sensitive topics my reflection wraps ࿐࿔ sunningrocks

[CRAGPELT]

Cragpaw had been grappling with a ThunderClanner only a bit larger and older than him when the scream tears through the clearing. She's my daughter! Pinepaw is mine!

With a forepaw still raised to strike his opponent, the apprentice's head snaps in the direction of the voice. Mismatched eyes widen upon seeing his sister pinned to the ground by the ThunderClan leader, her face drenched in blood. "Pinepaw?" He mews fearfully, feeling small suddenly as he separates from the ThunderClanner and bounds forward. He hasn't registered the words, not until he gets closer and spots a blue tabby crouched over her. Confusion flares in his chest and he falters just as Flamestar does. Wait. She…she is the warrior from the Gathering. The one his mother introduced them all to.

The words sink in then, searing through Cragpaw's chest. That…that can't be right. That would mean he's…half-ThunderClan? He knew he never had another parent. It was always just Iciclefang, and that had been alright. Not every kit has a father. He didn't need to know who his sire was. He never questioned it. His paws feel rooted to the frozen earth, the battle fading to a buzzing hum. He looks at Pinepaw, then back to Stormywing. "No," Cragpaw whispers, the word breaking as it leaves his mouth. His mind races, fragments of memories piecing together in a new, jagged pattern - the stories his mother told them of the journey with a cat she'd saved and one who saved her in turn, the odd behavior from Iciclefang at the Gathering. His mother loved a ThunderClan warrior. This ThunderClan warrior.

Anger flares within Cragpaw then, drowning out the confusion and betrayal until it boils beneath his pelt. His claws scrape the ground as he steps forward, eyes locked on Stormywing. Disgust coils in his gut as he notices the stark resemblances now. The gray of his pelt, his single golden eye, the scruffy way his fur stands up that's always been so unlike Iciclefang's sleek coat….it's all her. Why didn't his mother tell him? Why is he just finding this out now?! Heart thudding wildly, his mind whirls with questions. Half-ThunderClan. It's foreign. It's wrong. It goes against everything he's always believed.

As soon as his…other mother…ventures away, he seems to break the spell that's been cast on him. He rushes forward to his bloodied littermate, forcing his breaths to come out normal. "Pinepaw, your eye-!" He will process the world crashing down on him later. Right now, his sister needs him.

// interacting with @Pinepaw ⭒
​

 

[MIDNIGHTASH]

જ➶ Some battles are said to be easily won. But there is always consequences to war. There will be lives lost and this fight that they are surrounded by now is no different. The woman emerged from the waters when the signal had been given, sharply motion to @Redpaw ࿐໋ to fight for the land that they had long since had claim to. No holding back. No giving them quarter ad no Thunderclanner deserved it. In her eyes they were thieves and killers in their own right. Taking thr land that they were meant to thrive on. Stealing their land so that River would suffer while Thunder flourished. Words were spilled but she was focused on her own fight. Claws sinking deep into the sides of a Thunderclanner she jumped onto. They both staggered and went down in a vicious tangle of limbs. But she didn't let go. She batted at them, forced blood to run. All of that and then yelling. Her head whipped up, a mistake, claws slashed against the bottom of her jaw and she snarled. Rolling away but they were no longer focused on her but the scene.

"Lichenstar...." Still, motionless, dead. Then another scream. An apprentoce laying in blood and Flamestar stripping Pinepaw. Her hackles raised but even more so when a Thunderclannen4 confessed that Pine was their child. What?! Her eyes snapped back and forth and then Thunderclan was retreating. The woman quickly searched for Splashdance in the ensuing chaos and them she looked for Redpaw. They needed to gather up and also take Lichenstar home. She is important. She has more lives,
surely. "REDPAW!" She calls for her apprentice quickly. ​

 

[STAGSNARL.]

YOU ALWAYS SAID HOW YOU LIKE DOGS​

---

all is fair in war. that's one of the first things they remember being told. nothing is off the table, nothing matters, because at the end of it all, they just want to survive. that's all they want to do– and it's all they could do. survive. fight, and survive. this is no different. stagsnarl loves to fight, but it's different when real lives are hanging in the balance. their gaze sweeps over the battlefield laid out for them, and the order to retreat is called but there are cats still locked in fights. stagsnarl can only help one. so, they do. they watch in slight horror as lightflower's plunged underneath the water by the riverclan cat, and they only snarl in response, as their powerful legs kick off. using the brute force they have, the very big molly aims to knock into hemlockshine, trying to barrel over the other. if successful, they'd then try and take their claws across his muzzle, in an attempt to try and give lightflower a chance to escape.

"you foxhearted cowards! you may think the stars favor you, but the blood stains will forever dim the stars light!"

no honor. no peace. thunderclan never needed allies, anyways, and this only proves it. what a fool howlingstar was for even trying at some point.

// attacking @HEMLOCKSHINE to save @Lightflower
​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

His body is aflame now that there is blood spilled between his opponent and him; he has eyes for no one else, ears for no one else. The clamor of battle sings around them as warriors on both sides yowl in pain and triumph, but he is deaf to most of it. Raccoonstripe's claws are red with Beefang's blood, and vice versa; they do a deadly dance, now, at the river's edge, her single amber eye searing him, calculating.

When she attacks next, her forepaw slashes deftly at the flesh just above his eyes, close to the center of his forehead; he feels the wetness there, the sting, and recoils from her blow. His tail lashes behind him as he struggles to perceive her through the veil of red she's cast over his vision.

His own attack hits and stuns her, briefly; she comes at him again, though, full force, slipping beneath his legs to come up for the soft flesh of his belly. Raccoonstripe has had enough of this move — he feels her claw the tender flesh there only a few times before he brings both unsheathed paws down on her chest. If successful, he will try to carve meaningless lines into her white-flecked pelt. "Not bad for someone young enough to be my kit," he sneers in return, side-stepping to avoid anymore damage to his undercarriage.

Even as Flamestar yowls her retreat, Raccoonstripe does not relent. He does not notice the body of the RiverClan leader, slumped and unconscious; he does not notice Stormywing's admission of guilt, the way she protects a RiverClan apprentice. He's locked into a death battle now, and he intends to win.

What he has not noticed is how close he is now to the riverbank; he is used to fighting in dense undergrowth, under treeshadow, not here where the river churns below him, not here where certain death awaits one wrong move.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: ignoring the retreat to finish beating on @BEEFANG
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 47 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.

