pafp I'LL FIND A NEW PLACE TO BE FROM ✿ kittypet talk

[DOEBLAZE]

✿ | it feels strange, but she has a certain respect, perhaps even trust, for smogmaw. after unseen sunrises of his leading their hopeless group deftly through infinite darkness, through rattling adders and empty bellies, perhaps she cannot help but place a grain of trust in the hoarse-voiced deputy. certainly it registers as bizarre, almost blasphemous in a way, to give her respect so freely to a deputy not her own who she has known for no more than a moon, but she does it nonetheless. try as she might, strong as the frozen walls she might try to raise be, they will always melt—in the end, she is a creature who wants to think the best of even the journeymates she has little love for.

"it wasn't quite like everyone thinks it is," she mews as she steps doe-legged alongside the tabby deputy; she is not entirely sure how the conversation landed here, but given how she had (embarassingly) spilled her guts in the caves, she has little qualms about discussing her former kittypet lifestyle with smogmaw. if anything, perhaps it would do some good to clear any misconceptions about the cats who had once chosen to live life with a twoleg instead of a clan. bobbie adds, "my housefolk didn't imprison or torment me or anything. she let me outside, brought me their strange prey and kept me warm and dry."

"there's little else a kittypet knows, really, if you're born into that life. i'm not even one anymore, is the - the funny thing—all i have left is this collar," she explains, ever aware of the gazes that so often flicked to the brand of red curled about her fluffy throat. the lilac warrior continues, "i don't understand what prompts cats to hate kittypets so, honestly. i don't see why you should fault someone for where they were born," she breathes a low sigh and adds, "i would say that i learned some useful things from living in the twolegplace, even."

OOC ✿ I FELL ONTO LOVE LIKE A SWORD

• OOC: this thread is public after two posts! please wait for @smogmaw and @SLATE to reply :-)
  

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  ( BOBBIE ) ✿ WARRIOR OF SKYCLAN.
  x she / her ; 40 moons.
  x mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, & drowsypaw.
  x a small, pretty lilac tabby with a red collar & sage-green eyes ; sweet, sociable, and somewhat naive to certain aspects of clan life.
  x currently in an era of self-assessment and trying to figure out exactly who she wants to be.

​

 

[smogstar]

A dark-tipped ear is kept turned Bobbie's way. Piddling words and idle recollections, insignificant to most, find a willing audience in the ShadowClan deputy. That she harbours a kittypet heritage does not elicit a volatile reaction anywhere within him—only curiosity, as her tales unspool and land, providing insight on a way of life utterly foreign to his own.

Of particular note is how the molly depicts Twoleg involvement in her past life. To those born into total freedom, the soft-pawed existence of a kittypet is one of pampering and indulgence, with little to no responsibilities or expectations, save for maintaining one's fur and showing up at feeding time. As per Bobbie's perspective, however, this is freedom in its own right, just a different flavour of it. Smogmaw struggles to place a contrary opinion. In this world she describes, she may walk freely, free from worry about territorial borders, and breathe freely, unafflicted and unimposed by any sort of hierarchy. It's the type of autonomy he would fight tooth and claw to achieve. So, if true, how could that ever be considered less?

Paws scrunch in a wad of snow as he trudges onwards. His gaze remains level and forward-facing, though he's all but attuned to this exchange with the SkyClan warrior. "Singling people out 'cause of where they're from," he begins, tone numbed but invested all the same, "it isn't what we'd call fair, is it? Yet, we all do it—it's kind of what makes the world go 'round." His paw catches on a branch embedded within another white blanket, prompting the tom to flick scads of it of him. "I'd imagine there're kittypets who look at us - warriors - in a similar light. Just a bunch'a ruffians who sleep where they make dirt, and kill each other for no good reason."

He finally allows his vision to wander in the other's trajectory, latching onto her green eyes with a glare alit in amber. "I'd never give up all I have to let some Twoleg dictate my day-to-day," he says, look shifting in the next breath, "but you've left that life behind. On your own volition, I'm guessing. And if it weren't for that jingle-janglin' thing you've got choked 'round your neck, I wouldnt've even known. You certainly made it out of them caves with the least amount of bumps 'n bruises." ​

 

[SLATESNARL]

He wrinkled his muzzle and quickly shook his head as small flecks of snow were kicked back onto the bridge of his nose. He hated snow. It was only a solid version of water, which he also hated. Anything that made his fur tangly, messy, and difficult to deal with was sworn his enemy. Hopefully the snow would clear soon... though by the looks of the powder-laden clouds staring down menacingly toward the journeying cats, he couldn't be so sure. Great.

