pafp PULL OF THE LIGHT | anger

[WOLFPAW]

Twelve hours later, the first sibling dared to emerge.

Wolfpaw could not recall a single soul that had dared sleep within the apprentice den that night, the horrors of the day before prodding their thoughts like sharp branches whenever fatigue dared threaten them. They had not seen what had happened, sheltered from sight by Basilpaw and, in turn, sheltering Merlinpaw too, but as they stepped out into the world, the acrid taste of copper touched their tongue, a heavy boulder sinking within their stomach. They'd known the apprentices to lie, to exaggerate about clans and, unintentionally, get them into trouble, but there was no such dramatisation here. Even when the light pierced their eyes, darkness still loomed over their home, weighing even the most optimistic of cats down. It was real... Howlingstar was dead, sent to StarClan by forces of evil that had been under their nose the entire time.

Camp felt empty, but nowhere near as empty as the hearts of those who could agree with such a thing. Though limbs grew lanky and a face grew more adultlike by the hour, the black-and-white morality of youth had not yet been shed, and as they saw a tortoiseshell they'd once paid no mind walk past, their nervousness did not outweigh their indignation. "You... you killed them!" Why?! Needle like claws sunk into the earth, writhing and flexing to the point, angry. They had not even received a lick of battle training, but they pictured themselves in battle with the other, overcoming all odds and slaying SkyClaw where he stood. It was a mess of limbs and ideas in their imagination, so far from the truth, but a dream that kept them upright, resistant to the idea of change. Skyclaw moved, perhaps to open his mouth and justify his actions, perhaps just to get closer to them. Either way, they acted without hesitation.

A paw that had once wrestled the soil suddenly flicked upwards and, as if it were a mossball, Wolfpaw aimed to throw a dollop of mud at Skyclaw's face. "No!" They screamed, ears flattened and fur puffed up to twice its size. "You don't get to talk to me! I hate you, leave me alone!"




@skyclaw
​

 

[skyclaw]

[ sorry for the late reply! ]

"You... you killed them!"

The voice is too small sounds behind him as he strolls past. The mottled tom glumly blinks, a slow monotonous effort, as he turns his gaze over his shoulder at the pale colored apprentice. The accusation is not met with apprehension, for it's the truth. Instead, Skyclaw offers the apprentice an incredulous frown. Could the child not understand why he did what he did? He thinks about the warriors who struggle with the truth, too, and his frown softens minutely. Children are particularly dense, especially nowadays when they're babied until they're two seasons old.

He opens his mouth, and almost as soon as he does, he's smacked with a glob of mud. His countenance is almost symmetrical, the brown smearing his black fur, and fury blazes in his eyes. Are you kidding me? This is insane. Who's this kid's mentor? Rowanthorn, he thinks? Makes sense. He's raising an unruly apprentice, a young warrior to be exactly like him. Skyclaw grimaces to think his home is more doomed than originally thought. His paw shucks a majority of the mud from his face, and he calls out.

" @mottledpaw ?" His apprentice is rarely far. She and the cameo are of the same training range, he thinks. And as much as he loathes to let his niece fight his battle, he'd much more hate to have the child crying in Gentlestorm's den for the next few hours over a new aesthetic addition. His paw moves to skim more mud off of his nose, "Wolfpaw's in need of some reminders, yeah? Show him a couple of the battle moves I shown you." He flicks his tail against his niece's back. Claws out, if you wish.​

 

[mottledpaw]

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ───────────── · ·

The stones had been thrown, skipped across the pond of fates and spreading ripples in its wake. No one had suspected this... and Mottledpaw believes that even Skyclaw had been surprised by himself, by his devotion to his cause and the blinding force of justice that had swept his teeth into his grandmother's throat. Duty ran in their blood, generations of honor built into the crimson that flowed in their veins- most of ThunderClan could not begin to understand the burden they shouldered and they proved that with every seething hiss. They were piteous in their stupidity... or ignorance? Either way... the tortoiseshell found her patience for it to be limited.

The sound of her name summons her like a phantom from the wake of her uncle's shadow, peering up at him with a squared jaw that speaks to her loyalty, her certainty. He is noble... opting to make it a fair fight even though these rats don't deserve such kindness... Her gaze flicks between his sepia eyes and the ruddy stare of her new skirmish partner and then back again as a dappled tail draws along her back in silent encouragement.

Wrathpaw had stopped her once from teaching these mange-pelts a lesson... and just like she's suspected, she wouldn't be restrained again. Her nose wrinkles for a moment, displeased that she has to play mentor to an apprentice older than her. "You should know better," she says, voice lilting towards sympathy as she stalks closer. "It's okay though... We learn from mistakes."

