twolegplace DREAM OF CALIFORNICATION || lost SkyClan patrol

takes place after this thread! SkyClan is on a journey and was chased by a dog after Angel heckled them; the patrol has split into two.

@SQUALLMIST @BASILPAW @Quillpaw are the other cats on this half of the patrol!

They have found themselves in a downtown / somewhat rundown area of the town. Lots of alleys, back streets, shops, garbage, rats, and likely a lot of the more 'wild' twoleg cats. Feel free to improvise within reason! Rogues and kittypets living in rundown areas are the most likely to find this patrol, but it is OPEN TO ANY NON-CLAN CAT!


Paw pads shredded from tearing across concrete and scaling chainlink webs, the SkyClan leader staggers into a narrow street, almost a dark crevice away from the bustling Twoleg world he's found himself entrenched in. His heart is pounding painfully, his lungs screaming for relief. The dog's barks are gone - not even distant, but gone, so he and whoever had split in his direction had successfully outrun it...

But who all remains with him? He slumps against the rough, scratchy exterior of the Twoleg nest he huddles behind. The sun has descended, sunset glaring fiery from the tops of the buildings. The scent of garbage, of monster exhaust and Twoleg trash, is overwhelming. He has to fight not to gag.

"Dawnglare... Butterflypaw... anyone?" He says, voice a harsh whisper. He has to find out where everyone went. Should he have fought the dog? Surely it would have flayed him alive, sent him straight to StarClan's silverlit forest?

In theory, he knows, he has nine lives... he believes it, had felt that power rush into his body from the other cats' noses. But he has no desire to test that theory - not if he doesn't have to. Little Wolf is waiting for me. I will return for her.

Not only Little Wolf, but SkyClan as a whole. Daisyflight would hardly appreciate being made leader already because of his own stupidity, own brash, unorganized ideas.

Again, dark blue eyes wearily flick to and from the shadows around him. He thinks he can hear pawsteps, but his senses are blinded entirely. "Are you alright?" He's asking, not sure who he's expecting it to be but hoping it's one of his Clanmates, alive and in one piece.



OOC- any rogues/loners/kittypets that post are welcome to recognize Quillpaw as a young tom known as Twin. He was a stray in this area, known for being on the quiet side, but also extremely aggressive. I imagine a few of them would also be aware of the fact that his father was *not* the nicest to him. They may or may not be aware that he's currently 'missing', having run away from his parents (who would have made minimal attempts to find him at best)

He knows this part of the city.

It makes his gut writhe as if worms have been piled within him, and more than his worries about the dog or about having become separated from his clanmates are his worries about who might recognize him. He hadn't ever planned to come back to twoleg place after leaving, and he definitely had not planned to come this far in today. But with no other way to run, he'd done just that, letting long legs carry him down familiar sidewalks until he turned, disapearing into the shadows of an alleyway and slipping behind some piled up milk crates. His heart was hammering in his chest as he tried to catch his breath, noting somewhat bitterly that this was the second time since joining the clan that a dog had chased him into the city. Last time he'd been with Twitchpaw, but this time he seemed to be alone.


Ears twitched at a familiar voice, and it took him a second to realize it was Blazestar. So maybe not so alone, then?

He didn't hear any signs of the dog, nor any other cat, and so he cautiously slipped out to make his presence known.

"I'm okay. Are you?" he replied to their next words, mismatched eyes glancing around the alleyway. While Quillpaw didn't look afraid per-se, he was certainly tense and on high-alert.

skyclan - male - 6 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - very tall tabby tomcat with broad shoulders

It hasn’t been long that Moonbeam’s lived here. They’ve only just stopped smelling of marsh water and the characteristic odor of ShadowClan. They’re settling into the alleyways, though, getting used to slipping between shadows and ambushing the occasional street rat. It’s not a terrible life, but it is uncomfortably quiet.

They clock the patrol within moments of their approach, lying in wait until the group begins speaking, asking one another if they’re alright. Moonbeam steps into view of the strangers, blue eyes narrowed in something between amusement and irritation.

"Good day, travelers," he greets, dipping his head low and crossing one leg over his chest in a mock bow, tail curling loosely over his back. They stare for a few moments, before recognition lights in their eyes.

