private MANS BEST FRIEND WILL BITE YOU ✧ scorchstorm

[GRAVELPAW]

Why are we much different from the clan cats? Aren't we... clan cats? Thriftfeather had tried to soothe their worries, but only created more. Why does Starclan look kindly upon the other clans and not them? StarClan doesn't—they don't look kindly on us here. He had said. But why? What makes them different? Why can't Duskclan attend a gathering like the other clans do, and why are they so different? Why won't Starclan look at me?

Today she'll find out. They'll make their way in to Windclan, and they'll watch these cats. And maybe- maybe they'll copy them, any rituals, anything that they have. Maybe for once in their life, Gravelpaw wants to be swaddled with light and not shadow, clinging like swamp moss; bathed in love, to not be met with a venom-sweet smile from Ebonylight. I'll find out why. And when I find out, i'll- i'll share it with Hungerpaw and Thriftfeather. And then we can all be happy. Oh, to run away, to be looked at sweetly. To be in a place where no one knows your name. I don't even know my name.

Their heart beats wildly. The border, the strong, unmistakable scent of Windclan, stands right before them... In front of them, Windclan, behind them, a life she never truly wanted. And the horseplace fields, too. Crossing it feels like lightning, a hot flash of shame and then its over once they step in. What am I doing? What do they plan on doing when they're caught? They'll be flayed alive, surely... Leaving the camp with Vulturekit had nearly cost them their life. It's a miracle they left without any scratches. And speaking of Vulturekit... Their heart pangs at the loss of their friend. He's gone. Unsure of where he was, and truthfully Gravelpaw did try to search, really! Wherever he is, they hope hes alive. The thought of a body laying lifeless somewhere makes them nauseous. They push forwards, for what feels like hours but in reality only a couple minutes, to suddenly draw to a stop.

Theres pawsteps ahead. They know they need to high-tail it out of there, but the curiosity of seeing something, someone... Maybe they're nice. Maybe they're nicer than anyone else. Indecision leads them to freeze up, like those deer do in the distance when they hear a snap of a branch, like a feeble kit. Whose there, they almost try to bark out, but their mouth is dry, and the sun above is too hot, and the fear of being found out runs rampant.

𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬𝖲 ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸 𝖨 𝖣𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖸

• @SCORCHSTORM
• 
  ❥ gravelpaw 𓆩✧𓆪 baby, gravelkit
  ❥ demi-girl 𓆩✧𓆪 she/they 𓆩✧𓆪 05 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice 𓆩✧𓆪 mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" 𓆩✧𓆪 thoughts
  ❥ single 𓆩✧𓆪 not interested in love (unknown sexuality)
  ❥ smells like chilled rain and pine needles 𓆩✧𓆪 nostalgic & icy
  ❥ penned by chuff

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchstorm reviles DuskClan. She hates it with every strand of hard muscle; with every single cell in her body. She burns with the force of her fury. DuskClan, borne of Sootstar and all of her original sin, had stolen so much from her. It had stolen her camp, back before it called itself DuskClan. It had stolen her moorland. It had stolen her littermate. All of these things pressurized her chamber; her hatred became a blade with a single, hungry point.

It is not a secret that she patrols the border even when she is not asked. Scorchstorm has never been skilled in the art of relaxation, and since the DuskClan invasion that had seen Nightingalecry killed, she has abandoned its teachings altogether. She patrols doggedly, as if patrolling would be the thing to lift her from the pit she has tumbled into. Rumblerain is gone. Bluefrost.... She seethes for a breath, and then feels guilty for seething. Bluefrost had never been hers. She should not begrudge the molly for something as could-be wonderful as childbearing (but really, she does anyway). She pads along the border as if the cold plum wind will sweep the thoughts away from her forever.

It seems she'd been carried away in her worries, though — Scorchstorm crests a sprout-peppered hill and locks eyes with a stranger.

They are hardly older than a kit, a young apprentice at best. They are half her size, maybe a little more than. Their limbs are too long for their body. Their ears, too, are one size too big for their head. They are a child, and Scorchstorm regards them with a stare that burns like Hell itself.

