sensitive topics out of the blue, into the black ↷ [INTERROGATION]

[smogmaw]

// direct continuation of this thread!

⁂

Granitepelt is hauled scruff-first into the wider heart of camp, engulfed in a volatile storm of hisses and cutting snarls. Treacherous intentions have emerged fully from the shadows, his atrocities uncovered and held against him. The leader's den recedes into the background; under those gnarled roots lies a cat holding onto their life's last vestiges, whose blood is openly worn in their assailant's fur, visible to any and all.

Evidence damning, fury palpable, Smogmaw firmly embeds the sinister conspirator into the cold earth below. The fierce and flurried struggle that comes against his iron grasp proves meaningless. Granitepelt may twist, turn, and anchor his claws in his captor and draw red, and he does. Whatever pain he metes out is eagerly swallowed, and it fades in the face of the deputy's blistering hatred. This ruthless killer will not see release. To call ShadowClan home, all while culling its numbers without hesitation, has laid a blight upon their dignity unlike any other. Only vindication will purge it.

When Smogmaw cannot bite any harder, he instead thrashes wickedly. A vigorous swing for what was done to Halfkit, and an ensuing lurch for Tanglekit's sake. Gums glisten crimson with stolen blood, yet satisfaction hardly comes. Stealing kits away and pointing everyone in the wrong direction cannot be made up for by mere injury. He thrashes again, yowls of protest ignored. A thrash for the leader he'd snuffed out, the bloodline he has fractured, and for poor Starlingheart, whom he has lied to for moons unending. A thrash for Chilledstar, whose life force now pools upon dessicated dirt. A thrash for good measure, and then another, and then another.

"MURDERER! KIDNAPPER!"

Reduced to a weakened state, Granitepelt has little recourse when he is battered anew. To struggle further is tantamount to risking grievous injury, and with camp's exit guarded, flight is likewise beyond his grasp. Thus, the grip is relinquished, and through sharp denunciations are his misdeeds broadcast for all to hear. "You will tell us everything! About Pitchstar! About Sootstar! About the kits you've stolen and the lies you've given!" Raw animosty billows from Smogmaw's throat.

As one may expect after such a harrowing disruption, clanmates spill forth from their respective dens. Shock reigns above all, a swell of hushed confusion following the claims. Smogmaw greets their emergence with an insistent lash of his tail, hackles bristling to full. "This insidious weasel, nor Siltcloud, is NOT permitted to leave camp. Chilledstar lays dying in their den. I need someone to assist them, NOW!" He remembers Halfkit's words well; Siltcloud had aided in their abduction. Should she prove a willing accessory, she too will be unearthed and eradicated.

A growl rumbles deep within, and he's forced to regard the traitor crumpled before him. "Speak, stars help you, or your eyes'll be gouged." He's pathetic like this. Pathetic and cowed and bruised. But that he's maintained a place in Chilledstar's council, even while slowly poisoning the clan from inside-out, is horrifying in of itself.


// welcome to the grand trial of granitepelt & siltcloud... please, please, keep your claws to yourself. you'll get a chance to harm them later ​

 

[Starlingheart]

There is a commotion out in camp. Starlingheart can hear it from her den and she trades a glance with Magpiepaw or whoever else may be there with her before she takes tentative steps to the opening of her den, to the entrance to camp. What she sees makes her stagger backwards. Smogmaw holds her mates scruff in his jaws, he drags him by it into the camp and spits venom from his lips. Kidnapper. He calls him. And then even worse; murderer. Is this a bad dream? Or has Smogmaw finally lost it? She knows he is not the happiest with her at this moment but to take his anger out on her mate. To throw out such wild accusations is a low she had not been expecting. "Wha-what is the meaning of this?" she cries out, upset by the sight of her mates blood dripping to the ground, she moves to help him but stops. Chilledstar is dying in their den Smogmaw says.

She turns to her apprentice "Magpiepaw go-go help Chilledstar" she says to him, her voice quiet, her eyes pleading. She needed to stay here, to figure out what I’m StarClans name was going on. Where did her brothers name come into all this? Where did Sootstars?. "Oh stars. Say-say it’s not true, that this is all just-just some big mis-misunderstanding" she begs though she is not sure who she is talking to, Granitepelt or Smogmaw. Maybe Chilledstar had gotten attacked by something else and Granitepelt had been helping him? Maybe Smogmaw just walked in at the wrong time… she knows it is not possible, that Chilledstar was fine when he returned to camp only a few short moments ago but when the mind is desperate it is apt to make up much more compelling stories than the one it doesn’t want to face.

​

 

[Magpiepaw]

—————————————————————⊰♰⊱————————————————————
Granitepelt had always crossed him as a particularly unpleasant cat, but never more than most others - he was a grouch, irritable, but so was most of the clan and he'd never batted much of an eye at it. Maybe he disliked him more than most because of his proximity to the medicine cat den, a place where he and Starlingheart should be left to their privacy and unbothered but he had quickly gotten over the other's continual presence there.
To find out he had done something of this magnitude, that it was he who took the kits despite leading patrols to find them...that he had allied himself somehow with the moorland queen and Pitchstar - what was this about Pitchstar? He'd been killed by a rogue, hadn't he? Surely, Granitepelt would not have...
Starlingheart's voice cries his name and he pulls himself from his thoughts with a head jerking upward, Smogmaw says Chilledstar is dying. How many lives did they have left, he didn't know, but if something wasn't done they would lose more than the one so he turns with a quick pivot back into the medicine den to gather up an already prepared bundle of herbs - one of his mentor's many little kits prepared with basics - and goes dashing as quickly as he can to the leader's den to find the monochrome feline a bloodied mess upon the floor. Magpiepaw trills in alarm, wadding up as much moss over a torn throat as he can to stifle the bleeding - StarClan could only do so much, if he didn't help they would just keep bleeding out again and again if it was too severe. Briarstar had died repeatedly from her own monster inflicted wounds, it was not a fate he'd wish on any cat.
"Chilledstar-Chilledstar-you're fine-you'll be fine-" Fine enough, there was no sparing the first life at this point, the den was too slick with blood to assume otherwise but they would survive yet after.
That miserable gray rat, to think he had watched passively while he showered his affection over Starlingheart with paws soaked crimson.