These cats are SkyClanners, judging by the recognizable face of their (admittedly handsome) leader. Too bad he’s old, though; she’s not a fan of grandpaws. "What are you doing so far from home, clan kitties?" She presses as much genuine curiosity, care into her voice as she can, broad ears flicking toward the group of clan cats. "It isn’t safe here. It’s much, much different from the forest you are used to." Their voice is sticky sweet, honeyed words dripping from a barbed tongue. The white-splashed tabby offers the group of them a smile that doesn’t reach their eyes.

Like an elegant beetle paws skitter across a rickety old fence. Large weeds stand tall as the rotten wood bend and shakes at his weight. Yet he hardly seems perturbed as he steps along the dying thing. He merely seeks to find a place where he can hide his lunch. Maybe he will share some of it with Watson. That old codger in youthful skin might enjoy this good sized rat more than he would himself. His teeth still taste the blood of the rar, pink tongue pressed against bristely fur when he smells something awfully weird. The weirdest thing he has ever smelled and he snorts. Bright silver looking orbs wander around before he finds a small bush to hide his rat. At the very least he doubts that anyone will come snooping here. Not with this bush smelling of dog piss. Even his nose scrunches up but it's a good idea. Leaving that he hops back on his watch tower of rot to peer across the many overgrown jungles before him.

Most twoleg gardens are like that now a days, houses abandoned and left to fall in on themselves. Watson's waiting for him in one of them. But the peculiar smell makes him venture along the fence, skipping a step to hop across a gap. When his eyes land on the odd group of felines he stares before s grin pulls across his muzzle. "Well, I haven't seen yall before. Traveling? Visiting? I do a lot of that myself. Never seen a group like you guys though." His gaze shifts with merriment along the group before he tilts his head suddenly and his mouth pops open. "Wait a tick? Twin is that you over there? Boy, I thought the Catcher got you! Where have you been?" Dogs barking in the background doesn't seem to bother him as he balances on his throne of decaying wood. He is pleased to see the other well.

Despite everything his gaze ventures away to look at Moonbeam. All sorts out here today but he doesn't mind it. These streets have been his home for a while and her talk of clans seems intriguing enough to stick around and find out about it.
Blazestar nearly collapses with relief when the cat who approaches him is not a rogue or a rat, but Quillpaw. The chimera looks a little less lost, but almost as exhausted from the chase and the journey.

"I'm surviving," Blazestar replies, barely managing a smile. "Have you seen... the others? Any of them?" His whiskers tremble. Has he managed to get his entire patrol killed without knowing it? Somehow, it's the unknown element that's worse than anything.

Before Quillpaw can reply, though, the two cats are interrupted. Blazestar is on edge immediately at the lilting, taunting note in this cat's voice. A silvery cat, with beaming blue eyes and an unkind smile, emerges from the Twoleg objects and the shadows they cast. And this cat recognizes them immediately, somehow, as lost Clan cats.

"How do you know we're from the Clans?" Blazestar flicks an ear. "Have we... met?" He tilts his head. Surely not; Blazestar had been a sheltered type of kittypet, one to roam only his neighbor's gardens and back. And this cat isn't familiar to him at all.

"It isn't safe here. It's much, much different from the forest you are used to."

Blazestar stares at the other feline for a moment. Why does it almost sound like a threat? "Are you from around here? Can you help us? We aren't here to cause anyone trouble." He's bone tired, knows Quillpaw must be too, and he's so worried about the others that he can't think straight.

Another cat approaches, and Blazestar gets a sinking feeling. Is this an ambush? Are they going to be slaughtered like squirrels by a hunting patrol? This newcomer is pale cream, more cheerful on the exterior, and, perhaps most comfortingly of all, seems to recognize Quillpaw.

"Twin," they call him, and Blazestar vaguely remembers that this was his loner name. The Ragdoll glances from the newcomer to the apprentice, hope warm in his heart for the first time since dawn. "You know this cat? Can they... help us?"

He's at their mercy, now, and he realizes this with an inward groan. He's in their world.


wait around, i'll smile again

There used to be few things that would rouse Watson from a good nap but these days his sleep is mediocre at best and growls like a dog pack yet coming from his stomach isn't helping. The way he moves is like he's some ancient statue crackling to life but he drags himself up regardless to look for his companion. It's not that he asked that stray for food (his pride won't allow that) but the tabby's come to expect that Skittles will bring some because that's just how it works now.

