pafp Strange shadow ❄ Following Sharpshadow

[Snowlark.]

Please wait for @SHARPSHADOW

[ ༻❄༺ ] There had to be a reason why Sharpshadow was a lead warrior, what Betonyfrost said had to be wrong. After all, didn't they also respect Forestshade? Same with Lilacfur? What about Frostbite who had become a permanent resident in the nursery? Surely they all worked hard and earned the respect of their leader. Yellow eyes trained on the tom, watching him closely before deciding to follow Sharpshadow, keeping at an distant pace just to not be spotted by the other, his pale fur blending poorly in the shadow of the camp, yet he made up for it with the silence of his pawsteps.

He wanted to prove Betonyfrost wrong, and just blame it on the fact that the other was mad... mad that Chilledstar didn't acknowledge her but acknowledge others and that was why she said what she had about the young lead warrior. Of course all Snowpaw can find out is that the other seemed...awkward, yet who wasn't within Shadowclan's walls? With a soft huff they approached the other, deciding to shift himself in sight of the black tom with a calm look in his yellow eyes. "Why did Chilledstar make you a lead warrior?" Snowpaw's words were genuine, not filled with venom or bitterness, just curiousity for why the other was entrusted into the council alongside his fellow peers.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ He/Him, apprentice of Shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Contrary to popular belief, he had eyes. He had ears. He had a brain and stuff, too. One of the few benefits of behind the way he was— a schema of a ShadowClanner, the stereotype he's sure WindClan queens tell their kits is gonna eat them if they don't go to bed on time or whatever— is that he can be unnoticed when he wants to be. Snowpaw is without this perk. Snowpaw's name is apt, and pretty unfortunately so.

So, yeah, he does kinda notice that this guy is following him around. Maybe a proper Lead Warrior would puff out their chest and ask what's wrong, but that's hardly her. Instead, she hopes that if she ignores him hard enough, he'll go away. He doesn't though. He does the exact opposite even. Oh StarClan.

What the fuck kind of question is that?

( A valid one, an understandable one. One that was not much different than the ones he's been posing for the past few sunrises like, where are all these cats coming from and why have we let them in? And a proper Lead Warrior would have an answer. They would be certain of their skills and reassure their clanmate with ease. Snowpaw probably didn't even think it was a weird question, because if he is what Chilledstar says he is, he has a really good answer ready for him right... about... now... )

He could laugh. Or cry. Or both. Both would be gross looking. Both would be the opposite of reassuring. Is the comprimise between these two things to give the absolute blankest look in your entire life? Regardless of the answer, that sure is what he is doing right now.

The answer he does end up giving is possibly, miraculously, even worse than it would've been if he had just burst into tears and run into the forest. It comes packaged with a shrug, too. " Dunno. "​

 

[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Briarthorn never gave much thought to the ranks, they were just… there, divided up into neat, fitting categories that made the clan functional, with a leader to guide varying mindsets into one unified voice, their chosen successor to prevent a blood brawl whenever the time came for them to join Starclan. By happenstance, the ebony warrior is lurking nearby when Snowpaw approaches Sharpshadow, his question putting both their presences fully on her radar. The she-cat doesn’t move from her place in the shadows at first, instead hazel hues flicker sharply between the duo, watching the interaction with her own contemplative frown.
Lead warriors weren’t essential, Briarthorn doesn’t think, only a shiny title bestowed to the best warriors of a clan- perhaps it was a rank established for morale… role models? Take after their values and get a chance to sit in the leaders council. Briarthorn didn’t look up to any of them, once upon a time a select few may have been idolized in pools of kitten-round evergreen, but she didn’t need anyone to aspire from. She was just fine.
Sharpshadows answer is much simpler than Briarthorn would have thought it to be, but the lead warrior looks as though there may be some loose fuses sparking behind those moon-lit eyes. Finally, she slips from her blend of concealing shadows to make a half circle around the two, eventually deciding to keep her position adjacent to Sharpshadow. "Interesting." Briarthorn hums in Snowpaws direction, though she doesn’t bother to elaborate. Not having anything useful to contribute to the conversation feels strange, snaking her way into the interaction without a plan left her feeling weirdly vulnerable. So, while her slitted pupils and thorn-edged tone drip heavy with something like judgment, she hadn’t given the apprentices boldness enough time to simmer behind hazel hues, to form a significant thought, though she hoped Snowpaws reaction would be more interesting than Sharpshadows.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ AND THE PLACE YOU NEED TO REACH ──┐‎

