EVENT HORIZON — duskclan meeting

[GRANITEPELT]

"DuskClan!" A scarred gray tom crests a golden knoll that overlooks the rest of the flatlands. "Gather for a Clan meeting!" His yowl splits the air like his claws have rent flesh, have spilled blood. There's a solemnity to his expression as he paces, then curls his tail around slate-colored feet.

"There is an apprentice amidst us ready for her warrior name." He shifts glowering emerald eyes about the crowd, resting on a petite snow-blind face nestled in ebony fur. Enormous navy eyes, indigo as a starless night, cling to his pelt and burn, burn. She has been uncanny since her birth, and like her namesake, she has haunted her kin's every pawstep.

"I killed Nettlepaw," she'd murmured with all the sweetness of an innocent daughter. Granitepelt had not rebuked her; nor had he taken much time to mourn the life of a son who'd forsaken him. Would it have been different, he thinks, if Nettlepaw had left ShadowClan, too? Wouldn't he and Ghostpaw both become warriors under this moonless sky?

"Ghostpaw, step forward." Beautiful, like her mother, but there is something lacking in her, some emptiness he cannot explain. Starlingheart had been full of warmth, of love for him, for her children, her Clan, but everything Ghostpaw emits is artificial, bitter as berries. When he gazes upon her now, he cannot shake the chill that clings to his coat like leafbare frost. "Do you promise to defend your DuskClan Clanmates with your life? Do you promise to take back what is ours? Do you swear your fealty to me?"

Even now, he doubts it, but he declares, after her silken vow: "Then you are Ghostpaw no more. I call you Ghostmask, for your..." His tonge slips. He blinks, long and slow, and says, "...your cunning and the past you've escaped." Have you? Why don't I trust you even now? "Ghostmask, we welcome you as a warrior of DuskClan."

He waits for the cries of Ghostmask! to settle before he turns his attention to DuskClan at large once more. "Rumblerain and Privetpaw have returned from Twolegplace. We are as strong as we'll ever be now, while WindClan is as weak as it will ever be." He steps forward, crunching grass under one slate-gray paw. "The fire has destroyed their territory. We can take it back. And then, we can rebuild it. In three days, DuskClan will meet WindClan in battle!" His teeth flash, but no one could call it a smile.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @GHOSTPAW.
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — "duskclan" leader. flint x sandra, gen 2.
  — formerly mated to Starlingheart, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh blue and white tom with dark green eyes. arrogant, stealthy, sneaky, observant, perceptive, cunning, spiteful, envious.
  
  

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[GHOSTMASK]

Even out in these barren wastes, Ghostpaw has paid careful attentions to her appearance—the pelt draped over a thin frame is sleek and well-groomed, curling feathery around her joints, twirling medieval at the tip of a tufted tail, and, of course, spiking into a mane of thorns low at the base of her neck. Briarstar's last gasp, as it were, manifests itself in the one part of her fur she can't seem to force into submission; no amount of grooming stops the sharp, quill - like spines of raven fur from curling angrily outwards at the bottom of her throat.

Nor can her efforts disguise the dead - blackness of her eyes, dark navy, their wide white - lashed size only emphasized by the pounds ground off her frame by the hard landscape. Though her gaze is fixed on Granitepelt, it's like the huge dark eyes stare past the gray tom, through him, into some vast mirror - like emptiness. The steps she takes forward are as small and delicate as rabbit - tracks in the snow, but standing there, her brother's revenge carved up her cheek, she knows no such innocence.

" I do, " she answers, loud enough to be audible but somehow soft in her tones, an evasive sense of falsehood slithering serpentine beneath deliberate sweetness. She ducks her head graciously under her new mantle, the cries of her few Clanmates flowing silken over her back as she retreats back into the masses.

Ghostmask, for your . . . cunning, and the past you've escaped. Escaped, indeed. She sleeps easily at night except for the gnawing in her belly; Nettlepaw and his split throat do not walk her dreams ( she had feared, in the end, not him but to be haunted by her own loss of control ). Perhaps this is not where she had wished to be, but it is where she has ended up.

Ghostmask's snowy face is expressionless as a foxed mirror when Granitepelt delivers his news, but underneath, an imagined lip curls. Battle. It does not really suit her; she had carefully evaded more than one—anyone who found shame in slinking away slyly was a fool, if you asked her, and one soon to be dead—and what she had with Nettlepaw was hardly a battle.

Though if it was, she supposes she had won it.