————— ⸸ looks like the stars won't shine much longer ———— ⸸ so give me your hand

• OOC can go here.
• 
  
  
  Magpiepaw
  —⊰⋅ MCA of ShadowClan
  —⊰⋅ He/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ Black tom w/a white throat and blue-violet eyes.
  —⊰⋅ Has mild cerebellar hypoplasia (Wobbly cat syndrome)
  
  

​

 

[Frostbite]

Frostbite wears a snarl befitting a mountain lion. Teeth are fully bared in a wrathful display that few have likely seen, his eyes alight with hatred and bloodlust. He stands before the exit to the camp, fur bristling and claws gripping into the ground. He's on a hair trigger, the moment Granitepelt or Siltcloud makes a move to flee, he's going for the throat.

For this filth to reside in their clan and commit such treachery under their noses.... He will not stand for it. He seethes as he remembers how eager Siltcloud was to leave Windclans border the day the search patrols went out. He should have known. Was he truly a fool for not expecting his clanmates to be traitors? He should have known better, after Fleecefur. But to suspect someone on attitude alone would be.... You'd be suspicious of just about everyone in the clan.

So he tries not to be hard on himself.

This news about Pitchstar, though, has him seeing red. He and Pitchstar never really interacted, but he was loyal to him. He understood the damage that was done to him from seeing Briarstar die the way she did, he can't fault him for his madness. His only regret is that he never reached out and tried to help him. Not that he knew how to.

And to know that Granitepelt had once again tried to kill their leader...That Chilledstar lays dying in their den....How dare he. And what a fool, as well. Did he think he'd get away with it this time too? In the leaders own den... Such vile arrogance. Death is too kind for him. He wants Granitepelt's last moments to be filled with pain and fear. He wants him to be made to regret everything he's done and to be denied mercy.

"YOU BETTER SPEAK QUICK." He growls viciously.

His eyes dart around for Siltcloud. He's sure she'll try and bolt, and he'll be sure to sink his teeth into her and drag her before the clan like Granitepelt if he has to.

To think. TO THINK!! That Granitepelt has gotten away with murder this whole time!! What else has he done? What has Siltcloud done, how much does she know? They need to be made examples of. Snakes like these will have a place in this clan no longer. For so long as he draws breath, he will make sure of it.​

 

[lilacfur]

The return of Halfkit and Tanglekit had been a miracle. Star-blessed and not a single hair on their pelts disturbed, only smelling of gusty moors and grass. Telling of where they had wandered off to, or as it would soon be revealed they were kidnapped to. Lilacfur hadn't rushed to greet the kittens and instead watched from afar with a gentle, welcoming smile. They were surely confused, part of her worried what lies they tried dig into their little minds to convince them WindClan was safer.

"Ghostpaw? What do think about looking around for a welcome home gift for our Deputy's kits?" Lilacfur looked to her niece as she gave the suggestion, wondering already what prime odd twoleg rubbish or marshland trophies would excite them.

Siltcloud's presence had been a welcome warmth beside her and she was tempted to joke about how the molly was nearly suffocating her from their cuddle. Granitepelt had followed Chilledstar to their den and perhaps she was nervous for her denmate, whatever they had to speak about but Lilacfur tried to diminish any suspicion that the slate pelted tom had any involvement in this. She knew ut would upset Starlingheart to think of him that lowly but the timing...

Their conversation was followed by shouts and growls, Lilacfur's claws clutched the damp earth as several words sent a cold grasp around her heart. Pitchstar. Doomed. Sootstar. Amber eyes slowly turned to face Siltcloud but Smogmaw was already dragging Granitepelt out, throwing him to the center for all to see. Claws and face bloody- Chilledstar was dying in their den...

"Wh- Siltcloud?" Lilacfur gasped as she pulled away from the cinnamon she-cat, stare demanding she answer. "You didn't- You wouldn't- my brother? Tell me he's lying!" ​

[ sad hello's and mad high low's ]​

 

[✧ Siltcloud.]

" I'M AN ANGEL " ?
TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT​

---

siltcloud ♕ 18 moons ♖ female ♘ she/her ♙ shadowclan warrior ​

---

Siltcloud doesn't expect her time with lilacfur to be interrupted - its so rare that she takes such a chance to rest in the warriors den, that she stays in camp instead of wandering off at night. But dust hued figure had been reluctant to part - even now, the molly clings tight to lilacfur as the sound of commotion grates against her ears, dull green eyes blinking blearily. Vision is clouded by sleep, but mind is not - she can smell blood, hear the shouts. The accusations.

It's over.

The words the deputy speaks are familiar in a way she wishes they weren't, and even before she can bring her gaze from the ground where it usually rests, she feels the weight of guilt, heavy in her belly as though she has eaten stones instead of prey. Contrary to expectation, she does not flee. As green eyes turn skyward at last, meeting smogmaws and taking in the seen impassively, she doesn't react - expression is as dull, as lifeless, as bland as ever. Any spark of joy that had been present in her time shared with lilacfur is gone. All the anger and coiled tension she's born since loampelts death has vanished. No - she's gone back to the wet-blanket of a cat she once was, passive and non-threatening.

At least in appearance.

