sensitive topics RUNNIN’ WITH SCISSORS ✞ altercation

[LILYPAW ✞]

✞ The kit has grown comfortable in WindClan, after nearly two months of living amongst these cats. It has grown used to the daily routines, to the tension despite the clan’s newfound peace. And of course, as it has grown more settled in, Blizzardkit has also grown more talkative, especially around the other kits. Stringing full sentences together is strange, still, their drifting thoughts proving difficult to reign in. The camp of WindClan is open, exposed to the elements and the sky, and when the kit squints against the harsh sunshine, they can make out the shapes of birds flying high above. They had taken the feather of a bird like that as a gift for Slateheart, and they have tucked similar feathers into the moss of their own nest. What must it be like, to fly like the birds do? They wonder whether they could try, if they collected enough feathers.

So caught up in their thoughts, Blizzardkit doesn’t notice the dual-toned kit who stands in their way as they walk into the nursery. They collide harshly with Gravekit, letting out a short noise of surprise. Pale eyes go round in shock, looking down at the other kit. "Oh, sorry—wasn’t looking." They mutter the words out in a soft voice, barely intelligible, but truly apologetic. They would hate to have injured their denmate by accident—the other kit is so small. Blizzardkit isn’t so large themself, but they’re older than Gravekit, so they peer at the other with wide pink eyes. No major injuries, no blood. Good. With a sniff, the pale-furred kit changes the subject swiftly. "I was just thinking about feathers, not paying attention. Do you like birds? Think they’re pretty. Except the big ones are scary, right?" They think that they should stop talking. Gravekit doesn’t look too happy. But what else would cheer her up, except talking about something interesting like feathers? Does Gravekit have a favorite feather, they wonder—should they ask? Or is she too upset about being bumped into?

// @gravekit​

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[gravepaw ★]

༺♰༻ There's a lot of things in WindClan that Gravekit doesn't like. Things like snow, like all the talk of war and how things are better now, like all the big cats that tower over her and make her feel oh-so-small and forgettable. The list could go on; it seems every day the little kit finds something new to hate.

Today, it's Blizzardkit.

She gets on their nerves. This weird kit who just popped into WindClan out of nowhere -- who is she? Why is she here? Why is she so weird? Their pelt prickles with unease every time the snow-cursed kit goes on its half-unintelligable rambles, always talking too much and too quiet. Lethargic and wrong wrong wrong. Everything about Blizzardkit is wrong, and Gravekit can't stand it.

She stumbles back at a collision, and the culprit is all too expected. If bumping into them wasn't the last straw, their inane mumblings certainly are. Why can't they just apologize like they're supposed to? What is all this nonsense about birds? Gravekit doesn't care. Their tail lashes, face contorting unflatteringly into a glare, and Blizzardkit just won't stop talking.

Before she even knows it, Gravekit's tiny paw is shooting out, claws outstretched, across the other's forehead. "SHUT UP!" punctuates the swat, the kit's lips drawing back in a snarl. "Will - will you just --" The words cut short as Gravekit blinks, processing. There's blood. Red and running, like the fights that marked the youngest moons of her youth. It just keeps going, all down Blizzardkit's face. "Um. I -- ah..." She watches, transfixed, rage suddenly dimmed by fear. She backs up, shaking just a little. That's... too much blood, right? That's definitely too much blood.

‎‎┌── MUSCLE TO MUSCLE AND TOE TO TOE ⋅❆⋅ THE FEAR HAS GRIPPED ME BUT HERE I GO ──┐‎

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  "SPEECH"
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• 
  GRAVEKIT ♰ they / she, kit of windclan, three moons.
  ⭃ a tiny chimera of black and white fur with bulging pink eyes.
  ⭃ bratty and bitter beneath a sickly-sweet demeanor.
  ⭃ cygnetstare x gooseberry, littermate to shriek-kit, heronkit, & milkweedkit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[slateheart]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Falling back into routine felt like a StarClan-sent gift to Slateheart. With a plethora of new little mouths to feed, though, he found himself busier than ever before within his hunting outings. Thankfully, Newleaf has arrived, and plentiful prey is right around the corner.

He had arrived in camp just in time to hear the bustling of his Clanmates, the many different conversations one could have. It became easy to tune out the various high-pitched voices of the kittens as they played around and chattered, and often times he tuned it out into the background, suspecting that their antics would be like any other day. Naturally, he was drawn to pay more attention to Blizzardkit when their voice rang into the air, drawing on about.. birds, and feathers, and whatnot. A small chuckle left the tom's mouth as he prepared to move on with his day, content knowing the white-furred kit was making friends.

As he stepped towards the edge of camp to groom himself, he was quickly stopped in his tracks by a loud shout. Shut up! came a small but harsh voice, one of the kits. With a heavy sigh, Slateheart spun on his heels and prepared to diffuse a silly little fight between the kids. "What in StarClan's name are you fussing about?" the tom demanded as he approached. His voice trailed short as he realized what was really happening here.

