so does everybody else | joiner

[BUTCHERMAW]

✦It didn't hit her over the head so much as place a gentle paw on her shoulder, the realisation that her life was boring. It wasn't bad; she'd had a few rocky months, and these weren't those, so that was a bonus. It was just sort of... dull. She slept and woke up whenever she wanted, meandered around her human's residential space, strolled about the outside of her human's butcher shop, maybe ventured a few streets over for some sight-seeing, and repeated as she pleased. The most exciting part of her day was when her human was throwing unsaleable gore into the drain behind the alley, and the cat got to let everyone know there were scraps of meat (at the very least, congealed blood) for the taking, and she got to watch cats and brave rodents scurry forward for a little iron treat.

That was probably what caused the realisation to sidle up to her, set a paw on her shoulder, and say, hey, you're a glorified dinner bell. Isn't that boring? Which, rude, but true.

Obviously it wasn't her human's fault. They had found a red and white cat and practically made that very grateful cat into a mascot for a butcher shop and called her Butcher. It wasn't the street cats' (and particularly bold rodents') fault - they were just hungry and she offered an invaluable service. It might've been the service's fault. Mostly, though, it was her fault, because she liked her comfortable life. Her comfortable, understimulating, boring life.

So Butcher switched it up a little: she walked a few streets over, then a few more, then scuttled over a fence, and found herself in more greenery than she'd ever seen before, and her human carried plants into her room whenever they were sad, which was often. This place, though, this place had a complete smell of freshly disturbed earth and an assault of different plants and the cloying scent of so many cats. It rivaled the smell that the early morning gore dump managed to collect by midday, if you swapped out the involved bodily fluids appropriately. The angular cat hesitated ways back from overwhelming stench, inhaling and regretting it immediately, unfortunately too morbidly intrigued to stop.​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Decidin’ on takin’ Crochet to view the borders, Duskpool paused, molten hues narrowin’ with a low, guttural rumble in warnin’, calloused paw pads movin’ forward to stare at the newcomer with mixed uncertainty. “Stay here.” He grunted to the shadowed apprentice ( whether the molly listened was up to chance ), mangled ears swivelin’ to face Butcher, nearin’ the molly with a low sweep of his eyes, contemplating. Muscles rippled beneath obsidian fur, chest risin’, and fallin’ at steady intervals to dip his helm in greetin’.

“What are ya doin’ out here kiddo? Yer real close to SkyClan’s border.” He commented, timbre a low drawl, watchin’ the molly with narrowed molten hues, scarred features blank. “Ya got business here or curiosity gotten the best of ya?” He prodded further, wooly plumage sweepin’ in a semi-arc, mangled ear flickerin’, ready to herd the loner toward the upwalker nest before she crossed the border entirely and causin’ an uproar.

@Crochet​

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thought speech​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

Candorpaw was with him, another attempt made to parse the often-muddled scents that frequented the Twolegplace... though he could not say he had ever encountered a kittypet that smelled like stale freshkill before. Twitchbolt's nose wrinkled up at the unwelcome scent, and he regarded the red-splashed stranger with a look of complete bafflement from where he stood behind Duskpool. His eyes widened, and then narrowed- they twitched in that narrowness, and his kinked tail made a swatting spasm.

Business, curiosity- oh, he'd bet it was the latter when it came to a kittypet, even though this one didn't seem as pampered as some of them that ended up wandering near here. Silently, he signalled Candorpaw to stop- he, too, halted. A wall of bodies formed for now, stopping this wandering kittypet from throwing herself into the hungry jaws of a fox, or- Stars, through their entire territory and onto the less welcoming lands of WindClan. There'd be no helping then, and SkyClan would still probably get the blame for it...​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

As ever, Doeblaze is leading her apprentice through the territory—this time towards the Twolegplace border, which has the fur on her tightly drawn - up shoulders ruffled. It seems like half the time they trek to this border, there's some daft kittypet or another stumbling over it; really, she can hardly blame Slate for his behavior sometimes. They took pains to make it obvious that this place belonged to someone, or rather a whole lot of someones, and half the time joiners - to - be just waltzed right over it anyways. That, and there was the considerably less innocuous issue of the rash of killings and disappearances that had been terrorizing their Clan as of late, most of them around or leading back to this very scent - line and the looming place beyond.

" Always be careful around the Twolegplace border, " the tabby advises her apprentice, figuring she might as well use her heightened awareness of the ever - present threats on this border as a teaching moment. " More often than not, you might see cats hoping to join waiting on it . . . or over it, " she grumbles this last with some exasperation. @cloudypaw~ had already fielded the joining of Lovage and her brood admirably, and though she dislikes the idea of bringing her young charge to this border, it is at least useful in accustoming him to the constant influx of joining cats.

" There's someone now—looks like Twitchbolt and Duskpool are already there, " she mrrows, swishing her brief tail for him to follow. It's nice to see her sister standing alongside Duskpool, at least, along with her son flanking her friend, and she opts to lend her and Cloudypaw to the wall of fur blocking the stranger from venturing any further.

" If you've got business, I'd state it, " she advises hoarsely as she steps up to stand alongside Twitchbolt and Candorpaw, blinking her lone green pit of an eye at the strange cat. The lilac - stained bridge of her nose rumples ever - so - slightly, sensitive nose assaulted by the odd smell rising from the cat—a mixture of Twolegplace's trademark artificiality and an odd, thick scent like day - old fresh - kill. Her forelimbs settle into a firm line, jaw pulled taut; Doeblaze is not necessarily objectioned to joiners, but with all the tragedy that's befallen this border as of late, one can never be too careful.

