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

There is no faltering of his expression while Smogmaw spits his quiet rage. His brow lifts– it is carefully spoken, the ire that he spits. It would take a cleverer tongue than his own to trip the ShadowClanner upon his lies. If only Wolfsong were here; he may be charming in measure, but it is his dear friend's wit that he had come to rely upon. "It is well, then, that you will find company in the pits of your pain. Perhaps when the time is right, you will cease your fruitless struggles." Each of the marsh clan's actions seems more a death rattle than the last. A futile fight against the death that chased them. He had not known the clans in the time of their great battle, but he knows the stories. Of fresh blood, routing the old. Of a new beginning forged from their fading grip on the marsh. Sootstar had made a new home from the bones of the old, and they were far less likely to break.

"I hope you recover quickly, Smogmaw," he calls after the receding tom, his claws working a clump of dirt to a smooth layer beneath a paw. "I hope to see you again in time."

Still, Sunstride smiles as the ShadowClanner walks away. He knows there is true hatred in his words. Not for Sun himself, but for WindClan. For Sootstar. Whatever it may be, or whatever purpose it may serve, he is glad to have tasted it. Conviction is as invigorating as a newleaf rain. He looks down to his apprentice, and can only chuckle. "WindClan does not jump at shadows. And as Wolfsong might say–" the lead warrior ducks low to the two apprentices, as if to whisper a secret. "Asking ShadowClan to be wise is as useless as asking them not to stink." Mirth crinkles the corners of his gaze. "Come, you two. There is more to be seen."
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﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤
  • ooc: saying his farewells to @smogmaw and interacting with @Adderpaw and @whitepaw
  • SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
    —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
    —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
    —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.

    sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
  • "speech"
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Reactions: Marquette, smogstar and WOLFSONG
If might have been possible that there had been no need to swipe at Selby's face. Perhaps he would have moved back once Ravenpaw's much more hostile Clanmates crowded in on him. He could not take that risk, though. A sigh rattled out of his lungs, shoulders slumping with relief at the forgiveness.

Selby moved down the rock. Instinctively, Ravenpaw took a step back, raising his head to keep himself tall. "I know... if you were born another cat, or you had known, you would have been in. It's stupid really, we have an alliance with SkyClan. We would have had to deal with you as a RiverClan cat or an allied cat." Ravenpaw rasped. The hypocrisy of his leader was nothing new, but it had never personally effected Ravenpaw until now. "I tried not to get too wrapped up in fantasy. You know it was a lie, but in my mind it was true."

He lowered his voice. "Before here, I was named Ivan, and ... I still miss her."

interacting with @selby

​
 
It didn't feel right, being here. There were so many voices talking at once. Shouts, some in excitement, disdainful hisses from others and generally just a buzz of frantic chatter from all five Clans taking up the space between Fourtrees. Basilpaw had shoved himself into the nearest corner the moment ThunderClan paws had entered the clearing. He wasn't prepared to socialize with so many at once, and, truly he was really only here for Lichenpaw's benefit. His brother was much more talkative between the two, but he couldn't possibly be left alone with so many of these strangers roaming about.

Basilpaw didn't care what reassurances were given, this monthly 'truce' was only as real as the cats attending allowed it to be. Who cared what some cats delusions from blood loss told them? It wasn't enough for Basilpaw to feel safe letting his little brother go without support. At the very least he would be given some insight on how these other Clans operated, given his only exposure was mostly within ThunderClan. "See anything weird?" He muttered to them after a few moments, glancing around the many faces passing them by.

-- interacting with @LICHENPAW
 
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ocean breathes salty​
The politics of the clans were difficult to wrap his head around, so Selby elected to default to Ravenpaw’s analysis of the situation. “Well… I just wish we could see each other more,” he said quietly, deciding that vulnerability was the way to go in this situation. He watched Ravenpaw take a step backwards, his own ears twitching back in disappointment at the sight.

At the mention of Hannah, Selby felt dread rushing down. He missed her? That must mean… “Did something happen to her?” he questioned, almost frantic. It had been many moons now since he had seen his former mate, but he never expected anything to happen to her in her Twolegs’ home. “Last I saw of her- I mean, she didn’t even tell me she was pregnant. I think her owners stopped letting her outside. She just stopped coming to meet me one day. I waited a while, but… it wasn’t safe there for strays anymore.” Selby stepped closer to Ravenpaw absently. In so many ways, he looked exactly like his mother.

