border KINGDOM OF CARDS ✧ riverclan patrol

[iciclefang]

Turgid waters lap at the rocks below the RiverClan patrol. The sun is at its zenith in the sky, providing weak but brilliant golden light to the riverlands. It’s a seasonably cold but clear day—there’s no scent of snow on the wind, though there is a faint breath of heather that causes Iciclefang to wrinkle the bridge of her nose. She turns to her apprentice, flicking her tail. “Lichentail wants a show of strength. Hold your head high, please.” She hardly has to tell Rookfang or Dipperfrost to look dour and intimidating—both of them are no doubt wearing their customary frowns, and she feels no need to remind them why they’re marking this border.

Over the cliff, she can see silhouettes, backed by the sun. Iciclefang murmurs, “WindClan has chased Sootstar away, but StarClan only knows what’s really going on over there.” Suspicion clouds her mew. She’s never known a WindClan that isn’t militaristic, cruel, and opportunistic; why should a change in leadership signify anything less?

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @CICADAPAW @DIPPERFROST @Minkpaw! @ROOKFANG @Bumblepaw
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 20 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Stormywing.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​

 

[Minkpaw!]

The proud apprentice didn't need to be told twice. Head tossed, shoulders back, she stalked along the border after Iciclefang. She glanced toward the moor, stifling incredulous laughter. To think they used to come onto our land and try to scare us. Only to revolt against their own leader. What sort of clan could they ever have been if they've now gone and torn themselves in two? A clan full of rats and weasels, that's what. Minkpaw hoped that Smokestar would allow her to go to the next gathering. There wasn't much she wouldn't give for the chance to bend a WindClanner's ear about their current predicament. Oooh, maybe they'll even show up today.​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

Though they were still too banged up to venture down into the tunnels without issue, Rattleheart found themself unable to stick just to camp for too long. Especially now that things were beginning to knit together once again, the gorse wall looking less wrecked and the scent of blood no longer haunting their nose every time they laid in their nest. With fewer things to do within camp, they had decided to venture out to the Riverclan border alongside some others, knowing marking their borders would be more important than ever after Sunstride's round trip to the other clans. They didn't want to come off as if they were threatening anyone else, but Windclan as a whole didn't want to give the impression that they were weakened, either. Torn up by finally ousting Sootstar and her lot.

It was only by pure chance that they ended up near the gorge at the same time, the consistent sound of running water nearly enough to cover the sound of Iciclefang's voice on the other side. Though Riverclan was trying to put up a united and intimidating front, Rattleheart didn't see much point in actively posturing at the moment. Instead they just went about their business, marking the border before they waved their tail in the patrol's direction. There was no malice in their gaze, just a thoughtfulness as they watched the Riverclanners from afar. Hopefully the other Windclanners around them would follow suit.
​

[ PENNED BY EO ]​

 

[BUMBLENOSE]

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For a change, the molly was awfully quiet while trailing behind the familiar frame of her mentor. The atmosphere felt tense, and at the Lead Warrior's quick reminder to her student, she too lifted her chin. Tail waving at shoulder height, she trekked across the familiar land, heading toward Windclan's border. After the news of Sootstar's dethroning and the path to Highstones being free once more, her nerves had barely settled. Windclan had only ever left a sour taste in the youth's mouth, especially after the attack on Smokestar. It was good to see the crazed Moor Queen had been taken from her pedestal, but she couldn't help but nod in complete agreement with Iciclefang's assessment. Yellow eyes spotted the wave but Bumblepaw did not return it in kind. She didn't know the other and sensed no ill-will, but her grudges had yet to be alleviated just yet.​

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[GRAVELSNAP]

➴➴ Tired-eyed, and equally as tired-pawed, Gravelsnap trails behind Rattleheart as the other warriors heads out to the gorge. They have not slept well since their return to WindClan’s camp, but since their eye’s injury has once again healed enough to allow them to go out wandering the territory, they see no reason to lounge around the camp. And on that same note, the black-patched moor runner doesn’t want to see Rattleheart injured, especially since they are approaching the RiverClan border.