Mottledpaw lifts one of her paws to gently press against Wolfpaw's mouth, a silent bid for quiet, before her empathetic stare hardens with an angered frown and claws try to cut down their lips and chin. It was a generosity not to try to fish their tongue out of their mouth entirely... but still, this way they wouldn't forget what a loud mouth gets as its reward.​

 

[Rowanthorn]

He sees it before he hears it. Wolfpaw, his apprentice, messing with Skyclaw. Did the youngster have a death wish? Even though the self-proclaimed leader deserved much more than mud thrown at him, Rowanthorn feared what might happen to them if he didn't intervene. The chimera calls for his own apprentice, Mottledpaw, and the chocolate tabby is on his paws strutting towards them with haste.

Mottledpaw's paw is over Wolfpaw's, and he sees a glint of claws. "Get away from them." He growls, trying to get between her and Wolfpaw. A warning as he glares down at the she-cat. "Clanmates don't hurt clanmates," Rowanthorn snarls, then raises his gaze to look at Skyclaw. "At least, they're not supposed to." His claws are already unsheathed, just in case — he could never be too safe nowadays.

"Wolfpaw," He mutters, the hostility gone from his tone as he addresses the young apprentice. "Apologize to Skyclaw." He hated having to say it, because Skyclaw did not deserve an apology, but he should difuse the situation as quickly as possible before something worse happened. The warrior's eyes, however, shone with sympathy for his trainee.

RED SUN ABOVE PARADISE ☾ 🐅 ☽ TO THE SHADOWS, OUT OF SIGHT

• // #FF7661
  

• A muscular and chubby scarred chocolate tabby tom with striking copper eyes.

• ROWANTHORN — 36 moons, warrior of ThunderClan. Ages every 31st.
  

​

 

[BASILPAW!]

( 𖤓 ) the broken cry of his sibling sends basilpaw running to their side in a moment. a confrontation with skyclaw is the very last thing wolfpaw needs this early into their training, and from the tyrant's reaction, basilpaw's sibling is not going to get off easy. "wolfpaw!" the cream point whispers loudly as his littermate confronts the patched tomcat. skyclaw's words are edged with danger, a sick sense of satisfaction sliding from his tone. the green-eyed boy creeps up behind his sibling and presses into him as if to shield.

mottledpaw is called forth, eyes chips of ice, a sneer on her face. basilpaw curls his lip, showing snarling pearly whites as the other apprentice smirks at his kin, reaching forth a paw gently before slashing down wolfpaw's muzzle. the boy spits and grits his teeth, green gaze finding skyclaw again. the tomcat is just watching! the man's an idiot, a fool, a monster destined for forests darker than the stars can ever imagine. the cream boy seethes, bottle-brush tail pinecone-ing out as he steps in front of his sibling. he meets mottledpaw's smug gaze and dares her to take another strike. his claws slide out, his ears pin to the back of his head, and he braces himself.

the possible fight is intercepted by wolfpaw's mentor, to their brother's begrudging relief. the man scruffs mottledpaw, causing a smirk to twitch at the corners of basilpaw's lips. act like a kit, get treated like one, he thinks smugly, although worry twinges at the edges of his chest at the reaction their tyrant king might now have. rowanthorn addresses his apprentice and basilpaw presses into wolfpaw's side once again. apologize to skyclaw, the older tom says. as if wolfpaw has anything to apologize for. basilpaw wants his dad here, he wants swiftdawn, he wants flamewhisker to whisk them away and save the day. he wants howlingstar back.

IF YOU LET IT ALONE 𖤓 IT WILL SURELY GROW

• // superficial wounds are welcomed if it makes sense! "#FAC966"
• 
  
  
• 
  BASILPAW 𖤓 HE / THEY, APPRENTICE OF THUNDERCLAN. MENTORED BY CAMPIONSONG. SIBLING TO MERLINPAW, WOLFPAW. 6 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a cream ticked tabby with high white, and green eyes. a tall boy sporting a chaotically ruffled coat of pale cream tabby. darker ticked stripes flow down his fur, and band around his legs and face. his chest, stomach, muzzle, and most of his tail are white, and he has ferny-green eyes that sparkle with mischief.
  

​

 

[WOLFPAW]

There was no anger more revealing than a silent one. As they stood there, heartbeat smashing their ears with a rapid du-dum, Wolfpaw anticipated a reaction, instead, the fire that burned within Skyclaw was more like ice, freezing them in place as regret began to gnaw at their heart. They'd wanted to understand, maybe the chimera would've helped them understand. Instead, a different lesson is offered, one of blood and pain. He called for an apprentice, Mottledpaw, someone they'd grown up alongside, became an apprentice with, and felt the betrayal grow more personal than ever before. Orange eyes grew wide, looking between Skyclaw and Mottledpaw, searching for any semblance that this may have been a joke, but the tortie spoke faster than they could.

'Mistake?' They regretted it, but it did not feel like a mistake, it felt inevitable. Bad cats deserved to die. Skyclaw deserved to die, and without the power to make such a thing possible, all they could do was grow angry, throw mud as if they were claws and yell insults as if they were teeth. Staring down someone they may have considered a friend, the six-moon-old lacked any weapon, instead, they took a step back. White claws seemed to almost glint against the light of dawn's sun, but before they could strike down, their view was blocked by a mahagony tiger. Wolfpaw fell back, catching against another, watching that figure get in front of them as well. Rowanthorn... Basilpaw. For what felt like minutes, they were stunned into silence, comprehension of what had just happened (what could have just happened) blank in their head.

The shapes moved in front of them, Basilpaw to their side and Rowanthorn to face them, and slowly, copper eyes blinked back to planet earth. Incredulously, their mouth parted open at their mentor's request, silent protest daring to spill from their tongue, defiance of the one who had killed someone the clan had loved. But the look in Rowanthorn's eye did not leave any room for the word 'no'. Their gaze fell to their paws, coated in the same material they had so readily thrown at Skyclaw moments prior. Beneath the muck, claws unsheathed. "I'm... I'm sorry," they mumbled, their throat dry. "I didn't mean to throw mud... at your face..." Subconsciously, they pressed further into Basilpaw.


​

 

[vixencrown]

Ears perked as a scream filled the air. Her eyes glinted with anger, claws ready for another battle- perhaps a fight breaking out, but not yet did it as instead the other apprentice threw mud towards Skyclaw. It was justified. Especially in her head. He deserves the mud in his face, and even more so as her eyes narrowed, watching.

The fox heart dared to call his apprentice, allowing her to punish him. Punish him for emotions that were yet again, justified. He needed more, however, than just mud in his face. And as she was about to say something more, too far as of now to intercede, she watched unmoving, as Mottled paw followed suit, only to be blocked off by someone much closer.

He did not get hurt, but rage filled inside the older apprentice just the same. Blue eyes flicked back to wolfpaw, stuttering out and apology, and she could only roll her eyes. "I don't know. I think the mud looked quite good on you, Skyclaw." She said simply. It hides your ugly face. She did not dare say that aloud, but a paw slid over her face as she snickered.

She was much older than mottledpaw. And she was not scared of Skyclaw, or what his actions may be. Would he strike her down in front of the whole clan? Her eyes remained unmoving from his own, blue slowly blinking as if daring him to take an action. Before finally she shrugged. "That was a joke, so take it as you wish." Her chin raised a bit, her features still, and blue eyes looking down upon the coward of a leader. ​

 

[MERLINPAW]

Merlinpaw felt the environment tangibly shift after that dire hour, like a tempest veering straight into the heart of Thunderclan, ripping away the floorboards and abrading the structure astray. She could hardly understand the true motives behind it, for the gears turned and turned beyond what she could see from the nursery. And yet, she understood the sheer wrongness of it all, a breakage in the universe and a spilling of the great evil within its abysmal gut. The monster of golden eyes bled into the veins of Thunderclan's core, gaze like cataclysm fending that of a hero's will, for there was little any cat could do in the face of a great and violent storm. She had not looked at the scarlet that stained the floor, how the earth ate up the sorrows, but that did not stop the trepidation that laced her very being. Every step felt as though she would surely sink into the ground, and perhaps that was a much better outcome than enduring a despot's rule. The blue tortoiseshell molly felt utterly powerless at the face of roiling tides, like a rampant rapid lurching ever-closer to her, threatening to overtake her and drown her in its wilderness. There had been the anger of her situation, but it boiled within her as a steeped sort of resentment, determined never to venture past the fear that clutched at her vocal cords.

Despite it all, Merlinpaw still held onto the ideals of her forefathers and her kin, brilliance unfaltering at the expedient termagant that dared to seize at it. She held it as a light that leached into the palms of her paws, a warmth at the front of absolute cold. It was a summer-fraught promise to the winter, a gentle sun to shine upon the unforgiving rime. The young apprentice had not grown into her physical capabilities just yet, and still she attempted to blockade her siblings with her arched body, like red-hot passion dragooned through her like her own blood. How dare Mottledpaw even think of hurting her peers, how dare she listen to guidance so cruel! There was little actual animosity present upon Merlinpaw's countenance, only the dread that welled up upon her pelt, an innate part of her that she could never hide for long. "Don't - Don't punish them, p-please... If they have - have to, uhm, make it up... Let me do it, in - instead..." Her voice came out of her throat as nothing more than a mere wind, as if the furor of her soul had flitted past her mouth, and left her with little air to actually speak with.

( Open to superficial injuries! )​