A trail of blood was flowing down Blizzardkit's face, contrasting his pristine white fur. Slateheart's pulse quickened as he moved forward, crouching down to examine them. It was a cut across the forehead, no doubt a strike from the other kitten's claws - though with both kits being around the same size, he wouldn't dare underestimate the cut's depth. "Oh, dear. Oh dear," he mumbled under his breath. "Let's.. let's get you to Wolfsong, quickly. Come now," Slateheart meowed, fighting to keep the shake from his voice. With a swish of his tail, he'd draw it close to Blizzardkit in attempt to steer him towards the medicine den, sparing Gravekit only a startled glance.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I SEND HIM A SMILE ⋅❁⋅ HE TELLS ME LOOK DOWN ──┐‎

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• SLATEHEART ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 19 moons.
  ⭃ a short-furred black tom with low white markings and green eyes.
  ⭃ son of LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE // brother to GRAVELSNAP, ASHPAW
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[sunlitpaw]

Oh, stars, these kittens were a lot to handle. Sunlitpaw was glad they didn't have to interact with them much - what was there even to say to someone so little? It was hard looking at the cottonballs rolling around camp and imagining themself and their littermates at the same size, the same proportions. Like, goodness, that one had... real big eyes. Did Sunlitpaw have eyes like that as a kit? They certainly didn't have nearly the same degree of temper as the freshest blood in the nursery. Sunlitpaw intended on keeping entirely to themselves; they had little interest in humoring a kit in conversation, they had no grand stories to share nor anything interesting about themselves worth bringing up. They couldn't satiate a kitten's ravenous mind, they knew so. But staying out of it entirely was an option removed from her paws when Gravekit's shrill voice raised up, insisting Blizzardkit shut up. Temper and language that Sunlitpaw didn't dare have as a kit themselves. They turn their head over their shoulder to glance the commotion, to see blood beading across Blizzardkit's forehead. It begins to run down their fur, speckle the snow lightly; Sunlitpaw's hackles bristle at the sight.

"Gravekit," Sunlitpaw calls with a greater authority than she could've ever expected out of herself. The sight of a kit hurt, bleeding, no matter who's claws had caused it made the apprentice find the semblance of a spine. They didn't like kits - but they could see themselves in Blizzardkit, keeping to themself and softspoken. Trying to make a friend, trying to right their wrong, even if it was as small as bumping into the tiny molly. Sunlitpaw could see her peers in Blizzardkit, in blood staining the fur of a cat far too young to ever be forced to face cuts and scratches and claws. Slateheart is pulling Blizzardkit to Sunlitpaw's ðir, and the apprentice pads over to the remaining kit. "That..." Their courage hasn't fizzled just yet, but words fail them in this moment. Were they supposed to call Sunstar? No, no, she could count on her father to settle her disputes as a kit because he was her father. He was Leader now, much higher above the squabbles of kits, surely. So then... Cygnetstare? Their mother, surely?

Sunlitpaw shifts their weight on each paw, lifting their gaze to Blizzardkit before dropping back down to the patchy kitten. "Claws are sharp, and you shouldn't use them on a Clanmate." Sunlitpaw swallows. That ideology doesn't translate once Gravekit will hit apprenticeship, depending on who she's stuck with as a mentor. They push the thought to the back of their mind. Sunlitpaw raises their own paw, flexing their claws out of their sheathes before retracting them away. "They hurt, and it's not nice. But you can put them away, it takes practice. You won't make friends hurting them, and - and you won't..." You won't get your way throwing a tantrum, they want to say, but they opt to let those words die on their tongue before facing the potential wrath of a mother upset at an apprentice greatly overstepping their boundaries with Gravekit. "Well... you owe Blizzardkit an apology. You hurt them, and it's not okay to hurt a Clanmate."
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𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, ———— 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙩𝙚.

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  sunlitpaw

  
  

  — they / she, moor-runner apprentice of windclan. mentored by foxglare
  — a large yet timid chocolate tabby-tortoiseshell with spring green eyes
  — sunstar x wolfsong, sibling to rivepaw, bearpaw, singedpaw, & featherpaw
  — full length tags
  — penned by izanami, contact on discord @nullmoons for plots or threads :)

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[Grasspaw]

𓆝 . ° ✦ Gravekit had always been one that Grasskit had been wary of. Not in a mean way, just in an uneasy way. She was so... intense. And her sending a full-clawed smack to Blizzardkit for merely, he's not even sure what happened but it did nothing but confirm his suspicions. The contrast of the blood on Blizzardkit's fur was jarring. He shuffled backward to lean into one of his siblings and watched with a guarded expression.