It isn’t exactly unsafe, with the gorge in between them and the RiverClan patrol—but Juniperfrost’s face flashes in their mind, and Gravelsnap frowns. They will not see Rattleheart fallen over the edge of the gorge if they can prevent it. Today, though, it seems they may not need to worry over such tragedies; RiverClan’s patrol is quiet. The tunneler says nothing to the other patrol, but Gravelsnap finds it strange to just pass by and say nothing. After being gone for nearly two months, they are glad to see that they still have borders to mark. "Hello, Riverclan," they say in between a series of yawns, before turning to go about their business marking the border.​

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

The wound on her leg is beginning to heal, and Wolfsong has given her his approval to stretch her legs across the moors once again. Thank StarClan for the chance, really; it has been so long since she has felt in harmony with the plains, so long since she's even felt the grass, frozen though it was, brush beneath her pawpads. She sticks to Rattleheart's side, letting the scent of snow-snuffed heather overtake her senses. It's so much better than the stink of Horseplace (though, she supposes, there were some bonuses to living there besides), so much more open, so much freer, and hard-won at that. She has the scars to prove it. She had collected the ultimate payment for it. Now that it's hers again, she thinks she could sing her praise to the stars themselves.

She presses her paws into the border, but when she glances up again there is a RiverClan patrol eyeing them — and a familiar face among them. The journey had been hard (harder than what she'd just lived, she isn't sure, but hard all the same), and she's so sorely missed the cats she'd come to know along the course of it; to see Iciclefang again is a great relief. She remembers flicking minnows out of the water with meager success at the warrior's side, her graceful perch at the riverbank, the ease with which she had caught the food that Scorchpaw struggled laboriously for. Their cool, tense conversation; the lasting respect that Scorchpaw had kept for the other tortoiseshell molly in the locket on her chest.

"Oh, Iciclefang!" the apprentice chimes. She'd been grown when she'd departed for the journey, but she looks impossibly tall alongside her clanmates — especially alongside her aunt, whose tunneling stature was among the smallest of the small. Scorchpaw's broad-shouldered frame dwarfs her, though were she and Iciclefang to stand on the same side of the gorge, the illusion might be shattered. Witty banter is not her strong suit, and the rush of seeing other cats again — cats she likes — makes her tongue soft with sunny sincerity. "It's been a long time. Have you been able to fish in leafbare?" Perhaps it's a stupid question to a RiverClanner, but Scorchpaw is cheery all the same.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by sixbane
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

He'd never slept outside of WindClan's camp before, save for the moon spent being driven out by rogues. Even then, he had clung to the places that smelled most like his home: the abandoned badger setts, the bedding shared by acquaintances-turned-enemies, the border. He hadn't betrayed his mother long enough to sleep in a dreary barn, with experiences that centered around the moors and the moors alone, it was difficult to see RiverClan as anything more than a scourge. His smile was a formality, a suggestion of peace that he refused to verbalise, because he would not be the one to break the status quo. He'd been there when Harrierstripe had made their leader bleed, and he'd been there when they retaliated with water lunged at his patrol - perhaps it was not WindClan's status quo he wished to break, but instead his own.

Scorchpaw's words caused him to whip his head towards the apprentice, staring at the back of her head as if it would pop if he did so. 'Defend your clan, even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must remain to your Clan, as one day you may meet them in battle.' Even if she did not wrong at that moment, when she spoke warmer than he'd heard them talk to even clanmates, he had to wonder if he was the only cat in WindClan who remembered that forsaken code. He blinked rapidly, the last time his eyes opened, they were settled upon the RiverClan patrol, squinting as if trying to assess the individual features of ants.

​

 

[Bluepool]

Like many of her clanmates, Bluepool is in no mood for pleasantries. The tunnelers and the moor runners converge on the border at the precise moment that RiverClan does and all the blue toned warrior can think is. Oh great. She tries not to roll her eyes at Scorchpaw's words, tries not to let the huff of annoyance escape her nose, but she fails. Like Sootspot, she is thinking of the warrior code as she shoots the apprentice a look through half-lidded eyes.

Her judgmental gaze is brief though and after a moment she would allow her cold yellow eyes to drag across each of the RiverClanners present in a slow motion. " RiverClan" she says in an echo of many of her clanmates, though her voice is edged in icy tones. " I hope you are all faring well but we have no time to stop and chat. Mark the border and lets be on our way. " the last part is directed towards her own patrol as she flicks her scrap of a tail at them. An indication to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

( ✦ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[DIPPERFROST]

Long limbs carry her alongside the other RiverClanners. It feels good, to be on her own with no mentor breathing down her neck. She would miss the companionship, at times, but for now it feels... freeing in a strange sort of way. No one was there to question her every move, to ask her millions upon millions of questions about things that she already knows and has known for what felt like a millenia.

Conversation with the other RiverClanners is short. If anyone of them tried to talk to her, she would nod her head, her lips drawn in a tight line. Impenetrable. She was not here to make small talk, after all. As they near the border, her eyes flash to look at Iciclefang as she instructs them to hold her head high and promptly she decides that order is not for her. She is the epitome of pride and grace. But just in case she squares her shoulders a little bit more.

