twolegplace STRAWBERRY CAKE ๐“†ฉโ™ก๐“†ช WARNING (& PROMPT)

Roguesโ€” perhaps one group worse than clan cats. For all their nasty habits, Clan cats at least kept to themselves, and aggressively so; snapping their teeth at anyone who came within their borders. At least said borders were static, even if their little allowances were not. Rogues, on the other hand, came and went as they pleased, and expected anyone they find to abide by their law, enforced with claws. They were using up his herbs, is what they were doing. Any twolegplace cat to run into such mongrels would be at the mercy of their upwalkers, rather than himself; and upwalkers could do miraculous things, by the thin skin on their paws. " Any self - respecting cat would likely be fine... " Dawnglare muses.

But self - respect was something that many cats lack, is what he's come to learn. What of the Blaise's of the world that may long to be a wildcat? What if they step into the wrong pairs of claws, adventurous on the wrong day. Too far for twolegs to reach them, without himself as a boon... Dawnglare could no longer afford to live past these artificial walls. perhaps someday, he could again, but for now, his presence here is temporary. " But, hm, just in case... " His roots here would always be so. Hard stone foundation; seed sown in the back of his upwalker's yard. He would never so readily erase his beginnings as other SkyClanners might insist he do. Always, always, he is from here. He wonders if he would recognize anybody. if anybody would recognize him. it's been some time, some time... Stars, how long has it been?

" I wonder if I would have known any of themโ€” the rogues, " he muses, nose scrunched. Whatever in the world would turn a kittypet to such a vile life, he couldn't imagine... No, certainly not, he wouldn't know any one of them. Quickly, he shakes the thought away.

Atop the wall of twoleg - hewn wood, he would perch, patrolmates presumably in tow. His head swings back and forth in an exaggerated gesture, searching for any faces to potentially spread their message too. A white paw raps against wood of a similar hue. "Hell - o! Anyone listening? We have news for you! "
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  • ooc: " The kittypets and loners in the Twolegplace may not know of the dangers; let's go on a patrol to warn them and maybe gather some information! " He's with @FIGFEATHER and @cocoshine at least! Other SkyClanners are welcome to be tagging along <3
  • ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
    ๐“†ฉโ™ก๐“†ช He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
    ๐“†ฉโ™ก๐“†ช Currently 60 moons old as of 1.1.24. Mated to Mallowlark

    Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest.
    Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads
 
Though Ganymede did not make it a habit to linger around upwalker yards, he's been kicking around here for a day or several with unfulfilled, hawkish interest. There has been a stirring in his gut lately, a call to action that he cannot properly decipher (or, perhaps it is not that he can't do it, but that he is afraid to). Instead of enlightened, it makes him restless, milling about the fences and shrubs and staring into windowed slices of a life he only wishes to leave behind. In the upwalker houses, there is certainly some amount of luxury to be afforded: lounging about all day, food paw-delivered, the warmth of concentrated sunbeams. But Ganymede has enjoyed all of those luxuries and still decided that he prefers the more rugged life of a loner. Or, he did prefer it for a while. While he'd still never wish to feel the heavy-handed, naked pat of upwalker paw against his back, he can't help but question if this solitary roving is what he is meant for.

When he sees Dawnglare perched on the sun-bleached fence, Ganymede can't help but approach, seafoam eyes bright with recognition. He'd spotted a glimpse of him before, back when he'd seen him talking with Fang (though he hadn't been able to make out much, being so far away, the red blaze of fur was hard to miss); but seeing him closer, the young tom can't help but wonder if he'd seen him before, too. The memory is so vague, maybe it had been a dream โ€” a cat a few houses down, disappearing into the folds of the forest. Poor thing, his mother had said, he was probably eaten alive. Whether it was true or not, he'd never known. Even now Ganymede has no confidence in the memory; when he approaches Dawnglare, it is as a perfect stranger.

