landscape — brambleheart

[Cherryblossom]

The throng of cats gathered to witness Slate murder Cherrykit has since dissipated, with Cherrykit being among the first to leave out of disappointment and boredom. The little calico ends up near a familiar face, one she'd glanced at ever so briefly before returning to the monolith that was Slate. Her gaze tickles his brilliantly-colored color for several moments, longer than would be appropriate for a grown-up—but it seems they're alright with kits doing the staring. Tiny paws inch her closer to the spotted tom, marveling at the starkness of deep pink nestled between drab tufts of fur. "Are you a daylight warrior?" Cherrykit pipes up. Orangeblossom just told her SkyClan doesn't actually let kittypets into camp, only daylight warriors; but if she's being honest, she doesn't quite understand the difference yet.

ooc: @BRAMBLEHEART, takes place 30 minutes to an hour after this thread ends!
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[BRAMBLEHEART]

જ➶ There is a bitterness in him at being snapped at like that. But he supposes the clans are like this even the one that is supposed to be the most welcoming. Personally he knows that he shouldn't take it to heart but it hurts to think that he is looked down upon because of his origins. Even if he has abandoned it because his mother sought to give him a better life. He wishes he hadn't agreed to do it and stayed with her through her dying days. Sadness suddenly sweeps in and he lifts a paw to scratch at his collar, feeling uncomfortable before he finally notices the small fluff of a kitten coming his way. Cherrykit. "Oh..." He mutters quietly as she asks him the question. Is he a Daylight warrior? A small and fragile sounding laugh leaves him and he slowly lays down, careful in how he moves his body. "I'm not actually. I mean...I don't have any twolegs to go back to at night. So I'm a full time warrior of the clan."

Not a very great one but he is trying his best.​

 

[Cherryblossom]

Brambleheart moves twig bones and reed sinew when he moves. It's ungraceful and piques Cherrykit's interest a little more, this unusual and hardly-efficient way of movement. She knows Orangeblossom's purposeful stride by heart, and Ashenclaw's cool gait, but she thinks she could pick this tom's walk out of a line of silhouettes as well. His laugh sounds like dead leaves, broken but warm. "Okay," she simply responds. "Did your twolegs not like you?" The kitten sits down besides him, curling her growing tail over her paws. Some fox-lengths away, she catches a wisp of smoky black fur, and her mind twirls on a dime. "I don't like Slate," Cherrykit announces, keeping curious gaze trained on what she thinks are his wide shoulders.
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