private MY GUINNESS RECORD MAKER | brackenpaw

[PRIVETFROST]

There was little to be gained at the swaying grasslands, where his people had lost everything. The moon shone ungenerously, a mere clawmark upon the blistering black, though still did it blanket the world in its silken veils of light. Not that Privetfrost ever needed the light to guide him, not when keen nostrils and reedlike whiskers carried him gently through the raucous symphony of the scrublands and the plains. He knew why he had returned, though he wished not to admit that it was such a frivolity upon a well-planned life. Brackenpaw, the gullible and eager apprentice of the fields... They had told him so much of what lie beyond the border, so much so that he could not bear to release his grip from what he conceived as a victory upon himself. It was the fallacy of man to hold onto his achivements while deigning the risks of it.

The black blur amongst the wildgrasses only continued in his journey, like the sedges lurched towards him in roiling movements, and the very moorlands rejected his silent footfall upon its silt-skin. Thin fur upon the nape of his neck could not help but raise, for it felt as though he were being watched with every step that he took. He had made sure to move downwind, at least, even as the blusters howled and rushed through his ears. Owlish stare burned through the verdancy as he sought a calico pelt through the midst of the murk, as the winds only roistered like it rocked drunkenly against him, spinning along his purls and pushing against his shorthaired pelt. He considered himself lucky that he would live within the shelter of the scrub bushes and not in the open wilds like some sort of prey animal just waiting to be killed. He stopped as soon as the stench of Windclan hit his nose, like an impasse between his life and that of the enemy. The young man simply waited near an errant stone near Windclan's border, like a lissome ghost vacillating between his world and the other, as though the purpose-driven beast could not find any other reason for his being here other than that of pure satisfaction. Had he played his hand too proudly and exposed his deck too much? No, he reasoned. If there was anything that he knew of Windclan, it was that their hospitality made them dull, like sitting rabbits. It was only right that he treat them as such.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• @Brackenpaw
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETFROST / He/Him / 9 Moons
  —— Warrior of Duskclan / Formerly mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

The new rule imposed by Sunstar had felt suffocating, to not be able to leave camp without warrior supervision was ridiculous. Not actually, he had very valid and sound reasons for it yet she can still harbour some spite over it, in her mind these things could coexist. Of course warriors would find it completely fine, they still got to leave whenever they want. She couldn’t though, it also didn’t help that she had a habit for hanging around the borders in search of odd trinkets from the moors. They were certain that this fact could probably take another life from the WindClan leader if he found out, not to mention the amount of tick duty she could be forced to endure.

They supposed it was reckless, yet nothing bad had happened to them so for now it didn’t seem unsafe. Having enough of listening to this rule she decided to test limits by walking out of camp one day, waiting until the busier hours of the morning to make her departure. The winds of the moors were refreshing, it felt good to just be able to experience this by herself. Though, she didn't waste time to spend their freedom just by walking around the moors. Instead she tried keep an eye out for a sighting of any moor flowers that may help out the medicine cats. Purely for selfish reasons of course, this was just building her defence for when she came back and her disappearance became noticeable. Did these flowers help with Yellowcough? She wasn’t sure but it would make her look rather noble if they said she wanted to help in any way that they could.

There was hope to see a familiar black pelt amongst the open grass bounding throughout the outer territory. That wasn’t the main goal of her outing today, truly they did just want to freely experience the moors when stretching their paws. It was in the back of her mind though, she really liked talking with Privetpaw. His rather prickly attitude was refreshing, if not a little funny. They enjoyed his company, which wasn’t something that they had really expected. Of course, there was apprehension, she couldn’t let go of the fact that he’s part of DuskClan after all. Dandelion had caught her eye, she wonders towards the clump of yellow flowers. She didn’t know what they did but they knew that they were kept in the medicine cats den so that was good enough. Fangs gently prod at the base of the stems, cutting them as cleanly as they could.

Lifting her head, dandelions in jaw, they looked up at the stone that Privetpaw had stood by. Eyes widening at the sight of a black pelt. “Privetpaw! Hey” The tunneler apprentice called out as she approached the WindClan border, setting the clump of flowers down by their paw to press it down. Sitting on her haunches on her side of the border “how are you?” Maybe she should have used this time to ask about the clan, tactical advantages or whatever, but they were more interested in hearing about the tom himself right now.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc.
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 10 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Was it fair to say that Privetfrost had been seeking Brackenpaw? He hated to admit that he would ever wait for another, like he gallivanted to the land of his enemies for courtship and charades, a buzzing fly of a distraction. There was no time for distractions, not in the grand plans that the young man had convinced himself he was embroiled into. It was a simple justification, a means to an end; Brackenpaw was nothing more than a fount of information to him. This was no distraction to swat away, but a prime opportunity to seize with open arms. Seeing the familiar calico pelt amongst the sedges and rushes, Brackenpaw weaved through the grass with only a sough, like their motions rolled upon the gestures of wind. He figured that Windclan would traverse most gracefully within their domain, as the morning breeze fluttered through his short fur, a much kinder comb than that of the scrublands. He was not jealous, he didn't think so, but part of him wished that such sweet favors would be placed upon Duskclan's cupped palms. Brackenpaw carried the flowers (of which he could not name) of the moors, though even such a bright drop of hue stood as a mere splash in the greater ocean of color, like dapples of sunspots to pry and play in the shadows only to fade away in an instant. Such a blossom would stand out within the monotony of his home, but not here. It almost mocked him, the way that such beauty was normal and unremarkable for it.

