lets a WindClanner go free, even helping to drag him from the river. She’s volatile. She’s inconsistent.

But Cicada’s always been the same way, hasn’t he? And he’s the one who allowed the lilac tabby into the clan in the first place. The only thing setting the two apart is that the leader, at least, seems to have the clan’s best interests in mind, even if he’s hypocritical to his core. What does Hyacinthbreath want, though? Has all she’s done been purely out of self-interest, or has it been some kind of misguided compassion? Once, when the wounds of his mate’s death were still fresh, still healing neatly, Clayfur would have assumed the latter. He would have come close to forgiving her.

These days, forgiveness tastes like ash in his mouth. So he watches Aspenhaze lay into the scarred warrior, and does nothing to stop them. He wonders if this is the last straw. He shoves away the piece of himself that hopes it is. Every time he looks at her face, he thinks of what he’s lost because of what she’s done. "Your kid looked pretty beat up," he says, and it’s laden with the taste of poison. It’s wrong to say it. It’s wrong to wish for her to lose someone she loves. His lip curls as he speaks, but it’s a halfhearted statement.​

[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

​

 

[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Mix-matched ears had caught onto Aspenhaze's words towards another, perking intently. They were of judgement and tease, they didn't mean well. It peaked the warrior's interest, just who was this victim? She had not seen the Tortie point outwardly show their distaste towards someone just yet. She knew they had a lot in common but Aspenhaze had seemed to keep their composure more than she did. It surprised her and it didn't.

Windclan doesn't deserve mercy.

That was enough for the tall she-cat to silently appear from the shadows, creeping up as if there was an enemy in camp closely beside her friend. She would aim to lightly touch pelts with the other to announce her close presence. Her attention snapped upon the figure they were sharing mocking words towards, Hyacinthbreath. Her eyes rested into a cold and daunting gaze. What did she do to deserve these words? What traitorous act did this former windclanner partake? She did not hold that of surprise.

Petalnose did not know Hyacinthbreath well but she held her distance on purpose. She did not hang out with enemies former or not. They were unpredictable in terms of loyalty, loyal or not to their new clan she believed they could not kill a former friend or kin no matter the circumstances. She was surprised their paranoid leader made advances such as taking them in their clan and allowing them to feed on their prey.

Your kid looked pretty beat up. Clayfurs words were the last touch to the masterpiece. Her lips did not curl in a mocking smile as the two did, merely deepening her common frown with the addition to creased brows and a lashing tail, "Just what is going on!?" She demanded from the scarred molly, attempting to ease into her space and look down upon her in threat. A rumble of a low growl dragged out in her chest, "Explain."

Tags​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He breaks away from the return patrol, blood still matted against his face but he is not injured really, a few nicks here and there; things that would heal with ease. Unlike the trust that had shattered into fragments the moment their clans had clashed. Smokethroat stalks over as Petalnose joins the discussion, confused, he hears Clayfur's mocking remark and Aspenhaze's accusations and he whirls on the silver tabby with just as much vitriol as his clanmates.
"What's going on is Hyacinthbreath thinks she can keep a paw in two clans while the rest of us fight to defend ours." His voice is cold, colder than usual, one can almost see the fog breath chill spilling from his jaws with each word and he stalks forward a swath of coal; single ember eye narrowing and burning with justified outrage in the direction of the smaller tabby. It had always been his fault she was here, he'd said she was one of the few decent WindClanners and he'd been right in that; the moorland was so heavily ingrained within her veins she could not remove herself fro mthe clutches of it no matter how many times he had shouted at her demanding fealty, demanding loyalty to her new home. He remembers screaming his voice hoarse after WindClan raided their camp in the dead of night, killed their cats, spilled their blood, and yet here she stood still clinging onto her old home despite the pain her fellows were in. She'd never see them as clanmates, never.
"Lakemoon fought admirably against her family at Sunningrocks without hesitation, because they were ThunderClan and she knew her loyalties. Why is it so DIFFICULT for you to do the same? That you will plead leniency for our foes and spare them our claws after all they have done?!"
Smokethroat feels himself heaving for breath, fur prickling and teeth flashing white against his dark pelt; he looks like a beast in tales told to kits to force their slumber, he looks seconds away from taking her throat for his own. Not a cat here would protest if he just killed her here and now, cut her open and left her to bleed gasping like a fish upon shore; he was sure even WindClan itself would rejoice and the realization made him all the more furious.
"What will you do if the cat you spared kills one of ours? If your son does? Is killing suddenly fine so long as it is a RiverClanner who falls? You are lucky I do not put you in the ground here and NOW, but unlike some of us I swore a loyalty to RiverClan and your fate is not my decision to make because if it was you would be GONE. Someone fetch Cicadastar. NOW!"
Smokethroat remembers talks in fourtrees of loyalty and being true to your believes and he remembers the noble cat she once was that he had befriended, there is none of that left here now, she is a shade of what she claims, a shadow of former ideals and a whimpering and cowering pathetic waste of RiverClan space.

