I WILL PREVAIL [ moonbeam ]

[jackal]

The air was scented of ash- thick in the lungs, smoke still heavy in the air. He hadn't been too far from the twoleg camp when the fire broke out, dampened from the storm and shying away from the sudden flash of light. That put a bit of a wrench in plans, but that was alright- they were still on track. Eyes flashed in the low light as he prowled through Riverclan's territory, paws damp with silt and mud left from the flood still, flank brushing against what sparse undergrowth found the wetlands.

He wasn't far from her now- it was freezing out in comparison to how it was during sunhigh, but it wasn't quite deep and dark yet- no, the sun was just barely visible, casting long shadows and helping his mottled pelt blend into the territory. Though.. red was still visible, he'd have to work quick, and be careful.

Jackal stops foxlengths away from the white flank with her back turned. She was collecting something, not that he could see, or care. He steps from the undergrowth after ensuring nobody was close, eyes narrowed and ears forward. "Lovely evening we're going to have, hm?" He announces himself, full visible in the twilight of dusk. He was easily connected to Claythorn- given his pelt coloring and his body shape, it was almost one-to-one.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── ALL YOU HAVE TO DO ⋅❁⋅ IS GET RID OF ME! ──┐‎

• "speech"
  // @Moonbeam
  

• 

• JACKAL he/him, rogue, sixty eight moons.
  ⭃ LH red tabby with piercing green eyes and a maine coone descendancy. smug, very sure of himself, littered with scars.
  ⭃ ex mate to hazel and npc / / father to claythorn, redacted, redacted
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[Moonbeam]

She was sure if the cold wasn't making her ears freeze that she would have noticed the sound of footsteps behind her, quiet as they were. That would be the excuse used if someone were to ask Moonbeam why she hadn't noticed the rogue sneak up behind her and speak as she carefully tend to the small bundle of herbs she had worked so hard to pick through the morning, not the fact that as she stopped to look at the herbs in the ground at her paws now that she had become a little complacent, that she thought all would be fine if she were out by herself for after all she was close to camp, only a stone's throw away from the island in all reality, it would be stupid for a cat to come near them where they were now, and any predator that would be dumb enough to go so close to where the scent of so many ready and willing to fight back was so thick would be loud, crashing through cold water and reeds while baying or yipping, and although rogues were stupid they weren't as stupid as a dog or a fox, they could scent the many cats so close by and realize it would be time to turn back so she would be safe.

Had it not been for the sound of the voice of Jackal, and had Moonbeam first noticed him not by words but by sight she would have been fooled. Not for long - no, for though he looked so similar to his daughter they were not exact replicas, they had their differences - but she could see the resemblance in their stature, in their pelts as she turned around, fur fluffed and eyes wide for just a moment from getting startled before her claws unsheathed instinctively and she made sure to swivel on her paws quickly - she would not have another instance from when she was a 'paw, of claws down her back and trusting the words of another. "You better leave before I make you leave, before more come out and strike you down." It was a lie for she didn't know how to battle, but hopefully he didn't know that, and hopefully someone within camp could hear her words, raised and demanding of the rogue with a silent plea for help.

CAUSE LIKE CONTELLATIONS ꕥ A MILLION YEARS AWAY

• --
• ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ flesh wounds
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ infections
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ aches & pains
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ illness
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ breathing
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ traveling
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ broken bones
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ kitting
  ꕥꕥꕥꕥꕥ poisons
• 
  ꕥ SH white masking cinnamon torbie w/orange eyes & small ears
  ꕥ 15 moons old; ages the 17th every month
  ꕥ homosexual polyromantic ; mated to beefang, crushing on redacted
  ꕥ currently mentoring none
  ꕥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ꕥ easy in combat unless in water, focuses on defensive tactics

​

 

[jackal]

She is quick to turn around- that much, he expected. She doesn't scream or holler for her clanmates, so his eyes flashed, a grin spreading on his face. Her words are loud in the deep twilight they are facing, so his tail lifts. "It's rude to not answer my question." Jackal hums. No, he was unthreatened by the small-eared cat in front of him, amusement; mirth; shining in his crude eyes. What he was threatened by was the lack of time he had.

