PAR-DELÀ LE CIEL ↷ [ pre-gathering chatter ]

"R-Right!" Drizzlepaw hastily replies to the older apprentice. He had gotten a brief explanation on what gatherings were, and he was glad he got a chance to go, but interacting with the other clans? He most likely wasn't ready for it, but he would do his best either way. He wanted his reputation to be positive, even if he knew anyone from the other clans could easily be on the other side of his claws one day.

He does his best to keep up with Bananapaw and to not get in the way of any of the other cats. He sighs happily as one of the cats they approach is of the same clan, feeling a bit more comforted by that fact. He smiles as he is called out directly, eyes looking down for a moment bashfully before he raises them up again. "Yes, hello, I'm Drizzlepaw. Nice to meet you!"

// OOC : Open to other interactions as well!​
 
Whitepaw during the journey to four trees, had followed closely behind, constantly scanning the surroundings beyond the outlook rock with barely hidden fascination. Unlike many of her currently attending clanmates, the ivory girl was wide awake and practically a frantic mix of bubbling anxiety and near-explosive excitement. Her heart thumped in her chest as she observed the gathering, rosy hues darting from face to face. There were so many new faces and new scents, and yet such a small party for her clan. The last gathering had more cats leave, didn't it? Hopefully, one day, she'd be able to decipher which scents belonged to what clan. But for now, the ghostly molly would remain quiet. Lingering close to Adderpaw, she turned her gaze to the moon, wide in the sky as she listened to Sunstride's words and gave an unseen nod. Listening was easy for her, given how near silent she often was. Listening and Watching, just came naturally, and she had no qualms about simply doing so. Inhaling silently, she tried to calm her nerves, gazing around the mingling cats as she remained close to her friend's side. Unlike most, if not all, of her present denmates, her lack of visiting the borders caused her to be rather... clueless about who any of these strangers were. Silent as a whisper, the dainty albino curled her tail around her paws, turning her gaze back towards the sky. There was so much talk about the lightning strike as starclan's sign for Windclan's strength, would they show their support again? A whispered exhale left the anxious girl before she tried to straighten up. She was fine, she could do this. It was her first gathering, and she would make her absent mentor proud. "There's so many cats here..." She whispered lightly to Adderpaw, her ear twitching with nerves. Who would she even speak to if she had to approach someone?

//open to interaction, she's currently lingering close to and whispering to @Adderpaw ​
[I'M BREATHING]​
 
I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

It was Petalnose’s first gathering after her loss of memory. She hadn’t remembered if she had ever been to a gathering, but as long as she lived, she was sure had been to one. She was excited, but she easily contained it with a neutral frown on her lips. The tabby patched warrior made her way near her clan mates, Fernpaw and Cindershade, whom she was more comfortable around in comparison to the large mass of strangers. She didn’t want to stray near others she didn’t quite know. Socializing made her.. uncomfortable. She’d much rather be alone or with one’s she had known. She sat down with a small grunt, curling her tail neatly around her paws. Petalnose looked around steadily, making note of each stranger and then curiously looking up the high rock. Almost inpatient. She was waiting. Waiting to hear the news of the leaders rather than taking part of the chatter. She’d be silent unless someone approached her, ears flicking around to listen if anyone was going to make their way to her. She had hoped it wasn’t a member from the enemy clans, she was itching to dig her claws into them after what they had done to her clan. Filthy demons. But, she’d have to keep it together. Just for this night. Or Starclan would be angry.

//open to interactions!!!

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There is a noticeable tension, how couldn’t there be. Thistleback wears a scowl and tilts his neck with a crackle as he filters into the clearing, with long powerful raps of his paws on the moonlit earth, the smell of moor earning a stiff gurn twisted over his lips but he settles among. His muscles felt like rocks ready to burst out of his coat, his endless patrolling and tedious efforts to keep off the ground and search for twoleg traps had kept a twinge in his tendons.