---

[Ooc]
Pinging @CICADASTAR ! (Someone can grab him or an NPC can scurry off to do it!)
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[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

Disgust's a heavy, messy thing, but Houndstride chokes it down like oil and blood. Cicada's kindness was a threat to them all, and he says that with the love of one who'd followed him here from the start. Hyacinthbreath, Boneripple. The both of them, blights on RiverClan. Maybe it's not takin' in new cats that bothers him. Maybe it's that if they'd betray their loyalties once, they'd do it again. He's been worried about this from the start. Knowing he's been proved right wasn't all that pleasant a feeling. They should've let the moor rats take her when they'd come. A debt repaid, and a parasite pulled off their hides.

A crowd grows around her, and as much as he may regret it in time, the dark tabby warrior's pulled right along too. Water to a sinkhole, a great rushing tide. News of the skirmish filtered quickly around camp and he'd swallowed it up like a cat parched beneath greenleaf's burn. Not only had she allowed the cat to live, she'd warned them off– tried to save her blood, and for what? Not for RiverClan. Not for any of them. For herself, for the skittering, stuttering warrior he'd seen in passing now and then at borders. Pathetic. The whole damned bloodline, it'd seem. He wouldn't be surprised to hear of any other of her spawn sharin' the same traitorous way of thinking.

Where Smokethroat grows in his rage, Houndstride seems to tighten. Tense up, taut as whipcord, venom-green eyes so full of hate that almost glow with it. But he knows better than to egg the other tom on. Not when he's like this. Instead he finds his side, shifting close enough to take up space in his line of sight. Never does he put himself between the warrior and the traitor– not even an instant. He lets the darker tom see every bit of her still. "Traitors aren't worth this much'f your heart," he rumbles, voice low. "The clan's safe now. Cicada'll take care of it." He'd be no use splitting himself open with this much hurt.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.20.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• 

  ──── houndstride. trans male, he - him - his pronouns.
  ──── over three years old. born late december of 2020.
  ──── warrior of riverclan, formerly of the marsh group.
  ──── bisexual but with a heavy masc preference; single.
  ──── deeply repressed and struggling with his feelings.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.

• "speech"

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[FERNGILL]

Smokethroat's voice was a boom- impossible to ignore, even with the bustle of the return patrol. Bloody but victorious, apprentices well-praised... Fernpaw could not help but be envious, disappointed that he could not have been there to set his claws upon a Windclanner and truly prove himself as capable. Those tiny, bitter thoughts were drowned in the tsunami of Smokethroat's tone, though, crashing over them in a deluge. He was lucky the spindrift of it didn't strike and scald him, given the boiling rage that bubbled over and spilled out. Hyacinthbreath... he fixed the former Windclanner with an astounded verdant stare.

She had- had spared a Windclanner? Even after everything they had done, after they had killed Clearsight and hurt Smokethroat and encroached the walls of their home? His hears crashed through his chest in disappointment, feeling as if it had splintered his ribs on the way down. WindClan was evil, pure poison, and she had defended them?

An order bayed from Smokethroat's chest, loud and commanding. He flinched at the sound, transfixed for a moment in the fresh betrayal that had struck him. Someone fetch Cicadastar. NOW! "Right," Fernpaw spat out with a quick nod, wasting not a moment longer in trotting away to go and fetch the ringlet-furred tom.

\ went to get cicada B)​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[hazecloud]

Hazecloud had been, humorously, none the wiser on what events fell from the bridge. She hadn't been in camp when Smokethroat fetched for backup, instead further out in the plains. Her attempts to search for something above ground had become more of a social gathering with the patrol she went with.

On her return, the scent of wind and blood had warned of her Clanmates before seeing them. From that alone, Hazecloud had worried for what she would see, what loss had fallen to them this time. The smoky-furred cat followed it to hear the Smokethroat shouting, making predictions on what she would come upon when she got closer. It sounded like he was berating Hyacinthbreath...

