DIRTY KNIFE ✧ ghost stories

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchpaw hates the thick canopy overhead. It towers over her; crowds out the moon and Silverpelt; throws her into darkness; giggles in the wind. It's eerie, to say the least. She's not sure how the ThunderClanners were ever so happy about it (and with a pang, she wonders if Little Wolf would have had a similar reaction, though the thought leaves her quickly), but at least they know how to make their way through it– because as long as that was true, it also meant that Scorchpaw would see the moors once again. It's this thought that brings her peace as they settle down for the night, the wind speaking through the trees in ways she had never thought possible before.

It's this whistling wind that brings her back to her kithood, between Houndthistle's paws while great gusts howled outside the medicine den she'd camped in (and how Scorchstreak had hated her sharing breath with Vulturemask!). Though the tortoiseshell girl wasn't often one for conversation, the powerful wave of nostalgia runs over her tongue in a warm pool. Had she really grown so much since Houndthistle had told her about old Thorn Claws? It seems silly. But the wind howls, and for a moment she swears she can see the one-eyed warrior imitating the poltergeist he'd crafted, and Scorchpaw finds a small amount of joy in the idea of imitating him all the way out here.

Cherrypaw and Luckypaw are never far from her. She glances between the other two apprentices as her maw splits into a smile. "Hey Cherrypaw," she murmurs, "did warriors ever tell you ghost stories?" Then, glancing to her brother, she queries, "do you remember the one Houndthistle used to tell us about Thorn Claws?" Any warriors nearby would certainly overhear her, and Scorchpaw would not stop them from listening in if they so desired– it may be a story for kits, but it is one that warms her chest all the same. Maybe she could tell it so well, even Sunstride with all of his colorful stories would be proud of her. "Thorn Claws was a cat who could smell trouble... he would always show up when Houndthistle was doing something wrong. He'd wave his claws and go, 'don't you dare....' in this really scary voice...."

It's a start, at least.

/ retro to getting out of the woods / the dog event!
tags (no need to wait!): @Cherrypaw @iciclefang @STORMYWING @LUCKYPAW @Periwinklebreeze. @GREENEYES

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by giinya, signature by raphaelion
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 15 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

The boy cannot recall the last time he's been the one sitting here, listening to stories, and not the one telling them. It'd been a strangely warm feeling - the eyes of windclan's kits and apprentices upon his pelt as he'd told the aftermath of the battle with riverclan, and of the various moments of terror he'd experienced in his life. He is not a great speaker, stuttering, stammering voice failing him as often as it works, his words soft-spoken and meek. But it is comforting, this companionship.

Blue eyes watch now, half-lidded as he listens to scorchpaw tell a story he thinks he's heard before - this time told not to him, but to others. He's too old for kit-tales, seen and exerienced to much to let a silly story scare him. But... it's almost like tradition at this point, to swap them while huddling in he burrows and tunnels, away from the grating winds and pouring rains. The night tonight is much calmer, something he is grateful for, but it feels the same. The cats around him are from all four clans, and still it almost feels like home. Almost.

Being like this - it's enough, he thinks, eyes closing as he listens.

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[LUCKYPAW]

┌─────────────────── ☽【❖】☾ ───────────────────┐​

Whether they're stopped or pushing forward, the undergrowth is still unnerving - not something he could ever get used to, he thinks, though perhaps stranger things have happened. After all, here Luckypaw sits, near Scorchpaw, yes, but comfortably settling in with cats from all different Clans. The only unease he feels at this point comes from their unfamiliar surroundings; the present company sparks nothing of the sort in him at this point, only the same old recognition he'd grown quite used to since they had first set out. Anybody back at home - at any of their homes, he'd wager - would find this a troubling scene, but he doubts those close by harbor any more discomfort at the idea of mingling for the night than he does, tucked neatly beside Scorchpaw and Cherrypaw. If you ignored the obvious - the way the wind set the leaves alight, sounds materializing whether or not something was slinking through the brush, or how cloistered he felt without the open sky lit clearly above - it was almost pleasant, and it grows better still at the sound of Scorchpaw's voice.

Not enough to drown out the strange sounds around them, sure, but enough to focus on, at least. So close together, it's hard not to hear the words she speaks for another, though as his sister turns to him, Luckypaw's eyes are quick to light up with memories of a time that seemed so far away, so achingly distant, in this moment. Old Thorn Claws - how could he have forgotten that, even for a moment? Perhaps it was the lack of a proper nest, everybody throwing together whatever they could find or even just forgoing anything entirely when the day's aches were too much to ignore any longer, or perhaps he was just growing older, no longer so fixated on the fear stemming from kit tales. Still, though, a chill runs down his spine at the memory, Houndthistle's gruff voice reciting the tale from his own younger days so suddenly called forth. "I don't think I'll forget that one for a long time coming," he assents, tone soft to match hers. Come to think of it, had Houndthistle ever mentioned exactly where Thorn Claws had come from, or only that he hadn't seen the rogue again since his kithood? What if Thorn Claws was from somewhere like here, and that's why he'd never been seen again - he'd returned home, perhaps to stalk the forest for any unsuspecting cats traveling through.

