OLD MAN PLEASE REMEMBER ME | missing

[SILVERSMOKE]

Out on the territory, the birds did not sing. The mice did not squeak amidst the dry brush and the wind had stilled to a silent whistle. For they had all witnessed a tragedy and did not wish to speak of it.

A small tree branch had snapped onto the forest floor; beyond that, a path of blood trickled through the territory toward the Twolegplace. Along the crimson road, strands of silver and black and ginger stuck to the ground, clumped together as if locked in a forever tussle.

A certain spotted tabby's scent could clog the senses within the signs of a fight, even with a rogue’s stench nearby. But, it would lead to nowhere. Silversmoke was nowhere to be found.

Spoiler: What has happened to SkyClan’s Lead Warrior?

That is up for characters to figure out! With some decent dice rolls, they can begin to create a story in their head of what might’ve happened to Silversmoke.

1-3: The wind picks up and 19-20 becomes inaccessible to your character and others whose rolls follow it.

4-6: Basic observation reveals there was a fight of some kind.

7-9: The mingling scents suggest that there were three combatants, though, who was who is still foggy at best. Was Silversmoke accosted by two rogues? Or did a SkyClanner try to help him?

10-12: The blood trails off to the Twolegplace… and to someplace else. At some point, the fighters broke from each other, but Silversmoke’s scent still goes cold at the scene.

13-15: The black and ginger fur… does not belong to a rogue. Further inspection reveals a faint Twolegplace smell to it, alongside a strangely artificial, flowery smell.

16-18: Within a lonely grove, a dead rogue can be found, having dragged themselves away from combat. Their throat has been torn open and injuries delivered by swift, strong paws are evident across their body.

19-20: A faint Twoleg smell can be detected, leading to and away from the scene. Within the mud, faint boot prints can be discovered. The tracks are uneven, as if weighed down by something.

​

 

[EMBERPAW.]

Emberpaw was used to a schedule, and it was around the time that she and Silversmoke begun training. She starts by stretching and allowing her joints to be warmed up for a day of training, hunting, and perfecting everything before her assessment for the next month. Five minutes pass and she's changed the elder's moss and finds herself constantly looking over her shoulder with a slightly confused expression replacing her typically stern one. Where was Silversmoke? It was unlike him, and the two of them were quite similar to their habits and personalities. The girl walks past the warrior den and gives a quick scan instead. There is no sighting of the lead warrior in the den, and she senses something stirring in her chest.

Something was wrong, and time was ticking. ”Ah, Гавно...” She murmurs under her breath as she flags someone down to alert the others. ”Silversmoke is missing, get the others to come out and search for him.” Her words touched with ice and she leaves seconds after giving them a command. Her paws tread forth similar to a marching knight on a mission, her fiery gaze scanning for anything with any possible information. A disturbance of a scene reveals itself as she comes across the snapped branches, trickling blood tingling with Silversmoke, and a rogue's scent.

Rolled a 10!

The cinnamon smoke lowers her muzzle to the ground, with her lips slightly parted to pick up the scent of the trail. Emberpaw eventually tracks the scent down to the Twolegplace and drifting in another direction. Her mentor's scent was long gone at the scene and she's unable to distinguish which scent now belonged to the lead warrior or the rogue. What was the use of her skills if she couldn't even properly track down her mentor, that was possibly injured or dead now?

Emberpaw's lip purses as she sits at the scene and continues to look for any clues or anything else that could point her in a more defined direction. She could only hope that her clanmates would arrive soon as Silversmoke's safety was dependent on them now. Her muscles are tense in antipication, yet tall ears are alert in case the rogue (or another) wandered on the scene. She couldn't risk herself being surprised while intently searching for anything to find her mentor.
​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

Dawn breaks, and she parts from her nest with it, pressing her nose to the fragile - petaled sunflower and inhaling its dusty, sun - warmed scent. Longing bleeds from her eye when she parts with it, an unseen trail of viridian behind her as she treks to the apprentices' den, and then out through the gap cleaved in the bramble wall. The patrol is quiet, almost eerie in its stillness—not a bird dares break into song, and she cannot hear any rustles in the thin brush to turn into a lesson for her apprentice, who follows at her side.