His jaw rotates on an axis, his temper is split hairs and the smell of salty grasses and rabbit earns his enmity. Several Skyclan warriors are missing, and with each one his bloodlust gurgles in his soul. Ever since he killed that clan-stalker, his eyes toward enemies seek the tune of vengeance. He looks at each of them, silver eyes gleaming momentarily without pupils. A hunter, a killer, a deep thinker. Evil walks among them, and he’d weed the crops of it.

Smogmaw’s voice and body carries through the crowd, Thistleback’s nicked ears find him they do. As do eyes find wounds, dark lacerations seen by medic paw. Interest takes the form of a flame in the dark, the lead drags his tongue over his fangs and stews in his observational silence.

A pale spotted coat, smells of mud- Shadowclan wasn’t the type he usually spoke to, the last one he had spoken to had been in the snow of leafbare and Smogmaw himself. A friend of Windclan was no friend of his, but his attention has been ignited. Regardless, he prowls towards the quietly spectating Shadowclanner and places a proper distance between them before speaking with an even tone.

" I detect a discordant scent within diplomacy tonight " he proposes himself forth, standing next to Bloodhound with a keen eye on Smogmaw. Should the other catch his eye as he stands next to the other Shadowclanner, he’d lift his chin in far greeting. It seemed a Windclanner had taken a close sit to their flank.

" Thistleback " he introduces himself with a glance towards the Bengal.

​

OOC INFO REF
  • — speaking to @BLOODHOUND. eyeing @smogmaw


  • MqZ0nzd.png

    Thirty-seven moons EVENT TRACKER | IMPORTANT INFO
    — Lead warrior of Skyclan since 12.22.22
    — Devoted to Deersong 9.29.22 | polyamorous
    — Father of Coyotepaw, Pricklepaw, and Eveningpaw.
    — mentoring Snowpaw graduate(s) Quillstrike
    — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
    — voice & accent
    — biography･ﾟ✧​
    OPEN for Dice battles | 🎲 stine#3004
  • bVBPWus.png

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WHO IS THE LAMB AND WHO IS THE KNIFE? ☽⁺₊⋆
A large, muscular tom approaches them, scarred and piebald. Only a little shorter than them. They nod at him in greeting, welcoming his approach. His eyes are not quite on them, and it only takes them a quick glance to realize he isn't speaking directly to them, not really. Niceties, sure, but his eyes were on their deputy. Interesting.

Clearly having noticed the agitation, the quiet song of blood that thrummed through the warriors of the crowd, something that passed over the apprentices heads as they gathered and mingled.

Thistleback introduces himself, voice smooth and low.

Bloodhound sizes him up carefully. It wasn't their place to speak of the recent happenings, Chilledstar would very likely have better words for it all, know things that they were not privy to. It would be foolish to deny the tension in the crowd tonight, however.

Maybe the bengal is overthinking this. The tom before them smells of kittypet, but not like a kittypet. Too wild. SkyClan, then, they decide, judging by the collar. They don't see many others running around wearing vestiges of kittypet life. It was like a target on one's back, one Bloodhound had been quick to shed, tapping into wilder roots upon their release.

It makes it a little easier, they think, to relax some and just chitchat with him.

"The tension is solid, like wading through mud. Enough to unsettle anyone with good sense." They say, taking the safe bet. Agreeing with him. Offering little. Still being polite. "A shame. It could have been such a pleasant night, too."

A moment's pause, and on his glance at them, they continue, introducing themself. They're sure they don't need to tell him their clan, as each clan seemed to have its distinct scent, but they felt it was basic courtesy.

"Bloodhound, from ShadowClan. I'm guessing SkyClan for you?"

// @ThistleBack

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❝ six feet tall and super strong ✧°.☀ ———————————— The stench of every clan filled the speckled tom's nose, he weirdly enjoyed the mingled scents. It was a mess but a fun one, with nervous and excited apprentices and old warriors trying to put on tough faces and keep strong patriotism for their homes. Stumpybounce while being a strong warrior lacked the certain nationalism that most others held, while still holding Thunderclan tightly to his chest he wouldn't pretend his home was superior to the other clans.