Having succeeded in unnerving himself ever further, Luckypaw falls still as Scorchpaw lapses into the story, and even though it's not Houndthistle telling the story, it's familiar enough that if he closes his eyes for a moment, he can imagine they're back at home. Maybe Scorchpaw is telling the story to Wolfsong's and Sunstride's kits, who - stars, how old would they be now? It's hard to really recognize just how much time has passed out here, isolated as they are, but it's sure to be a shock to all of them to see just how much has changed. As Scorchpaw draws out the suspense, it feels a great deal different than when he'd first heard the story, and yet some things never seemed to change. "And, what'd he do if Houndthistle didn't listen? When he kept on misbehaving, sneaking on after Thorn Claws to try and figure out what dark deeds he was up to?" he prods, trying to add an air of mystery to his voice. It's almost like being a kit again, he thinks, even if he already knows the ending to the story. At the very least, maybe the others will enjoy the crux of it; the ambience is certainly perfect for retelling it, another rustle in the bushes setting his fur on end.​

i'm falling into place, but still the timing's not right (☘) yeah that's a fire i just can't seem to light

• OOC: --​
• 
• 
  - Luckykit Luckypaw
  - He/him (AFAB)
  - 6 moons (Ages on the 1st)
  - Kit Apprentice of WindClan
  - Small blue tortoiseshell with white spotting & green eyes
  - Art by myself & meghan respectively! <33
  - Minor powerplay allowed!
  - Penned by Hijinks​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Stormywing lounges nearby, gnawing on the bones of an earlier catch. Her eyes flutter towards the group of WindClanners that lay near her as they begin to reminisce on old times, stories told to them under the darkness of night. Her ear twitches with interest, body already shifting so she can face them better. Bones forgotten, she shuffles closer on her belly with eyes trained on the other cats.

The traces of an amused grin are already beginning on her maw as she trills, "I've never heard this story, keep going." She never thought she'd grow into a warrior who enjoys stories like some kit in the elder's den, but something about them is enticing. She especially likes ones like these, with words that cause her fur to stand on its end, whether it be from adrenaline or fear.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

​

​

​

​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

✦ Hailstorm finds himself laying nearby with his head resting on his paws and trying to sleep, he's unable to do so seeing flashes of her broken body in his mind and he decides to give up. He wouldn't succeed in finding sleep tonight and the sound of Scorchpaw speaking about Thorn Claws makes his ears perk up with interest, Little Wolf had told the story of the Great Clans but he had never heard of this one. Most others would pretend to be disinterested and listen regardless but he was truly interested, he turns in their direction so he could listen. He can feel a small ghost of a smile forming on his maw at Luckypaw trying to sound mysterious while telling the story and he tucks his front legs underneath himself.

The mountain of fur watches through half-lidded eyes and listens idly waiting to hear more about Thorn Claws. He only finds his smile growing in the slightest when he hears Stormywing encouraging the Windclan apprentices to keep telling the story.

* ˚✦ YOU FOUND ME HERE; UNDERGROUND

• 
  ✦ 48 moons old
  ✦ thunderclan warrior
  ✦ bisexual demiromantic; mates with little wolf
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ semi-difficult in combat; relies on strength and his burly build
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ✦ penned by bosstaurus

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Though Fernpaw had strived for moons to be something greater than his meagre beginnings had predestined, he couldn't pretend as if he had abandoned everything he had enjoyed when he was a bug-eyed scrap of a protege. His hoard awaited him back home, hopefully kept under Sablepaw's watchful eye- and downtime simply swimming, weaving through rippled and letting laughter take to the air like cricket-chirps, was one of his favourite pastimes. Storytelling, too, had been another childish thing that was held quite close to his heart. He'd never been good at making them up, but what he was good at was listening.

Stormywing's enthusiasm was as infectious as ever, and he thought of the tales that had spread from Little Wolf's maw about the Great Clans. Would this one sprawl like that one did, to? A silken thread of make-believe, soul from maw to maw and carried home, delicately as diamond?

A smile, comfortable as ever- as if his paws were not calloused by rock and gnawed by cold- settled on Fernpaw's fiery features. Attentive, his verdant eye curved a little with said smile; a silent encouragement as he kneaded himself into a comfortable position among the listening faces. Dark deeds, said Luckypaw- a wrinkle of excitement creased Fernpaw's nose. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[GREENEYES]

Somewhere nearby, ginger ears twitch at the sound of a story.

