JAMES AND THE COLD GUN | birdwatching

[YIPPINGKIT]

The leaves are changing. Yippingkit embraces it as best he can — change, after all, is one of the most familiar things to him, now. He was a rogue kit before, and is a ThunderClan kit now; Baying Hound had been his mother, and now Tansyshine inserts herself into the old chalk outline; Howlingstar had promised his safety, and then that promise had been broken. Yippingkit has weathered a war that other cats haven't. He is glad for it — would have torn life from the claws of their near-dead if it meant giving himself a better shot — but who is to say he won't find himself in their position someday? And someday soon. Now that the leaves are turning, now that the wind is chilling, he knows he approaches a threshold that he never signed up for.

The smoke-furred kit is four moons old, but soon that too would change. They are five moons soon, which means they will be six moons even sooner, and then they will be an apprentice. The thought makes them shudder, but the shudder melts into a hot and boiling something, something that Yippingkit doesn't have the tools to name. All of his peers look forward to being apprenticed, like it's a good thing, like it will protect them. But Yippingkit is not so keen on putting himself on a warrior's path. Warriors die for ThunderClan. Yippingkit will not.

Bisected eyes are lifted to the boughs overhead, where two red flickers of life dance through other red harbingers of Death's favorite season. The cardinals seem unbothered by the changing leaves. Maybe they have seen more than two seasons — Yippingkit himself has only lived through greenleaf and leaf-fall, now, and he is hardly into the latter. Maybe the birds can fly because they are not crushed by the weight of expectation. He knows this to be untrue, and yet he wonders anyway if he too might fly were he not cooped up here, siblings and littermates counting on him, praying for him that he may change into a warrior, a moth from a cocoon.

The cardinals twitter and sing in tandem. They are joyously paired, and joyously they flit about the branches above camp, and all Yippingkit can wonder is when one of them might be killed so that he could eat it.

𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 !

• ooc.
  
• YIPPINGKIT —— kit of thunderclan . baying hound x duke . littermate to howlkit and thrashkit, sibling to many ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a hulking black smoke with low white. striking dual-toned eyes. fluctuates between total apathy and a need to fit in; difficult to befriend, and does not trust easily. unsure of thunderclan as a whole.
  ✦ intersex, nb masculine / he they pronouns / 04 moons & ages every 5th
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. a kitten, he can hardly defend himself, but that will not stop him from trying. apt against opponents his age thanks to his sheer size.
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[Fadingpaw]

[ ༻ ☼ ༺ ] The fight to take back their home from those who had been Thunderclan's own had been an odd thought in Fadingpaw's mind. They had betrayed their clan and yet, in the silence of it all the molly watched as the clan continued moving forward from the well deserved victory, she witness the healing that Thunderclan was going through and yet she knows that the damage that had been done was just nothing more than a scar. Yippingkit, and many others had seen what war has done, their eyes having been too young to bare witness to Thunderclan's weakest moment, too young to understand what death was or even to witness it.

Yet in all of this Fadingpaw caught Yippingkit in the moment of watching two birds joyously sing in the trees, their red feathers vibrant against the greying clouds and the young apprentice slipped to stand next to the kit with a warm smile on her lips. "I wonder what they sing about" she said gently, yet she doubt the same thought crossed the kitten's mind, and the apprentice tapped her paws on the floor below her as she continued to stand and watch the cardinals alongside Yippingkit.

"Either way, their song is a joyous one. What do you think Yippingkit?" she asked, attempting to continue a conversation with the younger member of their ever growing clan. It was best to forge bondship even with the youngest member of the clan in her mind, as they are their foundation.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── So many angles , so many lines ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Fadingpaw ☼ She/Her, Apprentice of Thunderclan, 8 moons.
  ⭃ Stocky short flame point tabby she-cat with blue eyes and stubby tail, one floppy ear
  ⭃ Crimsonsun x Shadedmoon
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[nightbird]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ there is chatter, not the empty kitten kind discussing who would lead their game of clan, or stand upon the great branches at fourtrees. it was above all of that. cardinals flitting overhead, nightbird may have mistaken them for a turned oak leaf if not for their song.