She scents the air and detects no Clan scent on them. Her face becomes a pinched concentration of hostility; bared teeth, wrinkled muzzle, narrowed eyes. "Who are you? Where do you come from?" the warrior demands, adrenal gland overworking itself considering her opponent. But this aggression had never been about just Gravelpaw. It's about DuskClan, it's about every time she has tasted victory and had it ripped away from her, it's about every time she has seen the sun cresting on the hill of normal life and suddenly been oceans away.

Scorchstorm prowls slowly closer, a wildcat ghosting each roll of her broad shoulders. For good measure, she orders further, "Answer me quickly." She would not stoop so low to seriously harm this apprentice — but, sick as it is, she cannot stop herself from scaring them, lapping up schadenfreude like nectar.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[GRAVELPAW]

Cresting the hill like a burning ember, a patchwork pelt shining in the sun that most certainly spells out their death. They've really done it this time, haven't they?

Who are you? Where do you come from? All of the sudden, any resolve to find out the answers to their questions dissipate as now Gravelpaw is caught. Answer me quickly. "I don't- know, I don't know- I'm Gravelp- Gravelpaw-" words tumble out of their mouth faster than they can think of them, apologies, playing dumb, trying to buy time, cutting off, stumbling.

The tortie prowls forth, a lion stalking prey and Gravelpaw tries too hard to come up with something to stall with. "Answer- Answer something, pretty please," they flounder for words, taking a hesitant step back, voice almost desperate as they plea. Their heart beats too quick for their liking and they feel sick. What is Starclan to you? Why do they like you? Why don't they like me? How do I make them like me? So many questions to ask, so little time, fleeting through their paws like sand. The fur on their spine bristles as each fiber of their being screams in alarm. They plant their paws in to the earth, trying everything to make them less nervous, claws curling in to the cool dirt below. Have you found my friend? Is he okay? Or is he rotting somewhere beneath the earth?

They try not to imagine anything bad. This was a mistake, they let their curiosity get the better of them, they weren't cautious enough, they should have stayed downwind- I want Thriftfeather, it is not Ebonylight that comes to mind, but their mentor. Almost as if he'd be behind them, they flick their eyes as far back as they can without turning their head away from the Windclanner. He wasn't behind them. They don't know why they expected he would be when they left camp by themself.

They sharply inhale, trying to steel their gaze as it returns to her. They tip their chin up, trying not to sound childish, scared. "Why is- What- What is Starclan, to you?" they go with their original question, tail nervously flicking behind them. Duskclan is a clan, just like Windclan is, just like everyone else is, so why... "Why don't they like me?" they beg, as if she'd have the answers, as if she was a prophet. She was not. No one ever was, but it does not stop Gravelpaw from searching.

𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬𝖲 ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸 𝖨 𝖣𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖸

• 
  ❥ gravelpaw 𓆩✧𓆪 baby, gravelkit
  ❥ demi-girl 𓆩✧𓆪 she/they 𓆩✧𓆪 05 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice 𓆩✧𓆪 mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" 𓆩✧𓆪 thoughts
  ❥ single 𓆩✧𓆪 not interested in love (unknown sexuality)
  ❥ smells like chilled rain and pine needles 𓆩✧𓆪 nostalgic & icy
  ❥ penned by chuff

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

The apprentice — Gravelpaw, they tell her — stutters and stumbles backwards; they bristle like icicles in leafbare. And still they make demands. Scorchstorm's lip quirks and she halts her advance, though her ears still angle threateningly forward, and her tufted tail still whips low to the ground behind her. "I asked you first," she reminds them. Louder, angrier, she prompts again, "Are you from DuskClan or aren't you?"

She spits the name like venom; like the word had been choking her and she'd just dislodged it; like it was a tumor of the lung that needed expelling. DuskClan, this thing that has taken so much of her happiness, one of her littermates. She'd be happier if it had never existed, wouldn't she? She'd be happier if it was ground into the earth, if nothing ever came from it again, good or bad.

It is only after this that some sort of awareness lances her heart and dispels the red mist in her mind. The child before her is trembling because of her, and yet they still face her, seeking something. I have nothing to give, she thinks. I am only taking. Sapping their courage, sniping some modicum of innocence, if DuskClan had given them any to begin with. For this debt she has accrued, Scorchstorm thinks she must oblige them a single question.