But, even if he did it wouldn't matter. This gathering was one he had been planning to come to for awhile now. Ever since he met the Shadowclan warrior Frostbite. He had let the tom off of Thunderclan territory after hesitating for a bit. Stumpy had also said they would talk again at the gathering, under less "I could have just died" kind of circumstances. So, the sage eyes kept bouncing from cat to cat, and his heavy paws wandered through the crowd. Trying his best to not seem like he was looking too hard for a cat he shouldn't know, he didn't want to be accused of being soft to outsiders, the ultimate sin among Thunderclan it sometimes seemed.

// looking for @Frostbite but open for other interaction!
[penned by user - [tags☀]]
———————————— ☀.°✧ we'd always get along ❞ ​
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Despite the mind-blowing nature of his discovery, Fernpaw had forgotten in the bustle of new faces that he'd changed a lot since he was last at the gathering- and last interacting with SkyClan apprentices. He'd been tiny, then- kit-sized despite his apprenticeship, gawky and toddling. At Figpaw's comment his grin remained, a genuine glow upon his face. They were eating good, he supposed- the tom himself especially, considering he'd finally managed to catch a few fish!

Sparrowpaw- right, and with a nod the name was committed to his memory. Jovial eyes moved to meet the mild expression of Figpaw's companion. "Nice to meet you too! How long've you been in SkyClan?" Figpaw said they'd recently joined; it was quite difficult for Fernpaw to fathom just letting someone in to your Clan, but... well, that was the way Blazestar did it, wasn't it? And... well, it wasn't like RiverClan was a stranger to letting strangers in, sometimes.

Chest puffed out, Figpaw spoke after- her voice thrummed with prideful purr, and though the tiniest flare of envy shot through the ginger tom it didn't show on his face. Besides, he was almost eleven moons old... the moon after next, he'd be a warrior too. "Oh, wow!! Your mentor must be proud," he hummed, his own purr twitching his whiskers. His father's grin glinted in his memory- encouraging, despite his incessant failures. He could only imagine what a tutor's smile would look like when offered to a successful student! "Ten- almost eleven moons! So I'll be a warrior by..." Hesitation paused his speech as he counted in his mind. "Gathering after next, I think."

It was wishful thinking. But he'd not disclose that.

\ interacting with @sparrowpaw! and @FIGPAW ! ​
✦ penned by pin ✦​
 


"SPEECH"
She supposes that she should see this as Sootstar saying she trusts her, should take it as a compliment that she had been chosen to go along with Sunstride and the others to this gathering but at the same time all she can see are the children around her and think ‘I’m on kit-sitting duty’. She thinks about how if a fight broke out back at camp she would be missing the action! Still, though, there is a small part of her that is touched.

Bluepool makes her way into the clearing with the others, yellow eyes trained on Sunstride as he reminds them to keep their guard up and she nods her head solemnly. The other clans were gunning for them, they always were. But now was worse than ever. Why ShadowClan had decided so quickly to turn against them, she will never understand. They had once shared prey, a home, they had been family. She does not recognize any of the rats that are here now , they walk in the skins of the cats she once knew but they are not them. The cats she had known had had honor.

she skirts around the ShadowClanners, doing her best to avoid them. RiverClan hated them, as did SkyClan so that only left ThunderClan that didn’t absolutely hate their guts.

// looking for a thunder clanner but open to any and all interactions
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As prideful as he had been when he’d first heard his name fall from the leader’s mouth, naming him as one of the very few cats she allowed to go to this month’s gathering, Gravelsnap quickly realized that it wasn’t quite the honor he had first believed it to be. Because right after his name had been called, along with three others, Sootstar had stated that only the youngest of WindClan’s apprentices could come to the gathering as well. And while he may be riddled with anxiety, paranoid of attacks from the other clans, Gravelsnap is not stupid.

