JAWS OF LIFE &. GATHERING ANNOUNCEMENTS 2.15



Burnpaw listens to the news in apathetic shock. The words coming out from the Shadow Clans leaders mouth, they couldn’t be true, could they. He looks to his grandmother, hoping to see an explanation but she is just as confused as he is, as they all are. He sees the hurt he feels reflected in his fathers face and when Blazestar jumps from the rock and gathers his clan to leave he doesn’t blame him. "D-Dad!" he calls out weakly, a kit wanting the comforting presence of his father, but it’s too late, the flame point is already gone.
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He wants to run and hide, to get away from the accusing glares sent to all the members of his clan, the harsh words that come from Pitchstar’s mouth. Emberstar was his mentor, she wouldn’t betray him in this way, would she? She was the one who made the code, after all. Had she not understood the repercussions of a relationship such as the one his parents had, the one she had apparently? He wants to scream to the stars about how unfair it all is but mostly he wants to scream at Pitchstar, make him take it back.

He wants his mom.

He turns his yellow gaze to his grandmother, eyes swimming with tears that he stubbornly refuses to shed, willing her to follow suit and tell them to leave, to go home. He does not want to be here anymore.
 
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Traitor had it's own meaning in moments like these, when he's sitting at the base of the rock with the other medicine cats listening to Leaders argue once again. Many words are spoken, and he finds his brother's gaze in the crowd- holding it. Flickerfire and Emberstar, huh. He thinks to himself bitterly, oddly irritated by the idea. Why break the code you set up? Hypocrite.. He stands then after his father's outburst, ready to defend him- but instead, he moves to leave. Dismissing the SkyClanners, telling them it was time to go home. He leaves with no parting words, no gentle nuzzles to his siblings. Instead, he turns and leaves right behind his father, face schooled into a look of stoic neutrality for once.

He wanted to go home.

// out!
 

all at once they’re arguing, muttering, accusing — blazestar speaks and.. that’s right. oh, that was right. eyes snap from him and to howlingstar again, perks his ears forward as if in a ‘ huh! ‘ movement. purposeful. angry, smothered in gleeful contempt as it was. smug. he’d known flickerfire, long ago. she’d gone by flicker then, just as fiery as her future namesake, and he feels it. the not - quite grief, not - quite regret of a time long behind him. they’d been in a relationship? the happy - go lucky point.. had broken her own rule. she had always been too soft. too sweet, too open.. it was no wonder she couldn’t find it in herself to stick to her own rule. thunderclan had seemed burdened with loner after loner in her time, built on ex-kittypets and outsiders that seemed to disappear as quickly as they’d come — a bleeding heart to her very end, he’d assume. he wondered what all it had cost them in the end.

blazestar leaps down and he spares him a glance, glad if only for a moment he’d been spared the name of his late daughter from her grandmother’s defensive outbursts. he flicks an ear, feels the pangs of sympathy beneath the anger that bubbled high in his chest. she speaks after him still, despite his departure from the stones that held them high above watching eyes. but she had spoken to him, too. armed with new information, his ears pin, head lifting to look down his wedged nose at the plump tabby, “ i accused her of nothing, may starclan rest her soul. i am accusing you “ he snaps, straightens his back, “ oddly coincidental they happened at my rocks all the way from across your territory, hm? “ his teeth grits, a deep breath raked through the thin gaps between his teeth. had thunderclan lured them towards the rocks? had smokethroat been right? surely, now. what else had they done, what else were they planning? just how planned was this, and how far were they willing to go to cover up emberstar’s indiscretions? his mind is whirling, pallid eyes wide.

unless! “ he continues, faux - pleasant. he shoots a grin towards howlingstar, void of niceties, void of the warmth he so often holds for his clanmates. his allies.you so happened to ignore shadowclan scent that far into your land.. but since you’d know nothing of that, those mutts seem to have been a shadowclan threat! saving face.. no wonder you’d slunk onto my borders to place responsibility on my warriors so quickly. howlingstar’s first action: using your late leaders death as leverage, hiding her affairs, using her to make yourself look better when you ask for my territory! ” they came from near shadowclan, they had to have, if flickerfire were killed by them as well. it’s a low blow, he thinks vaguely — but despite the sharpness in his chest, his tongue remains just as bladed. he lifts, flourishes his tail as he does, growls briefly in her direction. the left side of his muzzle is ever - lifted, raw and irritated, and it does nothing but accentuate the bitter snarl pulling at his dark lips.

how had they lured them? how? glaring, wildly accusatory. his mind rapid - fires still, snaps his head back towards the crowd beneath him. how many of these faces had known of emberstar’s affair? how many shadowclanners had known of flickerfire’s divided loyalties? had she truly been giving them information? how many more of them still sought more than their clan? his claws unsheathe, tapping quickly against the stone, against scuff marks present from gatherings before. bad habit, bad habit. this was planned, he knew it. planned, all to get his land. his rocks! his! using him — they’d been using him, used his clan, slept in his camp and ate his fish and she stood with the audacity.. he hisses violently, reflexively, finally turns to leap from the rock as she faces pitchstar. he lands neatly amidst a crowd that splits quickly to make room for his landing, is already stalking through the throng of cats that part like babbling waters around corroded stone. pah! when he speaks again, his voice is loud from below, almost mad with fury and the scenario solidified in his hazy mind.

riverclan, let’s go — before poor, pitiful thunderclan asks us to pick their fleas for them as well!

/ out, god i’m so sorry these opinions are so ic and also insane

  • ˖ ⁺ 。 ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
    m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.

    gay, courting smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
    speaks with a german accent. 40 moons, ages on the eighth.
    penned by antlers

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  • none.

 


A striped tail curls around his seated form, dancing against his front legs. The tom watches on in a drab reticence, his eyelids half-shut and expression blank. Squabbling and petty politicking is a staple of these assemblies, and it isn't so much that it bores him. Quite the opposite, actually. Every sordid syllable parting from the leaders' lips is absorbed, pondered upon, and contained.

Emberstar's unsightly demise is but one of the heated topics of discussion tonight, yet whenever her affair or underhanded tactics are mentioned, one of his black-capped ears would flick. An acknowledgement of his own imprint on diplomatic affairs. A victory, for once.

 

And just like that, the flames of her boundless rage were ignited upon hearing Cicadastar speak. Claws dug into the ground and tore the soil caught between them as she kneaded. She wanted blood. She wanted to knock him from that rock and flay him alive for his accusations.

How dare he.

How dare he.

She was showing excellent self control in not leaping at him. Rabbitnose would be impressed if he were here. Her maw was curled into a wrathful snarl.

"What nerve...." She growled to herself.

What nerve indeed.

She wanted him dead for his words. It was taking all her strength and self control to keep her mouth shut. She was livid, practically shaking. How paranoid must he be to make such wild accusations.... But perhaps she could use it to her advantage. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, after all.

And make no mistake, laying her adversaries low was what she was born to do, and she considered herself a professional.

His parting words had her gripping the ground even harder. A low dangerous chuckle escaped her throat.

"Oh, you'll be too busy weaving your own pelts back together after I rip them apart to do that....." She hissed to herself.

She wanted to leave. If she had to sit here any longer she might lose it. More than she already has, anyways.