private in her last phone call | junco

[downyfur]

She is early at the mouth of the den, but not too early. The sun is an easy hop away from the horizon when she shows up, a tiny figure silhouetted against its waxing light, tufts of pale fur waving in the winds. In her mouth hangs a young rabbit, its flesh still coal-stained through the wiry Greenleaf coat. Beneath their left eye, twin scars are buried in shadow.

It's Downyfur's turn to bring food to WindClan's newest prisoner. They think, hopefully, that they might be able to share it. "Hello." Her high voice is perfectly pleasant, raised just above the morning breeze and the settled prey. She is almost insistent when she blinks at her, deepest hues of blue guilelessly wide in the darkness. "Do you remember me?" The tunneler isn't sure what answer they expect, or want, to hear. They'd only been a child back then—but so had she. (They wish she would collapse beneath the weight of her guilt. (They wish she would just stay a monster.))

@juncoclaw

windclan warrior | "speech." | tags​

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[juncoclaw]

Junco is barely awake when a presence arrives with food - early than usual, she duly notes, though she can't really ever complain when it comes to a free meal. The cat speaks with a softly pleasant voice, but Junco does not hear at first - she is warding off a dream in which she was Sootstar's warrior (though, for some reason, her face has been obscured in each dream as of late), raising her own army of similarly blurry-faced children. Or, maybe, it's a nightmare now, distorted and diminished as it is. The molly is undecided.

Junco stirs, lazily, and greets her server with a wide, impolite yawn straight to the face. She's sick of this burrow and the warriors that guard it, sick of everyone except for Cottonpaw - but even her presence is futile, for she can't free her, can she? It seemed that diplomacy was getting her nowhere, so it was decided that today, she would simply annoy her visitors to death with her nonchalant acceptance (as if she actually wants to be here and they're all her servants) until she is released by proxy. Just for today, of course - overdoing it would surely piss off their brute king, and she can't have that.

After her yawn and another stretch, interrupting the molly's words for as long as she can, Junco finally sits up and looks at the soft grey face in front of her. With her good eye, still blurry with sleep, she almost mistakes it as Cottonpaw and startles, but is relaxed once more when she realizes who it really is. One of their newest warriors, as she heard by eavesdropping in on the recent meeting. Do you remember me? the cat asks, and Junco's lips curl up into a sickly sweet smile.

"Ah, hm.. well.. I can't quite place it.." she hums, looking over their face with a squinted eye. It lands deliberately on the scars on their cheek, and Junco's smile grows. "Oh, yes. I did that, didn't I? How could I forget such a face?" She didn't care then if Downpaw was moons younger, and just as much smaller. Juncopaw - then - would take any opportunity to secure her victory. In hindsight, attacking the fluffy scrap was a waste. At least they got a cool scar from it, though!

Junco shifts again, laying her front paws out infront of her and getting comfortable in a half-lay position. "But you're not Downypaw anymore, are you? Downyfur.. it's fitting, I suppose. You're like.. all fur." A dramatically wistful sigh leaves Junco's mouth. How she once longed to receive her warrior ceremony, only to be neglected by the moorland queen. She received it instead by the paws of a scummy ShadowClan tyrant, no more legitimate than if she had received it by a kit in one of their Clan games. "Granitepelt named me Juncoclaw. I guess it's fitting too, considering...." her un-scarred eye meets the scar on Downypaw's face once more.

Ah, but enough of her taunting. Her stomach growls. At last, the toothy smile diminishes and a jade eye trails down to the rabbit Downypaw carries. "Is that for me? Great. I'm hungry." A swift swipe of her lips, and all quarrel is forgotten in that moment. Oh, how she misses the bounty of the barn..
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CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT
  ━━ 14 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
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• speech is #6a7d8a​

 

[downyfur]

Her lips curl in a way that makes their face ache. They want to take a step back, to drop the rabbit and run before they can spit on it, but something holds them in place just as it did on the battlefield. The sudden tautness of short limbs hide beneath their plush coat, which they're now well-versed in coaxing into softness. "I did that, didn't I?" she jeers, and it's a conscious action to not bring their paw up to their eye. Downyfur remains silent, a gesture reeking of stubbornness, the only threads of power they have to grasp in their situation. It's too late to prevent her from pleasuring herself with her work, no matter how much they refuse to acknowledge it. One could say that coming here at all is an acknowledgement.

The feline shifts again, a slow flop into taunting repose. Behind wide, guileless eyes, Downyfur seethes. Junco sighs as though nostalgic for something, and they assume it's all just a show for them. She should want for nothing; she should've gotten it all from the cat she followed into the scrubland. They wouldn't be able to stand it if they knew she had regrets. "I thought your name was Junco now," they object softly, as though pointing out the odd shape of a cloud. "That's what Cottonpaw calls you." Only the truly blessed have the power to give names.

They watch as she leans towards the rabbit. They hope her wounded cheek tears each time she chews, and that the guards accidentally kick bits of dirt into it with each change.​