This isn’t a power play from the leader, boasting the amount of new apprentices in training to be warriors. This isn’t an honor gifted to him, to Sunstride, to Snailstride, to Bluepool. This is a babysitting job. The gathering may be a time of enforced peace, but that doesn’t mean the other clans can’t stage an attack on WindClan’s camp during the gathering, when their greatest warriors are expected to be away from camp. Sootstar isn’t an imbecile, she made this choice to protect the youngest apprentices, her own brood among them. Which means that Gravelsnap has been brought along to keep track of children all night—either that, or he’s been brought along in an effort to keep him out of harm’s way, which he truly doubts is the case. He’s proven himself a capable warrior, he thinks.

The black-patched tom nods his acknowledgment to Sunstride, casting a glance to all the other WindClanners here—a head count, ensuring one more time that he knows every cat who came here with him. Then he turns and slinks off to sit around the edge of the clearing, hazel eyes narrowed as he looks out across the sea of faces, mostly unfamiliar. A prickle of dread runs down his spine. Do any of them know of their leaders’ plans? Their treachery? Do any of them care?

// open to interactions
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​
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Crowflower's first impression of the gathering was of the oppressive cloud of tension that choked the air like a thick fog. In all fairness, the molly failed to remember a gathering that was truly peaceful, but this one felt downright explosive. This might be more than just the fallout of the battle for Sunningrocks. A strange sense of premonition shivered down her spine as she lingered on the fringes of the crowd. Everywhere she looked there was some sort of dirty look exchanged between various cats. Distinct nuances of hatred and anger and suspicion perfumed the air like ozone foretelling an oncoming storm. The general discontent of everyone present felt amplified in her own chest. Crowflower felt a bit short of breath--overwhelmed by the desire to do something but feeling powerless to do so. All she had to provide were small smiles and a few wildflowers that she had intended on using to spread a little Newleaf cheer.

Eventually her gaze settled on a small group of Windclan warriors and apprentices. "Hello," she greeted with a shy smile. "I brought a few dogwood blooms to celebrate the season..." her voice squeaked. Crowflower wasn't the best with strangers, but she was trying. "But something tells me this won't be a normal gathering." What a tremendous understatement. She tried to summon her previous good cheer and wore a kind smile as she presented the slender dogwood branches adorned with large white blooms. "The young ones might like them. These don't grow out on the moors." Not everybody had a fondness for wildlife the way Crowflower did, but she was sure everyone could appreciate the beauty of the season. It was a meager offering of kindness, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

@Bluepool @GRAVELSNAP @SNAILSTRIDE ​
 
Gatherings were an event he both despised and loved almost equally. What theatrics his leader might come up with today because of the recent string of events was always a toss-up. He kept his thoughts to himself, moving away from his Clan and weaving through the pelts of other cats. WindClan and ThunderClan were ones he wanted to avoid, but they made up half of the attendance anyway. It would be impossible. Breathing in, he caught the scent of something familiar and sky-tinged.

He retraced his steps and followed the smell, eyes half-lidded as he pushed through chattering cats until finally he broke free and came to the edge of the mob where the familiar dark tabby was sitting on a rock. "I'm sorry," He whispered, tilting his head to look up at Selby. He had made a new home in SkyClan. If only they could be more accommodating.

// interacting with @selby

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❪ TAGS ❫ — The orange tabby emerged from the shadows along with the plethora of ShadowClanners, handsome features scanning the gathering area and checking who was all here. He recognized some ThunderClanners for sure, which made an uncomfortable knot swell in the pit of his stomach. There were a few WindClanners as well, though there didn't seem to be as many of them present.

WindClan and ThunderClan were definitely off of the table for mingling with tonight. What about SkyClan and RiverClan? Ugh, clan politics were much too difficult. Sometimes he wondered if things would have been easier if the colonies had remained. There would be more land to hunt on, and not to mention his kithood friends wouldn't have had to choose where their loyalties lay. It made him sad to think about, sometimes.

Either way, no matter who approached Rooster or vice versa, he would plan on being as amiable as he could muster. The conflicts that ShadowClan had with other clans were not his own. At the end of the day, they were all more similar to one another than they liked to believe.