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  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[SHADEPAW]

Shadepaw was lucky enough to hear Snowpaw's blunt question as they emerged from the apprentices' den, shaking their nap off. It was strange, every time they went in there, seeing an empty, cold nest where Snowypaw could have been. It was worse at night. In the daytime, it was easier to pretend all was normal, and latching onto clanmates' conversations was a helpful distraction. They paused, tufted ears twitching. Snowpaw's question was as blunt as it could get, despite his even tone. Shadepaw hadn't ever thought too deeply about why the Lead Warriors were the Lead Warriors. They were just proud that they trained under Lilacfur, a cat deemed competent enough to tell other warriors what to do. Lilacfur's promotion made sense- she was a good, well-rounded warrior. Forestshade's, too- everyone knew that she was one of the clan's most skilled hunters. Then there was Sharpshadow.

Shadepaw's eyes flicked from Snowpaw to Sharpshadow as he gave his unenthusiastic, underwhelming response. Had Snowpaw's question been an invitation to rattle off the accomplishments that deemed her worthy of her rank? If so, she had completely failed at that, which made sense. Sharpshadow looked uncomfortable in her own fur almost every time Shadepaw saw her.

They tilted their head, considering, and approached after Briarthorn. She had said next to nothing, but Shadepaw was happy to fill in, "Because Chilledstar thought she was an extra-good warrior, duh-uh." She giggled, the sound more strained than usual. They were telling the truth as far as they knew, but Snowpaw knew that fact already. He seemed like he wanted specifics. Their giggling died out as she continued, addressing the aforementioned Lead Warrior herself, "You were, um, ready to help, before anyone else, when- when... the other day. Maybe they made you one 'cause of stuff like that." Shadepaw didn't have it in themself to outright name Snowypaw's disappearance, and she didn't know if Sharpshadow regularly was the first to try to gather everyone when clanmates went missing, but it had made them view him differently. With more appreciation, at least.​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Like his peers, Flintpaw rarely gave much thought to ShadowClan's council, and when he did, it was usually only because certain members of its oh-so-esteemed ranks have affected him in one way or another. He'll think of Smogmaw and feel an acid burn in his stomach; he'll think of Starlingheart or Lilacfur and feel placated by their loving memory; he'll think of Granitepelt and wonder why? with no specific direction. Of course, one of these cats is not like the others. Chilledstar certainly has lapses in judgment when it comes to picking their council. But when Flintpaw hears Snowpaw prod at one of its members, he can't help but feel... offended, second-paw.

She likes Sharpshadow. Sharpshadow has told her quite explicitly that he doesn't hate her. She thinks that is enough of a ground to establish that they are acquaintances, or maybe even friends, though Flintpaw supposes she would understand if the lead warrior rejected that title. When Snowpaw asks his question, she is sitting outside of Starlingheart's den, tall ears swiveling towards the newly-sparked conversation. Well, maybe conversation is generous — it's little more than a handful of words exchanged between clanmates, some speaking more than others. At least, until Shadepaw comes along, espousing Sharpshadow's heroics. Flintpaw blinks, still observing, when he realizes there is a diamond-hard knot in his chest, something sparkling under pressure: Why does Chilledstar do anything?

They die, and they die, and they die; they pick murderers for their council (a murderer he has mixed feelings on, granted); they are so cold but then expect kindness or compassion in return. Maybe they all do. Maybe Flintpaw does, too. He wears a grimace, suddenly, as if his recent meal has suddenly rotted out his stomach, but he is quick to wipe away the expression when he decides to join the conversation. She settles herself adjacent to Briarthorn, vitrified gaze flicking over Sharpshadow before settling on Shadepaw.

"Maybe it was 'cause of the journey," is his only speculation. Sharpshadow had endeavored on quite a lot to get a cure back to ShadowClan — a cure Flintpaw herself had been greedy enough to take twice over. When she fixes her gaze on the ebony lead warrior again, there is something grateful glinting behind the thick, smoggy guilt. He would rather pull each tooth out of his head than elaborate on Sharpshadow's virtues. It's just not something he's built to do. But he does hope that she feels the small, dim spark of gratefulness (albeit belated gratefulness) for the time that she'd spoken to him specifically. I don't hate you. It meant a lot.

𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ✧ 𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

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  — flintkit . flintpaw
  — he / they / she ; apprentice of shadowclan
  — short-haired solid blue tom with low white and blue/green heterochromatic eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by sixbane, signature by dreamydoggo
  — penned by meghan

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[MARBLEPAW]

Marblekit is under Flintpaw’s feet, a mimicry of a pale little shadow. Flintpaw is her kin, doubly more so than Gigglekit, Branchkit, and Morelkit; Flintpaw is Starlingheart’s daughter, and Granitepelt’s, her mama’s brother. Flintpaw shares so much blood with her, and yet, the tom is aloof, isolated from her prying paws. She does her best to keep up with him now as he goes to join the group of apprentices and warriors who form a loose half-circle around Sharpshadow. Snowpaw asks, bluntly, why Chilledstar had named the bristle-pelted she-cat to their council, and Sharpshadow’s response is a quiet, “Dunno.”

She glances toward Shadepaw, who tries to stick up for Sharpshadow in the face of Briarthorn’s curiosity. She remembers a flash of dark fur, the sun glinting on silver eyes as Sharpshadow had lifted himself into the air, claws tugging against the owl’s flesh-and-feathers. She sits near Flintpaw’s forepaws, her ears pricked with interest as her cousin mentions the journey. She knows a little about the journey, though some of the cats who’d gone from ShadowClan are no longer here. Needledrift had gone, she knows, and Smogmaw—it hadn’t crossed her mind that Sharpshadow could have gone, too.

“You’ve seen more than any of us,” she says, slightly in awe. “That must be why. Plus, you’re really brave and cool.” There’s not a drop of anything but earnestness in Marblekit’s voice.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Marblekit, she/they w/ feminine and non-gendered terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 4 moons old, ages realistically on the 1st.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a
  — shadowclan kit, formerly a rogue. siltcloud x lilacfur, gen 3.
  — currently mated to n/a.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  sh fawn tabby with dull green eyes. courageous, curious, introspective, observant, judgmental, snarky.
  
  

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[Snowlark.]

[ ༻❄༺ ] Sharpshadow's answer to Snowpaw's question was lackluster, a simple 'dunno' which brought a frown on the tom's lips. How could the other not know why Chilledstar entrusted him into their council? There had to of been a reason and it simply not just being "Smogmaw's apprentice" like Betonyfrost had planted out, if that had been the case then why hadn't Ashebfall made an lead warrior yet? He was blood of Smogmaw and had been an warrior for well 2 moons now at least.

Others begin putting in their own inquiries, Briarthorn simply saying "interesting" which helped none in finding the answer to his own question. Ear twitching as each threw their own ideas into the mix, Shadepaw saying it was because Sharpshadow was a extra good warrior, but there was many warriors who were just as good and did not have the same title as the other which made Snowpaw shake his head at that.

Flintpaw was next to throw in her own suggestion, being that Sharpshadow had been a part of the the journey and yet, so were many others and they too weren't entrusted with such a rank. Marblekit's inquiry was that Sharpshadow knew more than them but... so did many others who knew more than what Sharpshadow did and he shook his head at that.

"Those can't possibly be it, Sharpshadow probably earned Chilledstar's trust" he stated coolly, bluntly even. He dared not point out the flaws in each of the other's idea since they were good ones but there were still those holes that were visible. "I'm sure thats it" he stated as he awkwardly shuffle his paw while still staring at the lead warrior, as if expecting the answer to just... fly in their paws, or that Sharpshadow would finally provide an real answer to their question.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── You ve wasted your life , but thanks for applying ──┐‎

• 
  "speak""Thoughts"
  
• 
  Snowpaw ❄ He/Him, apprentice of Shadowclan, 9 moons.
  ⭃ Lithe long hair blue lynx sepia with high white, and yellow eyes. Stubby tail, permanent resting bitch face
  ⭃ Hailfreckle x Mudsplash
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted (ask first) / / underline and tag when attacking
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by Ryn ↛ @/Rynnaro on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

He waits for the audience. The chittering of his clanmates that would surely tear him down as it did everyone else— like carrionplace rats pulling on one another's tails, uncaring of who got in their way, so long as they got the first taste of flesh. his tail is prety rat - like, after all. Maybe for that reason he shouldn't be allowed to think about anyone but himself that way.