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

.°❁ YOU TOLD ME 'BOUT NOWHERE

Lichenpaw feels more confident, striding into the gathering with his older brother by his side. He'd gone alone last time, chattered away to some cats he hadn't quite bothered to remember, too focused on the spectacle of the night, the flashing lightning and venom-spitting leader. This time, his head feels much clearer. They follow Basilpaw gladly to the corner he's picked out, content to stand as barrier between their brother and any potential other-clan conversationalists, wielding his own eagerness to talk as a weapon while Basilpaw keeps and eye out. It's their go-to strategy, and one he is not quick to abandon.

"See anything weird?" asks Basilpaw in hushed tones, and it takes them a moment to consider. Anything weird...? "Nah, not -- not really," he says, trying and failing to match their quieter voice. "Pretty, uh, pretty quiet compared to last time. Did I tell you about that? Sootstar -- y'know, the moor queen -- she got her, uh, her -- her seat on the tree? It was struck by lightning." He's rambling, but that's nothing new. "They said it was uh, StarClan, being angry at her." He doesn't comment on whether he believes it or not. He doesn't need to, with Basilpaw.

But the talk of WindClan reminds him -- "Oh!" he spots a small group of cats passing by. Sunstride, Adderpaw, and Whitepaw, though he doesn't know their names. "Actually, uh, there is one thing. See those two? The, uh, little ones?" He gestures to them. "WindClanners. They send their -- their kits out like this. Saw one at the border." He squints. "Could've sworn they had more, y'know, actual apprentices here last time." There's way too many kit-sized cats running around for comfort. Still, not the dangerous kind of weird he was probably on the lookout for, but worth noting nonetheless.

WELL IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMEPLACE I'D LIKE TO GO ! .°❁

⟪ OOC ⟫ ⟪ INFO ⟫ ⟪ REF ⟫
  • // interacting with @B A S I L P A W, gossiping about windclan, open to other interactions !​
  • LICHENPAW named for the lichen on the trees of his home.
    — he/him or they/them. 9 moons.
    — thunderclan apprentice, mentored by sunnyday.
    — bears a near-permanent nervous grin.

    primary character, medium-high activity. penned by saturnid.​
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Wolfwind streams in alongside the rest of her clan, muscles already tense from the anticipation of a rocky night. Howlingstar, at the least, would be placated. It seems to be a gamble, whether some of other leaders have their heads properly attached at these fuckin' things or not. Sootstar was almost always a definite no. Both Shadow and River's ratios where beginning to dip into the lower ends. She personally couldn't wait to hear Cicadastar's, what, fourth long-winded rant about blah blah ThunderClan sucks, I love kittypets, or something. Wolfwind is prepared to tune it out.

She worries more about potentially spotting her sister's face. They'd managed to maintain some comradery through the last gathering. Not by my own choice, she would've fought the dogs alongside ThunderClan. Wolfwind had been relieved to hear. Would she say the same for Sunningrocks, though? Her pelt prickles, uneasy. For some reason, she wasn't so sure. At the least, she deserved to know of Howlingstar's good recovery, didn't she?

And despite herself, Wolfwind finds herself wondering if that bumbling ShadowClanner had made it out alive. With how he acted, she wouldn't be surprised if he fell into a river or tripped over a frog and into his doom on the way back. Some'f Briar's other kits must've taken all the brains. Left poor ShadowClan with dumbasses like him and Pitchstar.

Wolfwind squints through the crowd. A flash of blue fur that she, for a second, thinks might be Lakemoon just turns out to be a moor-smelling apprentice (kit-looking too) approaching their medicine cat. Crowflower practically walks into a den of snakes, rambling about something or other to a group of WindClan. Further down, she even had the... pleasure of catching Little Wolf calling out for her SkyClan mate. "Stars' sake..." This woman. She needed a conversation to distract her from this madhouse.

[ Tentatively looking for @Lakemoon . and @CHITTERTONGUE! Open to other interactions too! ]​
 
† Sharppaw treds with a carefulness. Whisper-step, as if planting her feet too hard would bring attention; turn heads. No longer would ShadowClan be able to pretend they stand amongst them all. Friends to WindClan, was an insane label to carry, but one nonetheless, and it was gone before it had ever felt real. A part of him is relieved. A part of him is frightened. Sharppaw finds himself caught between avoiding his own clan and sidestepping moor-dwellers. Any place it smelled too thickly of heather, he would shy away, ears flattening.

She sees Smogmaw found in one of their traps, already; caught by the tongue of a golden WindClan tom. Unimportant idle chatter is all it seems like, but how long would it last? Sharppaw's stare is intent for just a moment. Would Smogmaw return home with another battering? Sharppaw hardly thinks he should be here, as it is.

Not like it's his business. Not like it matters. ShadowClan was on the edge of it all, again... The apprentice slips away. Her pace quickens when she nearly bumps heads and tails. It slows again, as she has to slip between the paws of her own clanmates. Her frustration is held tight between a locked jaw. Thing she can't name, but she knows they're untrustworthy. Weren't they all? Who is there to speak to in a den of rats?

Riverclan; fish scent makes its way into her nose, and suddenly she's reminded of the night of her first gathering. The RiverClan tortoiseshell. The fussing apprentices. Sharppaw blinks.

He spots what he thinks is a familiar face of orange-tabby fur. But they look all wrong in a way she cannot place. She halts her own approach in her tracks, the bristle of her tail jumping slightly in surprise. SkyClan too, lingers nearby, and it is the last thing to encourage her to quit altogether.

A lone river tom seems more approachable then his clanmates– not surrounded by chatter and bustle. He draws forward with a gulp of breath, muscles taut. "...Hi," Silver eyes crease at the edges, unsure where to go. How to... talk. He paws at the ground. "H-how is RiverClan? You look..." Sharppaw doesn't finish the thought, muzzle wrinkling as her eyes fall down and past the chocolate tom, wondering if she'll catch a glimpse of tortoiseshell fur.

[ Trying to talk to @CLAYFUR & looking for @iciclepaw <3 ]​
 
..╭―――――――――――――――|➹|―――――――――――――――╮

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The small smile they wore upon their face grew a tad more when Fernpaw returned the greeting, momentarily ducking their head. "Not very long, I don't think," they replied with a shift of their paws. "It's a lot, it's hard to keep up sometimes..." It felt as if time were either zipping right by or halted entirely. "I don't really know, maybe... two weeks?" Had it been that long already? The sun rose and set incessantly and they stumbled right along with it, the world continuing as if nothing had happened at all. Sparrowpaw's expression faltered.

They were more than happy to fall silent when Figpaw took over, proudly announcing that she would be a warrior the next time they met. That meant that eventually, their name would be changed for a second time as well. They weren't sure if they were used to Sparrowpaw yet as it was, but they tried.

"Leaders choose your new names, right...?" they softly interjected only once there was a lull in chatter. "Do you know what your name is going to be changed to?"

// chatting w/ @FIGPAW and @FERNPAW , still open to more interaction​

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Clay knows he’s moping, and that’s not the best way to present himself at a gathering. But he’s only here for his apprentice, and if his silence makes him unapproachable, then so be it. But just like the last gathering, the scent of something damp, something murky, touches his nose as another cat steps closer to him. ShadowClan.

The other cat asks about RiverClan, says that he looks, but trails off before saying whatever comes next. An insult, probably, one that she holds back. Hazel eyes lift to give the dark-furred cat a once-over. He can’t tell whether she’s an apprentice or a warrior—a warrior, probably, if he’s willing to approach Clay at all. "…Terrible? I know," his words are dull, but humor finds its way into his voice.

He’s reminded of the ShadowClan tom he’d spoken to at the last gathering, the one with a ghostly white pelt who traded horrible jokes with him. Overall, the marsh clan is lead by lunatic after lunatic, but maybe the individual cats aren’t so bad. "RiverClan is… okay, I guess. We haven’t fallen apart, at least." No matter how much it feels like we have. "How’s ShadowClan these days?" His gaze catches on the way that silvery eyes look past him, likely searching for better entertainment, or a friend, but Clay’s content to exchange pleasantries for now.

// interacting with @SHARPPAW.
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​
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Bloodhound, from Shadowclan. I’m guessing Skyclan for you? " aye " he voices with a proud straightening of his spine, below a raised brow a poise settle of grey on spotted coat. " can’t help but taste blood on your tongue when you say politics " he gestures eloquently, to the fact that peace would perhaps never be at this round-table. Thistleback would thrive in it though, while wildflowers grew from sun and spring rain- he too shall bloom in caterwaul and blood. He was a father, his goal was to be a grandfather cuddling and sharing stories with his kin in the elders then- until then, he would dance with the devil. " It’s a pleasure to meet you " he fixes his gaze back to the bustle in time to see Smogmaw walking toward them, gait uneven but not so hindered as to pause.

An ambitious pride poisons the smirk placed on his maw as the smokey tabby deputy speaks.

" man of good taste " Thistleback returns, thick with good mannered humor and deep growlish hum of greeting. He rolls his wrist to prune the grass under his callused pads. " The birds have returned as the flowers have. Our only problem seems to be twolegs, …nothing a bit of good strategy can’t fix- however. " he skims over the details. " Likewise, Smogmaw. I haven’t spoke with you since our tails were frozen to the ground. " he twitches his whiskers.

" Bloodhound, that’s a strong name. " he compliments the Shadow dweller with an affirming nod. Our border with the moor-rats has been the source of trouble. A crooked nod, the piebald agrees. Can’t imagine it, thankful for the placement of their territory.

" to hell with the bloody hill-runners" Thistleback snorts with a grime ridden sneer, his jaws flex again as the ache of his shoulders radiates with a beat. " They have not yet paid for their crimes. They nest on lies, and steal herbs in the midst of leafbare during a blizzard while my kits cry by their mother’s belly. " he peers with glass encased rage. " Now- they fracture their only alliance. Taunt the wolves surrounding them-…. It’s… pathetic. " Thistleback tilts his skull and feels a smirk grace his muzzle.

" I knew they’d turn on Shadowclan. They care about nothing, but themselves. The hills are barren of honor- it needs to be fixed. By Starclan or claws. " he finishes, nicked ears flicking to Bloodhound and Smogmaw. Eager to hear their thoughts.

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OOC INFO REF
  • — @smogmaw @BLOODHOUND.


  • 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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Harrierpaw is not terribly stunned to find the ShadowClan molly doesn’t remember him. He wasn’t the most talkative and was good with maintaining to the background. Blankly he stares at her, unresponsive for what felt like the longest time before he shrugs and meows, ”I’m Harrierpaw.” It was a confident introduction, by the way he raised his head one could get the sense he was prideful[ of both heritage and himself. He looks to her, eyes prying for a name to be revealed.

The ShadowClan warrior tells him that soon enough he’ll find himself just like her, unable to keep up with the swarms of clan cats and all their details. It makes sense to the earthen-hued apprentice, perhaps she’s right, but for now kit-like questions did swarm his mind. He was curious of the other clans, even if he didn’t want to admit it… To top it all off the she-cat was even inviting him to ask some questions of his own. He hesitates, instinctively wanting to decline the offer, but ultimately can’t help but give in. ”Why do you wait so long to apprentice your kits?” It was one thing that always boggled the WindClan apprentice’s mind… Were they not as eager as WindClan for the next generation? For more warriors?

// @FERNDANCE ​
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( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​
╰ 🪶 ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· HARRIERPAW, male — he / him
╰ ‣ 4 moons . pisces. ages on the 14th
╰ ‣ windclan apprentice . believes in starclan

╰ 🪶 ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells of the earth and dry grass , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue and brown chimera . average sized WindClanner . yellow eyes

╰ 🪶 ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Chaotic neutral
╰ ‣ self-reliant, loyal, disciplined, direct, impatient, unsympathetic, judge mental
╰ ‣ finds moderate difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel

╰ 🪶 ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· WEASELCLAW x SOOTSTAR, sister to Windstrider, Sootchaser, Moorpaw, Adderpaw, Bluepaw & Cottonpaw
╰ ‣ nephew to Mintshade & Bluepool
╰ ‣ sexuality unknown
╰ ‣ apprentice to Firefang
╰ ‣ poor fighter . poor hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.​
​
​
 

Lopsided eyes broke from their trance, his mind severing the static buzz as a voice piped up. A small voice, its words cutting observant and direct. Shifting slowly to meet his inquisitor, green eyes met greener ones- an apprentice observed him, having recognised his oak-forest scent. His face settled into neutral contentment- a learner, this one. A seeker of knowledge... perhaps they were kindred spirits. Her keen thoughts had noticed he was indeed not a part of ThunderClan's regular patrols to WindClan.

A small apprentice, smaller than most... there was something familiar about her look, her patterning- the way she held herself. Having grown to adulthood in the marsh group, and having known Needles for the majority of his life even as the colonies had split into five... there was certainly resemblance, here. And Sun-eyes did not take the WindClan leader's place atop the rock anymore...

"Astute. I'm ThunderClan's medicine cat." he answered her softly, dipping his head in polite greeting as he granted her the answer she had sought.

\ interacting with @BLUEPAW , possibly open to more interactions B) ​
PENNED BY PIN ☾​
 
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Frostbite made his way into the clearing with a tired, disinterested look. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the drama that always happens here, it was exhausting. Incredibly so. He had come here for another reason, however.

That Thunderclan warrior that pinned him.

He said he'd be here.... He couldn't just..... Stand him up.....

He always groomed extensively before a gathering. He would not have other cats think that he was just as dirty as his clanmates. He stood tall and gave most other cats a passing glare before he spotted Stumpybounce.

He had to make a better impression this time...... So he strode over to greet him.

"Hi there." He greeted. "Nice to meet you unde more favorable circumstances."

@Stumpybounce
​
 

"LITTLE HELLIONS, KIDS FEELIN' REBELLIOUS"​
It had been a while since he had last made a Gathering, but he had been previously too injured from the dog attack to attend. Now he was back on the familiar soil and he was eager to hear the gossip from the other clans. Though he wasn't even sure where to wedge himself, so he idly wandered around and earwigged the current conversations with subtle twitches of his ears. However he soon found a spot to sit down to rest, all the while letting his body language show that he was open to conversation, even despite his less than approachable appearance.

//open to interactions, please tag c:
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★ ​
 
He's a bit slower today. The only reason he came at all was to see whether Clayfur's in attendance, given his increasing lack of tolerance for his own clanmates. Chittertongue remains a face he's glad to see, but two, maybe three people out of an entire clan don't quite make for an impressive ratio, do they? Unfortunately, it's a fellow ShadowClanner who's found Clayfur's company before Rosemire, and he debates whether or not to approach. Rosemire is not at all eager to find anyone else to talk to, given the swell of righteous and smug conversations in his periphery.

He doesn't know Sharppaw very well, which means she's easier to approach at the moment than other clanmates would be, so he fills his chest with oxygen and hopes his expanding lungs shove down all the intense discomfort.

Rosemire only catches Clayfur's question, and winces. He'll let Sharppaw answer that one, he thinks. "Sorry to interrupt, but...how do you get down from a tree?" Clayfur's not looking much better than he did last time. Rose knows he probably looks worse, what with his sleepless nights overfull with dread for the inevitable conflict soon to come again.

//@CLAYFUR and sorta @SHARPPAW.


​
 
The gathering is simmering with energy, and Gravelsnap has the sneaking suspicion that this one will be a lot like the last one. Though they hadn’t been at the last gathering, they’d heard far more than enough of it from a few of their clanmates. They don’t expect cats of other clans to approach WindClan, much less speak to them—but lo and behold, a black and white cat who scents of trees and mice. ThunderClanner. She offers Gravelsnap, Bluepool, and Snailstride each a branch of flowers.

He accepts the offered plant with narrowed hazel eyes, skeptical of the other cat’s motives. ThunderClan isn’t necessarily WindClan’s enemy, but they are not allies either. Why is this she-cat attempting to extend any sort of olive—or in this case, dogwood—branch to them? Either way, he’ll use the flowers from this branch to line his nest. Or perhaps someone else’s nest, he thinks, recalling Sunstride’s decoration of Wolfsong’s nest. "Thanks." His voice is dull, but not necessarily unkind. He’s still sort of… waiting, truly, for her to make a move against them. Would she put up much of a fight against WindClan, even at a gathering? "I don’t have anything to give you in return."