yippingkit watches intently, a hardened look that feels out of place alongside kitten fluff, while fadingpaw regards them with adoration. a warm smile on her maw, gently speculative words on her tongue. a joyous song, she states. nightbird is almost positive that's nothing more than wishful thinking.

if it was joy they sung, why did they make similar sounds trapped beneath her claws? there was nothing joyous about death, not for cats passing on to the stars, and most certainly not for cardinals who just existed until they ceased to do just that. envisioning them as naively happy creatures did little to make them more palatable, either. the queen decided that the cardinals sang because they had nothing better to do.

she didn't push such logic onto the optimistic fadingpaw, nor the pensive yippingkit. voicing it changed nothing, they could debate it until they were all gray around the muzzle and it wouldn't matter because they'd never know. still, she listens, idly interested in her young denmate's thoughts. it was more interesting than arguments over who would win the next game of mossball, at least.

BURNING SWORD // ───‎ ⋆ GUIDE MY HAND‎ ‎‎ ‎‎☽

• ooc ↛
  

• 

• 
  NIGHTBIRD ✩ she/her, lead warrior of thunderclan, 37 ☾'s
  ⭃ a small black smoke molly with a white paw and pale silver eyes. currently a queen residing in the nursery.
  ⭃ mate to raccoonstripe / / currently mentoring none.
  ⭃ 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.
  

​

 

[Softsight]

Softsight had never thought too much of birds or their song - as a child, her sensitive ears had been adverse to their calls, but over the moons she had come to enjoy them as they were - a source of prey. She would always thank StarClan when she caught one, as was the case with any type of prey, but there was something about birds. Perhaps it was their ability to fly, to join so closely with Silverpelt in the same way that WindClan thought themselves most pious because of their open skies.

"Maybe they sing to reassure one another." Softsight proposed as she came up to sit beside Yippingkit and Fadingpaw, catching a glimpse of Nightbird sitting in the background. A moon ago, Softsight might have sounded as though she would add more to the conversation; but now she spoke strongly and confidently, not feeling the need to expand on her answer to Fadingpaw's question. She looked down at Yippingkit, wondering what he would hear in the birdsong. There seemed to be a hunger in his eyes that told her that his response would be quite contrary to what Fadingpaw believed.

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

• !
  

• 

• SOFTSIGHT ✩ warrior of thunderclan, twelve moons
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

​

 

[addersnap]

mobile post! :]
Addersnap sometimes felt as though he had been born in the wrong body. Not in the sense that may come to mind — no, he wished to soar amongst the clouds, feel their touch through the thin strands of his feathers. To be a bird, to fly wherever he desired… to be free. From the night terrors of snapping, red-coated teeth and glowing, soulless orbs of the wolves bloomed the peace the boy had desired since all those moons ago. He dreamt he flew as a bird most nights now, and it made it hard for sore limbs to twitch out of sleep. It was the only cure for his mood, the pill he needed to go through the day with sometimes a tug at the corners of his lips threatening to create a smile. It never lasted long, however. The joy that seemed unobtainable to him melted away just like the morning dew that clung to grass blades, lips curled into a disapproving frown. The life of a warrior was one he wish he hadn’t been given the burden of.

The chirps of red-plumage caught the young boy’s attention early on, eyes transfixed on the way the creatures nuzzled in glee. It seemed so much easier, the life of a bird. Stifling a long sigh, Addersnap angled his ear in the direction of Fadingpaw, voice carried through the soft wind that blew between the ThunderClanners. The two feline’s appearances were a shock to see for him, yet he held no qualms as bright hues are directed back towards the cardinals that sat above them all. Unsheathing long claws into the soil below, a hoarse tone purred through the cracking of unused vocal chords. "I ‘hink it’s ta commuunicate to each other.” He forced the ‘-er’ to slip off his tongue, eyes narrowed in concentration as he focused on how the sound felt leaving his maw. "Like warnin’s… l- love…. songs… s… s-stuff like ‘hat." Addersnap avoided eye contact with his clan mates as he spoke, looking up into the canopy with a sparkle in his eyes. He’d watched them enough to pick up on a few things. At least he hoped he was right.​