pafp EARLY IN THE MORNING — being questioned

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — The mass of charcoal fur had taken refuge from the mighty winds at the base of a bramble bush flanking camp. It didn't completely block the gusts but it was as good as it was gonna get. The impending storm, or whatever sort of weather this was, simply wasn't letting up and didn't seem like it would anytime soon. Slate may have been better off housed inside the warriors den but it became far too cramped to spend any unnecessary time in there, especially considering his bulky size.

A gust ruffled against the lead warrior's fur and he squinted as a leaf danced on the wind over his nose. He turned toward a small form that was nearby, seeming to stare directly at him — one of Orangeblossom's spawns. Slate had made sure to keep a respectable distance from the deputy as she focused on raising her family, but it seemed now that the kits couldn't keep themselves inside the nursery. It was strange to see miniatures of her and Ashenclaw toddling around, especially considering his "history" with Ora, but Slate would live. After his incarceration at the shelter, he realized that his lingering, mixed feelings for the deputy should be the least of his worries. "Need somethin'?" The scarred former rogue grunts toward the kitten.

// @Cherrykit ​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Somehow, Cherrykit has made it over to where the lead warrior sits. Surrounded by the high, soil-jammed walls of the camp hollow and clasped in the wooden arms of the pines littered on the edges, Cherrykit hasn't had to face the brunt of the winds like those who had the privilege to venture outside. Yesterday's winds were strong enough to send her brother tumbling off his paws, but they're subdued today, perhaps to embolden Cherrykit into wandering into the vicinity of Slate.

The kitten sits a couple of whisker-lengths away, looking positively pathetic in Slate's behemoth shadow, pale as it is with no sun. When he turns his gaze down towards her, she suddenly recalls the sensation of clambering upon a sun-scorched rock and leaping off at the jab of heat. He wants to know if she needs anything. Cherrykit thinks for a moment, because she hasn't needed anything for awhile (the past hour). Her belly is full, she's tired of playing with the other kits, and she doesn't feel bothered by her parents' current absence. So she just responds with the first thought that pops into her head: "You're big." And then: "Are you a kittypet?"
​

 

[eveningsun]

passing by, but with an ear angled into the direction of slate and cherrykit, eve listens to their impending conversation. the gruff voice of the large warrior does little to warn her away, but it seemed like there wasn't much happening here. that was enough to do it. her steps quicken, and then halt. roughly. turning her head in the direction of the two, there's a highly amused glint in her pale gaze. a humored smile begins to creep onto her maw. cherrykit obviously did not know slate well yet, it felt like just yesterday she was born. but the warrior was blatant in his dislike for kittypets. being called one? a snow-capped paw moved to cover her giggle. eve wouldn't intervene, too interested in his response to do so, but remained close enough to hear the rest of the conversation.​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Twitchbolt, lingering above a meal and thus nearby the conversation, somewhat resented how easy it was to eavesdrop... and how much he found to enjoy it, sometimes. Some moral part of him screeched about how it was unkind to know business that wasn't told to you, and yet- yet, it was interesting! Despite how- how juvenile he felt for enjoying it, he did not plug his ears or stuff his head into a clump of moss in order to avoid any ribbon of gossip that managed to snake its way toward him.

And this- this was hardly gossip, but- but, it still felt like something he should not be listening to. Cherrykit, wandering up to Slate and asking him a question that half the cats in the Clan would know was likely to strike a sore spot. Prod at a bruise, and... Twitchbolt could not hide the visible wince that distorted his face when he overheard the question. His ears pinned against his head, and his eyes ached as they pushed into his periphery, searching for Slate's reaction from a distance.

He was... kinder than to punt a child beyond the known atmosphere, at least. Probably.​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

"Hah!" He covered his mouth with an alabaster paw, a wide smirk peeking out from behind it. Silversmoke hadn't intended to eavesdrop, he had been a mere passerby, hoping that somehow braving the winds outside the camp would make him into a sturdier cat. The gale buffeted the sea of silver fur across his body as he did his best to watch Cherrykit and Slate through the scourging of his eyes. He didn't blame Cherrykit for believing such things. The poor tom had been locked up inside the Twolegplace for a moon and with his promotion alongside an actual kittypet, it was easy to understand why a child would be confused. Rooting his paws to the earth, there was a prideful glint in the tom's eye as he looked towards Slate, hooked on the potential for the maine coon to reply in a less-than-stellar way. Tolerence was beginning to show for the rusted tom, if not their sake then for the sake of a friend who'd loathe to see them fight, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the hurdles that clan life wanted to put in his way.