​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang's hold on Nightbird's throat is shallow at best; the silver-toned smoke slips free with only a surface wound, and she does not remain gone for long. She rocks forward, using her momentum to slam her forepaw against Iciclefang's white-bottomed muzzle. The tortoiseshell is successfully stunned by the blow, and she snarls in response once she regains her composure. Nightbird uses the opportunity to sink her teeth into Iciclefang's shoulder; she can feel the other lead warrior's teeth pierce her flesh, can feel the claws across her flank opening the skin.

She lifts her own claws and drives a blow to Nightbird's haunch; if Nightbird refuses to let go of her shoulder, she will aim a second blow, hoping it will alleviate the pain there. She is preparing to weaponize her well-muscled body into an all-out attack when a shriek — achingly familiar — pierces the air.

Iciclefang halts, the fire in her blood dissipating, leaving ice and fear. It's Stormywing. Stormywing has cut across the battlefield, and her blue gaze follows her former mate to where Flamestar looms over a bleeding tortoiseshell she-cat. Pinepaw! She abandons her battle with Nightbird, fleeing like she never has from her opponent. "Pinepaw! Pinepaw, hold on, I —"

She's too far, she realizes with a thrill of fear. She's too far to reach her apprentice, her daughter, and she watches with righteous horror as the ThunderClan leader draws her claws over Pinepaw's face. Scarlet reams from the ruin. "Pinepaw!" Her shout is not just another warrior's, concerned for their Clanmate — nor is it just a mentor's concern for their apprentice. Pinepaw is hers, and damned if she'll lose her like this —

But Stormywing is quicker, and in the gray tabby's desperation to cease Flamestar's rage, she cries: "She's my daughter!" Iciclefang can feel the air thicken as Flamestar pauses her assault, as Pinepaw cowers in pain and fear. The cats nearest them all pause their fights, surprise blanketing their faces, but there is enough commotion elsewhere to dull the effect. Lichenstar has fallen, after all; other cats have their sights on finishing their fights.

But there is enough damage done. Flamestar lowers her claws and calls, her voice level despite her anger: "ThunderClan! Retreat!" The ginger tabby levels Stormywing with a glare hot as her namesake, and Pinepaw... Pinepaw...

Iciclefang weaves between brawling cats, her muscles stiff with fear. She has not felt terror like this before — no matter how many times she has faced certain death, this is the thing she has feared most for seasons now. Pinepaw hisses in Stormywing's direction: "Go."

The tortoiseshell tries to meet Stormywing's eyes as she goes to help Flamestar's daughter. She finds herself mute, in this moment, despite the anger that fights with relief in her belly. She wants to shrill at Stormywing: What have you done? She wants to chase her former mate with her unsheathed claws, finish the job her Clanmates had started, but —

Pinepaw wheezes beside her, trying to staunch the blood from her face. Flamestar would have killed her. Iciclefang swallows around the stiffness in her throat. She would have lost her daughter today, but — but has she lost her anyway?

Then her son's gray pelt blocks her view as he crouches beside his sister, and the look on his face is one of fury, one of betrayal. Iciclefang searches for Crabpaw — had he heard as well?

She crouches beside her daughter, her son, feeling the eyes of her Clanmates burning into her fur. "Pinepaw, let me help you back to camp," she urges. "RiverClan has won. We've won. Cragpaw and I will make sure you get looked at." She sounds like more of a mother to Pinepaw than she has since the young tortoiseshell had been nursery-bound, and she extends a worried look to Cragpaw, too.

Would they scream at her? Would they let loose a barrage of questions? Would they reject her completely?

She is no longer fighting, but she braces herself for a blow.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: briefly fighting @nightbird ; now interacting with @CRAGPAW and @Pinepaw ⭒
• 
• Iciclekit . Iciclepaw . Iciclefang, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 29 moons old, ages realistically on the 17th.
  — mentored by Smokestar ; mentoring Pinepaw ; previously mentored Cicadaflight
  — riverclan lead warrior. mudpelt x icesparkle, gen 2.
  — former mate to Stormywing ; current mate to no one.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh tortoiseshell and white she-cat with ice-blue eyes. confident, capable, proud, dry, conceited, condescending, distrustful.

​

 

[BEEFANG]

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ — tw mention of gore (✦)

Her ears twitch when Flamestar calls for the retreat of her clan but it goes dismissed since Riverclan wasn't planning on leaving and instead, she focuses all her attention onto her rather eager opponent. Her own blood roaring within her ears as the love for battle distracts her from seeing the fallen form of Lichenstar and her lips peel back into a snarl noticing how much closer they are to the riverbank. Beefang doesn't rush the process at all choosing to play with her prey like a siren leading a ship to its final destination where it would sink and those aboard would die. Her siren song alluring the lead warrior closer and closer until she can feel the river lapping at her back paws, its enough to cause a ripple of excitement to wash over her body as she keeps attacking the older tom. Beefang can't help the dry laugh that slips from her jaws "Cute..." Her feathery tail sweeps gently in the river remembering what her parents had always told her about respecting the river and it'd respect her, the lifeblood of her clan beckons for the blood of Thunderclan and the black smoke would heed its call.

As he claws her and sidesteps completely to avoid her thrashing his belly, she's quick to leap back onto her paws as her pupil narrows at him "But I fight better than your kits." In that moment, Beefang uses a snowy paw to fling sand into Raccoonstripe's eyes to blind him and bolts behind him before using all of her physical strength to shove him into the river and her jaws part to grip his scruff to drag him further in, teeth gnashing against sensitive nerves as she thrashes him like prey. If she proves successful in dragging him into the depths of the river, the lead warrior begins to circle the flailing tom like a shark taking in the intoxicating smell of blood and she moves swiftly in the water and careful to avoid his panicked movements. Beefang takes a gulp of air only to slip under the water once more where she swims with quick movements only to use her teeth and claws to tear at flesh and fur from the dark tabby's body, her eye lit up with brief joy in seeing the water become murky with blood.