The grumpy tom squeezes through a hole in the drywall to snake through a forest of fallen planks until he's out in the sun once more. A new permanent squint forms in his fluffy face, only widening when he frightens himself by knocking over a pail then scales a fallen fence. It doesn't take long for Watson to find the other stray's scent but what worries him is the scent of many more with it. He hesitates and wonders if Skittles is in trouble before he wills his paws forward along the wooden walkways.

He's not graceful like a practiced cat so his legs wobble and his claws scratch the sides to announce his arrival. It culminates in the heavy creak of a board when Watson jumps onto the fence beside Skittles. He feigns annoyance instead of concern until his eyes fall on the troupe below. Watson looks like a haggard, disapproving grandfather as he glowers. "What's taking you so-? .... oh." The long hair scrunches up his nose more in confusion than disgust but it's hard to tell on someone who always looks so grumpy. His hazel gaze scans over the situation, at the other loner and what had they said? Something he'd caught on the wind when approaching- 'clan kitties?'

Clans are something foreign and new to him, a mystery and a half. All he knows are these streets (unfortunate) and the den of his twoleg, where food came in tiny shapes and the walls used to breathe on him to keep him cozy. He's depended on twolegs all his life until just recently so the thought of cats being able to live on their own away from them is unfathomable and borderline nonsensical to him. Being new to the loner lifestyle as well, he doesn't recognize this "Twin" either and he casts a questioning glance Skittles' way. Then as the ragdoll speaks, Watson hunkers down on the fence in annoyance with ungroomed spikes of fur decorating his hackles. He's got a rough look to him, like a porcupine that's tumbled down a hill. He doesn't even seem to notice the dust bunnies that hitched a ride on his back when he exited his hiding place. It's only his voice that gives away that he's likely not as old as he acts.

Help them... No, no. This wreaks of trouble. So many cats around is plucking at his nerves and the tabby toddles in place with quivering whiskers- to the creaking complaint of the rotting fence. He decides then that it's just best to wash their paws of this, this whatever it is. "They're going to get us caught. Let's just go." Avoiding the Catcher is what put him here to begin with and he doesn't want another run in.

Surveying them he tilts his head and leans forward in thought. His upper half begins to drag down against the fence but his back legs have a firm grip on the fence. Truly he looks ridiculous but he doesn't have much else to do as he watches the ragdoll who speaks to Twin asking about getting help. This does make him curious thought. What do they need help with and why? Sure, these back alley's and torn up asphalt roads are dangerous what with the dogs that roam free and the feistier cats, not to even mention the Catcher but it's survivable as long as one has their wits about them. He's starting a little hum when he hears a scuffling behind him, shifting just as Watson jumps on the fence and causes the old wood to creak in protest he scrambles his front paws against the wood to look at his buddy with glee in those silver grey orbs of his. "Hey, I didn't think you would come all the way out here. I got lunch but it's kind of back that way." The cream colored tom beams, flashing sharp fangs before he notices the way that the other looks.

"Oh, you got something just here-" Moving with little notion of what personal space is he starts to lightly swat at the other's back, pushing against that porcupine of a mess the other calls fur. The dust bunnies start to fly up into the air and he sniffles before his breath hitches and he sneezes, shaking the fence with an unholy sound leaving his muzzle. "Ugh, sorry 'bout that. A wee bit of allergies there." The man sniffles and chuckles lightly before he realizes that he hasn't yet told Watson what is going on here. Motioning with his paws towards the cats here he starts to juggle and motion. "I haven't the faintest idea but it looks like Twin is with 'em. Uh, they might need something maybe?" Truth be told he never asked them and so he feels a little bad about that. But then again he did ask other things that might lead into an explanation. Shifting a little he turns his gaze back on the strangers just to hear a soft asking on if he can help them. Who? Himself? The fawn creature looks a little perplexed before he shifts his paws and suddenly he jumps down.

