pafp LORELEY ╱╱ PATROL

[HONEYJAW]

He doesn't think he will ever get used to wandering the same lands night after night. It wasn't bad, of course, but the sense of adventure he'd chased when he was younger was beyond him now. Stability wasn't a bad thing. Especially when it meant that Dragonflypaw was safe here. Sometimes he just can't help but feel a little bored with it all. He wasn't meant to settle down entirely– even with home, Honeyjaw craves adventure. Patrols are...probably the closest he'll get to it now, even if that in itself has become rote. He treks along after the patrol with his eyes roving in search of something new, or maybe something old brought forward in time. That's another thing he hadn't quite gotten over: the constant searching for enemies, the worries about those who might have followed. Though protected from his own now, Honey knows he would be lying to say that ShadowClan didn't have their own.

Frankly, they had many, many more than he had. With the bears, though, that all seemed a distant enough worry. They move along looking for those beasts most of all. Any signs of where they had gone, if they would return. So far...nothing. That's a pleasant surprise, after all they've been through. The marsh group's luck was notoriously terrible. But hey! Today, his isn't quite so bad. Though not pausing in stride, the warrior paws along a pinecone that did not quite look like those that naturally fell. Green and strangely plush, he can only assume that the bear had knocked it off of a branch during its odd rampage. All the better for him though. He hums a senseless tune as he drags it along, occasionally batting it up into the air as they go.

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: please wait for @S A B L E T U F T !

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

​

 

[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — As natural and uniform as the seasons change, ShadowClan's trail of bad luck seemed just to be the same. As much as his Clanmates had faith in their StarClan, Sabletuft had doubt. The starry cats that granted gifts of life, hardly ever answered the prayers of those in need. He had limited faith that they were benevolent spirits and not self-serving of some kind. If Sabletuft were to be entirely honest, he scarcely even entertained regarding them. The forest had not changed just because of that Battle, only the survivors that remained.

In the Clans string of unfortunate tragedies, though, Sabletuft had found himself feeling tied more closely to his home. Their home was wholly their responsibility, and they could only remain if they worked together. Even with those he hadn't fully trusted before.

While he padded alongside his warriors, he caught the sight of Honeyjaw in his peripheral. He couldn't tell what he was the other tom was dragging around, but he debated if it was worth even asking. "Dragonflypaw had been doing really well. She'll make a really strong warrior." He referred to the young she-cat positively, thought he sounded a bit hesitant to speak at all. — tags​

 

[TADPOLEPAW]

Loki trails alongside the group of ShadowClanners, nearly invisible in their shadows save for the blue sheen of his pelt. Placing his paws nearly within their pawprints, he still doesn't quite feel as though he belongs with the shadowy wildcats. From his lower vantage point he watches broad shoulders roll with each step, tails swishing so softly through the muggy air they never once make a sound against the oft-scattered ferns. He feels like a ShadowClanner in coat but not shape, a wooden imitation of a panther carved a little too much. There's nothing else for him to do here though. He doesn't have a mentor, unlike any of the other apprentices, so the warriors have taken turns passing him around. The little oddity, "Ferndance's son," sprung fully-formed from the fleeing undercarriages of bears.

Lurid eyes follow the path of Honeyjaw's chosen pinecone, finding it a little more entertaining than constantly scanning the horizons for something or another. He doesn't quite know yet. After a while of his batting and throwing, Sabletuft finally speaks up, but not about that, which is a little surprising to Loki. He would've thought the older tom had enough authority to tell the younger (but still much older than Loki) tom to knock it off, but even wildcats were allowed a little fun here and there apparently. Dragonflypaw? He's seen the girl around, but she's usually with her mentor if she's not with her father. He's faintly aware they're not related by blood, but she and the seal-pelted warrior have enough in common that they may as well be. Unlike he and Ferndance. "She's pretty cool," he chimes in, nearing the more familiar black-and-white warrior as he does. Not like me. He's seen her prance into camp once or twice, always with some catch in her white-dipped jaws. Not like him.​

 

[HONEYJAW]

Hearing her name from anyone who wasn't Clearheart or Elkrush always comes like a jolt. Like he wanted to cradle them, tuck them away where nobody could comment. Maybe he'd gotten too used to the worries at first, so long ago. Those half-suspicious sideways glances as they spoke of outsiders. She hadn't been born here. Neither had he. He thinks, at the end of the day, they'd both proved themselves well enough. Like he'd mentioned– stability and all that. Not something he particularly wanted, but something important nonetheless. He's glad he can give Dragonflypaw that. So once he gets over himself, it's good to hear Sabletuft say she's doing well. He turns his head a little, pinecone forgotten and skittering away across the marshy ground. HIs brow is raised subtly in polite excuse me? as he processes. Part of him feels a little ashamed of having been caught distracted, but distracted is about a sixth of his mind at all times.