Though her figure does not move, breathing does not change, gaze does not flicker; the muscles beneath her coat are already tensing up, ready to fight, to flee. She stares at her brothers bloodied form, and contemplates if it's worth stepping in - he has clearly gotten caught out. Surely, her clanmates can put two and two together - if he was a murderer, who had been his alibi. She'd been loud about it - the way she'd ran into camp, screaming, crocodile tears dripping down white-painted cheeks as she'd lied for him. Because he was her brother. She does not regret, no, but a she feels lilacfur pull away from her in shock, she almost wishes she did.

If only things could've been different. Lilacfur pleads, and Siltcloud doesn't answer. Her silence is damning enough.

She moves to stand at last, skeletal figure moving slowly, as though it is just another day. She will not speak until granitepelt does - just as she'd promised him all those moons ago when she'd stumbled up on him, frantic and scared; she will keep her silence. It'd been the first and last time she'd seen him look so vulnerable - even now, bloodied and bruised, to her he looks stronger than he did back then. Tail flicks, and she waits.

It's all she can do.

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

---

I ' M - A - N I G H T M A R E ?━ I - K N O W - W H A T - Y O U - M E A N - B Y - T H A T

---

 

[APPLEJAW]

Chaos unfurls itself with no ounce of tact. It is there, as suddenly as her mother's other litter appearing had been. There are caterwauls, and then the body of her mentor is hauled into camp— More than, Her father lashes out in fury. It is more violence than should ever be done to a clanmate. It is more brutal than she thought a warrior ought to behave. She is stricken; rooted in place at the display. What is she supposed to think, when the most important cat in her life is at the throat of the second most important?

" What— " Murderer. Kidnapper. She does not know who her father could be talking to, because Granitepelt surely couldn't be either of those things. An unfriendly face did not make you a killer. It made you competent. It made you less of a pushover. He himself made up the first time Applepaw had questioned her parents. He was the only one she had to teach her strength, these past moons.

What could he have to do with Pitchstar? With Sootstar? With stolen kits? If there is any accusation she needs no context for...

But why would he?

Applepaw looks to Granitepelt; to the one who has answers— the one who has always had answers for her. What reason would Smogmaw have to spit nothing but nonsense? What reason would either of them have? She looks, and she waits. Applepaw could say nothing, even if she really wanted to.

( one track mind, one track heart ) ༊ ( if i fail i'll fall apart )

• 
  

• 

• ( CAUSE I FEEL LIKE I'M THE WORST, SO I ALWAYS ACT LIKE I'M THE BEST ) APPLEPAW. apprentice of shadowclan. eldest sister to swanpaw, ashenpaw, and garlicpaw. ( + birdkit, halfkit & tanglekit )
  —— she / her; confused by the use of others.
  —— currently 8 moons old as of 11.17.23. ages every 17th.
  
  longhaired blue torbie with a white chest, paws, and underbelly. A young cat you would describe as " bossy, " Applekit is quick to take charge of any situation she sees herself as the probable head of. A rule - follower to a T, and thinks herself better than the majority of her clan for this. Not ignorant enough to think herself above a warrior, but seeks to gain that status as quickly as possible. Intensely self - motivated to be the best in a mixture of blind, childish desire, and never wanting to be afraid of anything ever again.

​

 

[SCREECHSTORM]

✧ Murderer! Kidnapper! Smogmaw’s shouts call for the boy’s attention, eyes widening as fury rings through the camp in the form of fang-struck accusations, a lead warrior thrown out of his mentor’s den.

Granitepelt has always instilled fear in Screechpaw, long before this scene unraveling before him. The father of his peers, he’s always had a chilling aura to him, a narrow-eyed demeanor that’s enough to send nightmares to the boy. He can remember the lingering threats in his words, the fear of ‘what comes next’ after biting Nettlepaw, the cowering, the kit-like urge to run to his mother.

One he feels now, as reasoning comes forth to fuel his fears, as a murderer stands before him. Screechpaw doesn’t know of the grey and white tom’s former victims, but he knows of his latest, knows fright returns to him at the news.

“Dying?” he echoes in wavering tones. While he isn’t fond of training, isn’t fond of being trapped in lessons, Chilledstar is still his leader, his mentor - something he shares with his mother. A two-toned gaze lifts, searching for Forestshade among the crowd, waiting, for once, for instructions, for guidance. ​

 

[scalejaw]

—————————————————【 she/her | menacing 】————————————————

【◈】 Fire burned in her eyes. It was no longer a glowing coal of quiet, cold, controlled anger. No, it was finally a roaring flame that threatened to consume her and everything she knew- anger was in every fiber of her being, a silent mirror of Smogmaw's fury. Deep, rolling growls echoed from the she-cat as Smogmaw hauled Granitepelt's sorry looking flank from Chilledstar's den. While she had every urge to leap and tear his throat out for herself, she knew better.

And Smogmaw being the one to emerge- not Chilledstar? Stars, that was concerning. She had been with the patrol that retrieved the kits, she had been with Frostbite and Sharpshadow too. But where... where were they, the one who demanded to see Granitepelt alone? Moments after Smogmaw's thrashing of the traitor, shock rolled down her shoulders and through her very tail-tip. Lips bared, snarl thrown into the air. "Watch them." She didn't know exactly who she was speaking to, but Scalejaw knew deep in her soul that if they left, she'd never let it go.

She didn't think the entirety of Shadowclan would let it go.

Swift on her tail- with Screechpaw's word in her head- she swept into the leader's den, quick on the heel of Magpiepaw. Blood was thick in the air as she stepped in, her ears twitching, vision simmering in heat. She swept left, then right, looking towards Magpiepaw finally. "Tell me if you need me to run for anything. I will help." Scalejaw uttered to the medicine apprentice, slinking around the other side of Chilledstar. She tried her best to ignore the questioning outside- someone would relay it to her later, she was sure.

