twolegplace like a tidal wave .. skyclan dusk patrol

[APPLEFROST]

A chill brought by the wind pushed and pulled at soft fur. The sun had set sooner now, but Applefrost still moved with the rise and fall of the sun of her internal clock. Though with the glow of the last fading beams a burning glow behind them, Applefrost found her namesake more of an annoyance that evening.

"Stars, what I wouldn't give to replace all our moss nests with what my twolegs had." She hummed as a puff of breath left her maw when she spoke. She recalled what Blazestar had told her, how much he had missed leaving them behind. Perhaps she was a bit more selfish missing the more practical, convenience of it all. "Well, anyhow we're here everyone! Be on the lookout for those rogues Blazestar talked about."

@BEAR @TIGERSCAR @MOONFANG @MACARONIPAW @Circe ​

 

[MOONFANG.]

He couldn't help it but continue to wonder in silence; why was he chosen for this patrol? Out of all the cats in SkyClan, why him? The young warrior wasn't quiet with his opinions about kittypets— and more so, daylight warriors. While most of SkyClan might be more friendly to kittypets, Moonfang isn't among that crowd. He's proud to be a SkyClanner— proud that his life has always been within the wild, and not trapped inside some twoleg nest. He pads after Applefrost with a flick of an ear, green eyes glancing at the twoleg nests that surround them. "No thanks if you ask me," The warrior frowns, unaware of his connection to this place. "Constant warmth might sound tempting to some," He murmurs, eyes scanning the territory before them, "But not to me." He feels quite happy with their moss nests back at camp. It might not be warm right now, but he feels alive when he's in SkyClan. He feels at home, where he belongs. A twoleg nest isn't a place where he belongs.

"Be on the lookout for those rogues Blazestar talked about."

Moonfang gives her a nod, staying alert. Rogues were even worse than kittypets, if he had to choose between a kittypet and a rogue, he'd pick the kittypet. Most kittypets are harmless, besides the ones who dare to hunt in their land, but a rogue can do serious damage if they so pleased. They can't be trusted, perhaps this is why he was sent on this patrol. Not to keep an eye on the kittypets, but to keep an eye on those rogues.
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₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱

• ooc notes here
  
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• Moonfang

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  warrior
  ambitious
  conceited
  experience: trained
  backstory: mistaken identity
  biography: [HYPERLINK]
  credit to nopeita for the pixel <3
  

  cisgender male [he / him]
  eyes: green
  pelt: bluish-gray
  fur length: short
  parents: persephone and hades (kittypet npcs)
  12 moons
  
  

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[Sorrelsong]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Circe exhaled, a smile playing on her lips.
"I dunno, i quite like it here compared to the... twolegs." Twolegs. She weighed the word in her head, it was diffrent from shed called her house folk. More... nuetral. Less hateful. Leave it behind. The thinner parts of her coat prinkled in the cold wind.
She nodded along with Moonfang as the cat expressed their thoughts - had they had a similar experience? She thought to ask, but then practiced her introduction in her head.
'hello! My name is Circe except i hate that name and everything it reminds me of. I also hate my house folk and the whole experience of being with them and also my family life was bad. I also like being in the clan! What was your life like?'
Yeah. Thatd be a good way to make friends.
She shivered a bit at the mention of rogues. Willing the uneasyness to leave her body with an ear flick.
"I was there when we chased them out." She started before she could stop. The floor pounded slightly beneath her. "Pushed one off a tree..." Casting an acusitory glance to the shadows she puffed up her chest and added "Was easy." As if she still didnt have nightmares.

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ooc Information

• ooc: on mobile and its being weird. Hope formating and spelling arent to bad lol
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  CIRCE— SHE/HER･ 37 MOONS ･ WARRIOR IN TRAINING & SKY CLAN･ PENNED BY @KEEEKEEEY!

  Once a rather pretty brown smoked molly, Circe is unnaturally lithe and is missing large chunks of her fur. She has an oddly muscular and feminie build and small paws. — physically easy && mentally easy — Attempting to learn Sky Clan's ways — NPC x NPC : Sibling to Duskpool, Shadowfire and Smokefang

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[BEAR]

Land outside the territory he's once called home, once was his, the alleys he sheltered in, the fences he'd leapt, while not the area its what the territory outside brings to mind. The idea of life outside the scented, protected SkyClan doesn't being the comfort he expects it to. Sights offered by the border serve as a reminder of a lack of safety, if he could raise his shaggy coat it would be obvious. On top of the mention of keeping cautious, he's raised his shoulders, broadened himself to lumber a few paces behind.

"Silly way to live." On edge, he only unhinges his jaw to be a critic. Bear's nose wrinkling at the thought kittypet life conjured by Applefrost, of living free from the burden that would always drag him down. The description of the attack makes it more real, has his sharp stare cutting around himself, with a renewed determination. With teeth pressed together he's primed for a fight. "You had to." He nods his shaggy head, offering the same assurances he takes solace in. "There many living around here?"
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[GANYMEDE]

There they go again. An army of marching ants comes bristling from the pines. Ganymede watches them from his perch upon the fence; though his pelt has long since rid itself of kittypet stench, he has taken to lingering here in recent days, drawn by some inexplicable thing to watch, to listen, to wait. Maybe a part of him wants to become them: there is, undeniably, company in the Clans, though he doubts he will be shown much kindness by it based on the bickering of this particular party. But they perplex him also. Why do they hound their borders so doggedly? He has heard tales of cats being killed for hunting on their lands, and he's found it difficult to see the other side. Sure, the scent border was strong (he's been up by it, these days, a few times) but, really, would anyone notice if he just snagged one mouse from inside it? He's awfully hungry, these days.

They stray closer. Ganymede listens to them talking. Pushing rogues out of trees — you had to, the big one soothes, though the killer seemed quite fine admitting such a fact. One of them has a softer face the color of apricots. Another is gray like slate, with a hardened expression to match. Watch out for rogues. Dawnglare had said something similar, a short while before now; were they still a problem, then? Had they not all been pushed out of trees?

Paws itching, the loner leaps from his perch to approach the patrol (perhaps stupidly if their stories were to be believed), aquamarine eyes glittering in the last licks of daylight. But aside from the scars ticked across his brow, Ganymede hardly cuts an intimidating figure; really, he thinks they will find him quite interesting, and he anticipates that he will feel the same of them, too. "It sounds like you've got a good handle on those rogues," he comments, tone lilting as he shoots Circe a piercing glance. "Are they still troubling you?" And then, as if remembering himself, he laughs; "I promise I'm not one of them. A few of yours warned this place about them the other day."

𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 ✧ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜

• — ganymede . 25 moons . he / they
  — loner ; former kittypet abandoned by his twolegs. curious about the clans.
  — "speech" ; thoughts. attacks in underline.
  — penned by meghan . toyhou.se . playlist . pinterest

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