She repeats this a few times only to surface to take another deep breath and a toothy grin pulls at her lips once more (✦) "Die." Beefang lunges forward once more through the water as her jaws part near his face and snap down in means of tearing flesh to ruin him just as Hush had done to her while her paws try to bring him further and further down into the river to drown him. Blood gushes in her mouth when she feels something round being crushed between her jaws and torn away from the now empty socket only to be spat out, the lead warrior delivers one final swipe towards Racoonstripe's throat to finish him off. The bicolored molly slips out of the water carefully watching as he grows limp in the river, her tongue swiping across her maw in sick satisfaction trying to ignore the stinging of her own wounds. That's one last council member for Flamestar.

She shakes out her coat watching Iciclefang run towards her daughter and snaps her attention to see that Lichenstar has fallen victim to Flamestar, a part of her wants to pounce onto the red tabby to steal a life away from her but she glances in the direction of the river once more. His life would be plenty, at least, for now anyways. Beefang takes a sharp breath in as she slowly approaches the group surrounding the Riverclan leader and a frown pulls at her maw "We've won... Now, let's be quick and get her back to Moonbeam. Now." The lead warrior speaks firmly only for her ruined ear to twitch noticing how a few of her clanmates seemed to look at Iciclefang and her frown deepens, a few murmurs fall onto her ears and that itself causes the fur on her spine to rise. She'd be dealt with accordingly by Lichenstar later, Beefang would make sure of it...

Traitor.

DROWN IN YOUR SORROW AND FEARS ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ CHOKE ON YOUR BLOOD AND YOUR TEARS

• ooc — finished fight w/ @RACCOONSTRIPE / permission to powerplay given & interacting with those around lichenstar :]

• 

  WARRIOR SKILLSET;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ HUNTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧ TRACKING
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ COMBAT
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ STEALTH
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ STRATEGY
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ SWIMMING
  — ✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ CLIMBING
• 
  ✦ a shorthaired black smoke molly w/low white and a singular amber eye
  ✦ oftentimes comes off as untrusting of those around her, closed off, and not the easiest to engage in conversation with, she's not easy to befriend. distrusting of outsiders and will snap at you if y/c walks up to her on her blind side. all her opinions are IC only.
  ✦ 16 moons old; ages the 10th every month
  ✦ asexual homoromantic; mated to moonbeam
  ✦ currently mentoring... roepaw ; formerly mentored by smokestar
  ✦ firstborn daughter of cicadastar and smokestar
  ✦ sister of cicadaflight and loveburn
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ✦ peaceful powerplay allowed

​

 

[lovelight]

Lovelight's breath is knocked from him as the monochrome RiverClanner knocks him over and shoves him into the water. He flounders beneath the cold weight of the water, his breath stolen by the pressure of Splashdance's claws digging into his shoulders. His heart pounds, the thudding in his chest more an ache than a rhythm. He gasps for air, but the water pulls him under again, denying him the desperate attempt to pull in air. The second wave crashes over him, filling his mouth, his nose, choking the words from his lungs. His limbs twist and thrash in desperation, but there's no fury in it, no malice. He doesn't want to hurt her, not even as she holds him beneath the water, not even as the suffocating grip of her claws tightens, drowning him slowly. He scratches and scrambles, his claws raking across her fur, but there's nothing sharp in his movements, no true force. His body is responding purely out of instinct, out of the sheer terror of drowning, but his mind—the one that struggles to understand how this violence can feel so foreign to him—fights against it.

"Please," he gasps, or perhaps the word never reaches his lips, the water too heavy to form the sound. His heart crashes against his ribcage, his thoughts a flurry of pleas that never reach their destination. His body thrashes again, but it's weak, like the last desperate flutter of a bird too tired to take flight. Then, with a final surge of willpower, his paw connects with her chest—not with the force of a warrior, not with the intention to hurt—but enough to break free. The water is relentless, cold, pulling at him, but he's free. He drags himself to the shore, gasping for air, the taste of the river's water still on his tongue, but the chill of the air on his fur a brief comfort. He doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. The water fills his chest with a tight, hollow ache that he can't push away. Lovelight coughs, struggling for air, his body shuddering as the coughs turn into hacking, a wet sound as he tries to force the water from his lungs.

[ interacting with @splashdance :) ]​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Raccoonstripe's jaws part to deliver more banter, but he has no time. Beefang has noticed his proximity to the riverbed, and she steals the opportunity away. A white forepaw flings sand into his eyes, and he snarls as the grit scratches against their surfaces; he lifts his own forepaw, attempting to scrape the earth out, to allow himself to see again. That moment is all it takes. Beefang's behind him, now, swifter than her size would account for, and her teeth pierce his scruff. His body seizes at the assault; has she injured a nerve? His body is too surprised, too compromised, to fight back in this state, and without too much effort, Beefang hauls him into the river.

The cold shocks the breath out of him; his jaws part, and though he had not meant too, he swallows the water. Blood begins to pool from his wounds, reddening the black space around him. He thrashes wildly with every limb, churning the river around him, but he can't seem to break the surface, and then she's there, too, in the depths with him, and he can see the burning glee in her single eye. It's then when her claws seize his face, his eye, and she tears.

He screams, but no one will hear it — it's muffled, strained through water. There is no vision in that eye any longer, there is nothing but scarlet and blood and agony that he prays for mercy to be released from. He knows this is his end. He knows StarClan is coming for him, and he expects any moment to see Berryheart, silvery and wise, or Howlingstar, her green eyes soft with love.

But he is not so fortunate. There is no one to save him from this. Beefang delivers a final blow, a slash that tears the flesh from his throat, before he can no longer see her. The river is red and black, a watery hell he cannot escape from. His lungs ache and what little vision remains to him begins to cloud.

Raccoonstripe thinks of Nightbird, then, of kits who will be reach their warriorhood fatherless, as he had. He thinks of ThunderClan, of Flamestar with a dwindling council, of his Clan suffering with four less claws, one less warrior to provide for them in this leafbare-encased forest.

Somehow, his bleeding face breaks the surface. His lungs do not have the capacity to shriek for help — he can only hope someone notices before he succumbs to the river again.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: he needs help or he's dead next post :)
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — 47 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.

​

 

[ROARINGSUN]

〔✦〕There is so much going on at once. His wounds ache and burn, blood staining his golden fur. From the corner of his eye he sees Flamestar attacking a RiverClan apprentice, and then a shrill yell pierces through the air: She's my kit! — all of sudden it all stops. Stormywing's revelation is shocking enough that it makes him stop moving for several moments, heart drumming in his chest like it's about to burst. A RiverClan kit? He has no time to think about it, no time to dwell on it, before their leader calls for a retreat. They are outnumbered despite Lichenstar laying bloodied and unmoving on the shore, and more Riverclanners seemingly appear out of the water at an alarming rate.