For now? Scalejaw's nose lowered, pressing right behind Chilledstar's ear, and rested there softly. Comfort, as a life was stolen away and replaced.

"yuh"

[penned by dallas].

​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

everything burns. everything hurts and aches and they can hardly breathe. amongst the scent of anger and panic, all they can really smell is the scent of both their own and granitepelt's blood. they are saved by the skin of their teeth, but that only prevented the rest of their deaths. they stumble, and catch themself, stumbling again to try and leave rheir den but all of the adrenaline has left their body. they can't hold on much longer, but their mind is at war with their body. don't give up. you need to follow through. you need to go finish this.

they can't. they stumble backwards and collapse into a heaving pile of black, white, and red. the sudden entrance of magpiepaw makes them close their eyes with a softened weep. they couldn't do this again. they didn't want to die, again. it hurts, stars, it hurts.

"m-m...magp...magpiepaw..."

has granitepelt succeeded? had he found a way to take all of their lives like he did for pitchstar? like what had happened with briarstar? they could not fall victim to the shadowclan curse. they just couldn't.

"i-i'm sc...scared... i-it h-hu...hurts..."

they wheeze, eyes glossy and looking over at the apprentice who insists they're going to be alright. okay. okay. they trust him enough to know he means it.

" 'm s-sorry... m-mag...magpie...paw..."

their eyes flutter open and close and the yelling outside seems like nothing but a distant echo.

"i-in c-case... i... d...don't g-get the ch-chance... i-i... am g-glad.... y-you're b...back... and... i am... r-really... pr-proud of... you... little bird..."

the touch from scalejaw is enough for their tense body to relax. they begin to shiver involuntary, breathing becoming rapid and uneven until... it ceased completely.

back again so soon, are we?
​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt is dragged, snarling, spitting, writhing, into the center of camp. Feline bodies rise like a high tide, threatening to crash onto him, submerge him beneath their accusing, gleaming stares. One eyelid droops, blood welling at one corner; his face stings where it’d been smacked. His body is bruised, his ribs especially—he staggers when he tries to stand, when Smogmaw gives him a forceful shove. All four paws give way, the limbs shaking, weak of will. The Clan stares—but one voice rises above them all, high-pitched, wavering.

What is the meaning of this, Starlingheart cries, and Granitepelt seeks her. Stars, it’s her voice that startles him back into reality, that cuts off the stream of snarls from his snout. There’s bewilderment in her green gaze. There’s denial, even as her apprentice hobbles toward Chilledstar’s den to deal with the mess Granitepelt had left behind.

Smogmaw’s demands are sharp. The Clan rises to meet his fury. The lead warrior does not know if he can stand before them all, but he does his best, wincing as he hauls himself into a leaning stance. “ShadowClan,” he rasps. He licks his lips—they are dry, his tongue like sandpaper as it glides about his mouth. He tries again. “ShadowClan, what you should know is…” He falters, leaning painfully into a cough exhaled from bruised lungs. “—I regret nothing.”

And there, there, the malice spills from his mouth, like poison, like blood-spotted refuse. Granitepelt remembers the way Pitchstar had quivered, had simpered, had begged. “I killed Pitchstar. Or—I came upon him, dying, bleeding from… from some rogue’s claws, and I…” He smiles at the memory. It is, despite everything, despite the pressurized tide building around him, a fond one. “I gave him the nightshade. Starlingheart—you—you gave me the nightshade to dispose of, and I did, I disposed of it. Pitchstar was a mad cat, he was leading us all into starvation and war with ThunderClan. I did what I had to.” He ignores the murmurs, the protests, the outrage, his gaze searching Starlingheart’s.

She loved him. She loves me. He would not let her forget it. Their love would endure its greatest trial, but he—he has faith that she will not abandon him in his darkest hour, his time of greatest need. Whatever tears she may shed—whatever anger she may lash at him with, he will endure it. For her. Always, for her.

“ShadowClan is tainted,” he spits, and blood soaks the earth. “We have had three leaders in my lifetime, all of them worse than their predecessors! Chilledstar—they mock you, they sneer, there is no warmth, no care for how they lead this Clan.” Again, he smiles, swaying on his paws. “I do not serve ShadowClan. I serve Sootstar. I gave her those kits. I tried to give them a better life, a life they could be proud of living.” He shakes his head. “Thanks to Sunstride, they will grow up here, in this stinking hole with rats, and Twoleg garbage, and mud, and they will starve with you all come leafbare. But I tried. You cannot say—” He stumbles over his words, working his mouth, “—I didn’t try.”

Smogmaw asks for all of it, and stars, what all has he done to this Clan? “You think I care what you think, but I don’t. I never did.” He does. He always has. “Ghostpaw, Ghostpaw knew, somehow—he knew about Pitchstar, so I had to…”

He blinks. The shadows seem to thicken around him. Seem to reach for him. He searches the crowd, sees Applepaw’s wide eyes. He looks to her for several heartbeats, and then he searches in vain for his kits.

His gaze comes to rest on Starlingheart again. He can hardly parse her own expression—what is she feeling now, and how can he overcome it? How can he break through to her? “But it was for you,” he stammers, perhaps made uneasy by the feelings on her face. “If anyone knew about Pitchstar, you—you wouldn’t have—” And he is made bold again, ranting. “And Poppypaw, Tornadopaw, they knew! They knew, somehow, maybe Pitchstar himself crawled out of some bleak little hell to tell them, they knew, so I had to…”

He stops, his legs feeling gelatinous. “I had to kill them,” he tells Starlingheart. “But they deserved it. They taunted me with what they knew. They deserved it just like Pitchstar deserved it!”

And he has lost control long before this point. He has lost everything, the foundation he’d built his life as ShadowClan’s lead warrior on crumbling under his shaking paws and leaving him battered and broken in some abyss. He scrabbles in the ruins—none of it means anything to him, none of them mean anything to him, except for her, except for Starlingheart, and surely she can see that!