It's no... cacophany, though. It's quiet, yes— because ShadowClanners could be quiet, even if they often chose not to within the confines of their own camp. Interesting, says Briarthorn, all thorns like the leader she was named after. The same sleekness and the same eyes, too. At least... as much as Sharpshadow could remember. that wasn't a lot, if he's honest. But Briarthorn is close enough to the caricature that lived in his head. The first of ShadowClan's stars. Cynicism she probably breathed like smoke. A hollow gaze drags, defeated to the newly - made warrior. Strained eyes and a painted on face try to say, ...It is interesting, isn't it? I agree with you. I'm like you. Don't hate me for this. It should only get worse, really.

But instead of ridicule are... theories. Shadepaw comes chirping along. Chilledstar thought she was an extra good warrior, well... what difference did that make? Apparently, they thought Ferndance and Granitepelt were too, at some point. You were, um, ready to help, before anyone else. She looks like a frog that was killed mid - croak, passing eyes over those present with a gaping - fish mouth. Cats younger than him, but that he was like practically yesterday. He just needs to care, even if he doesn't really. Someone needs to care.

Maybe it was 'cause of the journey, says Flintpaw. Swamp - damned Flintpaw, where the rest of his family is gone or mauled. Sharpshadow recalls sitting beside his former mentor on the cliffside. Him telling her — she's done good, someway, somehow... or something like that. It had boiled down to that anyways, and it meant everything to her. " ...Maybe. " he mumbles.

...And then there's Marblekit. Marblekit who shouldn't really be here, but thats not fair of him to think - so he really tries not to think it. It's really not fair of her to sound so sure. It's really not fair to him to be called brave and cool by her. She doesn't even know what those words mean, probably.

Those can't possibly be it. It stings. But, it couldn't... Sharpshadow probably earned Chilledstar's trust.

Chilledstar keeps saying things. Saying things about how they meant it. About how they know what they know. Sharpshadow doesn't have any reason to think they know anything. Not really. But like an idiot, she feels like it means something to be told that. How is she supposed to deal with this?

" I... " And they're just theorizing. Theorizing because they're bored. Because every question has an answer, and every cat has the right to take a guess at what that is. They don't know him. They're all young — They don't know anything. So none of what they say matters, like, at all. None of it matters or means anything. Once they were a little older, they'd realize it's a mistake that he's here.

" Yeah... " he swallows bile the taste of frog legs and false hope. " I - I guess I did, somehow... " And somehow, these cats were looking at him like the answer to Snowpaw's question was anything meaningful.

He guesses... he'll keep doing what he's doing. " Thanks. "​

 

[smogstar]

Sharpshadow's apprenticeship came and went as a prolonged, extensively frustrating ordeal. It'd taken three times as long to coach her into a single move as it'd normally require any other cat his age, and, in consequence, each training session with her drained the deputy's patience right down to its dregs. He was an anxiety-driven creature then, and it still seems to be the case; self-sabotaging and prone to panic when expected to learn, recall, or accept information on the fly.

That she emerged from her fixation on self-failure as an asset for her clan feels like a small miracle. Nowadays, his willingness to safeguard those who reside within it appears to come more readily than his base reflexes to fret. Such is how Smogmaw prefers to perceive it - that he'd trained the furball well, in total spite of her high-strung nature.

Smogmaw studies the steadily-growing fan club from a safe distance. At the head is Snowpaw, a young cat who's predisposed to holding authority figures in high estee. His initial question for the lead warrior isn't unalike to the one that the deputy'd been faced with—though Sharpshadow's lacklustre reply contrasts heavily with the amount of interest vested in him. 'Dunno'. Lame, and, frankly, a lousy assessment on her end.

More apprentices enter the fold and bathe the feline in their worshipful adoration and half-assed wonder, eager to soak up scraps from a history she's been reclusive about. At no point does Sharpshadow stop to bask in it. She sits there, intimidated and defenceless, with every ear-flick and raised hackle betraying her uncertainty. Stars, kid, help yourself out there. Doesn't look like he will, and the fact sours him a tad.

He doesn't aspire to defend her outright, but he also won't stand by and allow such an apathetic display. His tail flicks, and he plods towards the micro-gathering, muzzle pinched all up in a pout. "Sharpshadow finds it difficult to admit her contributions to the clan," says Smogmaw, tone nearly scolding. Eyes pivot solely to the subject of the conversation next, and his expression dwindles in intensity. "Training you was no walk through the swamp. Made me wanna pull out my whiskers more times than I care to admit." He cracks a smile, revealing, albeit only briefly, a glimpse into an oddly kind face. "But you're a good lead warrior. Start acknowledging your finer qualities." He won't always be here to do it for her, and cats like Marblekit and Shadepaw will learn to grow tired of doing the same.​