LIKE CLOCKWORK — "gift"

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — By now, it should've been no secret that the brooding rogue was not a fan of anything related to kittypets. Kittypets themselves, especially daylight warriors, irked the tom to no end and he was not afraid to make that clear much to the dismay of his clanmates. It was bold, especially in a clan like SkyClan, but Slate was not one to bend to the pressure and scorn of others. Ever the strong-willed and stubborn type, the charcoal clung tight to his personal judgment and values, as they were really all he had. His prejudice of soft-pawed twoleg pets predated his arrival to SkyClan, all the way back to his youth, when he learned about the seemingly superficial nature of cat and twoleg relationships and how easily families were torn about solely for the will of the bipedal beasts. It was an opinion that would be tough to budge, if it ever did.

The broad-shouldered warrior, slinking into the warrior's den, had not expected to find a twoleg accessory in his nest. It appeared to be a collar of sorts, though it did not look familiar to him. None of the cats who bordered his own nest wore collars, so he figures it wouldn't be them, either. Had this been a deliberate placement?

Dangling the bowtie collar from his jaws, Slate stalked out of the den, a grumpy frown tugging down on his maw. He dropped it onto the ground and cleared his throat loudly, sweeping a harsh amber stare over those gathered in the immediate vicinity. "Someone left a little something in my nest." Slate states flatly, giving an irritated twitch of his long-haired tail. "Whose is this?"

// no need to wait for @TALLULAHWING !​

 

[TALLULAHWING]

Tallulahwing is the picture of innocence as Slate begins to interrogate those in his vicinity. She pokes at a piece of fresh-kill in the pile, pretending to ponder over her breakfast before taking Figpaw out into the territory -- but the gleam in her yellow eyes, the tremor jostling her whiskers as she fights a smile, almost gives her away.

If there's one thing the torbie cannot stand, it's self-righteous kittypet-haters like Slate and Silversmoke. She finds no shame in living with housefolk; she still reports to SkyClan each morning, fresh-faced and ready to work hard to support her Clan, doesn't she? She's shaping Figpaw up to be a fine warrior. She's a skilled hunter, a clever weaver and builder.

Yet, she's labeled soft-pawed and pampered because of the bow around her neck. It matches Slate's gift -- the only exception is the size of the little tie, and the color.

"Why, that would look just darlin' on you," she gushes, abandoning her pretend-survey of the prey so she can race to the hulking rogue. She pretends to give the item a cursory sniff. "Oh, it even smells nice! It'll do you a world of good, honey."

After a moment, Tallulahwing lifts her golden eyes to meet Slate's, a mischievous grin replacing her innocence. "Why... what a coincidence! We could match! You an' me, best friends, and we'll let the whole world know."​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Auburnflame]

Unlike the rugged tom that Slate was, Auburnflame held no ill will towards kittypets. Sure, some were quite the— character; but he held a mild respect for them to come here everyday and do their share. They didn't suffer like the rest of SkyClan did, to face the brunt harshness of Leaf-Bare like them but they still chose out of their own will to embrace some of it. They could always just sit comfy within the thick walls of their homes, nestled in soft blankets with food at the ready. Some believed kittypets held a paw in two different worlds and that much was true, but there were some great warriors here despite their heritage. Auburnflame was a tom that believed someone's actions and choices spoke of their character, not where they hail from.
Red patched ears pulled towards the commotion as Slate dangles a Two-Leg collar in his jaws before dropping it carelessly onto the ground. His fiery hues grazed over the camp and his tone was swathed in agitation. The torbie that perched up beside him, a coy smile playing on her lips as she spoke up. Auburnflame felt a loud snicker raise from his throat, tickling his vocal chords until he finally let it pass over his salmon pink tongue. The slyness of her words was just too much and he felt so tickled he couldn't help but laugh. "How cute you would be with that on 'ya! You'd look so distinguished and gentlemen-like!" His pink lips pull back to reveal ivory teeth, followed by a wiggling of his brows. Slate would probably not find the joke so amusing, but the warrior believed he needed a little good-natured fun in his life. He always walked around with a chip on his shoulder.
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[ SETTING FIRE TO THE SKY ]​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