// open for interactions​
 
Blazestar can feel the tension in the air the moment SkyClan enters the clearing; it's thick enough to wade through, like thick mud after a storm. He eyes the leaders ascending the Great Rock with some trepidation. He knows Howlingstar and Cicadastar will not be on good terms; truly, he doesn't know where SkyClan stands with either of them, either. The Ragdoll already knows neither WindClan nor ShadowClan's leader has anything but ire.

In lieu of taking his place on the stone immediately, Blazestar's gaze flicks about the gathered cats, seeking a familiar ebony pelt. His kits would be four moons this Gathering, if his math is correct. Would they be present?

He searches the crowd for her; the desire to see his children begins to make him impatient. He realizes with some sadness that he does not even know what they look like.

// looking for @LITTLE WOLF but open for other interactions​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
​
 

It took Ferndance a moment to realise she was speaking to a WindClanner, the scents of the clans intermingled like joining streams, but emerald eyes blink more widely as he spoke of patrols. It'd been some time since she'd met any clan other than the moor colony on ShadowClan's thunderpath-separated border, a statement that made Smogmaw's version of events all the more believable to the Lead Warrior. Their borders had been infested with their former ally more than she was infested with fleas, a statement in itself that she was certain could've brought some elders to an early grave. She cocked her head to the side, her ears flattened like a sad puppy as she stared down the apprentice that passively rejected the offer. That was probably for the best, if she were to engage in battle with someone to prove a hypothesis, it was a good thing in the long term that it wasn't a quasi-kitten. "And Iiiiiiiii, remember you." The vacancy in her state indicates a blatant lie. There had been many apprentices that graced their borders, the only ones she truly recalled were the ones that had fought back against her other theories. Apparently, pondering if one's leader would die was not proper etiquette.

She smiled through the awkward silence. "Ok... I might not remember who you are. Don't take it personally, I've seen so many of you lot recently it is difficult to keep track." A light chuckle escaped the Lead Warrior, lacking any subtlety to hide the jab behind the statement. By the time the gathering was over, his face would likely become just another in a sea of thousands, especially if Chilledstar spoke the tales that had haunted their clan the past few days. It was far easier to hurt someone when one pretended they were a nameless being with no family and no future. She didn't know if she always liked the gatherings for that reason, but she could at least feel comfortable knowing they were inconsequential in the end. "You'll be like that in a good few months I'm sure. Other clans merge into one giant thing in your head and you just wonder about the strangest little things about them all. I bet a the Burnt Sycamore that I can speed up that process. What do you wonder about us, little one?"

[ @HARRIERPAW !! ]
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After the disaster that his first gathering became, Clay wasn’t too keen on coming to this one. He didn’t want to take the opportunity away from Antlerpaw, though, and there’s no way he’d leave them under the care of anyone else. He finally has an apprentice, and he’s going to watch over them. Especially when both ThunderClan and WindClan are around; neither clan can be trusted. Just seeing the tabby-striped mongrel up there, living, breathing, makes him wish there wasn’t a rule against fighting at gatherings. Clearsight was most of his impulse control, and without the threat of retaliation from every clan here, he might just make a move without thinking.

That thought sends guilt rocketing through him. Would he really put RiverClan in that position? No, I couldn’t. He couldn’t put his family in trouble like that. He can control himself. He can have a decent night avoiding all the other clans, because none of them can be trusted. And surely he doesn’t want to be nearby when Howlingstar inevitably tries to throw the blame for her mistakes onto him, onto RiverClan. He hopes she isn’t able to speak at all.

The tom settles carefully onto his haunches, one leg extended out to the side as he sits. Idly he wonders whether Rosemire is here again—or if he should even care whether the ShadowClanner is here. They aren’t friends. But they’d had a nice conversation, and the pale tom hadn’t questioned him last time.


