† I don't want to see any smiles tonight.
Sharppaw doesn't think it is a thought worth sharing. A metaphorical gloom hangs over them all – not limited to only ShadowClan, he thinks, as he watches cats from all five clans filter into the clearing. There are low - spoken words between clanmates, a few cats preen at their own pelts. Nervousness – it must be. What did it matter, how neat their fur was when they were dead in a ditch somewhere?
Chilledstar's announcement had been sudden. Way too late, had he realized that this journey would not be a lone suicide mission for ShadowClan and ShadowClan alone. All of the clans needed Lungwort, after all – though he cannot help but look to ThunderClan and SkyClan in skepticism. They had fought over the forest for a reason, hadn't they? And in the end, ShadowClan had been content to stay doomed to a boggy wasteland. Briarstar had been just as much an idiot as the rest of them had been.
At least he has an excuse to get away for a bit, even if he dies on the way. At least if he died this way, he could be someone worth remembering. Could be.
She abruptly veers away from her mentor as SkyClan's deputy comes toward them. This was their fault, wasn't it? Some kittypet disease streaking through their forest. In his hurry to get away, he nearly crashes into several cats, only pausing when he catches a familiar tortoiseshell coat. Was she going? He hopes that she's going.
Or maybe he should hope the opposite. Where were they even going? An indefinite amount of time was too much – too easy for her to know how he really was. The thought makes his pelt prickle uncomfortably.
As if they would have time to even talk with who knows how many cats between them both. What made Sharppaw so special?
He could be someone new.
Sharppaw stares for a little too long, before he's squaring his shoulders and and lifting his chin, not so much that he'd seem to think highly of himself, but enough to know he was judging you, the way that Smogmaw looked at him. Too late, does he notice the kittypet striking up a conversation with her – Sharppaw's eyes abruptly narrow into slits, his face peeling into something between disgust and discomfort.
It was probably a gross face. Sharppaw tries to put it away. He tries to think of what Honeyjaw may say – and momentarily, he is relived that the warrior would be accompanying him – he tries to think of what Smogmaw may say – and he balks, at that.
Look like you don't care. " I'm glad SkyClan is fixing this. " The comment is not as cool as he would like it to be, his eyes are still owlish as they look to the tawny kittypet, though he guesses its better than squinting like an angry kitten. And then – to Iciclefang. " Hi. " Yikes. Say more, please. " I'm going. " Not like she asked. Maybe she'd been wondering? " Um, I'd trust RiverClan a lot more... if you were going. " Is that weird to say? She kind of just says it.
Sharppaw doesn't think it is a thought worth sharing. A metaphorical gloom hangs over them all – not limited to only ShadowClan, he thinks, as he watches cats from all five clans filter into the clearing. There are low - spoken words between clanmates, a few cats preen at their own pelts. Nervousness – it must be. What did it matter, how neat their fur was when they were dead in a ditch somewhere?
Chilledstar's announcement had been sudden. Way too late, had he realized that this journey would not be a lone suicide mission for ShadowClan and ShadowClan alone. All of the clans needed Lungwort, after all – though he cannot help but look to ThunderClan and SkyClan in skepticism. They had fought over the forest for a reason, hadn't they? And in the end, ShadowClan had been content to stay doomed to a boggy wasteland. Briarstar had been just as much an idiot as the rest of them had been.
At least he has an excuse to get away for a bit, even if he dies on the way. At least if he died this way, he could be someone worth remembering. Could be.
She abruptly veers away from her mentor as SkyClan's deputy comes toward them. This was their fault, wasn't it? Some kittypet disease streaking through their forest. In his hurry to get away, he nearly crashes into several cats, only pausing when he catches a familiar tortoiseshell coat. Was she going? He hopes that she's going.
Or maybe he should hope the opposite. Where were they even going? An indefinite amount of time was too much – too easy for her to know how he really was. The thought makes his pelt prickle uncomfortably.
As if they would have time to even talk with who knows how many cats between them both. What made Sharppaw so special?
He could be someone new.
Sharppaw stares for a little too long, before he's squaring his shoulders and and lifting his chin, not so much that he'd seem to think highly of himself, but enough to know he was judging you, the way that Smogmaw looked at him. Too late, does he notice the kittypet striking up a conversation with her – Sharppaw's eyes abruptly narrow into slits, his face peeling into something between disgust and discomfort.
It was probably a gross face. Sharppaw tries to put it away. He tries to think of what Honeyjaw may say – and momentarily, he is relived that the warrior would be accompanying him – he tries to think of what Smogmaw may say – and he balks, at that.
Look like you don't care. " I'm glad SkyClan is fixing this. " The comment is not as cool as he would like it to be, his eyes are still owlish as they look to the tawny kittypet, though he guesses its better than squinting like an angry kitten. And then – to Iciclefang. " Hi. " Yikes. Say more, please. " I'm going. " Not like she asked. Maybe she'd been wondering? " Um, I'd trust RiverClan a lot more... if you were going. " Is that weird to say? She kind of just says it.
- OOC: this ended up so long for no reason tldr leaving Smogmaw to go talk to @CHALK & @iciclefang !
-
SHARPPAW: brother to Rookpaw. Mentored by Smogmaw
—— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
—— currently 14 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
— In an era of assessing what has set him back and figuring out what he wants.