He held a grudge against those who had the privilege to change, yet refused to until they'd lost said privileges. That was perhaps why he loathed the concept of Daylight Warriors, who sat comfortably in their homes and had no incentive to be loyal to those outside of their two-leg walls. They could leave whenever they wanted and not come back, they could be gone in times of crisis, they were unreliable and it wasn't until their humans inevitably tired of them that they finally proclaimed to be SkyClanners all along. It was an opinion he'd kept suspiciously quiet since Slate's arrival, preferring the former rogue to dig his own grave without Silversmoke burying himself adjacent to the tom, but there were times when silence was too difficult for the young tom to keep. Incredulous blinks increased in pace as the Lead Warrior's attention settled on the aforementioned cat, the corner of his muzzle twitching upwards. Tallulahwing and Auburnflame's comments increased his smile into a full-blown smirk, a rare, biting laughter quietly emerging from between the cat's bared teeth. Silversmoke would be livid if it were him on the receiving end of a prank like this, as it wasn't, he reveled in the glee of seeing Slate squirm.

"Of course you would be friends, Slate would not have issues befriending a kittypet, would he?" A dangerous brow was cocked in the other's direction as if daring him to speak badly of them. He held more sway now than he had done previously, his duty was to his clan first and foremost, yet... a small part of the tom couldn't deny how tempting it was to cause whispers of doubt about his enemy amidst the council he'd just joined. Whether they listened would be a different story entirely, but feeling a twisted sense of authority, he pressed on. "Nor would he have any problem wearing that thing. Let us raise our heads and meow in celebration of our newest Daylight Warrior, Slatecollar!"

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[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — A sneer makes its way onto sharp features as Talullahwing rejoices at Slate's "discovery". Slate did not know the she-cat very well, though judging by her pattern of leaving at nightfall and the collar she wears around her neck, she was definitely of the daylight warrior variety. He mutters, "Of course it would smell nice to you." He's half-attempted to accuse Tallulahwing herself of leaving the accessory in his nest, but after she calls it a coincidence, he isn't sure anymore. She surely isn't acting like she knows who it belongs to.

Embarrassment begins to befall the orange-eyed warrior as Amberflame joins in, encouraging Slate to wear the accessory with pride. They could not possibly think that he wanted to wear that thing! Slate was likely one of the most outspoken against kittypets in SkyClan, considering everyone and their mother adored the house pets and found no issue in their own warriors splitting their loyalties between two worlds.

Ears burning, claws flexing in frustration as nobody was fessing up, Slate clenched his jaw and lashed his tail back and forth. To add to his stress, the familiar voice of Silversmoke grates against his eardrums. An angry gaze whips toward the other warrior, a tight frown curling upon his maw. "You're one to talk." Slate snorts; as if Silversmoke wouldn't be reacting in the same manner! He hated kittypets just as much as he did and they both knew it.

"Let us raise our heads and meow in celebration of our newest Daylight Warrior, Slatecollar!"

Slate had enough. He could manage to bite back on his irritation toward the others, but taunting from his rival was enough to push him toward the edge. "Call me that again and see what happens. Go on." The charcoal tom challenges, staring the silver tabby dead in the eyes. At this point, he was willing to bet that Silversmoke was the culprit behind all of this. He wouldn't put it past his rival to try and humiliate him ( and, as much as he hated to admit it, it was working ).​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