Granitepelt’s flanks heave. He feels the earth spinning beneath him.

“Siltcloud killed no one,” he says, briefly flicking a forest-shadow stare toward his sister. Curiously, she is silent, she lets their Clanmates rake her with their fury and their disbelief. “She—she only…” He shakes his head, frustrated. “She is my littermate, and she owed me her loyalty. That’s all. She never lifted a paw to hurt Pitchstar—nor did she make any pact with Sootstar.”

He turns almost beseechingly now to his mate. “I love you—and I need you, I need you always. You know that, don’t you?” His voice trembles. He has never laid himself so bare. He has never been so out-of-control, and never has he looked more deranged to the cats who stare at him. “So you’ll come with me, away from this disgusting place—you’ll come with me, and we’ll make a better life, you and our kits…”

His kits. He flails, as though he’s on shifting sand. “Flintpaw. My son, my firstborn. You know this Clan hates you—despises you—you’ll come with me, and I’ll make you strong, you know that.” He stares, then turns a wavering gaze to Nettlepaw. “Nettlepaw—you know I care for you, you know I can give you more than this place—these cats—can!” And then—then the she-kit, detestably named, but he says, “Ghostpaw—we’ll change your name, we’ll change everything. You’re better than them, than this. Come with me, with us.”

Finally, his gaze lands on Applepaw. “You know I’m right. You’ve seen it too, haven’t you? The corruption… the rot! This kingdom of your father’s will fall down around his ears like a corpse.”

By the time he’s finished, he’s panting, and his mouth is dry again, and he’s bitten his tongue—when had that happened? Has he been bleeding from the mouth this entire time?

, ”​

​

 

[CATERPILLARFUZZ.]

BLINDED BY THE LIGHTS​

---

what was happening? it was so loud and the commotion was so much for the young she cat. she finds herself pushing out of the apprentice den, drawn by the noise. she may not be able to see the scene that's unfolding in front of her, but she can smell it. hear it. feel it, almost, in a way. her head turns to her mentor who hasn't said a single thing. why? was... she in trouble? her name is said and the deputy who she doesn't know very well insists that she cannot leave camp. her stomach drops. what happened? what was happening?

tears fall faster than they can be caught. granitepelt finally finally speaks up, spewing his crimes like a fountain. he killed... the last leader. he killed apprentices and warriors alike, and that siltcloud is innocent. she hadn't killed anyone. d-does that mean she's gonna stay? does that mean she's not leaving her? please don't leave her.

"siltcloud please– don't leave me... i... i don't understand what's happening but you can't leave me! y-you said that you'd... watch out for me! h-how are you supposed to do that if you... if..."

she's crying like a baby in front of the entire clan. surely that works out in her favor, right? she doesn't want to be left behind. she loved siltcloud like a kitten loves it's mother. she doesn't want to be abandoned again.

​

 

[Garlicheart]

Garlicpaw watches in confusion that grows to horror as Smogmaw drags Granitepelt before the clan and outs his crimes. She didnt know Pitchstar, but she'd heard he was a little crazy. But for Granitepelt to have killed him.... And... And steal her siblings and....

Its all happening to fast for her to keep up with. Her sister was mentored to that...That raving lunatic in the middle of camp. It makes her feel sick to her stomach that Applepaw as so close to a monster. She can't take her eyes off of Granitepelt as he continues, her eyes unblinking and wide. She's frozen in place, completely stunned. She had always tried to give cats a chance... Tried to see the good in them, tried to form her own opinions on them despite what her mother said about them.

But she knows that is foolish now.

"Halfshade was right....." Her voice is weak. "You really are no good."

These two cats, Granitepelt and Siltcloud.... Tried to tear her family apart. For the first time in her life, she feels anger.

"How dare you....?" Her voice takes a colder accusatory tone and her brows furrow. She feels disgust and anger as she looks at him. She wants him gone. She doesn't care how, but she wants him gone.​

 

[ROOSTERSTRUT]

Just when good news had graced ShadowClan for once, with the safe return of Smogmaw's kits, bad news followed immediately. In fact, things had spiraled so quickly out of control that Roosterstrut was dumbfounded as the situation unfurled — Smogmaw dragging a bloodied Granitepelt into camp, yelling about a dying Chilledstar. What was going on?!

Then, the truth reared its ugly head. Roosterstrut was not known to showcase negativity for the entire clan to see, but in rare moments like these, not even he could resist blowing up on the rat who had been living amongst them. A lead warrior, at that — a cat whom Chilledstar and everybody else had trusted. "You're delusional, Granitepelt." The red tabby tom growls, his ginger fur bristling with a bubbling rage. He doubts that his voice will be acknowledged as many cries of outrage and disbelief echo throughout the marsh, but he doesn't care. Why? Why did all of those cats have to be brought down with him? Apprentices too, at that! He feels nauseous. "If you hated this clan so much, you could have just left! And those kits... they're lucky to be unharmed. You're sick." Those children were not Granitepelt's kits to manipulate, to carelessly give away. And not only him, but Siltcloud too! The slate-pelted tom was lucky that Smogmaw hadn't torn into his jugular by now.

Part of Roosterstrut wanted to stick around and hear the judgment of Granitepelt for himself, but as the criminal continued to spill his dirty secrets, he found himself growing more disgusted. How could Granitepelt betray ShadowClan's trust? How could he follow Sootstar, the mad Moor Queen who had declared war on StarClan?