" Doesn't it seem a little— " she begins, preparing to broach the discontented silence that hangs in the air between her and her nearest patrolmate—Slate, namely, padding heavy - pawed along with his own apprentice. Then the scent of blood wafts through the trees and the warrior's muzzle pulls taut, pupils narrowing as a dog honed in on the kill—her nose twitches and she motions with her white flag of a tail for @cloudypaw~ to follow suit as she pushes forward between fragrant pines. The copper - scent sharpens, refines itself until she can pick out the leaf - molt scent of Silversmoke, a smell like pine needles drying on the forest floor.

The slight trace of Emberpaw's scent, trailing abruptly towards Twolegplace, worries her, but she's immediately distracted by fresher signs—there's scuffs in the dirt that turn to dragging marks, blood driven grainy into the sun - dried soil. Doeblaze eyes Slate silently, wondering if the big tom is discerning what she is; she's willing to set aside their differences for the moment, in the face of the greater mystery at paw. She gestures for Cloudypaw to follow suit and jerks her head to the Maine Coon—for as little as she likes him, she would indeed want him at her and Cloudypaw's side if a threat still lingered

Head tipped earthward to better inhale the thick scent of rogue painted across the air, Doeblaze's lone eye levels with the trunks—a hardened chunk of jade, soot - smoked and fire - forged, pupil narrowed to a slim diamond with the sharp survivor's instinct that has her ears set sharply forward and her muscles tensed. The dragging marks are not a difficult trail to follow, but she automatically discerns the further signs as they grow gradually weaker, shallower—the underbrush is disturbed and a lone carrion - bird sweeps low over the pines as they grow nearer to a lonesome grove of trees, cold and nearly untouched despite the splendor of greenleaf.

" Watch out, " she rasps, low under her quick breaths, a warning meant for both her young apprentice and her involuntary partner in this endeavour. The body laid out in the midst of the grove, where the wind whistles silently through its lonely trees, is still—deathly so—but she hesitates to drop her guard, claws slipping from their sheaths until she reaches the body, itself stinking of rogue. Her instinct is correct, and their stillness is that of the dead, eyes glossy and throat torn wide, blood puddling thickly around their shredded neck. The injuries dealt to their now - limp form are expert blows, struck deep by skillful paws.

Doeblaze's eye flutters in a series of abrupt blinks, uncomprehending of the sight before her as she tries to fit it into the blurry jigsaw gradually forming in her mind. The bridge of her muzzle rumples, eye sharpening, the eerieness of the whole scene setting her hackles to bristling. It may be the closeness of the whole thing, and she's forced to twist her face away from the terribly familiar sight of a ripped throat.

The rogue's cooling wounds are those of swift, unhesitant paws carrying the strength of experience—the scent of her Clanmate still lingers in her nostrils—her swallow bobs harshly in her own still - intact throat. She glances towards Slate once more, feeling as if she disturbs something when she mrrows, " Do you think—? "

OOC : Rolled an 18! Others who roll in this category are welcome to join in on the body discovery party >:-)

♥︎

​

 

[Florabreeze]

There was no direct aim today with her lessons regarding @jellypaw ♬ today, she really wanted her to just get a feel for the territory as she was sure that it takes a lot of getting used to going from being confined to only the camp to suddenly be thrusted in the wider world. It must be a lot, it was for Florabreeze anyways and she was really just trying to use her own life experiences as a guide here. Her tracks come to a halt at the sight of Emberpaw near the area that leads to Twolegplace. Hm, it looks like her apprentice was going to be given work to do today afterall. “Emberpaw are you alright?” She asks as she approaches, any hope that this may be a wandering apprentice dying out at the approach of others. That combined with the bloodied path and the entangling scent of Silversmoke and a rogue smell not too far from it. With a frown she looks over at Doeblaze, Slate and Cloudypaw who seemed to have caught wind of something. Taking time to consider her options she finds her paws start to move in an opposite direction to them, if there was something here then having a wider net to search would be best.

“Jellypaw, remain alert okay? Follow me, I don’t want you out of my sight right now” Her words were firm, she thought it was a pretty decent request. Florabreeze tried to not let the fear creep into her town as she assumed only the worst was on the horizon. Waiting for her apprentice first she then delicately side steps any blood or signs of a scuffle that she can see, walking just that little further ahead. It was the strangest thing as she sniffs the area around her, then parting her maw. The scent of Twoleg was prominent enough, especially to someone who lives around them as much as the maine coon did. At first she thought the smell leading to the scene was residual from herself and Jellypaw but it still lingered near the others.