It wasn't atypical for cats to chat amongst themselves in order to make the walking aspect less dull, and though Slate tended to tune out the voices and focus on his own thoughts most of the time, he could not help but prick his ears at the conversation brewing between Bobbie and the ShadowClan deputy. Slate resisted the urge to completely roll his eyes into the back of his head as Bobbie spoke positively of her experience as a kittypet and acted as if everybody else was in the wrong for "misjudging" the twolegs. How naive could one be?

Smogmaw made a fair point. There would always be a differing perspective no matter what; Bobbie would never understand twolegs through the eyes of a wild cat, just as they would never see the appeal of being controlled and dominated by the bipedals. "Most of us would rather die." He remarks icily in response to Smogmaw's disapproval of the life of a house pet.

Molten eyes glowed with a bubbling fieriness, obsidian pupils narrowing into slits as he fixed his attention onto Bobbie. "Why don't you just go back to your housefolk if they treated you so nicely? You can't seem to stop talking about how great it was." The lead warrior inquires, his voice leveled for the most part though with an undeniable undertone of provocation layered underneath.

If one didn't know any better, it would appear that Slate and Bobbie were from completely different clans. Slate was one of the few open kittypet-despisers in a clan full of them.

✰ INFO

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  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[nightbird]

nightbird vaguely listened to the skyclanner's chatter as she limped along with the group. something about the molly's former kittypet life, she couldn't really care enough to be intrigued. everyone seemed to have their opinions on the twoleg pets, for the most part nightbird lacked anything strong to pull her in one direction.

thunderclan had their fair share of kittypet blood, yet she couldn't think of an instance where it had proven to be a negative. sunfreckle had used his experience to coax a twoleg away from her once, she would be forever grateful despite the embarrassment of the situation. stormywing was becoming a formidable warrior, nightbird had no doubt in her loyalty to the clan. the lead warrior had no qualms with those who left their former lives, she was not big on recalling the past anyways.

there is an icy bite that changes the tone of the conversation, a large tom-cat who spoke so brashly. she would have a hard time believing they were from the same clan if the pine scent didn't cling to their pelts. while his voice was practically leveled, nightbird wasn't a stranger to provoking words.

"your childish resentment is exhausting to listen to," she chides nonchalantly, tail flicking behind her. nightbird didn't know what possessed her to speak up in this skyclanner's favor, perhaps it was something about the tone of the tom that edged a little too closely to bullying for her tastes. "is it her kittypet blood that makes your skin crawl, or rather the fact that you two are standing in the same spot despite it?"

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• NIGHTBIRD ✩ she/her, lead warrior of thunderclan, twenty-six moons
  ⭃ nightbird is a small black smoke molly with pale silver eyes. a loner turned thunderclanner, her loyalty and drive to provide for her clan is unwavering. however, she is not known for harboring a bleeding heart, instead equipped with sarcastically fueled wit, brutal honesty, and a sharply edged tongue.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by vayle ↛ @vayl3 on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[smogstar]

Save for a mild crease in his forehead, Smogmaw's bearing remained fixed at the unasked-for imposition. A flick of the tail ensues, and his vision trickles off to meet the dusk-worn tom directly. Somewhere beneath those loose, gungy strands swathing his brutish form, a nerve had gotten struck. It's patently obvious in the severity of his stare—and the following flare-up leaves no doubt in its wake. That he carried a subtle pine scent only served to accentuate how absurd this was. And Chilledstar's up in a huff about 'clan unity', he ponders privately, irony tickling his maw's edge.

His tongue is kept clenched, for another voice forays into the fray. A kempt ThunderClan warrior answers to prejudice with dismissal, which earns a huff from the deputy's end. Childish resentment sums it up to a partial degree. The ignorance Slate puts on display stretches further down than mere immaturity. It's paradoxical, awash with shameless self-contradiction. Has he yet to clue in to the fact that his name is an outlier amongst the others here? For all intents and purposes, he and Bobbie are one and the same, and perhaps such is why she's treated with utter disdain.

"I hear you, Slate," he acknowledges, emphasis added to the pronunciation. "Consider this for a second, though. Bobbie's risked life and limb for the sake of her clan, same way as you, same way as the rest of us." The tone is much less cold as it is numb. This wasn't an impassioned plea for him to see reason, nor a condemnation à la Nightbird; but a thorough appraisal of his reasoning. "So, I find it so strange that you're so set on seein' her as this outsider-type figure... y'know, considerin' your own name and all."

Optimistically, he's smart enough to connect the dots. ​