What did she do? Was her first thought. Paired with the damage she both saw and scented, she began to connect the dots laid out. There had been a fight. Hyacinth showed her true loyalties, then.

Her rise brought her to Petalnose's side, looking down at the scarred tabby with a mix of disappointment and contempt. "I can't imagine biting the paws that fed you. Sheltered you. Healed you. We didn't have to protect you, and you couldn't even pull your weight to do the same for us." Truly a shame. A waste of effort and time on the pretty she-cat. ​

 

[Cindershade]

Over hearing the venom that spills from Smokethroat has her head whipping towards the source of it all, eyes sharp as tempest blades as she hones in on the source. She moves swiftly, passing by Fernpaw as he makes his way to gather their leader. Who did he hold do much ire for? Cindershade comes to the gathering crowd, shouldering her way through more harshly than intended till she sees Hyacinthbreath at the brunt of them all, head low in shame. Smokethroat's voice pierces her ears like a cool blade, sharp and chilling that has her heating up on the inside. She was not present in their skirmish, but just hearing of the molly's treachery was enough to send her spiraling into a state of lividness. After all that has been done for her, after the kindness and welcoming presence she's been shown—after Cindershade went to bat for her when she murdered Juniperfrost and bore scars in her name—in her honor as WindClan raided them within the dead of night. After Clayfur lost his beloved, Clearsight had been slain because of her.
A guttural growl rumbles deep in her chest cavity, reverberating up into her throat and ivory teeth bare with malicious intent. "What did I tell you the last time, Hyacinthbreath? Didn't I tell you to severe your maternal ties with your son? Didn't I tell you that it was time to leave your past affairs behind with WindClan?" She steps forward, sparing at glance to Houndstride as he steps up in order to calm the brewing storm that seeped from the shadowed lead warrior's body. It would not stop her, not until Cicadastar was present. Her voice grew more loud, more rampant as she spoke. "Didn't you swear your loyalty to RiverClan after Clearsight was slain because of what you did?! And now look at you, pitiful. If I didn't have respect for this clan, I'd flay you alive where you stood. I cannot be friends nor associate with a traitorous wretch." Spittle flies from her mouth as she booms, her rasped voice like serrated edges of a blade. Blackened lips curl tightly over gnashing teeth, verdant eyes wild. Her shaded tail lashes like a whip, claws anchoring her to the soil to keep her from launching herself at the silver warrior before them all. "You better pray to StarClan that Cicadastar have mercy on you, because I pray he doesn't. I hope he skins you alive."

//ic opinions I am sorry she is so ruthless

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[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[lichenstar]

Lichentail had been seething about it since the moment Hyacinthbreath had lowered her voice to hiss at Clayfur at the bridge. She'd been standing nearby... preparing for action, listening, baiting the enemy and stoking their fury in hopes it might blind them. Instead of prioritizing the cats that stood at her side, the silver femme had chosen to let out a bleating cry to WindClan, and it was no plea for peace, it was only so that she might be spared watching her son die.

But why the hell should RiverClan care about one WindClan brat?-

Only a traitor would care.

Despite the way her legs ached, she found the stubborn will to practically storm over with narrowed, icy eyes, tail lashing this way and that as the agitation from that moment seeped back into her blood; it boiled... angry... hot. The clan had already moved to make their voices heard and drown her but she demanded to be heard too. Cindershade, Hazecloud, Petalnose, even Houndstride... They hadn't had to witness the treachery first hand.

"If Cicadastar chooses mercy for you it won't vindicate you," she warned, voice flat as she paused by Hazecloud (was that still a habit? Lingering just close enough for comfort but not close enough to seem like she cared.) "I swear... if you ever so much as growl at one of us the wrong way again in front of our enemy, you will become my enemy."

RiverClan looked pathetic... sheltering a fugitive only to have that same mouth defy them. It made them look weak, showed the fractures in their ranks. How could they send her on a patrol, knowing she might throw up her paws to save a WindClan life again? It would get someone killed. Shifting a paw forward to stabilize herself, she let out a shaky breath to try to calm some of her anger... and to swallow some of the lingering pain.