There was a casual cruelty in the Lead Warrior's newfound humour, a bite to his complacent laughter that felt like dipping a paw into a frozen lake, an idea that there was a joke that only the pair shared, leaving Tallulahwing and Auburnflame none-the-wiser to what it truly meant. His attention span from cat to cat like a charlatan as he expected them to join in on his jests, his attention only faltering when a sharp voice cut through the frigid air around him. Silversmoke spun around to face Slate, his ears instantly twitching at the tone that Slate took with him. His jaw clenched as he craned his neck, reaching his full height over the other. "It was only a gift, do you not like your new name?" Eye contact was something scarcely given by the tom, for it was endlessly difficult to ignore the prickles of discomfort he felt when trying to gauge when he was staring too much or not enough. At that moment, he did not care how he was perceived. Slate would always be beneath him, his opinions were not ones that needed to be valued any more than a pile of crowfood should be appreciated.

He placed a large paw forward, his smile contorting into a twisted grin with the promise of conflict ensnaring his thoughts. 'Go on. Do it. Get yourself exiled, rat.' His striped tail swayed gently behind him like a propeller preparing to launch him should he get his wish. Silversmoke tilted his head slightly to get the best view of Slate's own scarred eye, his nostrils flaring in thought. Whoever left such a mark had not done a good enough job, but that was ok, Silversmoke had always preferred to get his revenge by himself anyways - he'd take that organ one day whether StarClan wanted him to or not. "You haven't been deemed worthy enough of a warrior name yet so I thought I would offer you one that suited you, one... befitting of your new gift. Whoever gave it to you must have known exactly what you are. StarClan honours your greed and wrath..." If he blinked, he swore he saw a glimpse at his own reflection: an angry, selfish kittypet hater. But Silversmoke never blinked, he did not want to miss the sucker punch he could anticipate coming from a fox length away.

"Slatecollar".

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[ThistleBack]

Perhaps the most confusing advocate for Kittypets, was Thistleback. Whom not only never was one, had never once known a life of soft or ease. Who was not kind, nor soft, or easy to please. Whom raised his children strictly, and expected the impossible at some points. Yet he wears a deceptive collar around his neck and defends their rights continuously. Because, whoever is willing to fight for Skyclan- deserves that respect. So, who better an advocate and ally for those who walk in two worlds?

Propped on his ribs and stomache, the urchin gnaws with the jagged edges of his backteeth upon a bone. Muzzle sewn with focus and jaws slick with light slobber, relishing in the ache it drives into his lower mouth. The bustle of camp is light and peaceful, but with heart palpitations and mosquito buzzing in his ear, peaceful was loud. Thistleback needed that clangor of his teeth on something to seal his ears.

That is until, Slate busts out of a den with a collar and accusation. Thistleback peers up but continues his chew. Tallulahwing and Auburnflame chime up, prodding a beast no doubt. One could imagine Slate wouldn’t take well to it, but the piebald wasn’t one to ponder foolish childish tempers. He had a temper himself but it was hardly stoked so easily. There was other ways to get points across.

Silversmoke, was kindling to an already brewing flame. Thistleback growls lowly to himself as he has to unhook his jaws from the bone and stand. A threat in the air, and Thistle is on his hocks. This wasn’t childish bickering anymore, this was territory he had dealt with between Coyotepaw and Snowpaw at one point. If he doesn’t step in now, Slate and Silversmoke could alter their paths permanently.

Thistleback aims to roughly shoulder his way between the two.

" that’s enough. " he barks hoarsely, whipping his skull between the two of them. " this nursery shit, is getting old. As entertaining as your bickering can be. " razored tongue flicking behind flashing incisors. " you’re clanmates. Wear the collar or don’t. Here’s the real truth- so chew it a bit so you don’t choke, nobody gives a shit. To any other clan, you’re still a kittypet. To everyone here, you’re a Skyclanner. " he speaks as he does when he had once reprimanded Quillpaw.

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OOC INFO REF

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  Thirty-three moons EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan since 12.22.22
  — Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22 | polyamorous
  — Father of Coyotepaw, Pricklepaw, and Eveningpaw.
  — mentoring quillpaw & Snowpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
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