// open to interactions
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​
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Bluepaw watches Sunstride give Adderpaw instructions, and Whitepaw burrows into her brother's side like a burr. Harrierpaw fearlessly approaches a ShadowClan cat, despite the discord between their Clans. She wishes Sootstar could be by her side still, but she knows her mother must take her place upon the Great Rock with the other Clan leaders. She feels terribly small and alone without her, though, lost amidst a crowd of Clan cats whose scents are overwhelmingly pungent to her new scent glands.

The young she-cat first takes her time studying the five leaders. The biggest is the kittypet, but the tallest is the RiverClan leader. She doesn't recognize the black feline with the white blaze, but she knows it's Chilledstar, ShadowClan's leader. And she's seen Howlingstar up close before, though she looks different somehow under the starlight.

Her mother, though, is the most regal, the most commanding, despite her small stature. Bluepaw stares at Sootstar with awe shining in her green eyes. She wants nothing more than to be like her mother, her leader, her mentor; she wants it more than she's ever wanted anything.

So many cats are talking, but she focuses on recognizing the scents Sootstar had introduced her to on their excursions. The salty, murky tang of RiverClan is easy enough to identify; with a wrinkle of her tiny pink nose, she does her best to skirt them. She knows ShadowClan's scent is sickly-sweet with carrion and slime, muddled by Thunderpath fumes... it's the kittypet Clan's scent she identifies purely on the basis of failing to recognize it otherwise. A group of them sit with RiverClan apprentices; she imagines she would not be welcome in either group.

Instead, the daughter of Sootstar trails closer to a ThunderClan-scented cat, his pelt mottled with auburns and blacks. He looks interesting, but strange -- three-pawed, his white jaw crooked and his eyes dull and half-lidded. There's an oddly familiar spice to his tortoiseshell fur, though, once she can detect even from her distance of several foxlengths away. Herbs.

Bluepaw takes a deep breath. She approaches the ThunderClan cat with her head high, chin tilted towards the sky. Her tail plumes behind her in a false display of confidence. She must not disappoint her mother; she must appear capable, a true WindClan apprentice. "You're a ThunderClan cat," she says. It's the only thing she's sure of. She scrutinizes him again before declaring, "But I haven't seen you before, at the borders. Do you not patrol?" A genuine question. Bluepaw waits politely for a response.

// talking to @BERRYHEART ; open to additional conversation partners​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​
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ocean breathes salty​
The last time someone took claws to him, Selby sank teeth into his arm. But as his son came before him once more, he found he couldn’t muster any anger if he had tried. “I forced your paw by crossing the border, I understand.” Selby cleared his throat, then added, “I forgive you. Please don’t worry about it anymore.”

He slunk down the rock; the vantage point its surface offered was no longer needed. Selby studied the cat before him once more, many thoughts racing through his head. “If I had known about you… I swear I would have been there. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I promise it.”

// interacting with @RAVENPAW. ​
✦ ★ ✦​
 


Another verges on where he sits, one whom he identifies vaguely. It is a WindClan tom, and should his memory serve him proper, this one had given a crack at a conversation in a gathering past. Those days of fellowship are bygone, extinct, which leaves little room for wondering why Sunstride approaches him so—mockery, derision, and as much of it as StarClan would allow.

A rasped grunt, chafed by strained and phlegm-spoiled vocal folds, would depart his throat when the other perches beside him. The two are separated a mere whisker's length from one another, prompting the deputy to reposition and establish a larger gap. Sunstride's tone is marked by feigned camaraderie when he speaks, though his words are inimical in nature. He sneers when attention is called upon his wounds, and his muddy pools soon become caught in a squint. "You will sustain far worse," Smogmaw warns, a huff interrupting his response. "Pray that StarClan will guide your paws and keep you from harm's way. The next moons will not be kind to you or your kin."

At that, he rises. Facing away from the Lead Warrior, before kicking back a symbolic clump of dirt, the pewter-toned tabby sets off for more civilised discussion.

The deputy grazes Ferndance as he walks, though his focus orients to a pair of pallid eyes just off yonder. He recognises them straightaway, and it is with certainty they recognise him as well. Having been made aware of the wounds along his flank, Smogmaw's limp manifests at a level worse than before. Still, he continues in his trek towards his clanmate, and the thistly-furred SkyClan cat who accompanies them.