"Hi, Brackenpaw. It's Privetfrost now, actually. I just earned my warrior's name." The tomcat only nodded in the presence of his "friend", brief like the bobbing of a thrush's head, in the same succinctness that he dealt to everything. Should I smile back? Is that appropriate to do? He had never been good at the whole "matching emotional tone", to the point where his grave sardonicism curdled most interactions that he dipped into. "I'm alright. Duskclan is faring well. What about Windclan? Surely, nothing happened since the last time we met." The olivine-eyed warrior tilted his head to the side, gaze speckled in inquisitive light, like mottles of the moon upon the stilled surface of the lake. Curiosity sprouted through his mind, and with it came the opportunity that he hunted so diligently. Briefly did his chilled stare depart to dart from stalk to stalk, as if any apparition of an eavesdropping cat would accompany them. There was nothing, though, and he allowed tense muscles to melt towards the ground, if only for a moment.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐂𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 ── X ── 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

• OOC:
  
• 
• 

  —— PRIVETFROST / He/Him / 9 Moons
  —— Warrior of Duskclan / Formerly mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

“What?” She grimaced at the bluntness of her own question, completely dumbfounded by this reveal to even think about forming anything witty. Her face burns in embarrassment, Privetp-frost was always so thought out in his speech so this felt like an insult. Clearing her throat she pressed her paw against the stem of the flowers she carried, face scowling before falling to neutrality as she didn’t want him to assume that they were upset over the news. “That’s really impressive, did you do anything grand to earn it or does DuskClan name their warriors younger?” She supposed it would make sense given the fact that DuskClan followed Sootstars old rules. She crafted weapons of war, finely tuned, at least from the stories that she heard. Was Privetfrost trained well? They can’t help but tilt their head to examine him, he probably could talk his way out of a fight but he might also talk himself into it, something they had in common.

“Privetfrost sounds nice” they mean it too, they thought it suited him based on their limited interactions. It did remind her of her previous mentor, that familiarity made it difficult to separate the goal of bringing the warrior away from DuskClan and the fact that DuskClan truly seemed similar to WindClan in some aspects. It made sense, they were once Windclanners after all, most of them anyways. “I’m glad to hear it’s doing well” they weren’t but training of border politeness had prepared them for that dance of clan pleasantries.

“WindClan is fairing well this leaf-fall” more border politeness. “We’ve lost an apprentice” she grimaces at the thought of Lilypaw, white pelt stained in blood, they weren’t aware of the circumstances around their death, she hadn’t thought to ask. Brackenpaw decides to omit the yellowcough, and to discuss the deaths of those after Lilypaw. While she enjoyed their chats it would be a foolish move to admit a weak point in WindClan to him, they still watch with idle curiosity to see what reaction will be garnered from these crumbs.

“Are you excited to be a warrior?” She defaults back to personal questions, once again wasting ample opportunity for a trade of information. Their tail curls around herself as she tries to look beyond her friend, at the sprawling lands behind him. At one point does the beauty of the moors subside to the decay of the scrublands? “Are you going to be okay in leafbare?” Not will the clan be okay, not are you or is your clan prepared. Something personal once again, if it was considered harsh now she’d hate to see it under tougher living conditions.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. Ignore that this is late <33
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 11 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Scorchstreak | Formally mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​

 

[PRIVETFROST]

Did I offend her somehow? Privetfrost craned his head to the side owlishly, as Brackenpaw's countenance flashed with the ghost of a scowl, like a distant blaze flickering through gloom. Perhaps jealousy burned just underneath their flesh, roiling and burgeoning thing beneath the skin, a heat sweltering and threatening to burst through. He could not lie to himself and say that he would not feel the same in their situation, if he were the one perceived to be 'behind' the curve. As soon as the uncharacteristically cold frost of fern-green gaze had appeared, it had melted away into a usual expression, of which allowed Privetfrost to relax muscles that he hadn't noticed were taut.

"Hm, I suppose I just proved myself to my mentor. I'm sure I was exceptional compared to my peers. Regardless, I'm grateful for the name. It is a show of how far I have come since I bore the name Privetkit." So the rumor that Windclan had increased their ages for warriorhood was factual, and amusement rolled along in the young man's brain like a marble, flint upon its brand of steel. What advantage did they have in delaying when the apprentice became a warrior? He was ready when his name had been given unto him. Were Windclan apprentices so sheltered that they were not ready until they had lived through all seasons? He thought it to be pathetic, for there was nothing to be learned after he had sought it for himself, digested it as his fuel. "Thank you, Brackenpaw. I'm sure your warrior name will be appropriate, too." The Duskclan warrior nodded, tail flicking behind him like a bonfire stoked and stabbed, and perhaps the meager praise had been getting to his head. Hm... Brackenfeather, maybe. Brackenclaw? Or Brackenwind. I'm sure Sunstar will come up with a duller name than I.