"I can't spend too long beating about the bush, though." He continues. Jackal is stepping closer, ears forward and position relaxed. Even so far into the territory he moves with the grace of someone who doesn't care where their life lays on the line. He is all confidence, and he grins. "Do try to stay still. Less scars on your face." Jackal warns, and with that, he leaps at the medicine cat, lethal intent in his paws.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── ALL YOU HAVE TO DO ⋅❁⋅ IS GET RID OF ME! ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• JACKAL he/him, rogue, sixty eight moons.
  ⭃ LH red tabby with piercing green eyes and a maine coone descendancy. smug, very sure of himself, littered with scars.
  ⭃ ex mate to hazel and npc / / father to claythorn, redacted, redacted
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[claythorn]

Claythorn doesn't think of her father often.

No, she hardly thinks of her mother, really. Those thoughts are best left drowning in the riverbed. The very beings that gave her life cast her out, dug their claws into her flesh and rended her as not theirs, unwanted, meat to be eaten. A sickening, bitter thought. No, she'd be a much better mother then that. Then Hazel. She'd give it all for her kits to know how much she wasn't their grandmother.

These are the thoughts in the back of her mind as she rises to make dirt one last time before settling in with her kits, the long shadows in camp making it near-eerie as she pads out (and tells the guard where she is going; no use in repeating what happened to Gladefrost.) A slow breath leaves her as she finishes her business, mismatched golden eyes turning into the forest. A blink, and a pause- ears twitch and perk as she picks something up. Something she can just barely hear.

You better leave... Moonbeam. No, this can't be happening again. She cannot believe something like Hazel is happening again. Claythorn is off before telling the guard, knowing well if she was gone for longer then expected they'd come looking anyways. Claythorn's claws dig into frozen dirt and stone as she moves, leaves the island, snaps through delicate underbrush to come face to face with something- no, someone she never expected to see again. Mismatched goldens widen, and in her hesitance, Jackal is leaping at Moonbeam.

Her father. Her bloodlink, perhaps one of the last remaining, out for blood. Blood of- Claythorn moves with the seriousness of death promised in her eyes, slamming her shoulder into her father and knocking him away from her. She stands, breath heaving, mismatched golden eyes narrowed and teeth bared as Jackal rolls in the dirt. Laughter leaves him as he slowly pushes to his paws, turning to look at his daughter.

"There you are!" He cackles, standing up straight. Claythorn slowly moves, ensuring Moonbeam is safely behind her. "You know, I've been looking for you!" He calls. She snarls, clays digging into the dirt. She knows this is a fight that he will take to the end. It's in his eyes- the same way it was in Hazel's eyes. Blood. Red drips about her vision, calling her, beckoning her. Her breathing is all she hears for a moment, the thudding of her heart in her chest.

"Why." She finally utters, and Jackal's grin spreads even wider. "I want- no, I need you to come back with me! You, and your sisters. Won't you bring them here?" Claythorn stares for a moment. Ba-bump. "Sisters?" She whispers into the chilled air, which only drops with degrees the longer she stands here. Cold. Cold. Her kits. They are cold. Her fur stiffens. "No. You will leave, or I will bury you like I did my mother." Claythorn spits out.

It is brief, but Jackal hesitates- and that's when she strikes. Claythorn snaps forwards, talon-like claws finding Jackal's side and carving open. He staggers, but she is quick on the return, fangs digging into his leg whilst she digs her right paw's claws in. His scream of pain is nothing short of joy-giving, and Claythorn rips her head backwards. She goes for his throat neck, but misses the mark- teeth dig in, but not enough.

When Jackal's paws land, when she is forced to rip her head backwards but slams into a tree and conks over cold, her efforts do save Moonbeam. Jackal effectively crumples, but it is a blow that will not kill him if he is saved soon. With Claythorn out cold, Jackal's eyes shift towards Moonbeam, then to the herbs she was collecting. "He... lp..." He rasps out. "All... I wanted.... family..." A wheeze leaves him, vision pinned to Moonbeam.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ┌── THOSE FIVES WORDS IN MY HEAD ⋅❁⋅ YOU SAID ILL NEVER LET YOU GO! ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, queen of riverclan, eighteen moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ mated to otterbite / / mother to dark-kit, onyxkit, sparrowkit, eelkit, dropletkit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​