Amber eyes glare at Turtledove, snapping his teeth as he turns to retreat. His tail-tip twitches irritably at the loss, but his attention snaps elsewhere when he sees brown amidst the blue; were more Riverclanners coming to finish the job, get revenge on Flamestar for killing Lichenstar? No, that's. . . His eyes widen, then, as he recognizes the brown pelt of Raccoonstripe, bloodied and battered. "RACCOONSTRIPE!" Their spat at SkyClan's border flashes in his mind for a brief moment, but of course he wouldn't let that get in the way. Roaringsun was not so petty, so cruel to let the Lead Warrior die over their difference in opinion.

He doesn't know how to swim, and he risks drowning them both, but the young warrior jumps into the freezing water anyway. Panic makes it messier than it should be, but he reaches the older tom somehow. "HELP!" He calls out in hopes any of his clanmates are still around to assist him; he cannot carry him back on his own. He grabs the black tabby by the scruff to keep his head abovewater, wincing at the coppery taste of blood that flows into his mouth. Roaringsun will try with all his might to bring Raccoonstripe to the safety of the shore, anyway.

I took a little journey to the unknown ( Ive come back changed, I can feel it in my bones ) //

• ooc. saving (trying) @RACCOONSTRIPE and calling for help!
• ROARINGSUN —— warrior of thunderclan , mentor to none . npc x npc . littermate to npcs ✦ penned by nocthymia
  ✦ male / he/him / 14 moons & ages every 14ᵗʰ
  ✦ single / orientation & poly or mono / open/closed to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— combat details here / battle notes
  
  ✦ "speech", 'thoughts', all opinions are in character
  ✦ tags — msg on discord (hypmic) for plots — toyhouse
  
• reference image here
  

  a longhaired flame sepia with low white and amber-brown eyes.

​

 

[Pinestep]

The cry of attacks, it was merely an echo as he bolted across Thunderclan territory. Small, but well muscled. His short legs would carry him as fast as he could, though others were faster, more fluid. And that was fine. He was by far no Windclan warrior, speed never on his side. Large paws clambered through the trees, and finally he was there, he was with the battle.

Since his relations seemed to side with Skyclaw, Pinestep found himself on a thin line with Thunderclan, he felt. He had felt since the uprising, and being unsure at first how to feel, he would definitely be turned away. But then ... There came the uprising, and he fought against family. Comrades. Clanmates. Alongside those listed as well in a civil war that ended so quickly. Headed by Flamestar herself.

A strong individual Pinestep admired.

The grizzled browns of different colours shot forward into the battle. Unrelenting. His fight was fierce. His momentum unmatched by the Riverclan warrior, standing strong for any attempts to be dragged to the river. He heard screams, but blood pumped through his ear, and his vision wasn't exactly anywhere but focused on the other.

A large paw slammed down, throwing the body of the riverclanner to the side when he heard it, faintly. A help screaming from the river. Olive eyes flicked over, and as he moved to leave his current fight, he kicked sand towards the others face, pelting the riverclanner with the grainy substance, and kicking off to bolt across the mostly retreating battlefield.

Pinestep had always tried and endured to be loyal, but when the clan split he wasn't sure who to be loyal to. And he had decided in the aftermath. But now, he had a chance to prove it. His body barreled into the water, his feet kicked, his paws flailed, and after a moment, he managed to get a little of a flow to get beside Roaringsun and Raccoonstripe. "I'm here. Now Move, before the frigid ice takes us all away," he warned, his voice a gravelly void as he moved to carefully try to help in the other side of the lead warrior. There was no coldness, just a demand, his eyes screaming that they couldn't die. Thunderclan needed all the warriors they could get. He would not allow for arguing in this current predicament.

Interacting with @roaringsun, and trying to save
@RACCOONSTRIPE ///

​

 

[GENTLESTORM]

༄.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — After leaving his opponent and making sure that most of his clanmates are in the process of retreating, the pale tom's ears twitch at the cry for help. He immediately recognizes that voice of Roaringsun and his pelt prickles at the sight of the vibrant tom flailing about in the river holding onto someone. He squints only to feel the blood in his body turn cold at the sight of Raccoonstripe waterlogged and bleeding from several wounds. Pinestep's quicker than him as he arrives to help both warriors and in that moment, Gentlestorm bolts forward in the direction of the trio as he draws closer to the water's edge ignoring the way that the cold water laps at his thick coat. He ignores the fact that Snakeblink had attempted drowning him earlier in the same river and if the two warriors paddle close enough, the older tom reaches forward with his jaws attempting to grab onto the fur near Raccoonstripe's neck and pulled so he isn't in the water anymore.

If he manages to help in dragging the lead warrior out then he turns to his other two clanmates to offer them aid, the water cold as he shivers before stepping back to glance over the wounds on Nightbird's mate. Gentlestorm swallows down the nausea that crashes onto his body leaning his nose forward to the black tabby's face and pauses there for a moment, he snaps his attention to Pinestep and Roaringsun only to bark out orders "Quickly! The both.... of you.... help me carry him.... back to camp..." His ears pressing flat against his skull soon pushing himself underneath the dark pelted tom to lift the upper part of his body and waiting for either warrior to mimic what he did.

He hisses under his breath "You better... not die... you idiot..." Even if the two of them didn't see eye to eye, the medicine cat would never wish death upon the other and he's certain that Nightbird wouldn't be able to take such a loss either. He didn't even want to imagine how she'd recieve the news that her mate had died or even their kits, a shaky breath leaves him and if the other two helped him. He would lead them off of the battlefield trying to ignore how cold, bloodied water painted his pale coat a dull color of crimson.

