OPEN ╱ HONORED ´ˎ˗

[SUNSTAR]

✦　　. 　 ˚　.   The hare's blood runs warmer than the air this morning, and he knows then that there is to be a turn for the worse this season. Though the last moorland leafbare had been filled with an odd suffering, sickness and death plaguing them, there had at least been a semblance of peace and unity. This season seems prepared to bite. And WindClan, for the first time in many moons, does not stand united before this threat. The hare dangles in his jaws. His kits train outside of camp. Sootstar rests content upon her victories, and Sunstride rests in the aftermath. It would seem that he had proved her right. The ire of four other clans had stormed down upon him like a rain of fire. They had hated him. And she had not been there to see it.

She claimed it was for this clan, for their bellies through this terrible season. He had thought her a far better liar than this.

A severe frown upon the auburn warrior's face, he drops the hare onto the dwindling pile of their freshkill and picks up a lark in its place. Far too feathered for his taste, and old enough that it must have felt its end coming. The body itself feels tired beneath his teeth. Sunstride can understand that better than he could voice. He drops down beside a clanmate, one that he still finds comfort in despite all of this nonsense, and flicks a feather at them with a tired smile. "Have you eaten yet today? Your patrol is soon, is it not?"

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. anyone who's NOT a loyalist can be the person he's talking to >:) just wanted a casual bonding thread with him tbh
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
  
  
  ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

​

 

[Larkfeather !]

Larkfeather had been feeling an emptiness she had never felt before, one that had taken up so much space in the pit of her belly the lilac warrior doesn’t think she would be able to manage even a morsel.
The patrol that had returned with the Riverclans deputy blood on their claws had crushed her rose-tinted glasses to dust, her clan had claimed high stones, a sacred land, her leader had snatched Shadowclan kits right from their homes, and lied. Claiming they had been orphans when their own father had showed up on their border, desperate to find his missing children after a long journey.
She cannot imagine a life worse than not growing up with her mother, the calico had become a blue-tinged memory, but her comforting embraces and warping bedtime stories Larkfeather could still cling to.
Dull hazel eyes are fixated on the empty air before her when she feels something might tickle at her paws, the shift in the dirt beside her telling the lanky warrior someone had approached her.
She turns to find Sunstrides warm but weary smile, and doesn’t even realized her shoulders had tensed before the molly feels them relax.
Have you eaten yet today?
Habitually, Larkfeather nods, mustering her own fragile smile.
”Yea-yes. Mhm.” She chimes, her tone too light and airy for her dim mindset.
While the warrior had never found herself close with the deputy, he hadn’t exactly given her a reason to give him the cold shoulder. ”Hows your day going, Sunstride?” She asks politely after a moment.
Had she always sounded so tired?

”Speech.”

[ YOUR SILVER LINING ]​

​

 

[Morningsong~]

Oh, he does not trust what he sees. Sure, Sunstride is a kind cat, but he is the deputy. He does not trust anyone on Sootstar's council near his family. Not a single one. Especially after the whole....Actually, after everything thats happened. The kitnapping, claiming highstones and then trying to kill Smokestar- Which he found extremely hilarious actually. They were so full of themselves they couldn't even check to see if the guy was dead and now it's going to bite them in the ass.

Okay sure, his ass is also going to get bitten because of it, but its gonna be worth it. He hopes Smokestar tears one of them apart. Or if Smokestar tears him apart first, he hopes he goes for one of them next. He'll be watching either way, alive and dying, or dead and a ghost. The more he thinks about it, actually, thats terrible. He doesn't want those stinky Riverclanners over here at all if he had a choice in the matter.

But that is wishful thinking, and the threat of retaliation looms over the moors and has put his nerves on edge. Ever since Lilacstem and he had spoken out against the kitnapping, he has taken to a vow of partial silence. His tongue won't be the one to get his family in trouble. He will instead silently watch as the clan collapses on itself, and maybe enjoy a snack while he's at it.

He trots over to his sister and plops down on the other side of her, looking at the feather Sunstride flicked over.

"I don't think feathers make good meals." He says jokingly.