His friend's words catch his ears and he flicks one before looking back up at him. "We won't get caught, besides the Catcher already bee through this way. But if you are worried just wait at our den, I'll be back soon enough." He tries to give a nonchalant smile before turning bakc to the strangers whom he is wondering about and he steps up closer, eyes on the ragdoll before looking at Twin. "Yall need help? But what do you need help with? I can try to give it a whirl but ya know gotta make sure it's not dangerous. Watson only has me after all." He allows the tease to slide easily from his throat before he sits down.
☞ Idle chatter - the talk reaches his ears. Two groups sound, clashing within this place. The both of them murmur confusion for some reason or another. Everyone had their reasons. His dull gaze is narrowed, assessing from the gap in the rooftops. There were those he knew well, and those he'd never seen - adults and children, two for two. They're plainly out of place - even if a soft face and softer body betrayed a certain origin, the scent clinging to their pelts told a different story. Devoid of smog and asphalt; needles clung to their ragged pelts. Even if they were once something more, they've become strangers yet again.

Of course, a stranger couldn't go unmet, not when the walls had ears like this. The few quick to interact are already talking up a storm - likely confusing the poor things, their words are full of air. He exchanges a glance with his companion, a brow quirking with his intentions before he slips from the lowered roof. "Hey now, let's settle down" he purrs, a friendly drawl as he drops into the fray. His brows crease in an apologetic smile toward the newcomers. "We don't want to overwhelm them so quickly..."

His tail would ghost across Skittles form, a show of good faith, silent prayers of good health are sent his way with a meaningful look. He offers a kind blink to the fiery thing, before addressing those outside of his little group. "They want to get home, right? Ran into some trouble?" he guesses, sparing a glance around the area as if wary. His lips pull taut in sweet concern, feathered tail thumps light against the ground, as if considering.

"We know this place well," he finally says, tilting his head towards Howler. "Got nothing better to do, we could help you out," he offers, and with this, he gazes expectantly at the other alley cats. It's a minor fluke - but manageable.

[ big man @HOWLER is with him <3 ]

Squallmist was foolish in thinking that the monsters would be the most dangerous thing he'd encounter on this patrol.

The real danger, however, is a dog. It charges straight towards their patrol, and, while Squallmist does what he can to make sure everyone is safe - that the apprentices aren't harmed - scattering is inevitable.

Charcoal paws are sore and cracked from how hard they hit the pavement as he runs, as he tries to escape the dog, as he tries to stick with his patrol. He isn't used to this, but rather, the bristling of grass and pine needles beneath his paws. It hurts, but he keeps running. His siblings can't lose another.

Squallmist's pace slows as he becomes more certain that he's outrun the dog. His sides heave as he tries to catch his breath, green eyes searching for someone, anyone. Panic sets in as he realizes he's alone, that the only thing he can smell is that of the monsters that rush past, not too far away from where he stands.

He's become separated from his patrol in unknown territory.

Worn-out paws continue further, ears flattening to his head. He has to return home. He can't be stuck here forever. He just can't.

The silver tabby soon hears voices, and it's enough of a reason to pause his search. Could it be? He turns to follow the voices, and it's down an alleyway he goes.

Squallmist doesn't think he's ever been relieved to see Blazestar before this, but the sight of flame-pointed fur is enough to calm his panic.

"I'm here!" Squallmist calls down the alley before hurrying to meet with Blazestar, with the rest of the patrol.

"All this for a tree?" he asks upon arrival, but it's not until after he speaks, that he realizes it's only Blazestar and Quillpaw that he recognizes. He looks at the flame-point with concerned eyes. Where was everyone else?
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When the dog had come, Basilpaw had picked a direction and had run, no thoughts in his brain except the desperate need to survive. It would be a surprise to his mentor, at least, that he even possessed such an instinct considering his recent escapades. Quickly though he discovers that he does not know where he is going, or what the end goal is. He does not like the feeling of concrete beneath his paws, and he finds himself longing for the smell of pine needles. He finds himself resenting Harpyfall and Blazestar for coming here, resenting Dawnglare for having that stupid dream in the first place.

He does not know where anyone is, and he begins to panic but he continues running, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as anxiety begins to take hold of him. He closes his eyes tight, refusing to cry. It is in this moment that he closes his eyes while he is still going that he runs into something. Something with fur! And legs! Another cat! He lets out a purr of relief as he immediately takes a seat, his quaking, exhausted, limbs not allowing him to stand for another second longer. "Oh thank goodness I found you" he says in a breathless ghasp to whoever the cat he ran into ends up being.