MORNING & EVENING, I FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING ᨒᨒᨒ UNTIL I SAID FUCK YOU

• ooc — helping @roaringsun & @Pinestep pull & carry @RACCOONSTRIPE off the scene

• 

  MEDICINE CAT KNOWLEDGE;
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ FLESH WOUNDS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ INFECTIONS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧ ACHES & PAINS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ ILLNESS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ BREATHING ISSUES
  — ✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ TRAVELING HERBS
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧ BROKEN BONES
  — ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ KITTING
  — ✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ POISONS
• 
  ✦ a longhaired blue sepia tom w/low white and copper eyes, several scars cover his body from previous fights that he somehow survived
  ✦ gentlestorm is rarely ever a warm individual and friendly to those who he meets, he proceeds with more caution and he's less likely to trust any strangers that come from outside of thunderclan. he tends to be jumpy if suddenly approached or flinches away from swift movement with his claws unsheathed when it occurs, he apologizes for it. his kindness reserved only for those closest to him otherwise anyone else can expect the cold shoulder from the old tom
  ✦ 61 moons old; ages the 27th every month
  ✦ widowed mate of little wolf ; currently interested in no one
  ✦ semi-difficult to befriend/interact with ; quick to strike/attack first if he feels threatened ; peaceful powerplay allowed but proceed with caution
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, attacking

​

 

[HOPEPAW]

⊱⊰ In the heat of battle, Hopepaw finds her blood somehow running cold. Cats fight and roll only a few tail-lengths away from her—but there, in the water, she sees Gentlestorm facing off against a RiverClanner. His opponent is scrawny, but thrashes and manages to injure her uncle all the same. The apprentice has already broken into one of the packs of herbs that she's been supplied with, marigold being crushed between clenched teeth. Marigold stops infection, marigold stops infection, she repeats over and over in her head, a mantra to keep herself grounded. She's prepared for injuries, copper eyes scanning the rocks for any sign of fallen cats.

SQUIRRELPAW! Flamestar's roar cuts through the air, vicious and ringing. The red-striped leader shoves herself away from the fallen form of RiverClan's leader, and descends upon a younger RiverClan cat. The tortoiseshell could be a warrior or an older apprentice, but it doesn't matter, does it? She's in this battle, and she kicks a body away from her before the ThunderClan leader reaches her. A body... blue and cream and dappled with white, and it's... it's Squirrelpaw. Her once-denmate, her friend. She doesn't move, doesn't smile. She just... lies there on the rocks as Flamestar rips at the face of the other cat, justice delivered with brutal and swift swipes of bloodied claws. Stormywing shoves herself in between leader and enemy, and she pleads that Flamestar stops, because the cat who killed Squirrelpaw is... her daughter. Her daughter, who lives in RiverClan, who killed Squirrelpaw. For a moment Hopepaw expects Stormywing to be the next victim of Flamestar's wildfire wrath, but instead the leader seems to give in.

Flamestar's voice cries out above the din of the fight, calling for a retreat. It's bitter, the idea of facing defeat, and the lilac-furred apprentice frowns at the idea of... losing. If she'd leaped into battle beside Beetlepaw, beside Gentlestorm, could anything have turned out differently? Or would she have ended up lying still, bloodied, dead on Sunningrocks, just like Lichenstar does now? Just like- "Squirrelpaw," she breathes, her paws stilling as she approaches the group that works to move the girl back to camp. Her friend is so still, so... silent. But Flamestar announces that she's alive, and at once Hopepaw can see the shallow rise and fall of the girl's flank. She's breathing... she's alive. "Here, I can..." she doesn't finish her thought, beginning to gather the pre-made poultice of marigold together with the strands of cobweb she carries. It's a few heartbeats before she continues on, "I can try to stop her bleeding." She awaits the leader's response, and shifts for a moment to look back at the scene they're leaving behind.

When she turns back, searching for her uncle, and she finds him coated in diluted red. Blood runs down pale fur, casting him in a deadly shade—she would think him more injured, possibly dying, if the form slung across his back wasn't so clearly hurt. Raccoonstripe has always been a haughty, short-tempered tom, and to see him so injured sends her heart thumping uncomfortably against her ribs. If Squirrelpaw looks dead, then Raccoonstripe looks worse. But there's nothing that she can do for him now, is there? She should focus on what she can help with, she thinks, her gaze sweeping across a fretting Scarletpaw. Squirrelpaw needs her to be levelheaded, not panicking and worrying about others. No one else is right in front of her, needing her help. She can at least make sure the other girl survives the trip back to camp.

an ancient spirit’s song 【❖】 will heal our wounds

• ooc: —
• 
• 
  HOPEPAW ❯❯ she/her, thunderclan medicine cat apprentice
  
  ⊱ skinny, thick-furred lilac molly with deep copper eyes. soft-spoken and a bit of a grouch.
  ⊱ daughter of batwing and leopardtongue ; adopted by roeflame
  ⊱ mentored by gentlestorm
  ⊱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ; does not typically like physical contact from anyone besides her family
  ⊱ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[MERLINPATH]

Monster of the depths rose from its maker, as though pulling back sable curtains to reveal glimmering eyes and bestial breath, knelling certain doom for Merlinpaw and her ilk. She shirked between the headlight-gaze of one of the Riverclan warrior who melded seamlessly with the dark waters. They could not be cats, she figured, for no feline blended so effortlessly into the forces that fought and pulled upon the flesh. The stone-hued tomcat rushed for her now, with the distance between them a mere crape to be torn, greeting her with all of the hospitality of an undue enemy. Panic had little time to settle into the crevices of her heart, and Merlinpaw gave into a basal instinct to defend her life, if only to dance between the lines of life and death. Rearing upwards, the smoke sepia molly aimed to strike not with the honor of a seasoned warrior but the furor of a cornered animal. Even as she attempted to strike, the Riverclan warrior would only meet her as an unfortunate equal, as though the pure mirth of war pumped through their senses. The last thing she remembered was seeing a smirk crease at the tomcat's face, as though the battle had already been decided, and she had become a victim of her own misfortune. The world seemed to slow as it braced her for impact, little remaining naivete seized away in one fell swoop of brazen claw.

Pebbletail pressed into delicate skin with indelicate nails, as if a truculent predator whose only motive was to hunt - and thus, he held no significance other than an opponent to defeat to the young apprentice. A shriek escaped her maw, pained and staccato as it fell from her lips. (Was this the pain of becoming a warrior, forged by her own blood?) Merlinpaw attempted to roll him off of her with sheer momentum, as though shaking away the referent to become herself again, and her fear evinced through her manic motions. The places where Pebbletail held onto her shoulders stung harshly, with one ear seeming a little lighter. She cared naught of the bodily pain she harbored, only heaving out breaths that she practically had to push out of her esophagus. It seemed that it did not take much for her attacker to unhand her, and dull golden gaze trained upon his snow-tipped paws as he fled, perhaps esurient jaws wished for better blood to bay. Good... Eyes narrowed as she composed herself, though that was akin to gathering up matted wires strewn along the ground. Keen senses caught upon another scene unfolding, one that transcended past the war that they waged.