It seemed to lead further onwards too, leading away from the scene. With a flick of her tail she turned her sights to the ground below them, squinting at the different tracks around her. Even the glare of the sun couldn’t deter her from the boot tracks paved into the mud. Crouching low she first looked to make sure Jellypaw was near her, or at least near another warrior before further inspecting them. “I think a Twoleg may have been near here” she calls out loud enough for anyone near her to hear, wanting to get a second opinion even though she had no doubt in her mind due to her experience around them. There was concern that her worry over Silversmoke was clouding her judgement here, he was her friend so she hoped that the potential Twoleg influence was a good one.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── From far away ﻬ𖧧ﻬ Stays for a day ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  Rolled a 19! Wanted to leave it open enough to invite other 19/20 rollers over to investigate B)
  

• 

• FLORABREEZE 𖧧 She/her, Daylight Warrior of SkyClan, 34 moons (ages on the 12th)
  ❥ A large black tabby maine coon with low white and bright green eyes, always wearing her mushroom print collar if she can.
  ❥ Mentored by Sorrelsong ／Mentoring Jellypaw
  ❥ “Speech”, thoughts, attacking
  ❥ Penned by Juice ⏐ouijeejuice on discord {open to being dmed for plots}
  

​

 

[Howlfire]

Silversmoke was one of those cats that you could usually predict what he was doing or where he was. He was reliable, loyal, and had an otherwise calm presence.

That he isn't in camp that morning is unusual, but that unusualness turns to slight panic when he can't be found, and the patrol further out are advised to keep an eye out for him. With all the rogue and predator activity as of late, Howlfire is on her guard, and even though she knows her apprentices can handle themselves, she wants them close and within eyesight. "Stay close," She mews to Hawkpaw and Sillypaw, gesturing with a flick of her tail for the two to follow.

Howlfire falls in line behind Doeblaze and Slate, eyes scanning the trees and undergrowth for a sign of Silversmoke, willing to settle for a scrap of fur at this point as proof he was somewhere nearby. Instead, it is a rogue they find first, not a living one, but a dead one. The scent of the rogue had left her wary, but when she sees that still form lying there, it's throat torn out, and other injuries delivered by strong, assured paws, her hackles raise. Like Doeblaze, the sight brings back uncomfortable memories for her, and she swears she can taste blood in her mouth just like how she had when she sunk her fangs into the throat of one of the rogues who had mutilated her children.

For a moment she stands there, trying to process what happened, her hackles flattening when she realises the rogue will be no threat. She hears Doeblaze speak to Slate, and she also looks back to the older warriors. "Could Silversmoke have done this?" She asks the two of them. He was a decent fighter, but she wasn't sure if such violence was within his nature. "A dead rogue, a lead warrior missing - this has to be connected right?"

// Apprentice tag @Hawkpaw @sillypaw ​

 

[Chickbloom]

// Rolled an 8!

// ‘Silversmoke is missing, get the others to come out and search for him.’ Emberpaw’s words wake Chickbloom with a start, but as he runs out of camp he prays he’s still dreaming. The coward is vaguely aware of others splitting off, conducting their own investigation, but he doesn’t follow. It was a dumb idea going alone, but the shock of the moment had put a hard pause on any rational thinking.

“Silversmoke…?” Chickbloom called, tear-rimmed amber eyes staring at the treetops as if the stern warrior would fall from the sky. The coward wasn’t sure where he was going, wandering like an infant looking for its parent. The ball of nerves was no tracker, but blind luck brought him something. Familiarity struck his senses, and the boy was brought back to earth by the thick scent of Silversmoke, and scuffs in the dirt.

the smell of his pseudo-mentor returned some sene to the Scottish Fold and he remembered his training, sniffing the air to try and discern any other signs of life. Silversmoke, Doeblaze, and Slate. The latter two were fresh, they must’ve been here before following a different lead. An anxious gaze chooses to pretend the blood trail isn’t there as he tries to pick apart the underlying details.