WindClan is her least favorite border to come to but she understands the need so she does not argue. She just hopes they can move on without much trouble. It seems she would get her wish. WindClan does not say much other than the occasional quiet grumblings. From the looks on their weary faces though, the fresh wounds on their body, Dipperfrost would guess that they are just tired. So she tilts her head at them in a greeting and says "WindClan." in way of a hello back to them. Any other conversation further than that would be in the paws of someone other than her.

// please ignore I have two characters posted here I never claimed to be smart fvndfkjsvnkjdf

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[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── Why was he always being sent to the cursed border of Windclan and Riverclan? The feeling that Starclan constantly mocked him was starting to become a permanent unease, reminding him that he had not yet been able to strike back at the idiotic loyalist at the Gathering. His pale faded claws ached anytime the thought brushed through his mind, reigniting his distaste for Windclan especially after their lunatic leader had taken one of Smokestar's lives and tried to restrict access to what every clan rightfully deserved entrance to. The snobby attitudes that were as lanky and weak as themselves appeared to still stick around even after they showed their bellies to such ruthless commands and orders, his half-lidded steely gaze sharpened with the energy that coursed with him.

A fight. It would be lovely on his own but he knew best than to cause anything but intimidation and presence as Iciclefang led the patrol, her reminder of holding their head high caused the spike-furred warrior to straighten his mainly slouched form, a low hum of acknowledgment, tattered velvety ear twitching as the clearer winds from the moors began to strike against them. The cold still remained clinging to their home, its fingers interlaced and refusing to break apart but Rookfang knew they would prevail this leafbare as they always do.

His thick jagged pelt gently brushed against the form of his apprentice, Bumblepaw as he knew her smaller frame would not be so easily stable against the winds but once they arrived, he shifted his focus onto the figures of Windclan...or whatever remained after their messy breakup. His permanent scowl was stitched in as he watched a flame-licked youth exclaim towards Iciclefang, his one good eye's pupil expanding with slight curosity. He held a gentler judgment for Windclan's youth than he held for his own clan, it was the adults who were the ones he held a cyanide-like perspective to as his attention snapped to Bluepool, clearly holding the frosty behavior in return. He dismisses her with a simple glance before focusing on Scorchpaw, curious as to what Iciclefang's response would be to the other.​

 

[Minkpaw!]

Stars above, could this be anymore boring? Given the severe animosity between the two clans mere moons ago, Minkpaw had expected just a little more hostility. She'd signed up for fun, not the most normal border patrol in all the forest. One of WindClan's apprentices spoke up cheerfully, and Minkpaw's gazed snapped to her. One of the journey cats. Minkpaw had been young when the journey had occurred, but she remembered. It seemed that not only did the WindClanner still hold Iciclefang with some regard, the older apprentice was comfortable making it known to everyone. I wonder if she'd talk to me at the next gathering. Wouldn't that be fun.

Her icy gaze flickers toward another WindClanner, a warrior who all but breezes past their entire patrol. Tsh, you think you're above even looking at us? Whose clan is tearing itself apart at the seems, hmm? The corners of Minkpaw's mouth twitched upward at the ludicracy .
"WindClan," she mewed back alongside Dipperfrost, flashing an unnatural smile. "All of us are faring quite well." She mimicked the falsely polite speech pattern of the WindClanner, but unused to such courteous words they hung strangely after leaving her mouth. Iciclefang said to make a show of strength. Surely a little needling doesn't detract from that.​

 

[iciclefang]

Cats begin to cluster along the lip of the heather-laced side of the gorge. A black and white feline and a silver tabby she recognizes as Bluepool, one of Sootstar’s lead warriors—Or Sunstride’s, now?—move briskly along. One young warrior offers RiverClan a simple hello, but it’s a vibrant and achingly familiar mew that cuts through the air next. Iciclefang jerks her head up with surprise at her name being called. A flame-streaked tortoiseshell pelt she has not seen in moons waves to her with exuberance. She’s taller now, long-limbed and graceful beside her Clanmates. Iciclefang’s mouth twitches into a tiny, wry-looking smile.

“Scorchpaw. It has been a long time. I hear you’ve been… away.” The tip of her tail flicks lazily back and forth. Pale blue eyes study the she-cat who’d saved her life from the jaws of snapping hounds. “We’re still fishing, yes. Have you been practicing?” She’d wondered if she’d hold any ill-will toward the WindClanners who’d gone on the journey, but after Sunstride’s visit, she finds most of her hostility evaporated. WindClan had committed crimes, yes, but they’d also taken their Clan’s destiny into their own paws. She supposes she can reserve further judgment—at least for now.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 20 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Cicadapaw ; previously mentored n/a
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Stormywing.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.
  
  

​