Fallen matriarch of the rivers surrounded herself with kin, cries like a symphony woven in threnodies, lamenting the loss that they had incurred. Large gash of scarlet peeled through the sleet-hued Lichenstar, staining sleek yet tousled pelage. Mouth lie agape, as though one last caterwaul had not escaped the Riverclan leader, and caught itself upon choked words. She saw her attacker mourn for his mother, soul-stricken dirge pealing from his maw, never barbed nor bared to Thunderclan. He only focused on his fallen kind, crumpled to her side as though he were a mere kitten looking for comfort in a world that never afforded him such.

And yet, she could not find any sympathy for Riverclan. What gave them the right to wail and weep, as though they had not started the battle? As though Thunderclan were not just defending their territory? If their ilk had fallen, then it was their own hands that had reached into the open wound and pulled out their strings. The thought came strikingly antithetical to Merlinpaw's own kindness, and she knew it to be so, as it infested her brain as ivy caressed the open tresses. Adrenaline still poured through every exhale, sweat dripping down her dirt-smattered pelt. Flamestar's cry of retreat jolted her to her senses, a treble resounding throughout the blood-smattered stones, and she joined her clanmates. She would run before she had observed more of the damage done to her clan, and she would never return as long as the stones soaked themselves in their fallen.

( Disengaging from @pebbletail and retreating )​

 

[CRABCHILL]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 Crabpaw's enemy slips away, and with her goes the boy's newfound bloodlust. The sight of her blood on his paws, the taste of iron in his mouth, makes him gag. For a moment there's bile creeping up his throat, acidic and bitter. His chest heaves and he spits, but it's only saliva that falls from his mouth. His mind races, paws stumbling across the damp rocks, and as his enemy disappears into the crowd of clamoring enemies, so does Crabpaw's attention. Mossy green eyes trail between fighting cats, and his breath stutters to a stop when they land upon his sister. She throws herself away from a small ThunderClan cat, only to find herself with the ThunderClan leader's claws digging into her face.

"PINEPAW!" His voice comes out a panicked shriek, shrill and kitlike even to his own ears. He sounds pathetic, pitiful… and still he can't reach her. He knows he won't get there in time to help her, to do anything except watch Flamestar slash at her with claws already bloodied from Lichenstar's corpse. But she doesn't kill Pinepaw. She doesn't get the chance. The ThunderClan warrior—the cat from the gathering, the cat his mama had saved during the journey, the cat who had saved Iciclefang in return—stands above Pinepaw, protecting her from the ThunderClan leader's claws. Keeping his sister safe. Shouting at the leader that Pinepaw is… is her daughter. He shakes his head, confused. No, he can't have heard that right, because if he did then that means… Pinepaw is Stormywing's daughter. Which means Cragpaw and Crabpaw are her sons. Which means their mama broke the warrior code and had kits with a ThunderClanner. Which means… he and his littermates are half-ThunderClan—their existence is against the warrior code.

The world might as well fall out from under his paws with how much it feels like he's floating. His paws tingle, disbelief clouding his thoughts. His muzzle twists into something sharp, teeth bared at the truth that's been spilled across the rocks. Alongside his littermate's bloody injury, a horrible new reality has etched itself into Crabpaw's life.

If it's true… how will he face his clan now that they know he's a half-clan mistake? How will he face Cicadaflight? His mentor will hate him once he finds out, won't he? And what about Lichenstar, when she wakes up—if she wakes up? Will she exile him and Pinepaw and Cragpaw because of this? His mind flashes in a series of worst-case scenarios. Beefang ripping off Iciclefang's ears, dropping them at the ThunderClan border to send a message. Lichenstar shouting the order to chase the calico lead warrior from RiverClan's territory, leaving her injured and on her own. Stormywing marching into RiverClan's camp, claiming her kits, demanding to bring them back to ThunderClan where they belong. All of RiverClan snarling, staring, loathing Crabpaw and his littermates, wishing them dead because of their StarClan-cursed blood.

He reaches his kin's side with an expression that's suddenly shuttered, unreadable. The tingling feeling has spread up from his paws to his chest, gripping his heart in its thorn-sharp claws. He opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words. "We… have to go." He uselessly echoes his mother's words. What are they supposed to do? Right now, the only thing he can think of is to make sure his sister gets back to camp safely.

give me a chance ˚𓆛˚｡ a single opportunity

• ooc: freaking out and going to @Pinepaw ⭒ @CRAGPAW @iciclefang
• 
• CRABPAW 𓆝 he/him, apprentice of riverclan
  𓆟 ginger and cream tabby with rippling white spotting and mossy green eyes. highly emotional and difficult to keep focused on one subject.
  𓆟 mentored by cicadaflight
  𓆟 son of iciclefang ; brother to cragpaw & pinepaw
  𓆟 peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  𓆟 penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[FERNGILL]

It was over, it was theirs. Breathless, Ferngill felt the prickle of exhilaration under his skin- but this victory wasn't a sweet thing for long, no. Why would it ever be? Nothing seemed to last anymore- last as long as it should, anyway. The gentle reprieve of leaf-fall, the gentle touch of Sablemist's tail, the triumph he had hankered for, after so long...

Lichenstar's blood chorused with the earth- one with the stars again, he was sure. It wasn't their leader he focused on, though- it was Stormywing, bursting through the clowder to leap before Flamestar's claws- to declare with a pleading voice she's mine, Pinepaw is mine!

He could not see Iciclefang, but he could well imagine the way her blood would freeze- above the clamour, screamed in that reckless voice. And he had seen reckless desperation in Stormywing before- he knew it better than he would have likes, his neice and nephews' true parentage an unspoken secret on the barbs of his tongue for many moons, now. His apprentice, his nephew- Ferngill surged toward him, trying not to give anything away- trying to let calm sit flat on his pelt, but finding no ability to do it. Pinepaw had heard, of course- and the twinge in Crabpaw's innocent eyes, the denial that shook in Cragpaw's voice, it meant they knew too.

It would spread. Stars, it would spread- a single eye of green found Iciclefang's blue. Panic sprung up there, that he couldn't hide. "Cragpaw, help- help your sister," he instructed his apprentice, but looked straight through Iciclefang all the while, even as he moved refusing to let his eyes drift from her face.