Two other scents. There were two more scents, mixed in with the familiar smell of his friend. Yolk-splashed paws pad around the crime scene with increasing intensity, trying to discern their origin. Three cats, and a fight. Silversmoke was one, so - could it be? The pessimist’s mind immediately assumed the worst as he began to breathe faster. Silversmoke was ganged up on, he had to be. No one could beat him if it was a fair fight, right? The lead warrior was the best! One of the scents was unclear, but it had to be another rogue. If it was a two-on-one, though, that meant -

“H-He’s hurt! He’s gotta be hurt! W-We have to find him before it’s too late!” Chickbloom was sobbing now, shouting to anyone in earshot and trying to convey his terror. It wasn’t particularly helpful, and on some level the warrior knew that, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to find his friend.​

 

[SLATE]

The fact his patrol had been advised to keep their eyes and ears alert for any sign of Silversmoke was an oddity in itself. His rival—if he could still call Silversmoke that—was usually not one to disappear on his own. Deep in the territory pursuing a hunt or out on the edges of the borders vigilantly guarding the pines, perhaps, but Silversmoke was not one to completely disappear into thin air. How could SkyClan lose track of a tom that large, anyhow? He was probably out there frolicking with his good friend Johnnyflame again ( not that Slate wanted to bear witness to that ).

The stench of an outsider as well as the evidence of scuff marks and indents in the dirt effectively transforms the patrol into a pack of bloodhounds. Slate does not consider himself the best tracker, but it is relatively easy to follow the trail of fresh blood into a clearing of pines. The lead warrior's fur bristles instinctively as he prepares himself to lunge at an intruder, bulky form taking the lead in front of his apprentice out of precaution, but the moment never comes. Instead, mangled and torn open lies a body before the patrol. They are undoubtedly and unquestionably dead, the light eerily drained from their eyes, and for a moment a sense of familiarity prods at Slate's brain as it likely does the others. They had all witnessed death before, specifically that of a stranger who had dared to threaten their clan.

He does not meet Doeblaze's gaze, as his attention is grimly fixed on the scatterings of crimson ribbons and clumps of hair, but he does feel the weight of her stare out of the corner of his eye. It's likely that the other warrior is sharing his train of thought, and Howlfire's question only rouses the groups' collective thinking into the open. Slate does not think Silversmoke to be above the prospect of a killing. Rogues were detested by the other—he knows this well—and if this cat was trespassing and posing a threat to SkyClan then Slate fully believed that the silver tabby would have done anything to defend his home.

"Could be," But where the hell did he go if the patrol had not passed him by earlier and if he wasn't anywhere to be seen back in camp? The lead warrior could be nearby bleeding out for all they knew. Just because this rogue lay limp and cold did not mean that Silversmoke had escaped this altercation unscathed. "We need to keep moving. He could be hurt." The Maine Coon grunted toward his patrolmates, turning his large form to pad away from the bloodied figure. The scent would grow cold the longer they stood waiting around.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 ✹ .　 + 　˚ 　　 · 　 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐄

• rolled a 16! @COFFEEPAW apprentice tag
• 
  

  

• 
  
  

  a lead warrior of skyclan, slate is forty moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face. ✦

​

 

[Johnnyflame]

MY WORLDS ON FIRE, HOW 'BOUT YOURS?
THAT'S THE WAY I LIKE IT AND I NEVER GET BORED."​

---

He tried not to jump to the worst case scenario when Emberpaws sudden call for a search party went up, stomach simultaneously dropping and leaping into his throat as the name ‘Silversmoke’ left her lips. It was hard to imagine anything less with a cat so particular, though. His fellow lead had a schedule and everyone knew it- for him to just drop off without a word when he had other responsibilities.. It wasn’t like him.

Silversmoke never shirked his duties to Skyclan.

Which meant something was wrong.

”Sangriapaw, let’s go!” he ordered, already on his feet and striding toward the camps exit with hastened steps.

He was tense the entire way out toward the twolegplace border, muscle strung taut and each step taking more will-power from him than he thought possible; he wanted to sprint after Emberpaw, even if it meant leaving poor Sangriapaw behind. But he couldn’t. She still needed him, and wasn’t ready to meet any potential threats out here alone. ”Stay close, and remember what I said about the trees.”

Eventually, the search began in earnest, with cats breaking off into smaller groups to investigate. Johnny wasted no time in doing the same, trying to tune himself to the scent of the spotted tomcat in hopes of tracking it to it’s source. Despite the direness of the situation- of several cats having been killed already- he couldn’t bring himself to accept any of the heart-wrenching possibilities circling his mind like vultures. Silversmoke would be fine. They’d find him, and Johnny would finally spell it out for the bastard in plain english so there could be no mistaking how he felt.

Because he wasn’t allowed to die without knowing how much it would kill Johnny, too.


—-----------------------------------------

Rolled a 14!

—-------------------------------------


He was so focused on that- on finding Silversmokes scent- that he almost completely overlooked the clump of ginger and black fur caught in the pine needles at his feet. He paused, short fur bristling along his shoulders as his worst fears were realized; Silversmoke had met the rogues from twolegplace and been attacked.

His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as he fought down the surge of emotions threatening to suffocate him. Had it been a fair fight, at least? Or had Silversmoke been cut down by a horde of cowards before he even had the chance to defend himself?

Don’t think like that. He’s strong- he survived the adder, he can survive some pathetic, flea-brained foxhearts, too! Don’t you dare write him off yet!

His own mind rebelled against the grief that was desperate to run it’s course through him, shoving it back with a rage as searing as the flames of hell itself. With a growl he lowered his muzzle to inhale deeply, to permanently ingrain the scent of whatever rogue had been stupid enough to hurt the cat he was closest to, only to come to a startling realization.

”This- this isn’t a rogue-scent.” he stated, confusion evident even as he parted his jaws to get a better taste of the air, a hound on the trail of his quarry, a shark who’d caught the scent of blood. There’d been another cat in the forest with Silversmoke, fur ripped out from a fight no doubt, the scent of twolegplace buried beneath the cloying scent of flowers.

But what did it mean?

”There was a twolegplace cat here!” he called to his clanmates investigating nearby, unable to keep the growl from his voice. If he found out a kittypet was involved with Silversmokes disappearance, he’d turn the place into a damn warzone until he got his answers- until he found the cat responsible and skinned them for the crows to have. In a way, it was made all the more devastating by the knowledge that twolegplace was his. That was his other home, his original stomping ground. A place he claimed to love. It felt like betrayal, to think anything or anyone related to his his kittypet life could have taken something so important from him.

”A kittypet, or a loner- but they definitely came from there!” he was certain of it, even as he began looking for any signs of where they may have gone or what had happened to him. He could tell from his clanmates own muttered findings that there were definitely signs of Silversmoke and a fight, and he couldn’t help but send a look of worried confusion toward Flora as she announced she could smell Twoleg nearby.

”A twoleg- are you sure? Do you think one heard the fight and came to investigate?” he asked, stubbed tail giving a nervous flick. Most twolegs didn’t bother checking on things like that, but they were curious creatures. His own people were obviously fan of cats, and he could see them being drawn to the yowls of a cat in pain to try and help.

Hope sparked momentarily, before realizing exactly what that meant. Silversmoke would never go with a human. He would have to have been so injured that he couldn’t run or fight them off, and if that was the case…

And what if it wasn’t one of the good humans? What if they’d only come to help the twolegplace cat and had seen Silver as a threat?

”If we don’t find him on this border, I’m going into twolegplace to keep looking. He could be lost there, or too hurt to make it back on his own, or- or trapped somewhere.”

He could tell his composure was starting to fray. A part of him felt guilty for doubting the other when he knew they were one of the most capable cats he knew, but the rest of him didn’t give a single damn about any of that. It just wanted to find Silversmoke and have him be okay so that Johnny could box his ears off for scaring him so bad. And if the rest of the clan could tell how obvious it was, then so be it. He didn’t care to try and hide how much the silver tom meant to him.

If Silversmoke was gone forever or came back tomorrow, the whole clan could know that Johnnyflame loved him.

OOC- has @SANGRIAPAW with him and is talking to @Florabreeze toward the end

[/i]

---

​

 

[CHRYSALISWING]

"Silversmoke is...?" Chrysaliswing's voice pooled under hot breath, as though serpent's venom had been condemned to hitch within its throat, bubbling and blocking out whatever else could have spouted forth. Silversmoke was a steady tomcat, with a tight schedule that he followed to a T, so much so that such an oddity had been quickly plucked out by his peers. A sense of something awry kindled within firestock heart, though he tamped it down with just enough collection to never use again. The thought seemed almost unbelievable to the chimaera, damnation crying out in knells of worst-case-scenarios, of a fantasy that had trickled out from the maw and manifested itself to reality. And yet, the blood trailing onwards into a labyrinth spoke otherwise, the acrid scent of the Thunderpath mingling well with the metallics of blood. The world around the Skyclan cats grew deathly quiet, as though it proscribed the unallayed greenleaf, and not even the songbirds nor the ground-beasts showed their presence. Did even Starclan mourn for Silversmoke's loss? No, his body did not lie beneath their feet...

A selfishly self-sustaining part of him wished to consider this karma, of judgment tearing at the cat who had never afforded him kindness nor sympathy in his apprenticeship (in his skewed view, anyhow). Like a snake eating its own tail, stopping not even as it had swallowed all of itself, his temper had consumed all of him. Shaking his head, he willed himself to bide acerbic anger, just for a moment. He hated Silversmoke's guts, but he was still a warrior of Skyclan, at the end of the day. It would be cruel to never attribute anything of honor to the silver-spotted cat.

The sulfur-and-sable tomcat trotted over to Florabreeze, stating that the stench of a Twoleg clung to the lead warrior's last throes. Gunmetal-hued nose crinkled at the very scent that crossed his senses, tangles of foreign and too-unnatural trails bundling upon his nostrils. Huffing out a grand exhale, his attention then turned towards the imprints of Twoleg paws. Misfit gaze stared longly at the tracks that dotted into the murk of the distance, though they seemed as if the moieties of two spindles for legs did not stand upon the same weight, like a predator dragging back the weight of its hunt. It was unmistakable to Chrysalis, but it did not explain the strands of fur and the flowery scent that seeped into the scene. Bewilderment etched itself onto his angular face, darkening features of ire and wilderness. "He must have been taken by the Twolegs. Who knows what they'll do to him? We need to act fast if we are to save him." Chrysaliswing grumbled in accordance with Johnnyflame, as though upon his inflection lie an impending, portentous shadow, a grim reminder of the brutality of those that so many of his kin worshipped and adored.

𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 ⚠︎ 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦

• Rolled a 19!
  
• 
• 

  —— CHRYSALISWING / He/They / 27 Moons
  —— Warrior of Skyclan / Mentoring n/a
  —— A long-haired tomcat with chimaeric patterning. His left side is fully black and his right side is black splotched with sunset-orange. He has complete heterochromia, with his right eye being a bright green and his left eye being a glowering yellow.
  —— Abrasive, temperamental, and critical. Approach at your own risk and engage at your own cost. Despite this, he is a hard worker and quick to call out what he finds wrong.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[SANGRIAPAW]

✧ Her mentor sounds concerned, his tone sharp for once as he calls for Sangriapaw to go with him. He rushes off out of camp without really waiting for her to respond, so the torbie is forced to follow after him quickly, her chest heaving as she picks up speed to keep pace with the older SkyClanner. Why he’s in such a hurry, she doesn’t quite understand—but at the same time, she’s seen the way Johnnyflame looks at the other lead warrior. They aren’t mates, but there’s something there, right? Johnnyflame’s entire body is tense as he walks, each visible line of muscle pulled taut beneath his pelt. As they follow after Emberpaw, he calls back to her, reminding her of his warning to get to the trees if there’s any danger. She nods, her expression for once not bright but dulled in a severe, serious look. The edges of her muzzle are turned down with concern, too, because Silversmoke may be sharp-tongued and mean, but he’s her clanmate all the same.

SkyClan has lost too many cats recently. She doesn’t want to believe that Silversmoke would be just… gone. So when Johnnyflame sets about scenting the area, searching for anything that could give clues about the other lead warrior’s whereabouts, the torbie does as well. She follows a trail of scent until, at once, she glances up to find a tuft of dark fur. Not Silversmoke’s. "Look, I…" her voice fades out as she turns to find her mentor sniffing around a similar clump of fur. He declares the scent to be that of a cat from back home, and not a rogue… so that means it can’t be the same cat that killed some of their clanmates. Flora speaks up, saying that she can smell twoleg, and the girl’s frown grows darker. Twolegs are supposed to be good, and nice—they aren’t supposed to hurt cats and steal clanmates!

She doesn’t say anything though, because Johnnyflame declares that if Silversmoke isn’t found, then he’s going into the twolegplace to search. "Y’don’t get to leave me here again," she says, frowning up at her mentor. She’d been deeply annoyed when he left her behind to go search the twolegplace and interrogate its residents without her—it’s the only time Sangriapaw has ever felt anything less than enthusiastic about her mentor. She isn’t going to let him do it again. Especially not when the fate of one of their clanmates might be at stake now.

✧ gliding down the rainbow

• ooc: —
• 
  SANGRIAPAW ❯❯ she/her, daylight apprentice of skyclan
  ⭃ cinnamon torbie with white spotting and vibrant leaf-green eyes. bold, bright, and curious.
  ⭃ daughter of fantastream & figfeather ; sister to coffeepaw
  ⭃ mentored by johnnyflame
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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