pafp leave her johnny leave her

[SMOKESTAR]

He wasn't sure what drew him to the edge of the border that day but his limbs were compelled to carry him. Smooth pebbled stones blended into soft grass and then worn down grass trodden on by many paws throughout the day. Behind him like a halo the faint light of the sun caught behind a spire of trees and he wondered at the bitter irony of it. He was no saint. He was the sinner.
Each step pressed him closer to redemption, but like a lucid dream it continued to advance as he pursued it. Nothing was far enough to reach it, nothing was apt enough to do what he desired.
The dark tom’s expression was already wary when he padded to the edge of the gorge and peered out across it to the moorlands beyond. It was a relief to see no one near the edge at the other side, no hare-breath scent or tall grass obscuring WindClan frames. He’d come out here out of paranoia, that they might try something while RiverClan struggled to stay above the surface of the terror drowning them currently.
If only he could solve his problems the way he once did on the concrete paths and burning skylines of the old two-leg city.

Smokethroat could feel the worn grooves of his claws, the chips where blood had forever stained the ebony. Somehow he doubted StarClan would look down on him from the skies and nod their head in acceptance.
“...looks like rain.” He murmured quietly, the edge of gray clouds pooling in the distance of his vision. Despite the myriad of emotions and feelings he was currently battling with, his tone was calm and his expression lax. Beneath the waves the storm turned on, tumultuous and violent. He wondered who might be caught in it this time.

@Kelpie.
​

 

[Kelpie.]

AS FAR AS I'VE HEARD, THE FIGHT'S STILL ON​

---

Kelpie knows exactly what has drawn her to this place- the echoing crash of water is as familiar as her own heartbeat, a steady rhythm that had beat against her ears for as long as she's been alive. In this landlocked territory, the gorge is the closest to the sea she can get - the closest to a home she can never return to. Her mismatched gaze is unusually heavy as she draws nearer, longing tinging her every breath. But a cat who has lost her sea legs is only bad luck - a fact she knows all to well.

The marble-furred molly's attention is quickly drawn to the shadowy figure near the edge, a figure of ash and bone whom she thinks might've been called smoke-something. She watches him for a moment, content to observe, before a flick of he ear catches his comment. Striding forward confidently with an easygoing smile on her lips, she's careful not to startle him, paw steps ringing clear. "That it is - I can feel it in my tail," she half-jokes; she's not sure if these strange cats have the same legends she grew up on, but it's true the static and the taste of ozone in the air has her on edge, tail stiff as a board as she tries not to vibrate in anticipation, the light returning to her gaze.

She's always loved a good storm.

 

[COAST]

"Little Seashell, Wildfire! What a beautiful sighting indeed!" Coast's greeting to the two rang through the air loud and proud as he trotted forth, tail kinked upwards in excitement. In the distance rolled breath-taking gray clouds and Kelpie is anything but wrong, even their tail felt like it puffed up with the electricity. Much like Kelpie, though, she comes here often just to look in to the crashing waves. Reminds her of fishing with her folk.

"You think it's gonna be vicious? Oh, I sure hope so." his voice is a little dreamy- he adores the sound of crashing lightning, thundering rain, oh its already getting exciting. "Nothing like a little drizzle~" she sings out happily, adding a wag to her tail.
​

"speech"​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

It was the deliberate stomp of paws on the ground that informed him he had company, thankfully an obvious noise that signified an arrival and not that light steps of a predator or enemy creeping up behind him as he observed the steep incline down into the depths of the ravine that tore the land in two. It was the one natural guard against the creeping moor grass and he was thankful for it; what better boundary than a great hole a full grown warrior would struggle to leap.
His fire and brimstone gaze gradually directed to the two cats approaching, narrowing in thought at the odd remark about tails and excitement for a storm?

If he was honest with himself he could admit that Willowroot’s siblings were a touch harder to understand and handle than the smoke feline was. “...does your tail often predict the weather?” There’s an almost amused tone to his question, but it is heavily shadowed by his usual expression of disinterest and stoicism that he struggles to do anything with. It was not his fault his face just looked like this sometimes. He wasn’t even aware he did it.
Being enthusiastic about rain wasn’t anything too strange, they were RiverClan cats and wore the water like a second pelt. From what he heard these two had seen water that far encompassed anything the river of their territory could possibly have a chance to.
It’s only as he is idly wondering about this great river that he realizes what Coast calls him.
Wildfire.
He highly doubts that was a mistake given how confidently it was spoken. Smokethroat almost wants to correct it but decides it's not worth the effort in the end.
"Well, I this storm won't flood anything this time." Patching dens was a pain.

​

 

[Kelpie.]

AS FAR AS I'VE HEARD, THE FIGHT'S STILL ON​

---

Coast's greeting is met with a bright smile, amusement flickering in mismatched eyes at the nickname. It seems the tom beside her is just as confused by the convention, but part of her knows it's just the way her sibling is. "I'm hoping it'll be wild" there won't be any crashing waves and battering wind to send her a stumbling this time, with solid ground beneath her paws, but her enthusiasm is no less curbed. Smokethroats question catches her attention, and with a inquisitive head tilt she mimics his confusion with her own, posing her own question in return. "Does yours not?" They watch the storm for a few moments more, before the tom's words catch her attention once more. "Do things here often get flooded?" she wonders - is it a genuine concern she'll have to live with, or was it perhaps some one-off oddity she's unaware of?

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) fate has shone kindly on the family of hunters, guiding them all together again among the reeds and hanging trees of the river. it's a one in a million chance, and it's happened - willowroot couldn't be more grateful. seeing their siblings begin to get to know the clan that the smoke has grown to love is a treat in itself, but knowing they're here supersedes all other joy in their life. seeing two of them now, their shadowy mottled pelts shining in the misty light, a shot of lightning seizes wil's heart, and for a moment they're young again, padding through twoleg streets to join their siblings on the rainy docks of their port town.

recognizing smokethroat a second later, a smile graces the lead warrior's maw, and she'll bound lightly along the trail, joining the trio beside the rushing waters. "dearest siblings," willow greets the two, a purr rumbling from her throat. "and smokey! oh isn't this a party." moving to sit between smokethroat and coast, she'll give the gruff man a small nudge. "are these two bilge rats bothering you?" her voice rings with a lovingly teasing tone. "are we talking about the rain? i can smell it on the wind." ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )