development SICK OF BEING POISED — o, gossip confrontation

[ROWANPAW]

〔✦〕It is not often that Rowanpaw is the subject of rumors... at least from what they know. They do their best to avoid the clutches of drama and any troubles associated with it; none of it truly means anything and it only distracts from their training, which is what matters the most to them. Any insults toward them, if any, are brushed off nonchalantly. Again, none of it matters; apprentices are cruel creatures who seek to drag their peers down in the name of staying on top of the social heap themselves. Rowanpaw was determined not to fall victim to the petty melodrama.

Today, however, seemed to be different. Maybe it was the direction of the wind that happened to carry the whispers in their direction, or maybe the whispers weren't as hushed as they should have been, because this time Rowanpaw found that they were the topic of today's gossip circle:

"Did you know that their dad used to be Sootstar's deputy?"

"Yeah, then he betrayed her. He went and betrayed Sunstar, too."

They are busy sorting the fresh-kill pile ( you know, doing something productive ) but the words filter in and out of earshot. Slowly the chimera comes to a stop, bi-colored eyes narrowing and staring ahead as they prick their ears keenly.

"Do you think WindClan can, y'know, trust them? They have traitor blood..."

"I don't know for sure, but I heard that their real mother betrayed WindClan too."

Their mother? What do they know about their real mother? Teetering on the edge of losing her temper, Rowanpaw shuts her eyes momentarily and takes a deep breath before getting to her paws and turning around. They stalk in the direction of the group of apprentices, a thin frown etched across her split maw. "If you have something to say to me, then say it to my face." Her tone is not engulfed in raging flames, fire-breathing and draconic. Instead it is steely, icy, cold, and peculiarly leveled — it serves as a swift challenge, a simple request to confront her face-to-face or cease their gossiping. Why would they want to gossip about Snakehiss, anyhow? He was gone.

let me walk to the top ( of the big night sky ) //

• ooc. @ferretpaw but no need to wait! also feel free to be one of the gossiping apprentices
  
• ROWANPAW —— tunneler apprentice of windclan , mentored by swiftshade ✦ penned by beatles
  ✦ afab demigirl / they/she pronouns / 8 moons & ages every 17th
  ✦ single / graysexual & monogamous
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— easy combat difficulty / may start fights, won't kill
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
  ✦ biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  
• 
  
  

  a shorthaired black/tortoiseshell chimera with heterochromia. a lithe, slightly muscular cat with a smaller-than-average build. a direct line splits their face, as if mirroring an inner battle of identity and belonging. a serious expression usually graces their face, and their amber and blue gaze is always sharpened.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonsprig, oddly enough, could relate to that of Rowanpaw's frustrations. However never has she yet confronted the cats that doubted her allegiance to WindClan and abandonment of her mother. Some cats, to this day, still wonder if she and her siblings will defect at random... And some days, Cottonsprig considers the idea, if only to give the rumor mill a real reason to spin.

In any case, the she-cat is simply passing by, a bundle of herbs in her maw when she hears a few names swap between giggling apprentices. Snakehiss and Sootstar both make the fur on her shoulders ruffle, but it seems that their context instantly upsets the chimera apprentice that confronts them. Or, maybe, they had finally had enough. After all, who knows how long this petty discussion had been going on in ear shot of Rowanpaw?

"Hey, hey -" she drops her herbs and trots close to the gaggle of apprentices, eyes widening slightly. Could she really mediate petty drama like this? She has her doubts, even as she tries. "None of that. We can't have kitten-fights right now, not with the moors haven't even sprouted its own crabgrass yet." Metaphorically. They've all noticed that the greenery is quickly returning, of course, but the semantics do not matter in the moment.​

 

[dimmingsun]

Rowanpaw is faster at confronting the gossiping bunch, and Cottonsprig is faster at cutting in to put an end to the quarrel before it can even begin. Dimmingsun saunters, hovers, eventually approaches — it is not slowness born out of indecisiveness, but rather curiosity.

Legacy is a blood-stained word in this Clan, Dimmingsun knows. Too often has it overshadowed those who come after the fact and led them astray... even more often has it led to tension bubbling under the surface, an ominous promise of it all exploding sooner or later. When he thinks of the likes of Sootstar and Snakehiss, Dimmingsun can only be glad for the lack of important heritage he possesses; he is not under the influence of a bloodline. He can rely on no one else to make a name for himself.

When it comes to cats like Rowanpaw, Dimmingsun considers himself lucky to be free like that.

"No kitten-fights, not with claws," Dimmingsun specifies with a glint in his eye. He stands beside Cottonsprig not as a direct opposition, but rather a suggestion of sorts; she is right that WindClan does not need infighting in times like these, but apprentice gossip can quickly spiral out of control if it is not nipped in the bud. "Let them talk it out first and see where it leads."

Should things go awry, he is ready to jump in and separate the apprentices... but before that, he wants to see how the likes of Ferretpaw will respond to the thinly-veiled anger on Rowanpaw's face, see if the rumors fly just as easy when the topic's main character is present.
​

 

[WEBWING]

〔✦〕Ah, gossip. A damn good pastime for the days where the rabbits don't run and the sun don't shine. But, as a double-edged sword, it comes with plenty of ruffled feathers; cats with skin thinner than spider's silk getting their tails in a twist over some tidbits, ruining the fun of it all with their scoldings. Such as the uptight Rowanpaw, who stalks over to a gaggle of tittering apprentices with a frown that says, I'm about to rain on your parade.

But, shoot, maybe this parade is the rare one that deserves a little raining on. He ain't got a clue what it's like, being born into a family with such powerful influence, sure. The struggles of those who have are lost on him. He does, however, have a lick of common sense. (Despite what Comfrey used to say about him.) Even as a talebearer himself, Webwing ain't one to think that influential blood running through a cat's veins makes 'em any more good or evil than the rest of 'em.

This crosses the line from the somewhat harmless gossip he enjoys into the makings of defamation.

And if Cottonsprig hadn't butted in, he would've been more than happy to have let Rowanpaw give 'em hell while he sat back and watched. Everyone's gotta learn to stand up for themselves, eventually. This would've been the perfect lesson. (It might've made for decent entertainment, too.)

"I say let 'em sort it out," Webwing throws in his two cents alongside Dimmingsun's as he strides over, for once in agreement with someone in authority. His eyes sweep over the cats gathered before finally landing on Rowanpaw. The typical smile that he wears is dropped, lending him a sudden seriousness. "Ain't no good t' be easy meat, y'know. And if they throw the first punch, well... It'll be self-defense, won't it?" A wink is thrown in Rowanpaw's direction, his lighthearted demeanor returning to him in the end.

nostalgic for the good times ( like our dreams walked out on us ) //

• ooc.
  
• WEBWING —— moor runner of windclan . npc x npc . littermate to mossthorn ✦ penned by nico
  ✦ cis male / masculine terms / 63 moons
  ✦ single / gay / open to romance
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— intermediate opponent; relies on speed and dirty tactics to gain an advantage, but impulsivity leads to him making reckless mistakes.
  
  ✦ “speech”, thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ biography — msg nicolovesdilfs on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• a shorthaired blue tom with high white and hazel eyes. small and wiry, webwing is the picture of a windclan warrior. wisps of dark blue fur are like trails of smoke, wild and windblown. white engulfs his facial features, chest, and the majority of his lower half—except for his tail, which only flaunts a tuft of white at its very end. his hazel eyes are sharp, holding a melancholy that contradicts the smile he often wears.

​