✧　°　.　✶　.　°　✧​

ooc Information

• ooc: —
• 

  NAME — HE/HIM ･ 2 MOONS ･ KIT & WINDCLAN ･ PENNED BY TWITCHTAIL

  Small fawn tabby with pale green eyes.
  "speak" thoughts action
  — peaceful, healing, and minor injury powerplay allowed

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[LILYPAW ✞]

✞ As she stares at Gravekit, Blizzardkit waits hopefully for the other kit to engage in conversation—but instead of responding to her questions, Gravekit lifts a paw and hits her, yelling at her to shut up. The albino kit squeaks in shock, big ears flattening against her head as she feels a spark of pain light above her right eye. "Ow!" The sudden warmth that seeps across her eyebrow and threatens to run into her eye startles her, and squeezes her eye shut to block it out.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, as Blizzardkit sees it—the commotion does not go unnoticed, because Slateheart makes his way over soon after. The older tom appears concerned, and begins to guide them toward the medicine den. "Wait, wait!" They duck underneath Slateheart’s tail, rushing over to where Sunlitpaw stands before Gravekit. The black-and-white kit shakes slightly, and Blizzardkit wonders why they are afraid. Maybe they feel bad for hitting her? Well, she doesn’t think they should feel that bad. Accidents happen, right? The albino flicks her tail, attempting to console the other pink-eyed kit. "It’s okay, I promise. Just… blood." Of course, just blood is an understatement, considering the crimson trail that spills from the kit’s brow down and across its right eye. Still, Blizzardkit swipes one of its paws up and through the blood, attempting to wipe it away before declaring once again, "I’m okay." She doesn’t need to go to see Wolfsong right now. She needs to make sure everyone knows she’s okay, even though she can’t really see very well now. And her head kinda feels weird, but that’s normal since she got hit.​

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[THUNDERSONG]

"'Okay' is a word used for little spats, rolling around in mud." Thundersong rumbled to the white kitten, her fur still fluffed out in alarm. Seeing such a small child lash out at another, the bear-woman can't help but think of Sootstar and her violent practices, how they permeated the very earth they walked on and air they breathed. She had thought that death would rid WindClan of the tyrant's haze but lo... Sootstar always stood to surprise.

"You see Wolfsong first, then you can be okay. You can either walk yourself or one of us will carry you, but I will not hear arguing." Thundersong continued to Blizzardkit, her face set into a stony frown. "As for you, she set her stormy eyes on Gravekit. "Sunlitpaw is right, weapons are only used after we learn how not to be reckless. After we learn to hit with good, just reasons. This -" her tail flicked, gesturing to Blizzardkit's brow. "- is stupid reason, reckless reason. If I see you hitting another one of your den-mates, I will trap you under one paw for entire day, no food until you apologize and mean it." speech is in #825f87​

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[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Fear. It cut through Rattleheart's composure like a knife the moment she padded into camp, the scent of blood that wasn't from the prey in her jaws causing her to recoil. Why do I smell Windclan blood? What had happened? Were they being attacked? Had Granitepelt and his sinking ship of fools finally recovered enough strength to come back and try to launch an attack? Her ever-present worries jumped to the forefront of her mind unimpeded, though they weren't allowed to take root and fester. It was easy enough to see the overall peace of camp when she glanced around, spotting no one except for a group of her clanmates crowded around the nursery. Not an attack, good.

Though suddenly the commotion of the nursery nearby didn't bring her comfort.

Her body was tense as she drove herself forward, slim shoulders allowing her to slip through the crowd of anxious and scolding faces without any fuss beyond a simple excuse me. The scent of blood only grew stronger as she got closer, a fact that made her heart sink lower and lower with each step. Was it better if she had simply forgotten a queen that was set to give birth? She had heard that bleeding during kitting wasn't unheard of, even in the smoothest versions of the process. Unfortunately it isn't some mere after-effect of nature, Blizzardkit's bloodstained face coming into view the moment the lead warrior found her way to the front of the crowd. "Blizzardkit? What... what happened? Little one, oh Starclan. Are you alright?" Rattleheart's words were soft and pained, as agonized as if Blizzardkit was one of her own kittens. Which it was, in a way, even if she had never curled around them as they grew from nothing but milk to solid foods.

The steady voice of Thundersong nearby was a comfort, Rattleheart shooting a grateful look in the elder warrior's direction before she lightly nudged Blizzardkit towards the medicine den with her nose. She was not willing to provide room for argument either, her pale gaze briefly flicking over to Slateheart for backup. "Thundersong is right. Come on, Wolfsong will check you over and make sure you're just fine. And give you some cobwebs to stop the bleeding." Thank Starclan there had been so many down in the neglected tunnels, a useful resource even if she didn't care for the state that things had been left in. She didn't really think anything too important had been hit - Gravekit's slash had thankfully landed on the older kit's forehead, rather than in their eyes. Yet still, nerves tore liberally at her stomach.

She spared only a brief glance back in Gravekit's direction, evidently the source of the blood that now flowed liberally down Blizzardkit's previously unmarred face. There was heat in Rattleheart's gaze, though she only echoed the sentiments of the cats around her. "We use our claws on our enemies if we must, not on the cats around us that we call clanmates. I am sure that Cygnetstare has told you that." Cygnetstare had always been an odd clanmate of hers, but not a disloyal one - far more likely to turn her claws on prey, rather than her own clanmates. So where had Gravekit learned such violence as an answer to her problems?

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

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  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

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