"You've found better company than I, Bloodhound," meows the tom, after catching the tail-end of the hybrid's salutation. He dips his head in greeting thereafter, gaze trained on the moon-and-midnight warrior in their proximity. "I hope your clan is faring well," he says to Thistleback, a pleasantry more than a forthright statement. A gesture then, toward the wounds he'd sustained. If Sunstride's remarks rang true, they looked rather dazzling in the moonlight. "Our border with the moor rats has been the source of trouble. Their boldness overshadows their stupidity, but only by a faint margin."

// speaking to @SUNSTRIDE before leaving him in the dust ; brushing past @FERNDANCE ; addressing @BLOODHOUND. and @ThistleBack ​

 
Life doesn't discriminate
The bridge of his nose wrinkles faintly as Sunstride leads them into the thickest part of the crowd. The repulsive scent of fish flooded from riverclan, while the putrid tang of stagnant water hailed from shadowclan. Both melding together to create a pungent aroma that caused his eyes to narrow with disgust. The strange smell of pine and oak coming from sky and thunder at least helped a little. Adderpaw lashed his tail in silent understanding as Sunstride advised the group to listen more than they spoke. His chin lifts, glancing around at those intermingling and scoffed. The moorland prince could not see himself speaking to such commoners willingly.

Most of their group disperses but Adderpaw's attention remains firmly planted upon his mentor, watching as he converses with a pewter tom. His eyes widen a hair at the blatant disrespect shown by the silver tom. Lips lifting in the beginnings of a grimace as dirt is flung in Sunstride's direction. Whitepaw's gentle voice gathers his attention, causing dark eyes to fall upon the alabaster molly. "Yet not enough of them have any sense." Adder grumbles with disdain on his lips. Wordlessly he prompts her to follow with a flick of his tail against her shoulder. Whether she sticks to him or not he weaves through the crowd until he has made it to Sunstride's side.

"You allowed such filth to get away with that?" He voices for his mentor's ears only, eyes glaring daggers into the departed shadowclanner's back. "Why?" Seeking understanding he turns his attention toward the golden tom. (Interacting with @whitepaw and @SUNSTRIDE but are open to additional interactions!) ​
Between the sinners and the saints​
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She makes her way through the crowd, her two kits at her side. She beckons them with her tail, keeping them close. Her green eyes search for a familiar cream pelt, scan the crowd for blue eyes and a soft smile she knows he will put on for them. "There’s an old friend I want to introduce you to, come." she had told the two before they had defended into the crowd of cats.

If she was paying close enough attention she would realize that WindClan was barely here save for a handful of children and a couple of warriors but clan politics have never interested her. She simply does not wish to keep track of who hates who, all she cares about is her clan her family.

SkyClan would always hold a piece of her heart though.

She spots him then, makes a beeline practically. "Blazestar!" she calls out. It nearly breaks her heart for that name to leave her lips and to know she cannot ever say it in the way she wants to, laced with love and adoration, though she definitely still feels that way towards him. She searches his face for a good moment, looking for the sadness she had seen there since they had been forced to part ways. She knows that this could shatter him completely but would not meeting them leave him worse off? Was this really a good idea?

It was too late now.

She beckons to the two apprentices by her side, trying not to allow herself to get all choked up now. "I thought you might like to meet my two kits, they were apprenticed this meeting to Dewfang and Nightbird, who was just named a lead warrior " she cannot help the pride that creeps into her voice. "This is Duskpaw" she says indicating to the she-cat in question "And this is… Skypaw." she knows how her clan feels about the name, knows that they had thought her decision mouse-brained. But Skypaw had siblings in SkyClan, though she didn’t know them yet. It was only right to honor the blood they shared through the name. And she would not take it back now.

She studies his face, carefully waiting for his reaction. Would he be sad, happy, both? She cannot say.

// interacting with @BLAZESTAR @skypaw and @DUSKPAW
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