Oct 5, 2022

Winter was intrigued. The backdrop before him was grand, slabs of terre-verte-tipped pines painted in thick rows. Their dry-brushed depth continued far along the horizon line, eliciting a breathless continuity. For a good, long, beat the dove tom imagined himself from the eye of the gull above him. A striking figure, resplendent even, atop the towering plank of a wind-worn fencepost. Dim light kindled the silver in the cat's pelt, a metal swill that impressed an air of nobility. Supple shoulders held his chin aloft, a tempered fragment of a stalwart frame. Eyes of phthalo and olivine... keen claws hooded beneath soot paws...

A self-satisfied smirk drifted comfortably onto his maw, so taken by his own vision. Drinking in a stiff breath, Winter dropped from the post with poise. The aspen treeline drew near, pointed stride impelling him forth. These wildcats were about to be struck by a new force, the perfect candidates for his most exclusive of performances. Now, he had done his research, of course! To be unprepared for a role- desperately unprofessional. The dolts in the gardens next to him had been loose-tongued, delivering the required information at a featureless pace.

Territory lines, warring factions- the hunting of live prey! A tantalising tale, engaging, dramatic. He just had to investigate. Muse had been dry as of late, and this... damp forest... promised a revitalisation. A wisp of wind tousled the canopy, beckoning- heralding his arrival.

"I, Winter, have come to your aid." Baritone, the announcement rang between the moss-stippled trunks. "Accept my generosity and I will work alongside your ranks." There was not an inkling of trepidation, nor uncertainty. Anything he did not yet know, he would learn on the job. Improvise. The first to approach the gesticulating stranger was met with a quirked look of askance, an eye of frost falling upon them. A laden paw would rise labouriously, rolling across his chest in a shallow bow.

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The voice has him draw to a full stop, deer in headlights. A paw hangs questioning in the air, paused mid-step. His ears perk to full attention, swiveling atop an otherwise-still form, watching, processing. Unfamiliar, not so much in the way that he couldn't care to remember, but truly strange and new, a breeze never before felt.

He rightens himself, turns slow in the direction of that voice. A full turnaround, and there was the source. Odd-colored complexion, his stance wide, positioned perfectly between the trees. Nature—usually strewn about without a care spared to those who traversed it—seemed to line up perfectly just in this moment, framing his entrance like a finely draped silk, the backdrop of the forest is for once made tolerable, almost intentional arching around him. Dawnglare blinks.

An icy gaze narrows upon his form, and for a moment, he considers if there was someone else he was speaking to. The assumptions spilling loose from his jaws has annoyance curling in his own gut. Of course, there were none here besides Skyclan. Dawn-and-white curls frame his face with the curious tilt of his head. His tail sways in an unhearable rhythm. "Aid?" he parrots. It's sweeter than he expects, but laced with the hint of a warning. "I don't— see what you could me-an ♪"

He lowers his chin, levels him with a wide-eyed stare. Whatever it spelled, well, he wasn't sure of the intention himself. "Maybe— could I help you with anything?" he purrs out. A misguided soul, surely, jumbling his words, muttering mistakes... Too busy, preoccupied with... with...

Dawnglare was tirelessly confusing. He knew such a conclusion was alarmingly selfish, but it was difficult sometimes to believe that the white-painted tom was not simply prodding to get a rise out of Twitchpaw, knowing his actions caused nothing but bafflement and irritation. The tousled tom had not much time to be irritated- distraction drifted deft into his gaze, a silken smile set upon silver-snow features, splattered with tar-splotch; a stranger. Eyes usually set wide as sun's glare slit in suspicion, the amber fleck in his left only a sliver of an ember. What did this person want with them? And why- why was Dawnglare so pleasant toward him, offering aid?

"Do you know him?" A hissed whisper, he set his gaze upon the medicine cat, completely side-on as if such positioning would prevent the stranger from hearing him. Winter, he said his name was- he was mighty comfortable, wasn't he? Surely that must mean he had some familiar with the Skyclanners- yet, he had never seen him before. Perhaps he was a sneaky type, who'd been watching them from afar, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Bristles raised bramble-sharp. He was ready.
penned by pin ✧

wait around, i'll smile again

It took a while to get going but he manages to begin a trot around the camp to just become more familiar with his surroundings. Watson initially intends to avoid others but when one of them appears before him with a loud declaration, he has little choice but to pay them heed. "Er... You've a flair for the dramatic, Winter," Watson rumbles in a neutral tone despite an inkling of irritation, cocking an unseen brow and lifting a paw to divot around this stranger. And what's with this one? Head over heels, wooing love at first sight, or is he just that bad at detecting sarcasm? Then the next one, the exact opposite, wracked in the pains of what Watson can only guess is anger. Considering the hiss. Whatever is going on, the autumnal tom shuffles to the side because unminding the result, he wants no part of it. "Welcome to Skyclan. I suppose." Oops. Was that accepting the generosity? He's not quite sure he has the authority to do such a thing. He was only trying to be polite.

Predictably, his proclamation was met with a response. A fanciful tom, plush fur burnished with burgundy, stood with him amongst the boles. The wildcat held himself with a manner of respect- an act Winter readily recognised. However, the silk-speaker countered him with their own offer of aid. His nose lilted high, the ashen chevron atop his snout a marker of indignation.

So this, stranger, would like to petition himself as the hero. Denying his offer, to compete with his own. Winter considered this deeply, dissimilar frost-fern eyes narrowed speculatively. "Perhaps..."

The unspoken bargaining, a clash of minds, was halted at the scratched words of a much smaller cat. Sullenly striped, as though pigment had been wicked from the youth's pelt in rows, the new arrival drew his attention. Disorderly. Taking hold of the cat's immediate distrust, Winter wove forward in a smooth scrawl- a silver spill across no-mans land. Centre stage, snowy tail a wreathed wake, as he came to pause between the two.

Answering one, he looked upon the other. "No, he doesn't. But... we could change that~" An ingratiating glimmer was sent fluttering betwixt their shared gaze. Ah, meeting so many cats spun threads, opened doors. Possibilities that he hadn't yet contemplated. Beat unmissed, Winter span on his heel to greet the next onlooker. "Oh, do I? I hadn't noticed." A flair for the dramatic- a clumsy compliment but accepted nonetheless.

"Sky-clan" The title was rolled around the woodwind of his voice. A simple name. Servicable. He could be a part of the 'Skyclan' band. "A place of sense, should you invite me in." It was undoubtedly a done deal, confidence signed in the simper of his moustached muzzle.

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𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌, 𝐼 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒

"What a groovy way of talking you have, brotha'." An airy coo of a dove would be the voice of the cream and mocha molly. Eyes of half-lidded turquoise would glitter with curiosity as she stepped into view, her head tilted in its usual whimsical manner.

Deersong's gaze would move over the new face, her smile lazy and yet thoughtful as she moved to stand beside Watson, "Bold cat aren't you, Casanova?" She would purr in a tone that was as kind as it was stern, "Walking right into a territory that isn't yours yet." She would look to Dawnglare and Twitchpaw, ensuring silently that they were alright with this stranger being so close to them before she slowly blinked at Winter, her head now flopping to tilt the other direction, "Hmmm life in the wild is tougher than it looks, but if you're willing to work hard, be loyal to Skyclan, and aren't afraid to get your paws dirty then I don't see why you couldn't join us."

Her ear would flick as she made a mental note to report this to Blazestar and Daisyflight upon their return, but this tom seemed nice enough, even with his flair for the dramatic.

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