"Sorry to hear. I'm sure that they are in a better place now." A slight tension gripped at otherwise collected verses, as though it were rime settling along the parapets, leaf-fall's first chills caught ungracefully within his vocal chords. A familiar lily-white pelt, like a lone floret pushing through the reeds and the sawgrasses, crooning to him through the moorlands. Sanguine sullied the sanctity of its solidity, perhaps begging to be released from its mortal coil, and to flow liberally from its emergence. Unless Windclan had suffered a great injustice (a justice, in his case), then that apprentice surely must be who they mentioned. "Oh, yes. Of course. All kits dream of being a warrior since the day they can first speak. I'm sure the same is true of Windclan. As for leaf-bare, Duskclan will be fine. We are resilient and persistent, above all. I'm sure there are burrows that we can find hibernating prey in. Does Windclan's territory truly suffer in leaf-bare? I hate to think of what happens to the tunnels, especially." Or more abundant lands to hunt on. He wondered, briefly, if the rich taste of rabbit were better than the stringy sinews of lizard. Was it fortune to be born in a land of abundance and vitality? He assured himself that it was not, that such an elysia made a cat's wit grow dull and their mind to soften. His suffering was for a greater cause, and it surely happened for reason.

𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 ⋆ ˖ ⁺ ‧ ₊ ☽ ◯ ☾ ₊ ‧ ⁺ ˖ ⋆ 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

• OOC:
  
• 
• 

  PRIVETFROST & HE/HIM & 10 MOONS
  —— Warrior of Duskclan / Formerly mentored by Rumblerain
  —— Wine-dark and white-tipped, almost like a magpie. He has black fur except for the tips of his ears, his muzzle and chin, a blaze on his chest, bottom portion of the legs, outer end of the tail, and along the upper ridges of eyes. He has ghost striping that can only be seen in certain sunlight. He has fern-green eyes.
  —— Cool, calculating, and much too mature for such a young age. Enamored with the life of a warrior and burdened by the expectations of his people. Hard to befriend and harder to maintain a steady friendship with.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[Brackenpaw]

"I like it, makes you sound cool" they speak with a serious tone, the pun they have made completely flying over her mismatched patched head. The shuffled to stretch hind legs as the pair talked, body language showing nothing but pure confidence. Guard down completely and convinced that Duskclanner would do anything to put her in harms way, they are unaware of his bloody past nor whatever blood seeped into his present and future. She was rather ignorant in that regards, believing stubbornly that he had just been dealt poorly by StarClan, some cruel fate for him to wind up on the wrong side of the border.

The discussion of her warrior name causes a chortle to escape her, undefined and less than reserved. "Hah! The snow of leaf-bare might melt before I'm a warrior" she doesn't think anything will come of the news. The theory is that maybe that means the new warriors will be more prepared and vigilant, that's what they can assume. However as far as the apprentice was concerned it was a waste, they weren't the council though, much less a leader so really despite her protests how much can she really know?

"But... When I eventually get my name I'll be sure to let you know" they try to not think about it, still bitter over the longer wait. She held no expectations for her name, just fine with being a blank slate to be etched upon. Her head tilts at the sight of tension that grips Privetfrost, it's obvious enough to tell that it happened but they couldn't believe that it really carried any meaning. He was always a little tense based on their brief conversations. "I'm sure StarClan is looking after her now, we had a nice vigil for them.... Does.. Do you do vigils?" The curiosity they carry is sincere, she can't help but prod and question despite the intentions.

Whiskers twitch and it's apparent that he has their enraptured attention, ears pricking up at the mention of Duskclan at winter. There's a questioning gaze in her eye but the relief in her expression upon hearing that the clan would be fine in leaf bare is genuine. Once again it was not for the clan itself but for it's friend, hopefully he will be part of WindClan's ranks before the first trickle of slow blankets the ground.

Does WindClan suffer in leaf-bare? Brackenpaw has to admit she can't truly recall, her young moons were spent in those months and due to that she had been fed well enough. "I think we're no worse than the other clans in leaf-bare" she admits with a non-challant shrug. "The tunnels are fine I think? I'm guessing more of the prey goes down to the tunnels more than anything else, so it should be fine" while they don't think that it could be too bad it's always a possibility that they might be wrong.

"Have you given it more thought? About what it would be like to leave?" They wonder if the topic would be difficult to broach now that he had been named by this clan of his. They hope not, there's only so much ignorance that they can have to blind herself.

---

‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc.
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 11 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Scorchstreak | Formally mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

​