pafp GOD HE SEES IN MIRRORS ↷ [nefarious manipulation]

[smogstar]

Gnawing at him always is this insatiable hunger to dictate, to conquer, to bend others at their ankles to his whims and emerge victorious. A perennial instinct that which has no basis in the present, but it drives him nonetheless. It is a force surpassing his grasp and well beyond his capacity to rein in, even should it mean placing harm upon his own kin. There is nothing, nothing whatsoever, the shadow-striped deputy wouldn't do to ensure he is the last tom standing.

And so, he prowls the camp, paws kicking up dust clouds as he goes, scorched earth underfoot from the sweltering heat of his own ambition. He burns to control the weak, wield the meek, and crush the disobedient beneath his mighty claws. Eyes like molten stone are ablaze with delirious megalomania, his jaws nearly dripping with froth. He searches the camp with a wildfire intensity, looking for one cat in particular. Ferndance.

He finds her, and he finds her quickly, and even quicker does he shift his trajectory so he's brought face-to-face with the brown-ticked she-cat. He stares at her, gaze smouldering her verdant eyes. He looks at her for an uncomfortably long while, wordless until she blinks. At this, he scoffs. Fool. "You lose," he says to her, callously. The game, it would seem to poor Ferndance, was rigged from the start.

// @FERNDANCE ​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Few could say that they were approached by a creature so rabid with power that they wanted to make an example of you, but for Ferndance, it seemed to be a regular half-moon. Confusion avoided the tabby as ShadowClan's deputy charged towards her, standing perfectly still so the other could say what he wanted to say. Fiery eyes settled upon her own and Ferndance stared back, eyes wide in expectance. When it became clear that words weren't going to come from Smogmaw, her tail began to lash on instinct, back arched in their staring contest as if prepared to thwack the other at any moment. This was a game she knew all too well, Smogmaw hadn't seemed the type to play, but she would indulge him. In complete silence, Ferndance gawked back at the other. She did not give up until her eyes began to water and the stinging of fresh tears forced them to regain lost moisture. The deputy's reaction caused her ears to twitch as her spine settled back on an even plain, competitiveness striking her like a lash.

"I think I win," she mewed quietly, tone carrying some sincerity. Though the corners of her maw threatened to twitch upwards in amusement, she kept them down with thoughts of revenge. "I'm the one who got to stare at a pair of beautiful eyes for so long." Perhaps that would serve him right for letting her enter this contest unprepared.
​

 

[Gigglepaw]

Through a series of small misadventures, Gigglekit had found an idol to look up to in Smogmaw, and if he cared enough, he might have felt little, blinking eyes staring at him throughout the day. But right now mom was talking to him, and playing a game! and that meant that Gigglekit was able to go right up to Smogmaw and talk to him.

"I wanna play!" Gigglekit burst, hopping on unsteady legs until she lost her balance and slouched over onto Ferndance's paw. "D'we gotta have pretty eyes?" She asked, suddenly contemplative. Did she have pretty enough eyes? She knew her mothers both did, and Ferndance said that Smogmaw had pretty eyes, and her brothers had the same kind of eyes that were blue, so maybe Gigglekit had eyes like her brothers! In which case she had sort-of pretty eyes, she decided, since she had to share them with Morelkit and Branchkit.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !
  

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• GIGGLEKIT ✩ kit of shadowclan, one moon
  → blinks incessantly.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

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[smogstar]

Praise. Ferndance flips the script on its ugly head with praise, and Smogmaw, the stick-in-the-mud that he is, recoils as though the gesture has slapped him across the muzzle. "Don't flatter me, or I might start thinking you're serious," rebounds the tom, fluster finding a cozy corner in his cheeks despite his sharp tongue.

"You've turned this into a game of wits, and I know a game of wits when I see one. Your honeyed words don't have me fooled for a second." And yet, even so, it seemed he couldn't resist a snort at the comment about his eyes, gaze flicking aside. What an absurd notion that was. They were hardly anything to gawk over. They were as orange as the blistering sun and twice as irritable to look upon. "They are not beautiful."