" speech "

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[GRANITEPELT]

Ghostmask stands before him, named, anointed, and Granitepelt dips his head to his strange daughter before moving onto his next task. "We also have a kit who is ready for warrior training. Gravelkit, step forward," he mews, green eyes pointedly flicking from the long-furred child's paws to their tufted ears. One of Ebonylight's mysterious children, ill-begotten, ill-fated, but they were a part of this Clan all the same. He is contemplative for a moment, and then he speaks, addressing DuskClan at large.

"Gravelkit, from this day forward, you will be known as Gravelpaw. Your mentor will be..." His dark gaze sweeps the crowd, settles on a broad golden figure. A smile curves about his lips. "Thriftfeather, you are ready for your first apprentice. You will be a fine mentor to Gravelpaw." After a heartbeat, waiting for the two unlikely cats to touch noses, he muses, "You have little time to prepare them for their first battle, so I suggest you start now."

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @GRAVELKIT @Thriftfeather
• 
• Granitekit . Granitepaw . Granitepelt, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 23 moons old, ages realistically on the 10th.
  — mentored by Pitchstar and Dogfur ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored Applepaw
  — "duskclan" leader. flint x sandra, gen 2.
  — formerly mated to Starlingheart, currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh blue and white tom with dark green eyes. arrogant, stealthy, sneaky, observant, perceptive, cunning, spiteful, envious.
  
  

​

 

[Ebonylight.]

*+:｡.｡ When Ebonylight was young, calloused paws still unfamiliar to the sharp terrain of grass shoots and spiky weeds, he'd looked on in wonder at his first clan meeting. The last time Ebonypaw had seen so many cats gathered like this, the leader of the rogue group in two-leg place had been slain. This time, cats gathered to listen in awe to all that this woman, Sootstar, had to say. To see so many cats joined at the hips, ears perked with mutual reverie and interest, had sparked something in Ebonylight. It had made her doubtless of Sootstar's ability to control.

Now, she sat back, grin conflicted as Granitepelt took to the stage yet again. He was her leader now, and yet, she could never quite be satisfied seeing him up there. As though the tom were a placeholder until their great queen could return. A mouthpiece just until Sootstar rose from the grave. Still, for all her doubts, Ebonylight's serpent eyes would flick from cat to cat gathered around her, noting those straining ears and locked eyes. A leader was a leader, especially when they succeeded in controlling the masses.

Ebonylight didn't have an opinion on Ghostpaw - now Ghostmask, so they shouted her name as passionately as one would cry seagull! When spotting the rare bird in the sky, interest is fleeting. But he did perk up when Granitepelt mentioned Windclan's crumbling state. In three days didn't feel like nearly enough time! The feline would claw at the grass, a hungry smile growing wider upon their maw until porcelain fangs shined through. This time, with all those around her dead, Nightgalecry would have to join them in Duskclan!

Oh how he longed to see his kits for more than a dying day!

Gravelkit's name calls Ebonylight's attention. Oh, right.
"Look at you, my sweet pebble, all grown up" Ebonylight would purr, recalling suddenly @GRAVELPAW at his side. He aimed to swipe at her ears with his tongue, brushing down her fur to a shine. "Make me proud" he says, before lightly shoving her forward at Granitepelt's call. Ebonylight hadn't quite earned the pat on the back from Granitepelt that he'd been hoping for when he'd "adopted" Gravelkit, but he supposed his time will come once she proves her worth.

Although, Ebonylight's eye would twitch when he heard who'd be training their sweet child.
Thriftfeather.
The meek boy who never stopped trembling, always giving Ebonylight the most satisfying, yet curiously unneared fearful looks. Ebby shuffled in his seat, teeth pressed together as he kept his smile broad for the pictures, although their laughing eyes would narrow ever so slightly with irritation. Still, as long as the golden tabby kept his flighty nature out of Gravelpaw's training, she supposes she can't complain.

"GRAVELPAW! GRAVELPAW!" he shouts, something almost akin to pride dancing in his voice as he shouts his gift to Duskclan's name.

*+:｡.｡ Updated 4/13/24

• 
  
• 
  
  
  
  GENERAL:
  ‡ Ebonylight
  ‡ DFAB— He/They/She — Pansexual
  ‡ 18 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
  ‡ Duskclan (Rogue)
  ‡ Mates with Nightingalecry, father to Frightkit, Deathkit and Witherkit
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ‡ Physically hard | mentally hard
  ‡ Attack in bold black
  
  injuries: None currently
  

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