GOT A GUILTY CONSCIENCE? | snakepaw

PRIVETFROST

PRIVETFROST

✦ ABENDSTERN
Feb 16, 2024
79
15
8

There was something, unknowably anomalous, that drove Privetpaw to Windclan once more. Like the umbra of the moon lurking just beyond the light-touched face, the wine-dark apprentice flitted through the sedges, as the wildgrasses gave way to his fleet form. Just like the sagebrushes of his home, there lie an unsettling silence between breaths seized and swaying song. The moorlands, however, appeared much more obtrusive in their flagrant displays of summer season. It was too verdant, almost. Nature afforded them beauty, but beauty hardly stood against the test of the blade. There was little for him here, as the silhouettes of spurious kings surely waited to ambuscade, knowing full well of the dangers that lurked along the border between civility and savagery. And yet, Privetpaw wandered along the frays of Windclan's territory, steps beclouded by night's unending and terribly heavy shadow. Reed-like whiskers twitched upon boyish countenance as he searched for something to emerge from the stillness. It seemed fruitless to hope for something out of the purity of nothing, a beggar's way out of life.

What did he search for, here of all places? He did not know. There were not many times in his life where the prodigial son had ever been truly unsure of his way in life. Tonight had been one of them. Honeyed pool of uncertainty had been... strange to wander into and wade through. He reasoned that there was little a beast beset upon the open sea could do but paddle forwards, though. Fern-green eyes stole a glance to the heavens above, sky cast in velvet ivories as the almost-full moon ingressed past the clouds, like its own stare slowly swam along Privetpaw's pelt. The moon changes itself so slowly. Snap of a stray twine amongst the quietude of the fields had alerted him, perhaps even before the origin of the sound was aware of him, and quickly did the Duskclan apprentice duck downwards underneath lurching patches of rushes. Something - no, someone - approached him, though he held his composure close to a hummingbird heart.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒
  • @Snakepaw
  • 7THZAb4.png
  • —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 7 Moons
    —— Apprentice of Duskclan / Mentored by Rumblerain
    —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
    —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
    —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.
    Click to expand...


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Snakepaw cared little for the way the Clans insisted that their younger members tout with them a mentor whenever they went out and about, and so he followed the rule very little - even in the wake of the DuskClan invasion, knowing that there might still be enemies lurking at the border, just waiting for a wiry WindClanner to make their way into their paws, Snakepaw continued forward, tail and head held high as though there was nothing in the world that could possibly beat him down. He did little to conceal himself, as abrasive in presence as he was in personality.

Despite this lack of regard for much of anything, Snakepaw wasn't stupid. He knew to be aware of his surroundings, and as awkward as he felt above ground on the moors compared to the tunnels, he kept his wits about him. Damn the moors, really - his father had always gone on and on about his expectations for his children to follow in his pawsteps and become moor runners. It served him right that they'd all gone on to become tunneler apprentices instead. If only he could see them now.

A stray scent caught Snakepaw's nose as he padded closer to the border; one carefully hidden, out of sight, but just inexperienced enough for Snakepaw to catch and hold onto it.

"Don't play with me," Snakepaw growled into the darkness, glancing around with a glare. "Come out. I know you're there." Claws kneaded the earth beneath him. Friend or foe - though he lacked much of the former - Snakepaw wasn't happy about being tailed or stalked. Let some beast come at him if it would, he wouldn't be frightened away so easily.
‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

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White-tipped tail twitched in the darkness, as the wine-dark apprentice contemplated whether to reveal himself or remain in the murk, like the gloom had benighted his magpie coat. Should he turn tail now, admit defeat and fall prey to the his shortcomings? Duskclan pride proved than that, he would hope, that it would stand even the test of being outmatched upon foreign territory. Privetpaw had done well to come this far, but he had misjudged how the winds had turned against his favor, as though the moor's temper whipped upon darkling manner. Cursing underneath drawn breaths, he should have known that Windclan's territory would rebuke him so. Perhaps he had doomed himself the moment he stepped foot upon verdant sawgrasses, sown his fate upon greenleaf's favored fields. And so, the Duskclan cat slowly unveiled the shadows that swathed his short fur, as if twilight descended down his limbs, pooling upon mere shadow at his footfall. Steadily did he rise to meet the stranger at his border, though did not move past his position behind a set of swaying sedges, as if he were but a mere silhouette of a man.

"So, Windclan scum are able to distinguish cats from dirt-scent. Impressive." Sarcasm dripped upon a caustic tongue, as if a dull needle piercing at whatever flesh it could find, whatever hold it could sink into. Long whiskers twitched as he still refused to move, careful not to poke the bear in the wrong places. As much as he wanted to gain the upper ground, the apprentice still had his wits about him, and he knew that the moors were not of his own. The dirt below him surely beckoned for its traitor to be smothered in its earth. Fern-green gaze studied the Windclan apprentice, as if they swinged upon the unfamiliar (yet, strangely not) marks and purls of the other, aiming not to burn but only examine for any obvious weaknesses or faults of Snakepaw's being. Windclan apprentices are often more inexperienced than I, especially in the realm of combat. If I follow the right strategy, I should surely overpower him. That is, if I will have to fight in the first place. "If you aim to attack me, then do so. Your hesitance will be your undoing." Young muscles tensed, beams of moonlight upon him rippling like a pall, a ghastly curtain that adorned him now.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒
  • you cant be talking like that white baby /ref
  • 7THZAb4.png
  • —— PRIVETPAW / He/Him / 7 Moons
    —— Apprentice of Duskclan / Mentored by Rumblerain
    —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
    —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
    —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.
    Click to expand...


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