The bustle of multiple other street cats goes largely ignored by Moonbeam—they don’t deign to stoop to the heights of their fellow loners and strays. And it doesn’t matter to them, anyway. The clan cat before them looks utterly confused for a moment, but more than that looks afraid. Bravely disguising it, but the nerves are clear on these cats’ faces.

She slowly nods, and it’s a stiff, robotic motion, one that clearly isn’t done often. The reddish pointed tom asks if she knows him, and her grin curls just a bit wider. The silvered tabby flicks their tail, trying to seem cheery, kind, helpful. "Yes, of course I know you. Blazestar, you are recognizable anywhere in these lands. I am from… around here, yes." What a fool.

This mousebrained tom seems to know next to nothing about survival, immediately asking for help. Moonbeam glances around to the other street cats, giving a pointed look to Percival, who has also offered his help. Moonbeam hopes he and his pal aren’t genuine, because leading these kittypet-clanners astray would positively make her day. "If I may speak for more than one of us, we would love nothing more than to guide you in the… right direction."

The crashing of a body into her side draws a snarl from the tabby, wiping the faux smile from her face immediately. She whirls on the dappled kid, who has sat down already to say that they’re glad to have found her. She’s certain the child doesn’t actually mean they’re glad to see her. "What the shit-" he snaps, eyes narrowing, rage flooding their body. He fucking hates children. "Watch where you’re going, you little beetlebrain!" His fur bristles around his shoulders, all pretenses of friendliness dropped.
The cat with the bowtie looks at the SkyClan patrol gravely, as though they're simply some other problem that plagues him. Blazestar bites back a yelp of frustration at his words: "They're going to get us caught. Let's just go." "Caught? What do you mean, caught?" He mews, face fallen.

The cream-colored tom beside him attempts to soothe those worries, and Blazestar gives the two of them a desperate look. "But what do you need help with?" He flicks his enormous fluffy tail towards Quillpaw. "I came with several other cats, but a dog chased us, and we got lost," he explains breathlessly. "I need to find those other cats... we came here to find a big tree in the middle of the Twolegplace, the only tree like it. Do you know of something like that?" In his mind, they all might be able to meet at that tree...

But then again, perhaps it would be safer to get out of the city entirely. But what if they can't find the others, and they're hopelessly lost? What if Blazestar returns home without SkyClan's medicine cat, without his deputy's daughter? No. I can't do that.

Another cat joins them - two - and Blazestar's heart quickens with a familiar jolt of fear. A rusted black tom, accompanied by a bulk of a ginger cat. This one has unique dulcet tones, purrs while he talks. "We don't want to overwhelm them so quickly..."

He forces the fur at his neck to lie flat. This cat is offering to help them, a real offer. "We need to find our patrol," he says wearily. "Two other toms and some younger cats... they're probably lost like we are somewhere close by." He dips his head gratefully. "If you, any of you help us, SkyClan will be in your debt."

It's then that he hears a familiar voice - Squallmist, Basilpaw - and relief almost causes the muscle and fur to sag on his enormous frame. He turns to blink warmly at Squallmist, at Basilpaw, though the one seems wary and the other terrified. "All this for a tree?" "We haven't found anyone else yet... it's just us four right now." He tries to speak calmly, but there's distress layered under his voice. "These cats are from here... they've agreed to help us find the others, I think. Find the tree."

Poor Basilpaw ends up running straight into the silver cat, the one who'd recognized him as Blazestar, and the little chimera receives a snapping snarl in response. Blazestar attempts to reach for the apprentice to curl his tail around them, a protective gesture that is almost automatic. He regards the silver cat, then all of the others, cautiously. "Like I said, SkyClan would be in your debt if you were to help us." He glances from cat to cat warily. "What do you all call yourselves? I'm Blazestar, as this one says..." He nods to the other cats in his presence. "These are Squallmist, Quillpaw, and Basilpaw."

If they're going to be traveling with these cats, Blazestar supposes they should be familiar with one another, right?