Normally he would have dramatically draped himself across Larkfeather and complained that he was starving, but he hasn't been in the mood for theatrics lately. Thats what the unshakeable feeling of impending doom does to you, justified or not.​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The calico settles down to rest nearby Sunstride and the others, fluffy tail curled around her haunches. She finds it difficult to turn her back to him, just as it is difficult to turn her back to Sootstar. She cannot trust any of the cats on Sootstar’s council, including Sunstride and Wolfsong. She knows it is impossible for her mutterings of disapproval to have reached their ears, surely a secret kept by Rattleheart, but still she is wary. After the stealing of kits, the claiming of sacred lands, can she truly trust anyone who would remain complacent? She can only hope that the deputy and his mate are of the same opinion as herself, and merely keeping quiet about their own doubts. They have kits, a family, just as she does. Perhaps they cannot risk the danger of disagreeing with their leader.

No matter their reasoning, Scorchstreak also cannot afford a misstep. But that doesn’t mean that she cannot relax alongside the deputy, formerly her fellow lead warrior. For now, she need not distance herself so long as she remains on guard. A stiff smile curls across her muzzle as she watches the tom flick a feather at one of their clanmates. Morningsong remarks that feathers don’t make good meals, and she flicks an ear in amusement. "If you’re hungry enough, anything makes a good meal." They’ll all need to remember that when the ice hits, and freezes their prey supply along with the ground.​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw's thoughts and feelings are so incredibly mixed that she isn't entirely sure what 'side' she's on - should they all be frank in knowing that the Clan is breaking in two. She is her mother's daughter yet StarClan's chosen disciple (despite not seeing hide nor hair of them, hearing nothing over a whisper from them.) She's soft and kind and hopeful but she has Weaselclaw's blood running through her veins. She detests that of the land they've taken, it had to be sacred - but she revels in the fact that Smokestar was hurt at all.

Her internal thoughts make her stomach twist and she feels sick more often than not. But thankfully (or otherwise,) so many cats are more willing to bury their thoughts nowadays. Like now - Cottonpaw sidles up to Scorchstreak's side, bidding, "But they do make good bedding," to the conversation. Normalcy is strained, and every cat has a sense of chained-up-predator hiding in their irises. But they smile, nod, and talk as if nothing's different between them.

"I've a crow feather or two in my nest. It makes a nice spot to rest your head," she suggests, as if the others aren't moons older than she and likely more than aware of the comforts of a soft nest.​

 

[SUNSTAR]

The clan falls apart in the most terrible of ways– Cottonpaw is right in that. Though he could not say that he knew who he could trust, he remembers a time when it had been far less uncertain. Where their difficulties might still be overcome, and their mistakes learned from. In moments where his clarity is lost to memory, he can feel nothing but guilt for thinking anything else. WindClan was still the home he had sought with Wolfsong. It was still the place that he had swore his life to. The memories were worth it. Weren't they? And then things are far too clear, and he imagines his clanmates standing in a line above Smokethroat's body, or sees them bare teeth at one another across camp. The illusion crumbles. He cannot help but wonder if it had always been this way; if he had somehow missed this bloodshed moons ago. Yewberry's exile; Dandelionwish fleeing their camp, several others in tow. It seemed that those who knew better were weeded out moons ago.

They were what remained.

The quiet and the wary, who did not know better or worse. Who were too afraid to lift their heads yet too strong-willed to bow completely. Tired and weary and uncertain of their place within this forest: that is what he thinks of those who begin to surround him. Whether it is true...well, like the others, he is not yet prepared to rest his weight upon them. He continues to pluck the lark, and realizes its meaning only far too late. When he looks up to Larkfeather, he laughs. "A poor meal, certainly, but a fitting enough accessory, don't you think?" With one hooked claw, the golden warrior catches its core to tuck haphazardly into lilac fur near her shoulder. "To save for the coming moons, as Scorchstreak suggests. This may be the last of our good days for many moons to come." He speaks of the weather, yes, but a good bit more as well.