Casting a gaze towards Clayfur, she honestly felt he was right to throw out his piece.... to remind Hyacinthbreath that mercy did not belong to her past and whoever was in it. If she needed to lose something to learn that lesson.... so be it.​

 

[CICADASTAR]

he'd looked away for two breaths. two breaths, it feels like — his side aches where the windclan brute had shoved him but he is otherwise unharmed, busy with the fumbling remnants of fear and adrenaline that pulses throughout camp. he is busy, he is busy, he is pacing about the long stretch of shallow water before tallrock and he can do nothing else. the air tastes of excitement still, of injuries too shallow to consider a loss, too much of a win to consider their pains. cicadastar, though — his claws extend, he paces, he draws lines in the milling roundabout with each dragging step. he’d seen it — he’d seen the windclan scum run with his tail tucked, the very one hyacinthbreath had plead to leave. he had offered an out. a moment of sparing, a gift the molly’s son had spit back in his face when he chose to unsheathe moorland claws. when fernpaw approaches him, he does not stop.

when fernpaw explains why he has come to fetch him, he does.

" WHERE IS SHE? " it’s violent. an enraged roar tilting with a sloped fury reserved most often for gatherings — for a voice cast out to the furthest reaches of fourtrees, straining for all to hear. but here, he is booming. oddly - tinged vocals bellow from the river surface, from the willows and tall grass enclosing the patrol that had tracked her to the riverside. the moment he catches her scent his maw parts and he steps quicker, nearly stomping ahead of fernpaw who’d had the pleasure of attending his rage from camp itself. when he spots warriors beginning to crowd about, spotting those who sneer and hiss in her direction already. they speak his name, they speak their insults and threats and cicadastar knows. he can do no more — should his anger not blind salt - blue eyes, perhaps he would present it with more grace. perhaps he would speak with sorrow, with pity in rolling, low tones.

ivory paws still laden with sunstride’s russet, drying blood presses down brittle reed and he splits the flora, full - height and bristling wild along the sharp knotches of his spine. tall audits are slicked back, pinned harsh to the slips of his sleek head and he stalks forward with no hesitance. with no hesitance does he slink forward, like a shadow, and snake - like aims a brief strike at her face, ” where were you going? where were you going? “ wild and sunken, eyes too bright for the snarl that leaves his gnarled maw. hare - brained, just like the rest of them — just like the rest, the ones they’d skinned and bledlet into the falls, ” do you think me dull? do you think after your stunt, i would let you run off alone? after your blatant display of loyalty — to a clan who’s claws were at our throats! “ he is shouting, nearly straining with it. in hindsight, he would hope a passing thunderclan patrol would swivel their ears opposite to the river, but even that would not stop him now. words pour from his tongue, driven by anger moreso than any thought behind pale eyes, ” your weakness has embarrassed me! “

the man sucks in a breath, curls his tail at his heels to quell its rapid lashing. a pause. a beat of silence, in which he bares his teeth. he takes a breath, ” you gave me your word when you joined and you have gone back on it. “ and i will go back on mine, too. bright eyes watch her, taut like a string ready to fray and snap, ” i’ve nothing left for you. you’ll be treated as you so wish to be — “ his jaw tightens. his kindness had gotten him here. didn’t it always? he growls, ” like a windclanner. “ it was a call. for a beat he does not move, but the clan and she may. surely he wasn’t the only one with claws unsheathed.

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i. he aimed a strike at @hyacinthbreath ‘s face and is unleashing everyone upon her. she can try and save herself but he is coco bananas rn < 3 girl RUN
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
• 
  
  
  
• "speech"
  

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[BONERIPPLE]

જ➶ The sickness that hangs heavy in her stomach is sharp, her eyes flicking around to look upon the scene. Though she has not been there she can tell from the atmosphere that something has happened and that something is poisonous. It isn't good. Her paws take her even though she doesn't much wish to know what it is. Her muzzle is set in nothing but a frown as she comes closer and she hears the words spat at from other clanmates and all aimed at Hyacinth. Her body pauses and she stares. It's oh so easy to piece together what had happened and what is happening. Disloyalty is present and it seems the other has done something to help Windclan. Spared a Windclanner from the wrath that was due upon them. "Oh, Hyacinth..." The woman can't help but to murmur out the other's name almost like a mourning. But there is nothing she can do to help. Nothing. Her paws are tied and she remains ever loyal to Riverclan. Windclan did not deserve any mercy, they follow someone utterly mad. They don't listen to reason.