He slinks about the fence, resting a few tail-lengths away from the patrol, flickering his attention around them with some amount of delight. His features are fox-pointed; the upward turn of his crinkled eyes, the sly corners of his evergreen grin; he looks eager to receive this news as vultures are eager to pick apart a carcass. "You're clan cats," he observes with a chirp. "You must have something important to share to deliver it all the way out here."

Briefly, he rakes his focus across the faces of the other SkyClanners. A radiant golden pelt; a tortoiseshell with fur like river pebbles. His own head tilts slightly as he re-fixes his gaze to Dawnglare, who seems to be leading them today. "Do tell."

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Figfeather prefers to keep her journeys to the twolegplace limited. Occasionally she will go to see to her kits or Fantastream but her days of eating kibble and risking her pelt on thunderpaths were for the most part, over. Her place was deep in the heart of the pine forest surrounded by her clan and that is where she will stay, but she makes a rare appearance there today at Dawnglare's side.

With a flimsy leap she manages to get herself atop of the fence where the medicine cat perched. She looks down and watches for Cocoshine to join them, then at the first kittypet- or loner that heard the clan cat's call. Twoleg scent does not cling well to their pelt, even SkyClan daylight warriors wear it stronger after a long day of climbing in the trees. It's this reason alone she quickly deduces that he is a loner, her lip twitches uncomfortably at the unsettling possibility he may know of her father. She would not dare ask... hopefully the black-pelted tom left town and Figfeather would never be faced with the sight of him again.

"Rogues have been giving us trouble, crossing our borders and attacking our patrols." Figfeather informs vaguely, leaving ample room for Dawnglare or Cocoshine to proceed with their own information.
  • ยป Figfeather
    ยป SkyClan Warrior
    ยป She/her . AMAB
    ยป Mentoring Wolfpaw
    ยป Mate to Fantastream
    ยป Sire to Sangriakit & Coffeekit
    ยป A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
    ยป โ€Speechโ€โ€ค thoughts โ€ค attack
  • ยป A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
    ยป Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
    ยป Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
    ยป May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing
 
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NEVER REALLY UNDERSTOOD
THEY WAY YOU LAID YOUR EYES ON ME
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
siltcloud & 20 moons & female & she/her & shadowclan exile
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
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Perhaps siltcloud should not stray so close to clan territories - no matter how much she wonders how tatteredlight is doing within their ranks, she knows they must have been warned of her by now. Still - ears cannot help but to catch the kittypets words, and she waddles her own way over - keeping a much greater distance due to her inability to climb to safety due to her pregnancy. She hardly smells of clan-scent any more, but while sage gaze never quite loses that bit of wariness she's hardly on edge. Even if they did recognize her, surely Skyclan is to soft-hearted to bother attacking a queen unprovoked - let alone one not even on their territory. " Rogues always give the clans trouble, " she murmurs quietly, crooked tail flicking. But... she's curious - why bother warning the twoleplace cats? Is the threat really so great?

โ” actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' โ”
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
A N D โ” S O โ” I T โ” S E E M S โ” I โ” B R O K E โ” Y O U R โ” H E A R T
โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”โ”
 
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Figfeather looks at the brown and white she-cat as if she were a ghost.

Slowly her gaze turns to Dawnglare, did he think the same as her? Was this who Figfeather thought it was?

Though never personally interacting, Siltcloud of ShadowClan and Figfeather of SkyClan were roughly the same moons old. Theyโ€™ve likely had many gatherings together as apprentices and heard their names bellowed from the Great Rock once or twice. Even with no clan scent and a swollen belly itโ€™d difficult for Figfeather to forget a face.