His sidelong attention is stolen away when wee Gigglekit comes dawdling into his periphery. Youthful naivety spares her not a sliver of tact, the cream kit boldly butting into a confrontation not meant for her. Embarrassment heightens as she reinforces her mother's turn in discussion, jaw set hard. He flounders. "No- no that's not what this is about. Matter'a fact, Ferndance blinked 'cause she couldn't bear to look at my eyes any longer. Simple as."

What a profound violation of one's own character. This outpouring of self-deprecation is a shock. It spilled out instinctively. And Smogmaw finds that the swampy floor has suddenly opened up underneath his feet, sending him stumbling about, unable to find a firm foothold. And he doesn't stop. No matter how many times he is caught and released by the current of their words, he cannot pull his head above water, and his words only serve to keep him down there, drowning.

"Your eyes are beautiful, not mine," he snarls the moment his regard latches onto the warrior's again. "End of story." ​

 

[MIREPURR]

-

Mirepurr stares in bewilderment - very much a fitting action considering what unfolds before them. Under normal circumstances, they'd deem it too impolite to stare at something they aren't invited to, but how normal is it to find your deputy stalk across camp like he's looking for prey, and then fastening his claws into another Clanmate?

Although... with Smogmaw in mind, that's probably nothing too crazy.

Ferndance blinks, and the moment is broken. The bits of amusement and even sheepishness between the two of them aren't lost in Mirepurr, but they know better than to voice that. Smogmaw would coil around them next thing if they do so.

"Oh, come on, take the compliment," they say instead, unable to keep the humor off their face. "You're still the winner."

In case their comment isn't received as well as they hope- well, Mirepurr needs a plan. An opportunity to shield themself from an onslaught. Gigglekit arrives in just the right moment, and asks a question that they can't possibly leave unanswered. "Well, let's see. Show me those eyes!"

˗ˏˋ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ / ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴ ´ˎ˗ ᓚᘏᗢ 03.18.24

• 
• ✦ OOC -

• MIREPURR ⸝⸝-- SHADOWCLAN -- THEY/THEM -- 22 MOONS

  ✦ Fluffy lilac tortoiseshell with light blue eyes.
  ✦ Penned by ˏ 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙣 ´​
•  

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[Briarthorn]

BRIARPAW — hello, my old heart.

Her deputy was an enigma, erratic and confusing. Yet, Briarpaw was no stranger to his inexplicable antics, and so when the tabby tom all but charges towards Ferndance only to stop and stare at her for an uncomfortable amount of time, Briarpaw continues on with her dull tasks of helping to clean out the nursery without a second thought.
You lose. The smoky hued deputy finally scoffs, and the apprentices attention shifts back to the duo once more.
There’s a twitch in the apprentices tail when Ferndance begins her… flirting? Is this what that was?
If so, it was incredibly strange, and even more uncomfortable to witness. Gigglekit’s presence offers minimal relief, only distracting the wreckage of this interaction for a split moment before Smogmaw counters, claiming his eyes weren’t beautiful, Ferndance’s was.
Mirepurrs chipper input cannot wipe the squint of judgement from Briarpaw’s gaze. If it was her in Smogmaw’s pawsteps, she’d have half a mind to swipe at Ferndance’s ears for trying to take away what would rightfully be her win. Against the raven apprentices better judgment, the sigh that she had been suppressing finally escapes in an airy breath.
”…ew."

"speech"
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♕ —

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[Frostbite]

Frostbite doesn't know what he's watching but finds it entertaining regardless. Are they arguing over whose eyes are prettier? Well personally, he doesn't want to be vain, but Frostbite thinks his eyes are prettiest. He won't spoil it for anyone else though, they're allowed to have pretty eyes too. Smogmaw for instance has brilliant orange eyes that Frostbite finds appealing, and Ferndance's eyes remind him of the moss and greenery of the marsh. Both were pretty in their own ways. He's got to wonder what brought this about, though. Was something in the air? The water?