When Cicadastar shows forth the rage is clear and she almost doesn't recognize him. The way he goes for a strike against the offending cats face. The way in which the flames of anger consume him. She steps back then and snaps her eyes back to Hyacinth. The words clear, the message clear. Run. She needs to run. To get out of her before she is nothing but a bloodied mess upon the ground. She begs she rubs. Begs she survives because her life still means something. Shifting she melds back within the crowd of cats, sinking into the background for she will have no part of this. Her own goals to keep her family safe. Her reason for choosing Riverclan, Shadowclan is very far away.​

 

[Sablemist]

In every situation you give me peace

Smokethroat's booming shout startles the girl from her chores, causing her to poke her head from the elder's den to catch what is happening. There is a tension in the air that rivals that of war. Fernpaw dashes past to fetch Cicadastar, Smokethroat's voice raising all the while with others joining alongside him. Tentatively she exits the den, falling in line beside Cindershade as she follows her to the source of the problem. Hyacinthbreath. She'd sided with the enemy after they'd done so much damage to them time and time again? She could hardly begin to fathom why and truthfully she did not want to. Her limbs tremble where she stands, taking in the sight of the former windclanner's cowering form.

She was no different than her own mother. Both were refugees from an enemy clan. But unlike Boneripple, Hyacinthbreath chose to forego her loyalty to the very clan that sought to take her in. If she learned anything from this incident, it was a vivid lesson of how traitors are dealt with. A shuddering breath enters her lungs as the shrill volume of Cicadastar's shout. Stepping to the side she presses lightly into Cindershade to make room for the river king, watching as he aims to strike the silver molly's face. Promises are revoked and a decree is issued. Hyacinthbreath was to be treated as an enemy from this moment of.

If loyalty was the glue that kept their clan tethered then she would prove hers. Riverclan was, and possibly still is wary of her family's loyalty due to the shadowclan blood running through her veins. An opportunity like this gifted Sablepaw the ability to prove her a fealty despite her heritage. Because at the end of the day, she never wanted herself nor her family to end up in the silver molly's paws. "Forgive me." She thinks, expression nearly apologetic as she lunges forth, claws outstretched as they sought to strike Hyacinthbreath along her shoulder. ​

Don't gotta be afraid because you're in the lead​

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[willowroot]

( ☾ ) stars, what has become of these river dwellers. time and time again they are betrayed, both friend and enemy turning on them in equal measure. as the npc snaps at hyacinthbreath, willowroot watches with narrowed eyes. there was a time where she would have defended the pale hued molly, reprimanded her clanmate for the insult. now, she stares, eyes blank, her flicking tail the only sign that she has witnessed the incident. slender paws carry her after the other, and the former lead warrior will duck between reeds towards the riverside. a confrontation has already begun. willowroot thinks of the moons this lilac femme has spent with her clan. she thinks of drowning apprentices, sharp teeth of the former windclanner closing over their scruffs, giving them a second chance at life. she thinks of the battle at the old camp- moor runners spurred on by the brutal murder of their clanmate. riverclan will never know if juniperfrost was killed in cold blood- still, hya had begun it, had begun the battle resulting in the death of clearsight. for all the good the woman has done, she has scrapped it equally in poor choices.

hanging to the back, the smoke feline watches as clanmate after clanmate berates the tabby, until there is shouting in the air and the sting of blood sharp on the wind. cicadastar howls accusations of betrayal, of distrust. willowroot watches. there unexpected conflict in their heart as the scene takes a turn towards violence. hya has always been a commendable warrior- she cares for riverclan, that is for certain. still, she has one paw across the border, clinging to those innocent young souls who suffer under sootstar's regime. willowroot wonders blankly if they would take the opportunity to finish off a young windclanner. their heart tells them no- that they are too weak, too prone to motherly instinct. still, their gut pulls at the opposite answer. any cat still training under the iron claw of the moor queen has no place in willow's merciful heart. in her head, a flash of crimson crossesher imagination. yes, she would kill for her clan.

eyes of fern flicker with quiet fire. boneripple arrives, murmurs under her breath, and the black smoke brushes her flank against her fellow queen. there is grief in her gaze, grief that mirror's the black and white molly's words. willowroot makes no action to defend the warrior. "go, hya," she'll speak, knowing her voice is too quiet to be heard over the snarling bloodlust of her fellows. "you have no place here anymore." cruel words, yet spoken with soft disappointment. how nice it would've been for things to turn out differently- perhaps they could have been friends, could have served their clan until they retired to the peace of the elder's den. there are more former windclanners in the twolegplace and beyond clan borders. part of her sends a silent prayer that hyacinthbreath will find her old friends.

loyalty to riverclan surges up inside of her, and willowroot stands, fur beginning to bristle. go, leave, she begs of the traitor. go before the only thing left of you is ragged fur. she will push up beside petalnose, squaring her shoulders. stars forgive her. ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Petalnose listened to Smokethroat, his voice booming and cold. She still kept her attention locked onto the she-cat as her gaze became more daunting, filled with rage. "A traitor." It was a simplification and acknowledgement of his words and an insult toward the silver tabby. Her posture held as if she were to spring for the throat, tense and stiff, ready to spring when she had the word. She was quiet, not a normal manner of hers when she was angry. It was a different rage, one that was not composed in reality even if it had looked as such on the outside.