OOC : —

♥︎

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[BUTCHERMAW]

✦ Snippets of information fell into place in succession: the rank wall of stench before her, the scent of cats coming closer, the memory of some unruly guy spraying all over the next-door-neighbor's yard, all building an image of a bunch of folks marking their territory. It didn't really make much sense in Butcher's life, territory - surely all that mattered to secure your home was your human closing the front door? - but her life didn't have quite so many cats in it. As the scent of fellow felines became more than scent and strangers assembled before her, the final piece of the puzzle was said. Skyclan's border. Which, well - "Skyclan's real?" She stepped back, then corrected herself, "I hear a lot of weird stuff. I assumed Skyclan was just... part of that."

Didn't Skyclan being real explain these strangers, though? Cats that lived in the trees and the undergrowth and the overgrowth beyond the fence, their pelts patched with scars, eyes as sharp as their claws. They carried the scent of the forest and this border and themselves, all bundled up under their fur like it was no big deal. And look at them - their dispositions all different, stoic and jittering and stately, but united with some - some unspoken purpose, this goal that ran between them like a current, or something, Butcher didn't know. She couldn't know right now. This whole thing was unknown to her. That was exciting, right? Decidedly not boring?

Didn't Skyclan being real fix her 'my life is boring' problem?

"I want to be more than a glorified dinner bell," Butcher said at the tabby's (re-)prompting, because that was the root of her business. It made sense in her head, and it had brought her from the butcher shop to this border and the fact that Skyclan was real, so it had to be enough. "Can I - get in on this? Be a Skyclanner?"​

 

[TWITCHBOLT]

"Of c-course we're real," Twitchbolt sputtered, bemusement and bafflement both blistering in his eyes. This kittypet was more sheltered than most, then ... or didn't believe stories about forest cats quite so easily. The genuine interest raked through the newcomer's voice did something, at least, to quell Twitchbolt's suspicion ... his gaze flitted a little rounder, though pupils drowned in green stayed slitted, a shard of night.

I want to be more than a glorified dinner bell. Lostness remained aglimmer in his eyes. What in StarClan's name was a dinner bell? Some other- other Twoleg contraption, he was sure of it ... but what was the point of him knowing, really? If... if it was something that could describe a cat, it probably wasn't something that could bring harm to SkyClan. Probably ...

His gaze flickered narrower again. In on this. "We're- we're not just a fun hobby to do in your free time, you know. Clan life is hard, and you'll- you'll have to learn about it before you can truly be called a Skyclanner." Hopefully that was promptly-enough explained ... if this kittypet didn't take it seriously enough, she'd be cast out never to return. A twitch jerked his tail to one side- and something he hadn't asked snagged and pulled on his memory. "And ... knowing your name m-mm-might be nice." ​

penned by pin ✧​

 

[BUTCHERMAW]

✦ The jittery cat in front of her narrowed his eyes and the yellow almost disappeared into the brown of his fur. Butcher felt some of their shared levity - her surprise at Skyclan being real, his astonishment that Skyclan could possibly be a myth - wilt, then shuffle away, like a waiter walking in to see their table bickering. It was a smidge awkward, being chastised, and her ears tucked back with embarrassment for a moment. Wow, she was acting like someone ten moons younger than she actually is, wasn't she? She wanted to say that this wasn't a fun hobby, but, well, what did she know? She hadn't even believed Skyclan was a real thing until a few moments ago. Whatever image she had in her mind needed a reality check, stat.

"Yeah, for sure, I can work on that. I can do that," she said with a nod, eyes casting aside with a healthy amount of contemplation. Even if Skyclan life was hard, it had to be more interesting than anything else she had going on as a mascot slash dinner bell. That had to make any hardship worth it. Her ears perked up, yanking the red and white feline from her thoughts, when the stranger spoke again. This she could answer. "I'm Butcher, like the shop. Y'know, Butchers & Meat - it's all you need."​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He narrowly avoided a snort at Butcher’s comment, instead a visible twitch of his brow made itself known, subtle against the sea of obsidian. Suppose that ain’t the worst thing I’ve heard these days. He thought briefly, molten hues narrowin’ in contemplation. Another joiner, eh? He figured he shouldn’t be surprised after the amount of ‘em that’s come seekin’ somethin’ than their mundane lives while given the run-down of what it meant to be a SkyClanner and carryin’ on about their days.

Some pessimistic side of himself wondered what that’d do durin’ the winter months, barely gettin’ by with prey and no doubt leavin’ questions whether ThunderClan would have the gall to steal again with the argument that they had more to feed.

A guttural rumble escaped a scarred maw, peerin’ down a scared nose at the molly with peculiar hues, brows fallin’ flat. “Doubt the lot of ‘em are gonna be familiar with that kiddo, but not the oddest thing that’s come out of someone’s mouth, I’d reckon.” He voiced, glancin’ at Twitchbolt. “Names Duskpool, but Orangestar will get the final say before lettin’ ya join under the pretense that ya shadow one of these here warriors first.” He grunted, deadpan timbre fallin’ silent and lettin’ Twitchbolt carry on the explanation, wooly plumage sweepin’ languidly across the ground. ​

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thought speech​