"When Wolfsong was expecting our kits, I had lined his nest with many things. Hawk feathers, and a few from an owl that Weaselclaw had allowed me to take– most of them were meant for his mate. Our catch, apprentices alongside us." Sunstride's gaze takes on a distant quality. Lost in thought, it is almost as if the warrior is still here. Before StarClan had forsaken him, and Sootstar them. "It made for a comfortable rest. A crow's must be softer still."

𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓  ╱╱ 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 〚 11.22.2023 〛 —————«

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTRIDE. WINDCLAN DEPUTY & MOOR RUNNER.
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, LONERS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING SCORCHPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ LARGE CHOCOLATE ROSETTE TABBY, ICY EYES.

• "speech"

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Scorchpaw seeks comfort as warriors seek prey. She is starving for it; she needs the warmth to fill her up, to lift her chin and tell her it will all be okay, love; the cold pit in her stomach has weakened her for far too long now. But there is no clear way out, either. She can't track safety like she can track rabbits or mice or voles. She can only tuck herself into the sides of her mother and her siblings and pray to StarClan that something good would come of it.

But WindClan is different now. It had changed just as she had when she'd been up in the dizzying peaks, and as a result her mother had changed too now that she'd touched ground again. So Scorchpaw seeks neither her side nor her new mentor's, and instead joins the small circle of cats on an island of her own, cold as a lonesome pine. She could tear through this tension with her teeth. Maybe it would make a decent meal, thick as it was. She wishes she didn't have to feel it at all; she wishes that they could all just sit and laugh and share tongues like they used to, back when Periwinklebreeze stacked rocks with her and Wolfsong and Sunstride told her stories of the mountains she'd one day climb.

No softness eases her gem-cut gaze as she picks out a small portion of her own to munch on, but her ears flick idly as the conversation strings between the other cats. At the talk of accessories, she becomes suddenly aware of the butterfly at her own ear. It's a miracle she hasn't lost it yet, really. Maybe I should find something to cover this scar, she thinks, and then frowns ever so slightly. "I like ouzel feathers," she offers, timid. She tries not to think of Ouzelkit as she says it.

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by giinya, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[Halfsun]

WindClan, she was finding, had all sorts of strange ways of doing things. For one, their nests were very different than what she had been used to in the marshes. Back there, scents of pine had been interlaced with moss, here it was the scent of sheep, it was the scent of hare, and here they slept not in dens but underground or, more commonly, under the stars. There is something she had never gotten used to about the sheer openness of it. One day she would be expected to sleep there, exposed and bare, and she is not sure if she likes the idea of it.

Sunstride is a face that has grown familiar during her time in WindClan, as is Cottonpaw. She likes both cats just fine. Cottonpaw was nice, and she reminded her just a little bit of Starlingheart (the scent was the same) but Sunstride she admired and she often times finds herself jealous of his kits, of his apprentice. If she were of Sunstride’s blood she could claw her way to the top, just like him, but here she was not the daughter of a deputy, a cat she had never met. Here she was meant to play the role of an orphan.

Always does she hear adults talk about difficult moons ahead. Sunstride speaks of them now, when Scorchstreak brings up the fact that when you’re hungry anything makes for a good meal. "I don’t think I could eat anything" she pipes in from where she had been observing nearby "Like, if my options were to starve or eat Pinkpaw I don’t think I could do it!" she laughs slightly at her own words, nose blowing out air in a soft huff of amusement. "Whos Weaselclaw?" she ask, perhaps he was a cat that Halfkit had never met before? Though by the faraway look in Sunstride’s eyes she can only begin to guess that he was a cat long gone, he looked just like cats in ShadowClan looked whenever Halfshade’s name was mentioned. A faraway kind of sad. "I like feathers too!" she says, suddenly desperate to change the conversation "Owl feathers are my favorite! I don’t know what an ouzel looks like…" Owls were cool though, she had heard that they moved on silent wings, that they could alight upon their prey and take off with it and you would only ever hear the cries of whatever unfortunate animal had fallen to their talons. One day she would be cool and strong like that. Ouzels must be cool too though, because why else would Sootstar re-name her sister that? "Maybe one day I’ll kill an owl all by myself, and I can wear the feathers in my fur!" it is an impossible task but in her young mind she can see herself accomplishing it. She can see herself accomplishing just about anything.