Not bothering to listen as he pleaded and tried to garner support from his kin, Roosterstrut spun around and hurried toward Chilledstar's den. "Magpiepaw, is there anything I could—" The tom stops himself, coming to a halt as he spots both the medicine cat apprentice and Scalejaw comforting and soothing the fallen leader in the final moments of this life. Granitepelt had killed them. A cream-colored maw draws agape, astonished and at a loss for words.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙚𝙧

• 

• 

  ✰ ROOSTERSTRUT
  —— he/him; warrior of shadowclan
  —— heteroflexible; single
  —— red tabby tom with long hair and pale green eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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[Swansong]

( ☁︎ )　 Maybe it should feel good, to have someone to blame. To know who ripped Swanpaw's siblings away from him, the spectre that's brought death and run upon ShadowClan. Maybe it's not him that brought it, though -- there is truth in Granitepelt's words, much as it thinking it feels like skirting the edge of an abyss. The youngest of the deputy's children will not grow up in kindness. The marsh-born are cursed, and here is the evidence.

Blood dribbles from the mouth of the murderer, the kidnapper. The confession is pulled as if by the claws of StarClan themselves, choking the host of the curse that plagues his home. "Monster," Swanpaw breathes, voice devoid of emotion. No better than the things that he thought had killed the elder Poppypaw, all those moons ago. Garlicpaw speaks true; their mother warned them, saw the rot that had seeped beneath the tom's skin.

Yet the youngest are not the only ones affected by this beast. Narrowed eyes drift to a two-colored pelt, so much like the molly who warned them of Granitepelt years ago. He calls now upon her for support, the grand finale of his last confession. "Applepaw...?" He prompts, voice even. How thoroughly has this creature dug his claws into her, he wonders? How much did she know? Nothing, he hopes. He waits silently for her response to the beast's summons.

I WANNA BE HAUNTED ☁︎ I WANNA BE LOVED ! 【 11.22.23 】

• //
  ​

• "SPEECH"

• ☾ 　⁺　₊ 　⋆　SWANPAW.　APPRENTICE OF SHADOWCLAN.　HE / HIM / HIS.
  8 MOONS & AGES ON THE 17TH.　PENNED BY SATURNID.
  
  

  

  ☾ — A PALE, ELEGANT CREAM TABBY WITH PERIWINKLE BLUE EYES.

  
  HALFSHADE xx SMOGMAW. LITTERMATE TO APPLEPAW GARLICPAW & ASHENPAW. OLDER SIBLING TO THORNKIT HALFKIT TANGLEKIT & DREAMKIT.​

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[Starlingheart]

It is in the moment that his lips start moving that her whole world shatters around her. I regret nothing he says and she staggers, cries out as if she has just been dealt a terrible blow. And it only gets worse. The confessions come spilling out and the more he speaks the more she does not recognize the cat before her. The nightshade he says. The nightshade that she, by her own paws, had given him was what he had used to end her brothers life. She wants to make it stop. She would give anything to make it all just go away. This was just a bad dream. She wants to believe that more than anything else in the world. Her brother, Tornadowpaw, Ghostpaw, Poppypaw, they were all dead and it was her fault.

Pitchstar was mad "He was my brother!" she screams, louder than she has ever raised her voice before, her eyes swimming with tears "He was my brother and and- you killed him! You killed him and you came and you laid next to me every night, told me you loved me. How? How could you?" she wants to be sick. How many times, she wonders. How many times had he taken someone she loved from her and then came into the den they shared, the den that they had raised their children together in, and slept next to her as if he had done nothing at all. She feels cold.

The night of Tornadopaw's death comes back to her now. How Granitepelt had woken her from her slumber to tell her that the smoke-furred Molly had passed. He had killed her while she slept, blissfully unaware. She wants to crumple to the ground, to wail with everything she has in her. WindClan be damned she wants to make her way to highstones, press her nose to the moonstone and beg the question from StarClan 'Why?' 'Why me?'

Because Granitepelt loved her that's why.

"You're disgusting" she says, her voice warbling only slightly through the tears that flow freely from her eyes and stain the ebony fur on her cheeks. "Dont talk to them! You-you don't get that right! They're going nowhere with you. I'm going nowhere with you." her kits oh stars her kits. He would not take them from her she would not let him.

So many memories are flooding back to her now. So many behaviors she, at the time, had not been able to place but that were so painfully obvious to her now. In the sanctity of her mind though one memory stands out the most, a comforting one that she clings to as if her life depends on it. Cloaked in a memory of pain and hurt, in the landscape of her thoughts she stumbles into camp with Granitepelt pressed to her side, supporting her as she drags behind her a heavily injured leg. Blood spatters the forest floor. Her blood. When she gets back to camp she collapses and Pitchstar, her big brother who back then had made everything better had curled herself around her. She wants him so badly in this moment, to protect her now like he had in that day. But he was gone, and Granitepelt had taken him from her. He had taken so much from her, from them.

​

 

[✧ Siltcloud.]

" I'M AN ANGEL " ?
TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN BY THAT​

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siltcloud ♕ 18 moons ♖ female ♘ she/her ♙ shadowclan warrior ​

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There is so much going on - too much in fact. Mind runs a mile a minute, overwhelmed. Accusations are thrown, shouts, questions. All of it is too much to focus on at once, so she only has eyes for one.

At last, her brother speaks - and oh, how she regrets.

She takes it all back in that moment - green eyes shuttering for a moment as she listens to half-mad ravings, listens to him beg and plead. No - her brother is not any stronger than he was that day, back when it was granitepaw and siltpaw against the world. He is a pitiful creature, a broken thing, cannot even accept the mess he's made. He'd made their bed of blood and tears - and yet he still tries to wriggle his way out of it. Has he always been this... cowardly? Spineless?

Disgust and pity war in her heart, and she can no longer hide her expression. She takes one step forwards, then another - and then she freezes. Any who are looking at her will see it - the blatant shock at his words, the way jaws gasp and anger burns like wildfire. Pelt bristles and shoulders tense as the truth finally reaches her ears - poppypaw. Poor poppypaw. She'd been so bright, like fire, and he'd snuffer her right out just like the rest. She hardly cares for the other names he lists, some she'd already known and some that are news to her, but Poppypaw - she'd been her friend. Her first love, even if she'd never admitted so aloud. She'd never got the chance to after all. Because of him.