​

 

[BRAMBLEHEART]

જ➶ Having decided to finally do something with his time instead of lingering around and watching from the sidelines the young male is making his way back into camp with a small tiny insignificant finch in his jaws. His pelt is a bit mangled from the catch and quite frankly he feels pathetic. But he just swallows down his own misgivings ans drops the prey onto the pile. Then he hears the question from the small kit and his head turns to see whom she is asking. Slate. He has seen him around, seen him at the shelter but he knows he is no kittypet. The hot pink collared tom frowns slightly but not at the kitten's question but at the way that that Silversmoke suddenly laughs. His own ears pull back and he looks down at his paws before glancing back up at the whole situation. "I think Slate would make a good kittypet if he was. Nothing wrong with being mistaken for one."

He is more so speaking towards Silversmoke than the others. He doesn't think it's funny but then maybe he is being utterly too sensitive about the whole ordeal. It makes sense honestly. His stay here has been rather chaotic at best.​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — It's not the first comment that catches Slate off guard — he knows that he's large. He never really realized how he physically stacked up against other cats until he came to live in a clan. A lot of SkyClanners had some heft on them due to their kittypet heritages (or simply due to chowing down on kibble) while cats like WindClanners, for example, tended to be much smaller in stature.

However, it is the next inquiry that leaves Cherrykit's maw that causes him to feel physically repulsed. His eyes widened, his torn ear shot up, and his brows arched high. "What does being big have to do with being a kittypet?" Slate snorted. He had full-blooded kittypet heritage, but he wasn't a kittypet. That was a big difference in his eyes.

Hushed (and not-so-hushed) snickers arose around Slate. A narrowed glare darted up toward onlookers like Morningpaw and Silversmoke, though only annoyance filled his gaze. For once, he wasn't intent on launching himself at the other lead warrior, though a look that communicated "Watch it, pal" sufficed for now.

Perhaps Brambleheart hadn't any bad intentions with his input, only wishing to ease any tensions as opposed to worsening them, but unfortunately Slate only saw the tom's words as an added insult to injury. Through gritted teeth, the lead warrior growled toward Brambleheart with a wildfire-like ferocity crackling in his amber hues, "I would never be a kittypet." His prejudice toward house pets had not fully ceased, even if the daylight warriors had freed him from the shelter. His distaste toward that lifestyle was deep-rooted, perhaps far more than one would initially assume.

He turned back toward Cherrykit, his tensed features seeming to ease a tad. "I'm-" Slate began, though hesitance gripped his tongue for a second and caused him to instinctively glance around him to see if everyone was still looking. "A SkyClanner. Like you." It still felt odd to claim allegiance to a clan, even now with his new position. Even if he was now Silversmoke's equal, a standout member who apparently demonstrated loyalty and dedication, he still felt like a black sheep amongst the flock. He wasn't sure if he'd ever not feel that way, either.​

 

[BRAMBLEHEART]

જ➶ Truthfully he is not sure what he had expected. Some camaraderie, a friendship and acceptance. Hmm. But this isn't it. Not the way his eyes look at him or the way he suddenly snaps at him. His own muzzle snaps shut and he is almost taken aback by how sharp and almost angry it is. Perhaps Skyclan is not as quick to like kittypets as they attempt to make it out to be on the surface. If this is anything to go by. His ears pull back slightly and he can't seem to look at Slate. Unsure of his place in this conversation now. "Oh..." He suddenly chokes out as he forces his legs to move. It's like his collar feels tighter around his neck and he turns to leave the scene. No point in him being here really, it's all said and done and he will try to keep his distance from the dark hued tom from now on.​

 

[Orangestar]

Much like Eveningpaw does Orangeblossom swallows a laugh at the question, half listening before the words click in her mind and her head jerks up. Twitchbolt's wince out of the corner of her eye (or that might just be a normal twitch from the jittery warrior) confirms her suspicions; she had heard Cherrykit correctly. Realising that she had not warned her kits about Slate's distaste for their housefolk-aided Clanmates. He's hardly as prejudiced as Silversmoke, who barks a laugh and earns a glare from the co-lead for his efforts, but it would take a lot for either of them to shake that dislike. Not for the first time, Orangeblossom is glad she does not share that hatred. The deputy hobbles over at a quick pace as Brambleheart departs, shooting him a quick glance, but moves to Cherrykit's side for damage control. She would not be made a mockery of by her daughter not knowing things.