​

 

[slateheart]

Hardship was not something unfamiliar to Slatetooth. He had grown up in WindClan, taken from his late mother by Lynxtooth, one of WindClan's most devout loyalists for moons. He had seen his brother come home from war, freezing and worn, from a raid launched on RiverClan all those moons ago. He had seen cats bullied left and right, and had endured the cruel training of WindClan's traditions. He had witnessed Dandelionwish's imprisonment, their fleeing, and others following - he would have followed as well, had he not feared his father. Despite the horror that he had seen, heard and lived through for seventeen moons - he would have never guessed what WindClan would do next.

Claiming highstones. Stealing kits. Sootstar was losing it, truly. He'd never visibly shown his distrust in her before, but here was no hiding the scowl on his face the day those two kits were brought him. He'd avoided Larkkit and Ouzelkit, wanting nothing to do with them - lest he be considered an associate to their kidnapping. Even now, as Halfkit chirped about food and Pinkpaw and feathers and birds, he didn't move a muscle from his resting spot next to , with his side against the cooled ground and his chin on his forepaws.

When Sunstride arrived, he flicked his ear in acknowledgement, shifting his head slightly to look up at the deputy. He had known Sunstride since Slatetooth first came to WindClan, once a cat that intimidated him but now.. perhaps more relatable. It was hard not to notice the weariness of the auburn tom with the recent happenings; the weariness that they had all felt, by the looks of it. After listening to the conversation starter of feathers, Slatetooth finally spoke. "I've never had my nest lined," he commented blandly. He'd never lined it himself, and nobody ever lined it for him. But, he clicked his tongue thoughtfully, pondering the options the others were presenting. "Maybe I should try it, hmm?"

​

​

"Speech"​

---

describe the way the sun hit
a tree you saw when you were ten​

 

[quailbreeze]

with the current state of the clan, it was difficult to see who you could trust. the clan was torn down the middle, and quailbreeze knew as well as anyone how that would play out in the end. a clan divided would not succeed if things continued growing even more sour. she also knew, however, that it was important to try and find those you could trust. it was important to know just who was on your side, and hopefully not make a mistake in trusting a clanmate who was on the "other" side. "keeping your nest lined never hurts. especially in leaf-bare, it helps keep you warmer." voicing her agreement with her clanmates, she would give a nod to them as she found a place within the growing circle to join in on the chatter.

​

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : — ​
• 
  — ic opinions
  — open to minor/healing powerplay
  — quailbreeze / windclan moor runner / feminine pronouns / biography
  

 

[REDHEART]

Empathy raw and unforgiving seeped plainly into the ruddy feline's expression. Hearing the stolen kit's rambunctious verbiage made his stomach twist with knots. Being non-clan born had left Redpaw the bane of many Windclanner's existences, but knowing Sootstar willingly accepted them hurt. A kind of hurt they could never articulate in a way that didn't feel wrong. A dark part of him burned with jealousy to see them so well cared for when his own kittenhood had been spent mostly in solitude. Save for the few respites between Rumblepaw and Venomstrike. Yet, the better part of the moral part of Redpaw knew the younger cats were not to blame. Frankly, he didn't know who to blame other than the weird group of worship-esque cats swathing the leader at every turn.

In Redpaw's few interactions, while bound to Shadowclan's camp, the small tom had never seen any kit be mistreated. Making the gray she-cat's words all the more unreliable, but he'd had little trust in the older feline well before the Shadowclan kit's arrival. Awkwardly, he had kept to himself on the opposite side of the pile. Curled into a ball but face unobscured as he intently listened to his clanmates meow amongst themselves regarding nests. Thankfully, none of the aforementioned oddballs seemed to be gracing them with their presence. Making the moody atmosphere a lot more digestible. Now wasn't a time for them to be divided so soon after the conflict, but he had learned to keep his maw shut. Having faced disapproving looks more than once in the past.​