What will you do if the cat you spared kills one of ours? If your son does? She unsheathed her claws at the lead warriors words as she aimed to get into the she-cats space more, "I promise you if Cicadastar gives us word I will go for your throat, windclanner." She hissed through bared teeth, it was almost a whisper, an individual threat. An individual promise. She still made sure the ones around her heard as well. Her plans would not be secret. Petalnose may have not been at the fight, she had been confined to the medic den in result of her former injuries. She still acted as if she witnessed it, hearing the simple explanation from Smokethroat was enough to fuel her fire. It was enough for her twig to be snapped.

Then Cicadastar made it over, rolling into the gathering cats like a raging thunderstorm. How beautiful. She listened to his words as if they were the sweet songs of birds and the soft trickle of the river that blessed their territory. It tasted sweet to her, like fresh warm honey from the hive. Her blood surged through her veins and her heart pounded in ache to rake her claws into flesh. Her fur prickled in threat, the whole time she had not left her gaze to see who was talking. She knew each and every clanmate who spoke, but she kept her ears on Cicadastar. Just waiting for that sweet release to unleash her rage.

Then it happened and she immediately sprung with no hesitation and power, aiming to strike at her throat with sprawled claws. The ringing in her ears came to a pause and the world went silent to her, soothing and reassuring.

Tags​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

Her legs are shaking, she realizes- as her clanmates stare down at her with eyes of disappointment, of shame, of hatred. Clayfur says something about her son and yet Hyacinth's brain is already buzzing. She has no energy left to fight, too tired to throw claws over her son who denied her- denial, denial, rejection. He didn't listen to her, and now he's probably off dead somewhere because of her. "I didn't do it out of pity for the Moorlander. I didn't-" Her voice is too soft, eyes too sunken in and sullen. Her attention only shakes when Cinder and Smoke speak to her; the others can yell all they want, but these two cats were her friends. Were, She thinks bitterly as she backs up a pace. It's too crowded in this space, where cats were degrading her one after the other. Hyacinthbreath grits her teeth.

where were you going? where were you going? Cicada's manic voice rips above the others, and Hyacinthbreath takes another step back from the hulking, dominating form of Cicadastar. Once, she had looked up to him- she still did. She saw the beauty in his mirth, his loyalty to his Clan. Perhaps she had strayed too far from the path, grown too comfortable. Mercy wasn't something he wanted from her, not when it came to WindClan. How could she fix this? He's talking, his words digging in like claws. Her chest hurts. "
König, please-" She barely manages to choke out, she can feel the very way they all look at her as if she's a rabbit on the moors, ready to be killed. No, no. Everything was falling apart. She loved RiverClan, she loved her home. She'd grown so used to their customs already.

She's about to beg, about to grovel at his paws- to spare her life, give her another chance. A claw rakes across her cheek and Hyacinth yelps out in pain, a shaking paw snaking up to the fresh wound on her face. Another wound for a traitor, to match the X that tainted her chest. "I'm no WindClanner, Cicadastar- Please." She hiccups, wet, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she begins to back up- preparing for the worst. She's done this before, but this time she has no polite escort to the border. These cats are rearing for a fight, and Hyacinthbreath wondered then if she should just let them kill her. This misery of a life, was it worth it in the face of the pain that came with it? For a moment, she hears Bonejaw's voice. Then Willowroot's, ever so soft and solemn.

And then Cicadastar says it.

i’ve nothing left for you. you’ll be treated as you so wish to be — like a windclanner.

Hyacinthbreath's eyes widen at the words, her breath quickening; she was going to die here. She was going to die, and leave Pollenfur behind if she didn't get out of here. Her kits would be left in this world alone, with no mother to check on them when she could. Claws are stretching out towards her, shoulder aching with fresh claw marks and claws nearly nicking her jugular before she turns around and runs. She isn't as fast as she used to be, so used to the river's tides by now- but her small stature allows her a tiny boost in movement, the molly grunting with every pull of muscles taut. She was going to die here- die by the paws of her friends, of people who trusted her. Tears soak into her fur as she continues to run, run, run- run until she sees the border in the distance. She looks behind her briefly, sees the cats running after her.