But its still so weird to watch these two.....Flirt? He wasn't expecting this kind of interaction at all, honestly. So he just smirks. "I think you both have pretty eyes."

But then Gigglekit comes to join them, and he immediately decides the winner for prettiest eyes is right here. He smiles at her and lowers himself to her level. "But I think the winner for prettiest eyes is right here!" He says.​

 

[FERNDANCE]

Ferndance's smile coiled like the cat that swallowed the canary as Smogmaw floundered. "I am serious," she mewed hoarsely, her tail shimmering as if preparing to strike down a piece of prey. There was an innocent tilt of her head as Smogmaw declared her compliment as a 'game of wits', but if the slow blinks and occasional buzz of a fly around her ear suggested wits, then ShadowClan was truly doomed. All she'd wanted was revenge, and learning how flustered the tabby got had the slightest hint of praise was the best consolation prize a she-cat could've asked for. Gigglekit's words reach her fallow ears and they finally twitch, her head tilting down towards her young daughter. It's at that point she noticed other ShadowClanners, some wearing looks as surly as the dark pools around their home, others seemed just as entertained as the cinnamon tabby. She wasn't attracted to the Deputy, ShadowClan toms had a way of being dreadfully unappealing one way or another, but having found a weapon against one of them, she didn't mind if the lie stuck. "No... any one with any eyes can join in," she mewed, leaning down to lick Gigglekit's forehead. "But you have good eyes."

A kitten blue, bright enough for Ferndance to have suggested the name Bluekit before remembering they would eventually turn a different colour. She could imagine a forest green not unlike her own, or a golden yellow, or perhaps even the deepest copper - she didn't know which one would be most fitting, but if she was Needledrift's blood, then any colour would suit her perfectly. She allowed herself to get lost in thought before turning to Smogmaw again, nose twitching. "I know," she purred, either to the tom who claimed she had beautiful eyes, or to Frostbite who proclaimed both had beautiful eyes. Her next words sever the mystery before it even begins. "That's why you were staring at them, wasn't it? You were lost in vast woodlands, not hoping for freedom, just hoping to know how deep the greens were before you were forced to look away." She paused for but a moment. "I was lost in a fire, it singed my fur and set my heart ablaze, and I welcomed it." Another owl-like swivel of her head, as if she'd done something as meager as asking Smogmaw on patrol. "Shall we lose ourselves again, or have you had enough?"

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[smogstar]

Onlookers take form on the scene's perimeter, much like bubbling froth at a miry crest. Their presence is equally as unpleasant, all festering in the stink of his botched enterprise. Standing solemnly at the source, Smogmaw faces his end. It lays in the grin firmly anchored in the she-cat's features, wound tight by the muscles it affects and furthermore enforced by her conceit. In ceding his control to one such as her, and then failing to regain it, he surrenders all claim to dignity and succumbs to folly—such are the whims fate delivers unto fools and failures like him.

Tsk. How dramatic the mind gets when the moment catches you off guard.

He has won the staring contest, however Ferndance has staked her victory in the long con. Mirepurr's reprimands and the disgusted glance cast from Briarpaw only serve to prove this further. Too great a value is placed on the regard of his clanmates in his fretful conscience, and too ill an impression could be left should they stand around any longer. Smogmaw can not spare half a mind to indulge this incident any longer and remain operational. His only recourse is to escape. Metaphorically, preferably. Running off with the ol' tail tucked between the legs would do worse for his image by a territory's distance.

"Something tells me you're embellishing, maybe a little bit," coaxes the deputy from a fluster-dried throat. His muzzle is clasped in a tense constraint, giving him a look more like a scowl than the frown he means to display. "If I'm setting your heart ablaze, Ferndance, it's prob'ly a sign of a worse problem. One Starlingheart might need to check out. I can go and fetch her, if you'd like."

Nothing like a touch of self-deprecation to extricate oneself from peril. A paradoxical approach, given it leaves one less dignified than they began. But effective for a quick getaway. "Anywho, I've a patrol I need to get together, should... get to that right now."​