"Not all kittypets are big, Cherrykit." She meows to the little calico, dipping her head to smooth a tuft of fur sticking up on her head. She shoots Slate a glance, apology in the twitch of her nose. "And the term is daylight warrior. Kittypets don't visit SkyClan without special permission."

— info

•  
• 
  orangeblossom. tags.
  — she/her, skyclan deputy.
  — mentor to eveningpaw.
  — attack in #e08550. uses trees as an integral part of her fighting style.
  — mean enough to note that her thoughts don't reflect my opinions as a writer haha.
  — penned by mercibun; @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots. :]
  — art by merc!<3
  

​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Far and above, the expression on the tomcat's face turns ugly, like damp storm clouds gnarling and churning on a sunny horizon. She doesn't balk at it though, merely continues to stare at the curiosity that is a face so warped. No one has ever made this expression towards her, at least not to her face. It's negative but not sadness, a little more like rage but not quite that nor there yet. She doesn't know how to react to it. "You eat a lot to be big." Cherrykit leaves her next though unspoken with how obvious it seems: kittypets eat a lot too. So, you must be a kittypet. Nevermind his woolly fur, more windswept and rougher than a kittypet's could ever hope to be; and those glaring orange eyes of his, like a wolf in the dark.

Brambleheart makes an offhand comment, something about reassuring everyone (but mostly Slate) of how being a kittypet isn't the worst thing in the world, but then the dark warrior jerks around like it very much is. Cherrykit flattens her ears, but only for a moment before they spring right back up. The spotted tom slinks away upon legs that don't seem like they want to hold him up, as though he were born with bird legs instead of cat legs, but it's while he does so that Cherrykit notices the other faces which have turned to look at them. A graceful paw hides Eveningpaw's smile, while Twitchbolt's eyes bulge towards Slate and Cherrykit. She'd missed Silversmoke's little outburst, but the lead warrior makes his opinion clear nevertheless. Why is everyone looking? she wonders.

Slate makes himself known to her again, this time trying to bit nicer and still failing. "Oh." She tilts her head, and one can see the little brain slipping and sliding as she ponders the validity of this statement. He's a Lead Warrior, isn't he? Orangeblossom and Ashenclaw had made sure that their kittens were aware of the hierarchy as soon as they were old enough to see SkyClan beyond the nursery. "Hmm," she agrees, nodding.

Mismatched ears perk up at the sight of Orangeblossom scurrying towards her, and she chirps, "Hi, Mama." She's just about to inform her of Slate not being a kittypet when, thankfully, her mother answers her question for her. She even provides a new tidbit of information for the child's mind to gnaw on. "Okay," she purrs, leaning upwards against the tongue pressed between her ears. "Daylight. Warrior." To her, there isn't actually a difference between daylight warriors and kittypets, especially with how little she knows about kittypets in the first place. All she knows is that they live with twolegs (which by themselves are a confusing concept) and look nice because they're taken care of all the time. So what made daylight warriors different? A question for another time, she supposes.

It seems like everything is going to be alright for a moment. Then Cherrykit scrutinizes Slate again and meows, "Are you a daylight warrior?"
​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Brambleheart turns to leave, which earns a huff of air through his nostrils. The former rogue resists the urge to roll his eyes; the delicate feelings of other cats really aren't his issue. Former kittypets weren't much of an issue in Slate's eyes, but whatever he's said seems to have struck a nerve with the collar-wearing tom. Whatever, he couldn't please everybody (and didn't intend to).

The deputy finally comes around in an attempt to wrangle her inquisitive daughter, shooting him a glance as she silently apologized for Cherrykit's curiosity. Brown hues meet amber, which causes Slate to straighten up and shift his paws. He purses his lips and gives a slight tilt of his head, a returned silent acknowledgment. It's still so utterly bizarre to the lead warrior that Orangeblossom had a family now, with each kit of hers resembling her or a mixture between her and Ashenclaw. He prevents himself from thinking about her too much, as he knows it's no use and wouldn't do him any good. Ora was his friend, his superior at that, and nothing more.

Perhaps it's a good thing that Cherrykit butts in to distract him, but he still finds her inquisitiveness irritating to say the least. In truth, Slate could thank his "special" kittypet genes for his hulking size. His parents had always told him and Cloverjaw that cats like them were sought after by twolegs; prized and favored for their good looks. Slate was glad that he found a chance to slip through his master's clutches when he could; otherwise, he'd be donning a collar and smelling sweet like artificial berries. "No. Just a warrior." Slate grunts in response. Hopefully Cherrykit would get the message through her little skull and leave him alone.​