\ talking to @CRAGPAW ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Blackwater]

Blackwater paid little mind to his adversaries remarks, the smaller molly's voice breaking under the strain of her own emotions that would do nothing to aid in her physical defense nor sway his resolve. In his eyes, the means to which their land was reclaimed mattered little, if one were to claim it dishonorable, he would have asked them to consider the honor within thieving from those wrapped in the coils of misfortune. There was no use trying to convince any Thunderclanner otherwise, for they would always see their cause as noble and right despite all evidence pointing towards the opposite. Blind to reason, blind to truth...even blind to their own ignorance, though ignorant it still remained regardless of acknowledgement. War was deceitful in nature, but there was more honor in presenting it openly and for what it is- unlike Thunderclan's opportunistic claim on territory Riverclan could not return to thanks to their recent flooding- flooding that cost them greatly in more ways than one could even begin to imagine.

The sound of splashing water makes his ears swivel forward, his optics glinting with the realization that he had succeeded in providing himself with the advantage he would need in order to send his opponent fleeing along with those who were already doing the same. A creature of the depths was what he was, the rippling stream something he knew intimately, and something that Barleysight could not even comprehend. It's danger was concealed by inviting laps of gentle waves, inviting those with the inability to quell it to test their fate. He would act as its deliverer now, once again shoving his body into Barleysight's in an attempt to unbalance her and corner her only escape route. He prepared himself to deliver yet another flurry of blows to her sensitive ears, eyes, and nose, but was stalled by the sudden impact of her own claws which raked violently against his skin. The flesh from his eye tore away with ease until the sting of desperate talons finally released, stopping at his jaws which were contorted into a painful grimace, leaving a burning sensation as if glowing hot ash had been thrown into his face in its wake.

Time would slow as the two felines once locked in combat stood rigid and unmoving, mutual shock rippling through the shared space between them. Blackwater's expression betrayed little as his trembling limbs threatened to buckle beneath him, gaze flickering to the ground beneath him where the sound of heavy droplets pattered endlessly in a rapidly growing pool of thick, red blood. The metallic taste of iron was bitter upon his tongue, his vision slightly blurred by the resulting spray, though thankfully still intact. In his silent assessment of himself, Barleysight could have run. She could have turned tail and returned to the safety of her own territory, away from this hell that she had been expected to endure alongside the rest of her insufferable clan. Starclan knows Blackwater wouldn't have stopped her, for he did not lament extending grace and promoting merciful ends, truthfully, he preferred it. What a shame it is that he would sooner let himself be taken over surrendering himself in all his stubborn and headstrong nature.

He gave no sign, no warning or cue in his body language or expression to indicate his next move, he was vacant all for his instincts. His body burst into motion, claws extended and fangs beared as he hurled himself towards Barleysight, gripping her shoulders with enough force to drag her down into the water upon his descent. The two would struggle for a while, the water growing enraged with disturbance cascading over them, surrounding them in a bone-chilling vortex as if it too yearned for the heat of battle...heat so immense it would stand no chance against it, evaporated upon first contact. It would seem like Blackwater would be the flame and Barleysight the water which should have been strong enough to douse his searing blaze, his well-seasoned and toned muscles giving him a quick advantage over the less experienced warrior. She was still but a gentle stream caressing surrounding rocks with her gentle pulse, unable to wear down nor break apart the hulking boulders which stood in her way.

She had chosen her fate the moment her trembling claws met his face, and sealed it when she did not run when given the chance. Nothing would stop Blackwater's fury now, fury that was calculated and silent, unable to be seen upon his face but felt through his unyielding violence all the same. With a final surge of force, the Riverclan warrior would rear up upon his hind legs, and in doing so allow for his forepaw to rise along with the momentum, effectively slicing through Barleysight's tender underbelly and cleaving upwards until he felt the snapping of thick tendons severing within her neck. A torrent of thick, sticky ichor gushed from the newly opened cavity, dropping with a heavy splash into the river to which their contrasting consistencies would not mix, just as the clans would never be in true harmony. Thunderclan the blood, Riverclan the water- they were too different to ever be at peace- one bred from selfish brutality, the other an overwhelming desire to retain and protect what was theirs.

Barleysight's body was like a stone, exhaustion overtaking her body so that she could no longer remain upright on her paws. Blackwater would inch closer to her, wading gracefully through foamy ripples with the skill only a Riverclanner could display. The blood he had painted his once pristine pelt with would not wash itself from his pelt, stained to the skin so that he was forced to bear the weight of what he had done. But he would not blame her, for he knows he would have done the same. To fall for the sake of your clan...surely there was no death more noble...surely? With bated breath, he leaned forward and clamped his crimson stained jaws with a renewed tenderness around Barleysight's scruff and began to drag her gently back to shore where he would allow her to lay beneath the stars overhead for the final time.

✧ ° . ☠︎︎ . ° ✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: tw for violence and death. permission to powerplay and kill @Barleysight given by @Deidre!
• 

  BLACKWATER — HE/HIM ･ 25 MOONS ･ RIVERCLAN WARRIOR ･ PENNED BY SLOANE

  SH blue tabby/blue chimera with low white. born to riverclan and eternally devoted to their ranks, he often prioritizes the wellbeing of others over himself and is prone to doing much more than he is physically capable of as a means to prove not only to others that he is deserving of his position, but also to himself. although not something he displays externally, he is imbittered and melancholic regarding his physical ailments and incapability. despite this repressed mental unrest, he is quite laid-back and gentle towards those around him, often content to converse and connect to any who may desire it- although admittedly, he is not the most observant or quick-witted when it comes to recognizing social cues.

 

[barleysight.]

CW; death, descriptions of gore. Please read with caution. @Blackwater //

A battle of strength. Barley was not good at that, shoving back at the other. Their legs weaker than his- their shoulder pushing against the force of which wanted to send them into the water. Where theyd be vulnerable, except to scream for help if she even could through the mask of its Icey depths.

And barleysight didn't mean it. They didn't mean to- her claws ripped through his face, blood spattering outwards as they tore through tender flesh. They shouldn't even have been here, they hurt him. Oh stars, they did that! They could only stare in horror as they pulled their blood soaked paw back, once white toes now soaked in thick red substance with that stomach twisting stench heavy in the air.