"What is StarClan to you? Why don't they like me?" It is one question too many. "StarClan guides my paws," she answers. "I obey the warrior code so that when I die, I might walk among them." Scorchstorm's head inclines forward, frown still creased deep into her muzzle. "If you want to win their favor, then you should do the same — in a real Clan. Leave DuskClan behind. Sootstar and Granitepelt have doomed it from the start."

It is one answer too many. Scorchstorm cannot help herself. When she tells Gravelpaw to abandon their clan, she does not speak only to the lily-furred apprentice; she sees Rumblerain there, too, though she knows they are only in her mind's eye. Whether the kit is satisfied or not, though, Scorchstorm no longer cares. Her moment of mercy has passed. She bares her fangs now, the scar on her muzzle rippling.

"Now, get out of here!" she hisses, taking a step forward. White-tipped ears flatten to her skull. She would not lay a paw on this apprentice — not unless she needed to. But she would not be the cat to allow them to linger here, either.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[GRAVELPAW]

"Does it- Yes. Yes," Gravelpaw cuts themself off, eyes wide as Scorchstorm barks their own question, a stammering mess still; slowly they try to piece things together, but where one puzzle piece is fitted in, another piece falls out. Gravelpaw is not quick enough to fit all of them together at once without it breaking.

And then the patchwork ember speaks of something that shocks them. It goes against what they had been taught. It goes against logic, against everything. It shocks them enough to ground them for just a second.

"A real clan?" Gravelpaw echoes, confused, because Thriftfeather had said the other clans, that one time, so why is she speaking of Duskclan as if it were a stain? She's mad. The cat in front of her is mad, a frown cut so deep that Gravelpaw could mistake it as a wound. She speaks of the warrior code. This serves to confuse Gravelpaw even more- a code? Honor-bound to a code that... Starclan made? This revelation, assumption, scares them in to a looming dread. If Starclan had not told them, then that means... They will never truly like them.

Would their life had been different if they were found by Windclan, the other clan, instead? Gravelpaw dips their head, ears swiveling back. Could I have been happy? They had a sense of community. A sense of... something, because obviously something is driving this cat to speak to them.

The cat is back to snarling. Now, get out of here! "How? Why? The warrior code- please," Gravelpaw makes a big mistake, stepping forwards in frenzied desperation, planting their dusk-footed paw in to the earth. Don't make me go, let me stay, please teach me, let me learn, let me be good, they're pushing their luck. Gravelpaw is pushing this strangers kindness too far and they are only acutely aware of it in some hidden away part of their mind. It's a miracle that their demands earlier were not met with a swipe to their ears.

"I want to be good. I want them to look at me." is this meant for Scorchstorm or spoken for them, so softly, uttered like a prayer? Barely audible, fear sparked within icicle eyes. To be wanted. To be seen. To be wanted, to be seen. I don't want to be bad. I don't like the way you look at me. My chest hurts. I don't like the way you look at me as if I were bad. Words catch in Gravelpaws throat, only a keening noise.

Are they looking for a fight? To prove themselves? They don't know what they're doing anymore. They don't know what they're searching for and again, the thought pops up: I need my mentor. Too many questions, not enough time. There would never be enough time.

𝖨𝖵𝖤 𝖡𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖣𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖬𝖲 ˚⋆｡°✩₊🦇 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖢𝖠𝖭𝖳 𝖲𝖠𝖸 𝖨 𝖣𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖳 𝖳𝖱𝖸

• 
  ❥ gravelpaw 𓆩✧𓆪 baby, gravelkit
  ❥ demi-girl 𓆩✧𓆪 she/they 𓆩✧𓆪 05 months
  ❥ duskclan apprentice 𓆩✧𓆪 mentored by thriftfeather
  ❥ black/blue smoke chimera with high white and blue eyes
  ❥ "speech, 9d9adf" 𓆩✧𓆪 thoughts
  ❥ single 𓆩✧𓆪 not interested in love (unknown sexuality)
  ❥ smells like chilled rain and pine needles 𓆩✧𓆪 nostalgic & icy
  ❥ penned by chuff

​