"I'm sorry-" Hyacinthbreath shouts as the twolegplace's camp comes into view, claws latching into her tail and shredding it cruelly. Another scar to add to the pile of them. It isn't until she passes over the border into twolegplace does she slow down. Her breath hitches, loud wheezing sounding from the molly as she fights back the urge to vomit up whatever fish she'd eaten that day. She clamors ontop of a trash can, leaping up onto a terrace- safe from the faces below her. For now, unless they decide to continue their chase. "I'm so sorry-"​

RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ✦ WARTORN SOLDIER ✦ 53 MOONS ✦ TAGS​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw, having observed much of the escalation, remains silent throughout the entire discourse. He does not vocally, visibly, or otherwise pick a side and he does not want to. That is a lie, but it is a smart one to tell. It is more the case that he knows he should not pick a side. It is massively hypocritical of him; he avoided any sort of deadly blow against WindClanners himself in that battle—he was just lucky that nobody expected him to kill someone. His patriotism is not his strongest quality, and it is something akin to Ravenpaw's near-heresy: he hides it. Embarrassed twice in a row by WindClan and ThunderClan, Dovepaw finds no place in his heart to care. But nobody wants to hear that, and so he does not say it.

If he was a leader, certainly, it would be different. He holds a grudge like no other—it just so happened that he held a grudge against RiverClan, now, as well. Ravenpaw is emblematic of it. Perhaps his apathy toward the politics of it all was a shield, trying to distance himself from the absolute lack of power or influence he had over anything. He would never know, he would never tell.

Most personally, however, Hyacinthbreath is his mentor. The one person who seemed to understand him after his failure, the one person who he thought he could trust. As a matter of fact, he still did trust her—but there was immense pressure not to. He does not like Cicadastar, Dovepaw decides with some amount of finality in the moment. A petulant man who screams like his firstborn was slain at the first sign of inconvenience.

The gaze in Fernpaw's direction as he runs off to fetch him is full of an emotion that is hard to place, though the one in Lannichentail's direction is more obviously poorly-veiled annoyance. Dovepaw wipes it off of his face the moment he realizes what he must look like.

It nearly comes to a head at Petalnose's attack, the beginnings of a yell to stop being just barely suppressed before Hyacinthbreath runs off. His face a mixture of indignance and terror, Dovepaw stares in the direction of his fleeing mentor. He had not said a word.

[⋆]​

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[SMOKESTAR]

It is Houndstride's sudden presence that pulls him from his focus, draws him briefly away from the murderous stare and aching claws he can not help but direct at the silver tabby; Smokethroat wants to cut her to pieces, shred her into ribbons, demand she tell him what loyalty means because he once thought she knew. He once thought she was a friend, but she had proven time and again that RiverClan was only ever an afterthought to her among her foolish connections. There would never be a place for anyone, not even himself, in her heart when she was so tied to the moors she could not release them.
The dark tom lowers his head, the sound of furious voices do not aid in the doused fire raging inside of him; he feels defeated. Foolish. Ignorant. A kitten scolded. He'd made a mistake, it was all his fault they'd let this foxglove spread its roots into their clan and poison everything she touched.

He doesn't chase her when the cry is call, when the song of blood rises up in a chorus. The flash of claws, words sharper than any fang slice the air and Cicadastar's entrance is as loud and powerful as the tom himself; a storm rolling in and clashing against them all, drowning everything in tumultous thunder and sweeping rains-he's drowning. He's drowning on dry land, surrounded by clanmates and he can only narrow that single orange eye at Hyacinthbreath with a gaze that wept betrayal and rage. He is thinking of sitting at fourtrees discussing loyalty, he is lamenting the few times he sought her out at gatherings to chat, that he'd crossed borders and snuck away just to see her and hear her woes for WindClan's treachery; but it seems the treason was contagious. No more hare-eating fools in RiverClan, their blood was all toxic, corrupted by the ashen queen they swore fealty to. She was no better, she never was. Smokethroat's ears fall flat to her pleas and as his clanmates move to send her bolting for her life like a hare across her old home he is turning to walk away in silence, in a quiet daze, he doesn't want to be around anyone else a second longer. Smokethroat pads to the willow tree and his tail flicks as he vanishes inside.