// interacting with @crowflower, assuming @Bluepool & @SNAILSTRIDE are nearby
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​
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He thinks he can recognize the orange tom that Figpaw begins to speak with. Fernpaw sounds like a kind of familiar name at least, though the RiverClanner stands with an appearance similar to Greenpaw's own - orange and white, with green-skewed eyes. Perhaps any semblance of familiarity is only found in their similarities.

And, as his sister introduces her friend to the RiverClanner, a smaller voice says hello to him. Viridescent gaze looks down at the younger apprentice, black and white and also green-eyed. In between his time in their territory, and this being his third gathering, Greenpaw doesn't recognize this river-dweller.

"Oh, hello!" he says to the new face, "I'm Greenpaw! I don't think I've met you before - is this your first gathering?"

// interacting with @Stalkingpaw.​
​
 

It wasn't all too long ago that the girl had learned there were more clans than WindClan and even less so that she learned of the tradition she finds herself in the midst of. A gathering she hadn't expected to be at, much less without her mentor guiding her. What does one do at these? Especially when most of the cats here might be planning to wage war on her home?

She tries to keep close to the rest of the apprentices brought to this strange place, but they all split off almost as quick as they arrive; as if they all shared some secret knowledge of what to do here, of who to talk to, who to make friends with. Clawtail had encouraged her to speak with others while she was here, but Sparrowpaw feels out of place among the mingling cats, among new scents and new voices. Which ones were the ones meant to attack her home? Which ones risked the safety of the moors?

With flattened ears and shifting paws, she looks around at the crowd before her, wide-eyed with uncertainty.

// open to interactions!​
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₊°✩ SOMEONE TELL ME, WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO BE?

Termitepaw is, as a general rule, not a fan of gatherings.

She's been to -- oh, one or two now, less than one might expect from a cat nearing warrior age. Just enough to keep the other apprentices from pestering her about it, while she made up excuses to avoid as many as she could get away with. All the strange other-clan cats, StarClan looming overhead and watching everyone, it makes her nervous. She'd been hesitant to, but the idea of risking out on news -- of the other Clans being taken by the same twoleg-traps that plague them, or if she's feeling particularly hopeful, a sighting of the missing (Howlpaw, Ashenclaw, she hopes they're safe) -- it's too important to risk.

So they'd trailed in after Bananapaw, letting her go off on her own with Drizzlepaw while they stuck to the fringes, wary eyes sweeping across the crowd, head kept low lest the stars set their sights on her.

The cat that catches her eye is small, barely apprenticed by the look of it, skirting the fringes of a more lively group. So young and already scarred, lines of pink marking her tabby pelt. More than that, though, she very clearly does not want to be here. Golden eyes wide, ears pressed flat. They know the feeling well. Hesitantly, Termitepaw creeps closer, weaving through the crowds of chattering cats.

She comes to a stop just before Sparrowpaw, speaks just loud enough to be heard over the din, "He-llo there, hm-m..." She trails off, realizing she doesn't have anything to call the apprentice. She -- well, they think she's a WindClanner, but they don't want to assume. "...li-ttle one," they settle on eventually, giving a small smile. "Fi-irst time...?"

GIVE ME DIRECTION, I NEED AFFECTION ! ₊°✩

⟪ OOC ⟫ ⟪ INFO ⟫ ⟪ REF ⟫
  • // interacting with @SPARROWPAW.​
  • TERMITEPAW named for their dark and shiny fur.
    — she/her, they/them, or it/its. 11 moons.
    — skyclan apprentice, mentored by ashenclaw.
    — cowardly and superstitious, yet still kind.

    primary character, medium-high activity. penned by saturnid.​
  • termitepaw.png
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ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall.
Roeflame had been to gatherings before, multiple in fact, but that was as Roepaw.
The cinnamon molly never had much interest in the other clans, which for the most part remained unchanged- though there was a certain Skyclanner that had managed to capture her ever-wandering attention. Selfishly, almost, she feels as though their last meeting had been much too short. A rendezvous under nights blanket.
She trickles into the clearing on Burnpaws heels, and is quick to stray away from the stream of her clanmates without being overly hasty. The twig, now brittle, still remains tucked behind her ear as she holds her head up high to look for the taller apprentice, hoping he was simply hidden in the crowd somewhere.

// looking for @Snowpaw , open for other interactions !!
"speech"
tags​
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