The words Scorchpaw shares with Cherrypaw - with input from her littermate urging her to go forth in her tale - are unfamiliar to him, and he can’t help the twinge of surprise at the thought of an unknown plot line. It's a foolish thought, a belief that he’d heard any story possibly imaginable, at this point - between storytime as a kit and listening to Butterflytuft’s own sharing of tales - but Thorn Claws is new to him.

“I’ve never heard this one either!” he chirps in encouragement to the moor apprentices, leaning forward to join the audience settled around to listen.

It is different from the usual fables - a ghost story, rather than ones of the Greats: the Clans, the Battle. Would this journey be listed among them, turning a duology into a trilogy? Would future generations gather around to hear of the stories he lived through himself?

Never mind that, he supposes. It’s something to worry about a different day, something to forge when silence is brought in front of him, rather than the show that is now. For now, he’ll listen to their words, hold them in his memory: he’s sure those back home would like to hear this one too.

✦ ABOUT

• 
  

  
  
  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchpaw purrs as Luckypaw aids her delivery. His mere presence among the journey cats is one enough to ease her anxieties about this particular night, and this particular location; concealed from the stars and laden with whispers she can't possibly hope to interpret. And the other cats lean in to listen, too; Stormywing, Hailstorm, Fernpaw, even Periwinklebreeze. She can't be sure she has Sunstride's bardic prowess (actually, she's very sure she doesn't), but the fact that anyone outside of her brother and friend want to lend an ear to her attempt at levity warms her chest in the cold foliage.

Prodded on by the excited cajoles of her audience, Scorchpaw continues: "Well, one night, Houndthistle tracked Thorn Claws, curious about how he kept misbehaving kits in line. He stalked Thorn Claws as quietly as he could, only to find the old tom at his own nest!" Scorchpaw pauses as the wind speaks through the clusters of leaves overhead, revealing blinks of starlight between their gaps. "And what was Thorn Claws doing at Houndthistle's nest? Well..." The girl trails off, raising a milk-dipped paw and flexing each digit, her claws unsheathing and glinting pale in what little moonlight managed to stammer through the trees– "he was taking his claws off and leaving them in Houndthistle's nest!" She still remembers the way it had scared her as a kit. Surely no cat could take their claws off, and especially not for something as tedious as disciplining kittens, but she'd believed it wholeheartedly back then.

Her dramatic pause is coming to a close, though, so Scorchpaw picks up her thread again. "Houndthistle was shocked. He'd gotten thorns in his nest before after misbehaving, but he'd never known how they'd gotten there. He started to creep away from the scene, so Thorn Claws wouldn't catch him watching, but–" the girl pauses, dual-toned eyes squinting with delight as she reaches the climax of her story, "– Thorn Claws whipped his head around and looked right at him!" Her ears twitch; she pulls her tail around herself, newly vigilant about any poking she feels in her own makeshift nest. She briefly casts her focus around her audience, trying to gauge whether she was doing an alright job. But the story is almost over now, and she's eager to tell it.

"Thorn Claws spoke to Houndthistle. He said...." She squints as she tries to remember the words verbatim, and puts on her best imitation of Houndthistle's drawl, "'I'll dig my claws into ya fer misbehavin', and if you don' shape up fer your Ma, I'll leave my teeth next and bite ya while ya sleep!'" The girl gnashes her teeth playfully on the word bite, just as she remembered Houndthistle doing moons ago. Scorchpaw suppresses her giggle. It was certainly not a good impression, and Luckypaw would know it, but she'd tried her best. She casts a warm glance to her brother, rosy with comfort that she didn't know was possible in this eerie forest. Finally, she finishes up her story: "After that, Houndthistle never acted up again–and he never found thorns, or claws, in his nest, either."

And it was finished. Scorchpaw grins wide, alight with cheer, a feeling that seems almost misplaced in the damp dark of the undergrowth they reclined in. But her ears twitch as she waits for a reaction. "Scary, right?"

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by giinya, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Stormywing settles into a more comfortable position as Scorchpaw begins to tell the story. She kicks her hind legs out to the side and rests her chin on crossed paws, a contented smile on her face. Her ears are pricked, twitching every so often as she listens. Stories like these are the best way to pass time when boredom seeps in. She'd learned that once when she'd been holed up with a cold, and one of the elders began to chatter away about tales of the past. At first she'd hated it, but now she can't imagine much else that's better than a good, exciting story.

Her face scrunches up with disgust at the thought of a cat taking off his nails, but her grin betrays her enjoyment. "Gross," She utters with a laugh, continuing to listen. And as the story reaches its conclusion, she gives her shoulders a swift shake as if shedding off the creepiness of the story. "Now that's a good one," She comments with a smirk and a flick of her tail.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

​

​

​

​