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[Ooc]
//out!
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[PIKESPLASH]

( tags ) Horrifying. This whole experience is horrifying to him and he isn't the one who is chased out of camp. It unnerves him when he looks at his clanmates attacking Hyacinth and spewing cruel words towards her. For a moment, they aren't his friends only dogs wanting to tear everything to shreds without abandon. This is a reminder. A reminder to him that he can never be himself. He may not have come from another clan like Hyacinthbreath, but he was once a kittypet. He wasn't allowed to keep his collar, nor is he allowed to speak in favor of kittypets. Heck, conversing about kittypets themselves is dicey. The clan doesn't care about who he is, but what he can provide. Bile rises at his throat imagining if he would be caught visiting his former home, would they call him a traitor and claw at him? Would Cicadastar or Smokethroat leave him with a nasty scar for such a thing? Would he be called a traitor? Would he share a similar fate to Hyacinthbreath? One where he must swear himself and constantly be reminded that there is only one chance to be a good enough Riverclanner in their eyes?

Pikesplash didn't know that Hyacinth had a son in Windclan, nor did was he aware that she had to face her son. He simply couldn't imagine a world where he could willingly tear into the flesh of his family, if he was in a different clan from them. If he and Otterkit were to face each other in battle no less. He understood clan loyalty came first, yet how could one throw away or sever family ties so easily? A thought nagged at him. Cicadastar if you or Smokethroat had a child that decided to leave for another, would either of you want to fight your child? Would it be easy for you to take his or her life in the battlefield? And then something even more terrifying occurs to him. The possibility that Cicadastar could actually do it. That their leader would and will easily end the life of their child.

Fur prickles from fear. Dovepaw is beside him. It seems both of them are terrified. Hyacinth was Dovepaw's mentor and he had a feeling that she would not be returning if at all any time soon. He would've chased her, not to harm her but to help her. Hyacinth didn't deserve this level of cruelty. However, he knew if he were to defend her... He would be next. It was best not to voice his disagreement with what transpired. Should I try and find Hyacinthbreath once things settle down? It would be dangerous to do such a thing and he knew it. To him, Hyacinthbreath was still his clanmate. And as clanmates they should look after each other. Very little power he held, yet his green hues would glance over to Dovepaw.

The only comfort he can give her apprentice is to press against him lightly. To act as an anchor of sorts. I'll try and look after Dovepaw for you. Please, be safe.​

 

[CLAYFUR]

The clan is a force of nature bearing down upon Hyacinthbreath, a pack of snarling, snapping beasts, as they stare down the problem of the day. As more clanmates approach, Clay takes a step back, clearing space for those with less ire to say their piece. And oh—do they have a lot to say. Accusations, hisses, threats are all aimed at the traitor in their midst.

Clay would love to say that he’s surprised by this turn of events, but the she-cat should never have been allowed into the clan if Cicada stuck to his word. No outsiders allowed, not even family members—unless they’re friends of the leader, of course. He wonders if the lanky tom sees what a mistake that was, making exceptions to his strict rules. The same goes for Boneripple, but she hasn’t sparked a war between clans and then turned around and granted mercy to an enemy. Boneripple has been loyal thus far, and she has a sweet little family within the wetland.

Either way, at least this problem has solved itself. Cicadastar gives the order to drive her out, and for a moment he sees black fur rather than lilac, sees the gaping wound of an eye ripped from its socket. He watches the molly turn and run, watches clanmates lash out at her, chase her. And Clay—he goes, too. She brought death into RiverClan, dragged her curse with her like a dead limb, and now she leaves because she’d spared a life. Where once the tom would have had mercy, would have hated the chasing out of a clanmate, he now only feels rage. This is Spider all over again. This is deserved, a sort of karmic justice for the death of his mate. She may not have directly killed Clearsight, may not have even had a choice—but every action she’s taken has piled up in his head, and now it’s all collapsing in on her. And so the long-legged tom is a brown and white blur across the landscape as he sprints after Hyacinthbreath, teeth bared in a snarl.

When they reach the border, he doesn’t even realize it. It isn’t until the lilac tabby leaps to higher ground that he realizes where he is. He still has half a mind to go after her, to rip her from whatever safety she thinks she’s found here. But the adrenaline is filtering away now that her exile is final, and he can’t dredge up the energy to do anything but glare. I’ll never see her again.​

[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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