"It's nothing to worry about. Ah, it's just....well there is a twoleg we call the Catcher around these parts. Scoops you up and puts you on the back of a monster. Sometimes cats come back and sometimes they don't. When they do they ah...they are different." A tinge of nervousness leaks into his voice but he tries to keep the explanation as light as possible. He shifts a bit when he feels Percival's tail slip against his back and his maw shuts for a moment. He's always been a motormouth. Eve his mum told him that but he tries to be quiet as the other speaks before he suddenly blurts out, trying to finish his explanation. "But it's fine now thought. That twoleg has already been through here, I saw him not too long ago in his monster." He then smiles before he jerks his head up slightly at the sound of some running paws, a shout and then another cat joins the growing crowd. He tilts his head a little as he watches him and then the three become four as another accidentally runs into Moonbeam. "Wow, there are a lot of ya." He doesn't sound perturbed by it though. More like a little excited as he listens to the explanation from the flame point tom.

They were a much larger group and were separated by a dog. Nasty brutes for sure and some where nice while others weren't. Even worse it was hard to tell the difference and running seems to be the only real option with them. He feels bad for them for having lost their friends and understands the worry that the other holds for them. Plus they are looking for a big tree. Tilting his head up a little he thinks and tries to think hard. "A big tree? hmm, the only big tree I know of is one that is a bit from here. A good walk really but it's in the greenest place of the town, which...ain't here, hehe." The chuckle pulls from his throat but it's warm and inviting as always as he shifts his paws and then stands up. The place where twolegs take their kits to play, all that tree bark on the ground. He's been there before and he is sure others have been there too. "No debts necessary. I wouldn't mind helpin' ya for sure. I've never heard of this Skyclan stuff before but it sounds like all of you are nice enough folk for me." Maybe not for Watson but he is sure that will change a bit over time. Glancing up at his companion he gives him a small smile before looking back to the tom who's name is Blazestar.

Such strange names they all have. And he calls Twin, Quillpaw. Hmm. Squallmist, Basilpaw, and Quillpaw. Odd. But then again he doesn't know everything and doesn't try to think that he does. This here is another adventure for him in truth and one he doesn't mind leaping headlong into. Afterall, it doesn't seem that dangerous and he waves his thick tail in greeting to the bunch of strange cats. "I'll get you fellas to your friends and get ya home. Name's Skittles and that grumpy puss up there is Watson."


It goes from him and Blazestar standing in an alley together, to him and Blazestar plus ten other cats standing in an alley together, and Quillpaw mentally cursed himself when he recognized Skittles among the others. He didn't expect the other would rat him out to his parents, but it still put him on edge to know that at least one cat from twoleg place knew where to find him now. On the bright side, Skittles had never caused problems for him before, and with their clanmates missing and some vision to follow, there were definitely worse cats they could have come across.

He didn't recognize the others well enough to speak to them, letting Blazestar handle that bit, but he did offer a reply to the stray tom he did recognize. "Nope. Got tired of dealing with the old man so I bailed. I go by Quillpaw now." he explained, his tone no less blunt and dull as it always had been. Quiet, disinterested, quick to fight- these were the traits that had best defined him as a stray, and they hadn't changed in the short time he'd been a part of Skyclan.

"Thanks for the help." he added as the other offered to lead them to where they needed to go. Quillpaw had a good idea of what tree the other was referring to, but he was still glad to not have to be the one to lead them there.

skyclan - male - 6 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - very tall tabby tomcat with broad shoulders

It's just the four of them. Just the four of them and a plethora of others - of kittypets and loners, all who inhabit the twolegplace.

Squallmist worries for the other half of their patrol - for Dawnglare and Twitchpaw and Butterflypaw and Harpyfall, who all should be there, but instead are replaced by a Skittles and a Watson, amongst others. He hopes they're safe, that dogs and monsters haven't gone near them.

But these cats, they seem to know where the prophetic tree is, to some extent. Which, perhaps is good, though Squallmist isn't too keen on trusting them right away. Though, what else were they going to do? Continue to wander? Continue to run into danger?

They didn't have the time for that. They have to get home. Squallmist has to go back to his siblings, and the apprentices need to continue their training, and Blazestar...

Blazestar needs to lead SkyClan.

So, trust the twolegplace cats, he will, for whatever time they spend together on their journey to the tree.
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