Their chest was tightening. I didn't want to-

Their thoughts were interrupted as he darted forward, a yelp escaping her but hardly loud enough. And a mistake it was, for as the riverclanner warrior slammed them down into the water, bubbles rose from their screaming jaws, kicking, flailing, to almost no avail. When they got a second to inhale a bit of air, he dragged them back down, fruitless energy wasted as the young warrior kicked and gargled.

Moving in water was probably the hardest thing she ever did in her life. Barley grew tired.. quickly, and thier flailing slowed as her vision started to fade. They barely noticed the paw that lifted over his head, until something sliced through their belly, their neck. Pain made green eyes widen, blood spilling from her chest and stomach in an unfair manner to them. They were just... Trying to defend their clan... Did they really have to lose their life?

Please starclan, don't let it be over!

Their youngest memory in Thunderclan, was her brother. Hound.. he was all they had for family. But friends? They had Killdeercry, and Sleekserpent... But... Sleek wouldn't be in starclan, would he? They wouldn't know. They didn't know.

They didn't know why they fought, ragged breaths struggling to just stay awake. She didn't want to see the images that flashed in her mind as the ricerclan warrior carried her off to shore. Blood dripped down her legs, her chest, and the metallic taste was strong as it rolled down her tongue.

"I... Failed... you Thunderclan." They murmured hoarsely, feeling her body be layed down on the cold rock. Pain intensified to talk, her gaze in and out of focus, eyelids fighting to stay awake.

For a few moments, her and her killer spoke. He tried to reassure her. He tried to tell her how great she did. That Thunderclan would think they died honorable. But Barley couldn't believe it. How could she when she lay here bleeding out, unable to be saved if they tried.

It was too late for her.

"I'm... Not making it. One day, maybe... I'll believe you th-that I was... Brave." She murmured, a harsh laugh escaping her throat, chortling as she roughly coughed up water and blood.

Death was foreign to her. She was young. She was sure she had so much life ahead of her. Killdeercry- you always told me you were proud of me. Are you still proud? I'll miss you like the parental figure I never had. She thinks, a soft breath escaping the warrior, but she didn't know it was her last.

•°•°•°•°•

Green eyes glanced over, a strange figure standing there, and it was as if all her injuries had never happened. They didn't feel a thing, but her gaze kept onto the strange figure before them. "Who are you?" She asks, hesitantly.
​

 

[Glowingsun.]

THE LIES YOU SUCCUMB TO
BLISSFULLY UNAWARE​

---

glowingpaw & 10 moons & female & she/her & thunderclan apprentice ​

---

" N-no! " she doesn't know why she bothers to protest - doesn't know why he asks. This battle is in neither of their paws - Thunderclan and Riverclan will simply fight until they no longer can, or until one oof their leaders tells them otherwise. Still, she struggles and squirms and tugs until she is at last free. There is a moment of sher relief - the pain blinding, and yet nothing compared to the fear of death she'd face before. Limbs splash against the water as she splutters - lurching back to shore the best she can. Her enemy is persistent however - and her hope is short lived.

Theres a yelp as claws rake down her lank, and it's only instinct that sends head lurching backwards with a painful pop - claws that would've otherwise grazed her eyes and muzzle finding purchase instead in the meat of her shoulder and neck. A wail leaves her lips, and with one last blind rake of her claws towards Crabpaws chest she flees - taking advantage of the momentary pandemonium.

It only registers much later what it is that pulls his attention - the cry of rage and grief from Flamestar, and the muffled admittance of parentage falling from stomrywings own lips.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

---

W E ' L L - A L W A Y S -B E -S O -P E R F E C T L Y- H A P P Y

---

// fighting @CRABPAW and then fleeing; && out <3

 

[Warblerpaw.]

UH OH, UH OH, UH OH,
YOU MADE A MISTAKE ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

warblerpaw & 07 moons & demi-boy & he/they & riverclan apprentice ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━​

Any thoughts of his first battle, his first wound - all of it pale in comparison to the white-hot burn of pain as fangs dig into fur and flesh - a whine bubbling up in Warblerpaws throat, wrenched from him in a wordless screech of pain. Around them, war wages - and as mismatched gaze struggles to focus, he can't help the helpless thought that slips by. 'Is this what its always like? Is this what it means to be a warrior?'

If it is, he isn't so sure he wants to be one.

And yet, it is survival that matters now - a large paw coming up to hit again and again at Thrashpaws skull, hoping to dislodge her jws from his shoulder, a low grow in his throat. Even if unsuccessful, he'd lurch his inured shoulder forwards - hoping to slam into her, to send her off balance, to regain the upper hand. Eyes are timid and tearful and panicked - and yet, Warblerpaw refuses to be the first to fall.

He thinks of Bronzeshines glare and Momma's tired eyes, and heart hardens himself with a pained swallow - he can't flee, no matter how much he wishes he could.

— uh oh, you better run away now

• Actions && " Speech, " && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: fighting @THRASHPAW please don't interfere
  tw/cw: —
  
• ♩​♬♪♫​ — Warblerpaw suffers from multiple speech impediments, including selective mutism. He is more often then not non-verbal, and will react in visual ways such as body language or gestures to compensate for this. Situations which induce anxiety are more likely to cause a shut-down for him, and even when verbal he deals with a stutter and aphasia. ​

 

[CRAGPELT]

It is his mother he feels next to him now, her voice rising above all the others to declare they have to go. That she and Cragpaw would help Pinepaw back to camp. His legs shake. His lips quiver. His ears flatten as anger rushes out in a sharp hiss, the most the boy has ever dared to do in the face of the mother he had always loved and admired so much. "Get away from us!" It's pitifully soft, much more than he would've liked, only for his family's ears. And though he tries to force anger into his eyes that are now narrowed on her, it's mostly pain that swims there.

His brother is here now, and he finds himself pressing into his ginger pelt for comfort and stability. He feels as if his stomach has just been filled with stones. RiverClan has won the battle, but it means nothing to him right now. Cragpaw, help your sister. His ears flick idly, the only acknowledgment that he has heard his uncle. Obediently, numbly, he moves, offering his shoulder for PInepaw. "C...come on." He can't keep his shoulders from sagging, nor his head from dipping low. Shame threatens to burn him alive as he begins to venture back to camp. Does he even belong there, now?

// interacting with @iciclefang @Pinepaw ⭒ @CRABPAW @FERNGILL ​