Ears draw back, eyes narrowed, and kinked tail flicks. And still, she stays silent - jaw snapping shut as she thinks. Watches. Observes. The others seem keen to take their pound of flesh - and she will too. Just... not here. Not now. They cannot afford to turn on one another when the rest of shadowclans dregs surround them, raving like mad wolves. No matter how badly she wants to sink claws into grey-hued fur herself.

Caterpillarpaw's voice reaches her ears, and siltcloud softens - and jaws parting at last " Hush - you'll do just well on your own now, without me, " she says quietly, soothing and shushing her as though she is a child. To be fair, she isn't far off. But... siltcloud had known this day would come, eventually. She'd done what she could to teach her apprentice while she had her, to be better than flickerfire ever was. She does not stoop so low as granitepelt to beg her to come with - she does not know how she'd care for them both.

And lilacfur - green eyes meet gold one last time, the closest to an apology she can give. Because though she feels guilt, though she regrets, she feels no remorse - if the stars had turned back time, she knows she'd do the same thing again. Because he'd been her brother. She does not ask her either - knows her words would be no different than starlinghearts. They'd been betrayed - she cannot even blame them for their pain. She is not like loampelt, siltcloud thinks sadly - she would never understand.

Gaze turns hard once more as she peers about the group, a scoff on the tip of her tongue as voice rings out loud and clear across the camp - for only the second time of her life." You all speak so fondly of briarstar, or pitchstar - speak so highly of the bonds of kin and blood even after they are dead and gone. And yet... you stand here, self-righteous in your fury, as though you would not have done the same? Shadowclan is full of hypocrites - you find mates in thunderclan cats to betray your own kin, neglect and abuse your own apprentices, ignore their pleading until it's too late. So I lied - because granitepelt is my brother. You cannot look me in the eyes and say you wouldn't do the same. Those kits - they would've lived far better lives in windclan then here, in this accursed place, where even their own siblings belittle them, where they are unloved, "

She only means half of what she says, truth and lies swirling upon her pink tongue, weaving a web even she would struggle to untangle. There is so much more she could say, wants to - but her mind is still reeling. She can only hear the thunderous roar of her blood rushing in her ears, and its getting hard to breathe. Claws sink into damp soil, grounding her. She cannot lose her wits now - she must be prepared to flee.

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

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I ' M - A - N I G H T M A R E ?━ I - K N O W - W H A T - Y O U - M E A N - B Y - T H A T

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[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade is among those that begin to gather in stunned silence as Smogmaw talks of murder. Of kidnapping. And then, Chilledstar. She falters, the scent of feline blood clouding her confused mind. It's overwhelming suddenly, but she instinctively hurries towards her former mentor's den, only for two others to rush past her, faster than her paws. She slows, instead whipping her head back to face the direction of Granitepelt's voice.

For the first time in her life, a vicious snarl stretches her lips back, fury bringing her whiskers to a tremble. He killed Chilledstar. Screechpaw is nearby, she can smell him. The urge to protect her own is stronger than ever as she stalks to his side, brushes a powerful shoulder against him only to take a wide stance before her son. She can smell the fear coming off him in waves, fear for his mentor, the one they shared.

Low is the growl that rumbles in her throat as she continues to listen to the warrior's rantings, hot anger curling in her stomach. Black ears pin back as her snarl deepens. Starlingheart's voice rises louder than perhaps she's ever heard the she-cat speak, and she condemns him. Forestshade's pluming tail lashes in approval, her head lowering. "Give the order, Smogmaw!" She yowls, tossing her head suddenly. "We'll chase this fleabitten fox-heart out of here!" ​

 

[Frostbite]

Explain himself he did, and Frostbite cannot believe the depths of Granitepelt's vile treachery. His eye twitches as he justifies his actions against Pitchstar, his mates brother. If they hadn't stole from Thunderclan, they WOULD have starved. Foolish, insignificant little wretched tom.

Shadowclan is tainted, he says. Frostbite agrees, the taint is the gray and white tom in front of them all. It's true that this clan has had three leaders in such a short time, but he wouldn't call them worse than their predecessors. Granitepelt accuses Chilledstar of being cold and uncaring and he can only scoff.

"Look who's complaining about a lack of warmth..." He comments.

He says he serves sootstar, says he tried to give them a better life than they would have in this swamp. His teeth are on full display again as he spits his own venom.

"Oh yes, how noble of you, Granitepelt. I bet you think you're some kind of hero, don't you? Taking out mean ol' Pitchstar for the good of the clan, don't make me laugh." He says mockingly, looking down his nose at him in disgust. "Thanks to Sunstride, Halfkit and Tanglekit will grow up here with their family, safe from SCUM like you who only pretend to care about them. They will grow up with love and care, things you are clearly incapable of."

But the raving goes on, and Frostbite feels his hatred reach levels it never has before.

And then he hears Poppypaw's name fall from his mouth.

"YOU...."

Claws grip the ground as he takes one step towards Granitepelt before stopping himself. The entrance must be guarded. Surely he will have his chance.

"YOU'RE THE REASON SHE WAS MURDERD BY THAT BEAR!?" It is an outraged roar, hatred and rage clear on his face as it takes all of his willpower to obey his order to stand guard and not charge forward and rip Granitepelt to pieces. Poppypaw, who was so close to becoming a warrior.... Practically his little sister.... Murdered by this snake.

"I'LL RIP YOU APART AND LEAVE YOU ON THE THUNDERPATH FOR THE CROWS AND FOR SOOTSTAR TO SEE AS AN EXAMPLE OF WHAT AWAITS HER!!" He roars again.

