no angst MULTIPACK CHAOS // twoleg trash on head

[Sharpeye]

☁ It was funny what the wind could bring in when the breeze kicked up from twolegplace's direction. What should have been a normal day just exploring the edge of camp for den materials turned into a nightmare for the sandy coloured tom. Darkness. Haunting pitch darkness that stank of salt and vinegar enveloped him and left him running hopelessly around the camp's edge with a crisp packet on his head. "Somebody help me!" Sharpeye wailed as he shuffled helplessly backwards shaking his head to and fro in the hopes of dislodging whatever horrible thing had ended up on his head.
​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar is resting in his den when he hears Sharpeye's piercing wail: "Someone help me!" The SkyClan leader's thick cream fur begins to spike along his spine, fear lancing through him thick and cold as an icicle spear. He scrambles to his paws, moss bits flying as he tears bits of his nest in his haste. He pushes through the elderberry bushes guarding his den, eyes wide as moons. Has WindClan decided to come back for more? Is it ShadowClan this time? Has Sharpeye been attacked by a rogue, a fox?

His heart hammering, Blazestar finds himself puzzled by the sight before him. The sand-colored warrior's head and neck are entirely concealed by something bright-colored and crinkling. It takes Blazestar several heartbeats to realize it's a piece of Twoleg trash -- one he'd seen on occasion in his housefolk's nest, but he can't for the life of him remember what it is or what it's for. "It's okay, I'm here," he tries to reassure Sharpeye, padding close. "Don't move around too much. Maybe we can try to get it off."

As he gets closer, the pungent, sour scent of vinegar punctures his glands, and he shudders. "Augh! You're gonna need a good soaking to get rid of that stink." He tilts his head. "You're not hurt, right?" It didn't seem like he was -- just terrified, and rightly so!​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[REDSTORM !]

Redstorm cannot help but scrunch his nose in disgust at the smell that is revealed when Blazestar frees Sharpeye from the confines of whatever twoleg rubbish the tom had managed to get himself trapped in. Who knew how that even happened? Was Sharpeye so hungry that he was making the trek to twoleg place to find food? And if so did he hike all the way back here with that thing on his head? Either way, it’s an impressive feat.

"you reek like crowfood" he says, his voice a half laugh. "you better but that thing back on him Blazestar, cover the stench" perhaps it would be kinder to the clan to cover Sharpeye back up.
​

 

[Sharpeye]

☁ A familiar voice reached his ears, even if it was muffled by the packet on his head. Although it went against every instinct he had at that moment he managed to keep himself still, and just in time too considering that he had been mere moments from walking into a pointy broken branch. "Blazestar? Thank goodness. I was pushing through the bushes when this happened." He explained as he crouched down so the bag could be removed. "I'm not hurt, but my eyes and nose are beginning to sting pretty badly." Just what had been in the bag? Did twolegs truly eat such rubbish?

Redstorm however was less kind and it earned a huff from the sandy tom. "And to think I was getting us things to help make our nests comfier. You can get your own now." He grumbled as he tried to blink the salt out of his eyes. "Someone guide me to water. The sooner I wash this stuff off the better."
​

 

[SLATE]

Slate is a hypocrite, through and through. The tom is instantaneous to lash out and bare his teeth at those who may point and laugh at him for whatever reason, but the moment someone else is stuck in an unfortunate situation, he will gladly chuckle aloud at their expense. The victim of the day just so happened to be Sharpeye, a fellow warrior who Slate has seen around a fair amount but didn't know all too well ( then again, he didn't know anyone too well ). The crisp bag was all too familiar to someone who grew up surrounded by twoleg scraps and garbage; it wasn't a threat, not unless the bag were to squeeze any tighter and constrict his airflow.

There weren't many things that made the gruff warrior laugh or even crack a smile, but this? This was one of them. Sharpeye was really in no danger here, besides not being able to see, so Slate's amusement was all in good fun. Blazestar, on the other hand, seemed to be the most concerned here. "Now that's funny." The charcoal-colored male snickers in a rare occurrence, crooked smile revealing a glimpse of his pearly whites.

There is a bi-colored tom present that suggests leaving the bag on, though if only to mask the strong smell. Slate agrees that it's not a particularly pleasant smell, but he finds the mere sight of a cat with a bag stuck on his head hilarious in itself. "Yeah, I agree. Leave it on. We could use the entertainment." Things had been so glum around here ever since the battle. While Slate would probably vomit if everything was rainbows and daisies all the time, some lighthearted fun never killed anybody.​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• 
  
• 
  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• —— decided to officially remain in skyclan as a warrior
  —— participated in battle with windclan, currently recovering from belly scratches and a bite mark on hind leg
  

​