"Yeah. Yeah, she's been a fighter since birth. And Clearheart is good for her. A good mentor." Pride warms his face, but the warrior directs it mostly towards the ground. Sky blue eyes turn back towards the older tom, slightly squinted; the critical glimmer in them doesn't last. There'll be no voicing whatever question brought itself to the front of his mind. Something about the past, which is better left there in his well-informed opinion. Instead he turns back a little more to look at Loki. Still no name for the kid. No real clue how to be a clan cat. He gets it, and maybe that makes him a little more sympathetic than most. Just....popped up one of those days. Ferndance's kid. As someone who had also stolen away a youngster, well– he has his guesses, that's all. "You think so? They'd like to hear that, I think."

﹥ˏˋ  OOC NOTES ╱ REFERENCE ╱ 07.02.2023  𝘙𝘌𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘋𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘔𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘐 𝘏𝘈𝘝𝘌 ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• honeyjaw ╱╱ 36 moons old ╱╱ he - him - his ╱╱ warrior of shadowclan.
  ──── a former loner who joined the clan approximately six months ago (give or take).
  ──── named for the deep honey-brown of his pelt as well as his too natural charisma.
  ──── has an apprentice-aged kid he joined with, def scared of watching 'em grow up.
  ──── bisexual- kinda flirtatious yet never seems to really pursue a relationship. single.
  
  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected, with a salt-and-pepper dusting around his jaw and muzzle.

• "speech"

​

 

[smogstar]

Smogmaw's consideration lies on the value an individual brings to this clan, more so than their background or creed. So long as they give credence to their worth, prowess, and adhesion to ShadowClan's purpose, he attached minimal significance to whether they were born to former colonists, rogues, loners, or hell, even kittypets. The dark-smirched deputy himself did not originate from a colony or clan, having drawn his first breath as the eldest of a nomad's offspring. His birth beyond the borders of any established society may have moulded his code of conduct, but it did not define his belonging here, nor did it to anyone bred from similar circumstances.

Honeyjaw was a recent addition to the roster, and from Smogmaw's angle, his merit was still a topic of inquiry. That he had brought a child in with him, however, decidedly helped his chances. "Clearheart'll make a hardened champion out'f her, yet," the tom would profess as he plods in the patrol's wake. "The question remains if we can do the same with you," he adds on, a biting sportiveness underscoring his words. Honeyjaw had the hallmarks of untested potential, though it'd be difficult to tap into at this later stage of his life. He was offbeat, too, if not a little peculiar, but that can be forgiven. It's to be expected of an outlander to be a smidgen outlandish. ​

 

[TADPOLEPAW]

A startled flicker leaps through his chest at Honeyjaw's comment. He's not going to, is he? he silently hopes. There's no reason for Loki to reel back his compliment though, and it wasn't like he could fish it out of Honeyjaw's ears anyway, so attuned were they to the slightest comment on his little warrior. A brief shadow of consternation passes through his face, going mostly unnoticed in the gloom of ShadowClan's forest. "Uh, yeah," he mumbles, technicolor gaze panning down to the forlorn pinecone behind them.

Then Smogmaw obscures his view and makes him lose it entirely. The deputy's words send an additional shoot of worry worming through his kittypet heart, and he hopes none of them hear its peculiar beat in the silence left by the bears. Honeyjaw has his quirks, but not as many as the ash-pelted warrior looming behind him; if Smogmaw deemed him questionable, what did that make Loki? As though suddenly remembering the purpose of the patrol, he hastily rubs his cheek against a lone, smooth-barked tree before loping to catch up with the rest. "Honeyjaw, how long have you been here?" Loki volunteers, subtly eager to change the subject.​