NOT YOUR MONSTER // open

[SHALLOW]

Shallow had slowly started to get used to living with this cats now to learn a little bit more about them for each day. He had learned this group worked differently from what his rogue group did. They seemed to be a bit more nicer towards each other for a start, working together as a team and not for thier own self-interest. They let the weak and young eat first and gave support and encouragement when someone needed it. He had also noticed the adults was called for warriors and thier responsibility was to teach the youth. This was all what he had learned from them this far. However, there was one thing he had noticed that was not much different from his own group. The way some of them looked at him. Rogues had no good reputation, not from kittypets and not from the clan cats. He had been instructed to stay in the nursery for the time being and in there the queens was avoiding him, keeping thier kits close to them to not interact with him. They looked at him with either fear or contempt. He know they did not wished to have him there. Not everyone approved with thier leaders decision to let him stay here, and Shallow know he never would be one of them. Sooner or later they would throw him out. They had only taken him in because they pity his situation, his condition. Once he was old enough they would kick him out. So he had to look out after himself.

It was after noon that Shallow left the nursery after having taken a short nap to recharge his energy after yesterdays activity. Rumours had started to spread around camp that prey had started to go missing in the freshkill pile. It was only a matter of time before they would put the pieces together and all eyes would be on him. Shallow had to make the best of it before that happend so he had food that if lucky would make him survive through the winter. Shallow stopt right by the freshkill pile to pick up a squirrel his thoguhts drifting away if he should eat it or if he should hide it somewhere....

" Hey, th-that was my food!." Another kit cried out to some young apprentices who had stolen the kit's prey. They laughted at them while they run away the squirrel. Shallow watched the whole scene unfold itself his gaze soon resting down on the kit who was crying still. There was plenty of food in the pile so he didn't really understood what the problem was. She could just pick a different prey, could she not?. Or she could tell the warriors about what had happend. The crying contunied and he wonderd if there had been something special with that squirrel. Twitching one of his ears, the kit decided to approach over and without a word he dropt his own squirrel down at thier paws. It worked. The kit stopt crying looking at it with beaming eyes at first but when she looked up to see who it was who had dropt it there...her whole face turned into a pale terror. " R-Rogue!, momma help me the rogue is gonna eat me!!." The kit was quick to run away back to the nursery to found rescue from thier mother from the evil rogue.

Shallow stood still as he watched them run away before his gaze drifted down to the squirrel to stare blankly at it, his face revealing nothing.


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[QUILLSTRIKE]

I FEEL LIKE AN ASTRONAUT IN THE OCEAN​

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Quill was certainly not the most expressive cat Skyclan had to offer, and in all honesty there were several other cats who were far more equipped to handle a situation like this. Comfort wasn't something Quill had often been given during his short life, and so it was difficult for him to figure out how to offer it to others without it seeming forced or awkward. His intention was never to pity another, mainly because as someone who'd had that sort of gaze on him in the past, he knew it did nothing but spark anger and resentment. Even now, Quill had a tendency to bristle at or reject any attempt at pity directed toward him, and so he didn't expect anything less from someone else.

But to Quill, there was a difference between pity and understanding.

And in this particular instance, the chimera could understand well enough. Only just a few moons ago a skyclan kit had called him 'ugly' for his patchy pelt, to which the apprentice had responded 'its because I ate my brother while we were in my moms stomach'. Now, just about every kit in the nursery had heard the stories of the outsider with the odd eyes who'd eaten his own littermate, and the fact that he looked to be a total mixture of two entirely different cats didn't help to tame the kits wild imaginations. This kind of attitude toward him was nothing new though, spanning back since his very birth and following him all throughout childhood.

And so Quillpaw knew well, how it felt to be openly unwanted. It made the words of the kind pale in comparison, compliments and encouragements falling flat despite their best intentions, because deep down you know your worth has already been ingrained into you.

A shdow falling across Shallow was the predesessor to his words. "You gonna eat all that? I'm hungry."

The tone was lackluster and dull, the words blunt and to the point. It would be easy to mistake them for some kind of bored hostility, but if one paid attention they could tell there was no malice in them as Quill stood looking down at the younger cat. As poorly phrased as it was, he was trying to invite them to eat with him- or rather, join them for their own meal, which the other kit had been quick to discard in their dramatic exit.
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skyclan - male - 6 months - bisexual - homoromantic - single - very tall tabby tomcat with broad shoulders

 

[ThistleBack]

Thistleback had adapted to a selfless life, one where the ankle-nipping heathens ate first- where the kind word builds rapport rather than associates in the criminalistic decor of the street-life stray. Life was different here for sure, and even more-so lately for him personally with the new addition and perhaps- sudden value in his life that was Deersong.

A crying child, like nails across his eardrums. Thistleback’s nose crinkles with distaste for the sound- and he mutters a curse before grooming himself.

’R-rouge! the squawk of a kitten rings from the edge of camp and Thistleback halts in licking down the barbed fur of his limb, molten grey eyes scrutinizing the scene with a subtle shake of his head. “Isolation, freak, talks to himself, nobody” ghostly whispers, his own demons lurk in the murky waters of- retrospective comparison. Thistleback had grown up among strays, had swam the stagnant waters of isolation. It had made him- a stronger cat for it. Independence a tree that bears fruit, let the others be weeds if they wish.

" it’s okay kid- …. much easier to be feared than liked" Thistleback is wearing a grimy smile as he pads toward the two youths. Eyeing the three-legged grey one with a specific stare, it lingers longer with a pensive glint. Was it the right words to offer a child? no. Was it conventional? hell no. Thistleback wasn’t conventional. " I was a rogue too. I’m still part stray- … don’t let those claws get deeper than your fur " his tone is gentle despite the harsh rasp and formal- very much unlike his usual tone , " anyways- looking forward to apprenticeship? " brows drawn hard over his eyes as he offers his question.

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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Thistleback | thirty moons | cis-male
  — daylight warrior of Skyclan
  — bisexual | fallen for Deersong 9.29.22
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. Wears a purple collar with brass clasp.
  
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