Wearily she decides to engage, โ€โ€ฆWe know you, donโ€™t we?โ€ Maybe sheโ€™s mistaken, but if she didnโ€™t say anything itโ€™d bother her to no end.
  • Hopefully this is okay! Put some thought into it and I felt Figfeather would recognize (and that itโ€™d make for a more interesting interact)
  • ยป Figfeather
    ยป SkyClan Warrior
    ยป She/her . AMAB
    ยป Mentoring Wolfpaw
    ยป Mate to Fantastream
    ยป Sire to Sangriakit & Coffeekit
    ยป A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
    ยป โ€Speechโ€โ€ค thoughts โ€ค attack
  • ยป A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
    ยป Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
    ยป Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
    ยป May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing
 
You're clan cats. Yesโ€” this is what he would be for eternity; curse he bore from the pine scents clinging to his pelt. He prickles from the attention, but cannot shy away, knowing this is a title he has clipped willingly to his ear. Blue hues hone upon the stranger. One that meets them lazily, far from sharing the urgency SkyClan did. Of course, when he was amidst his old home, and it was easy not to, he would not put himself with them. He is spry, despite a certain 'paw's opinion of him. Eyes gaze wordlessly down as he allowed Figfeather her explanation.

Did he recognize this stranger? Or was it that more than one cats seemed to share a face with them. Perhaps it is a young Fireflypaw that looks back at him, unhindered by the weight of a claw for each eye.

" Yes, " he leaps off of Figfeather's warning. " So perhaps the rest of you should be careful, as well. "

A brown and white molly crouches nearby, belly swollen with kits โ€” some great shame. She mumbles something that he can hardly hear, but he nods along anywho, simply because that was easier to do. Oh no, perhaps she had said, my shrieking children will surely bring them right too me, or somesuch... Dawnglare is not too interested, though he feels that perhaps he should be, when Figfeather turns to him as if something grave has happened indeed. The tom meets her look with one of puzzlement, gaze portraying that he has connected no dots.

โ€ฆWe know you, donโ€™t we? A pale paw comes to scratch at his face. The queen was not SkyClan, therefore he did not know her. " I certainly don't, " His maw parts in a yawn.
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  • ( I'M AS ALIVE AS HER BEARD IS LONG ) DAWNGLARE Medicine Cat of SkyClan. Mentoring Fireflypaw
    ๐“†ฉโ™ก๐“†ช He / him , deeply confused by the use of other pronouns
    ๐“†ฉโ™ก๐“†ช Currently 61 moons old as of 2.1.24. Mated to Mallowlark

    Unsettling and strange, Dawnglare bears a unique perception to the world and stars above on top of a generally unpleasant disposition. Holds others to uniquely impossible standards and himself undeniably above the rest. Delusional and very much stuck in his ways. The death of his closest friend has helped him none, in this
    Mood is decided by dice - rolls per thread, with the exception of some important threads
 
Rogues giving the clan cats trouble. Ganymede's ears twitch nonchalantly. To his understanding, the clans were always pretty touchy about their borders being tread upon โ€” it seems fairly ordinary (and, dare he say, not worth much fuss) that they'd be upset about trespassers. Attacking them, though, was a different story. Curious teeth grip the thread that Figfeather has unwoven from her spool; runs with it until the whole thing is undone; images of cats torn to ribbons, nursing wounds that would not heal. Aquamarine eyes flick to the golden molly's leg wound, and though he recognizes it as far too healed to be attributed to these recent rogue attacks, he wonders if someone else bears a newer, similar one. Maybe it would be him, if he wasn't careful โ€” but it's not like these cats are being especially forthcoming on what to watch out for.

He is swept from his daydreaming when Figfeather points her muzzle to some rustle of leaves behind him; Ganymede looks back, too, and spots cinnamon molly lingering there, belly swollen with kits. Poor thing. Little does he know. What really piques his interest is Figfeather's recognition of the other femme โ€” but then, he'd thought he'd recognized Dawnglare, too. Maybe these things were not so unusual.

"Well โ€” thank you for the warning. Forgive my asking," he prefaces, turning to Dawnglare once more, all shimmering velvet and satiny cream, a perfect picture of vintage luxury, "but why are they attacking you?" Maybe he didn't have anything to watch out for, after all โ€” he supposes he'd be angry if he were forced to abide by these cats' way of living all of a sudden, despite his interest in them. Maybe they were just upset about lost prey. Black-masked face tilts sideward a few degrees. "Or don't they have a reason?"

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