His claws rake at the ground they dig into. He looks to Smogmaw almost pleadingly. Just say the word. I'll kill him. I'll do everything I just said, I PROMISE.

He hears Siltcloud speak, a small voice through the buzzing rage in his head. "And instead of trying to help fix the problems of this clan....You sought to make them worse. Very smart, very admirable of the two of you! Shadowclan has its problems, this is true. But you fail to realize that you are part of them. You're part of the cold and uncaring atmosphere that you complain about. I'll kill you too."​

 

[FLINTWISH]

That's his father.

His father is dangling from Smogmaw's teeth, and then he is being pushed into the dirt, a dog getting its nose shoved in its shit. MURDERER! KIDNAPPER! These are words that do not describe Granitepelt. So why is he being treated like a criminal? Why is he wearing his own blood? Why is Smogmaw thrashing him about? You'll kill him, Flintpaw thinks, alarm stabbing his belly. And Starlingheart is crying out; his mother is crying out, and what can Flintpaw do to stop any of it? He doesn't know what in StarClan is going on. He doesn't know anything, and it's so loud, and it's so quick, and he feels small and he feels hateful.

Flintpaw is small at his mother's side when Scalejaw leaves him. As Smogmaw assails Granitepelt, he can feel sticky, simmering fury in his limbs. "You'll kill him," he whispers, inaudible. Maybe Smogmaw wants to. Maybe all of ShadowClan wants to — they're all screaming, yowling over each other, and... StarClan, can they just shut up? Flintpaw's lips peel away from his teeth. He can hardly hear Granitepelt's frenzied speech over the mob. But... does he want to?

Flintpaw departs Starlingheart's flank by a few pawsteps, ears angling towards his father. Granitepelt. The cat whose fur he wears, the cat whose reputation has preceded his own for as many moons as he has been alive — and he is ruining it. Ruining it, utterly and truly; ripping his claws and teeth and whatever other instrument he can handle through it, one word at a time. With each syllable, Flintpaw's heart stutters; with each syllable, Flintpaw's stomach drops further and further, through his paws and beneath the earth, six feet under to join Pitchstar and Poppypaw's ranks. Flintpaw had dreamed of them, he recalls, in the thick of fever. He'd thought — he'd thought they had wanted to kill him. Maybe they had, considering his resemblance to the tom who had murdered them both.

MURDERER! KIDNAPPER! Granitepelt admits to it all and more. Flintpaw gets the feeling he should be sickened. His mother is sickened, and his clanmates are sickened, and they want to well and truly murder the monster — his father — right in front of him. Instead of sickened, though, he is sad, and shocked, and there is a love that still wants to hold on, some dying little thing with no recourse to recovery. Surely he is exaggerating. Surely he is lying; surely his crimes are not so terrible as he divulges, and really... could Flintpaw blame him for acting as he had?

ShadowClan had only shown her kindness on rare occasions. ShadowClan had judged her for Granitepelt's sin long before he'd confessed to them. She can't stop creeping forward, dual-toned gaze unreadable, the scar in her shoulder pulsing in rhythm with her accelerated heart rate. That is all ShadowClan was good at: hating. Siblings hating siblings, mothers hating fathers, clanmates hating clanmates; it did not end, and its barbs have long since snagged her pelt until she became a hate machine of her own.

Hate is what she feels now. Hate is what Granitepelt speaks of when he implores her attention. And he is right, she thinks — Ashenpaw had told her as much. Smogmaw had acted as such. Even Scalejaw only ever regarded her with cold stares. Right? Flintpaw's ears flatten to her skull as she looks out to the caterwaul around her, expression seething. "He's right! You... you all hate me!" she hisses to them, tufted tail lashing. And really, what reason would she have to stay? Surely she would be a sore reminder of his sin. She has always been a kitten vitrified, a mirror of her father; what reason does she have to believe they would treat her with any kindness after this, any differentiation between father and son? Granitepelt loves him — has love for him, he corrects — and Flintpaw feels inclined to cling to any scrap of love he is offered.

But then he sees Starlingheart.

His mother, shocked and sickened and saddened many times over, reeling away from her mate. His mother, who had loved him so much to burden herself with guilt and sin. His mother, who had done the best she could with what she had. The righteous anger he had shared with Granitepelt crumbles in seconds; suddenly, Flintpaw feels things for what they truly are: he is sad, and he is scared, but not all would be lost.

Still, terrible indecision rips through his pelt. He does not want to see his father killed. For all of Granitepelt's insurmountable wrongs, Flintpaw cannot let his own efforts to be the favored eldest son go to waste so easily. That's his father — that is the cat whose love he has been trying to earn for his entire life. He is a monster — undoubtedly. A murderer, a kidnapper, a treasonous snake; but Flintpaw still feels her love for him in the way her body trembles with fear and rage. She can still feel her love for him in the pulsing scar he had given her. She should follow him away from here; she should, shouldn't she?

His gaze snaps to Smogmaw's, and then to Starlingheart's, and then desperately rakes across the crowd for any other ounce of reason. She should leave. She should stay. She should anchor herself to her mother and drown here. She should chain herself to her father and be devoured by whatever may come. Tears brim in his eyes, and Flintpaw feels utterly pathetic. "Tell me it isn't true," he begs her, and then his sadness spikes to anger, and he whips to the deputy once more. He had urged Flintpaw up the crown of the burnt sycamore and he has not forgotten it since. "You — apologize! To me!"

Tears spill, but Flintpaw's face is twisted by rage instead of sadness. His tail lashes fiercely behind him. If they could prove to him that ShadowClan could love him, then he would stay. But if not, he knows well where else he can find that comfort.

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

• 

• 
  
  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — headshot by me, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

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