pafp THROUGH THE SKIN OF A DRAGON ✧ Confrontation

[WEASELCLAW]

The sun burns, a pale disc sinking into bloodied waters at the forest’s treeline. Weaselclaw leads his patrol, Cottonpaw at its forefront, with his chin lifted and tail high. Blue eyes are steely with determination and a cold, lingering anger. The Thunderpath’s reek—and ShadowClan’s thicker, more rancid one—fills his nostrils and coats his tongue, but he does not flinch in the face of it. Periodically, as the WindClan warriors line up alongside the asphalt, he will give Cottonpaw a look to search for emotion. Is she nervous? Is she excited to prove herself to her father, her mentor, her Clan?

“If we find a cat who is not Magpiepaw,” he instructs the warriors at his side, “We will ask for an audience with him. No other ShadowClan rat concerns us today.” He flicks the pale tuft of his tail against Cottonpaw’s haunches. “Ensure you are prepared.”


// WindClanners, feel free to post once: @SCORCHSTREAK @GHOSTWAIL @HOUNDTHISTLE @sparkspirit @cottonpaw @sunflowerpaw @HOLLYPAW.

ShadowClanners, please wait for @Magpiepaw

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — weasel . weaselclaw
  — he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
  — short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Oliver

​

 

[GHOSTWAIL]

Burning eyes sweep over the collection of warriors that Weaselclaw has brought along, a gathering of might that felt a bit unbalanced in the face of ShadowClan's weaker lot (WindClan's previous loss was a fluke, she is sure of it). It is an odd gathering for such a small task, though it is under odd pretenses that they find themselves here anyways. The child has imagined a sort of one-sided friendship, she has gleaned. It must be one-sided; as Sootstar's kin, Cottonpaw must know that she mustn't soil her heritage on alliances or dalliances with those that are beneath her. Her sister had certainly been able to discern the wrong sort, it should be easy for this one as well.

The phantom of WindClan turns her head toward the shaded marsh across the Thunderpath, trying her best to ignore the distance rumble monsters far, far further down the way. They would not disturb their mission. WindClan has the blessing of StarClan, of course they wouldn't be stopped in the pursuit of correcting loyalty.​

- you call for peace when it suits you​

 

[sparkspirit]

It is strange to be on patrol with Weaselclaw again. Familiar, good, but still strange. He has found himself bolting up on instinct to follow the warrior on every patrol he led before sheepishly stilling himself a moment later. He was a warrior now, and would prove himself as such– but first, the young tom will have to shake the memories of apprenticeship off of his shoulders. Where he stands now, near the lead warrior but not too near, and a little ways behind the both of them, it is as a WindClan warrior. Today they would teach ShadowClan something. In truth, though, Sparkspirit wasn't entirely sure what. That they were stronger? That WindClan would not affiliate any further with the marsh-bound parasites? Or maybe just that his children would not disappoint him any further. What had happened with Adderpaw surely did not help.

His gaze flickers to Cottonpaw, and then the others that fill their patrol. "Hopefully they hurry," he breathes. "The Thunderpath always stinks."

˗ˏˋ〘  OOC ･ ｡ﾟ🗲 REFERENCE 06.26.2023 〙´ˎ˗

• ooc: —

• 

• sparkspirit, sparky. dmab male, he - him - his.
  ──── moor runner warrior of windclan; is very loyal to his clan.
  ──── 09 moons old. born on 12.15.22, and ages 85% real time.
  ──── echolight x elmbreeze, adopted by yewberry. brightfam?
  
  a long-limbed, trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  
  his apprenticeship has treated sparkspirit well. a newly-named warrior, he is lean and well-muscled, with paws accustomed to long treks throughout the moorland. he is deceptively sturdy and heavier than one might expect.

• "speech"

​

 

[Magpiepaw]

He is out with Maggotpaw and her mentor but more importantly Maggotpaw, who has threatened to eat things that are dangerous to him and also him as well which was fine really. If it ever came down to death, he didn't think he'd like all the plentiful meat he came with to be wasted away by being buried when it can go elsewhere. Whether by the white-headed apprentice or the carrion birds, some cycles were important and he was more than happy being part of it. Not that he wanted to die right now, newfound purpose in life and a hope to learn more of their starry ancestors have instilled in him a desire to stick around for as long as he can in order to fill himself with knowledge. The first visit to StarClan had been mystifying, he'd not spoken to anyone then, but simply being there was comforting in its own way.
Today they are getting cobweb, found along the thunderpath and often in the tunnels there. Magpiepaw remembers the warnings to not go to close to the black and gravel-grit two-leg pathway that offered only death, but he can not help but be curiously drawn to looking around it and skirting the edges. Which stains were once cats, he wonders, then the familiar scent of the moors rises and his head lifts curiously across it to the tall grass at the other side. He recognizes the brown tabby, Cottonpaw's father, and she too is there as well this time and he offers a lifted tail in a wave.
"Hello WindClan." Droll and muted, but nonetheless cheerful in tone; the black and white apprentice has no reason to be wary as he's on his side and even then he is well protected by both Maggotpaw's ferocity and StarClan itself. "Hello Cottonpaw, you weren't at the gathering, I'm glad you're fine."

---

[Ooc]
@Maggotfur.
​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw, at the start of the patrol, tended to linger beside either her mentor or Sunflowerpaw. There is a touch of anxiety with following the troop to the thunderpath - simply enough for her to practice what she needs to say over and over in her head. It's only about half way there that she follows her father's summons and finds the head of the group, remaining there until they reach the asphalt. Her claws dig up the remaining dirt and gravel while they wait.

"Of course," she says to her father, her tone dulled and her eyes focused straight ahead. Sparkspirit's words float by her, for the most part, though she takes the final comment in with a short laugh. "It probably smells like squished cat," she offers, ignoring the fact that it was the tom in question who taught her that.

It's difficult to spy the dark furred apprentice from the dim shadows across the way, however she notes how the ShadowClan stink floats by a bit fresher. Her tail lashes as she waits, perhaps one of the few signs of her lingering anxiety. He greets them and for a moment, she forgets the point of them being there. He notes that he's glad she's fine, and initially Cottonpaw rolls into a, "Yeah, well -" before cutting herself off. The temptation to expose the River-rats on the other side of them holds so dear to her chest - but this is no lesser of two evils situation. She must cut him off, though she knows not how thick the cord is.

"I'm not," she states, breathing in deeply and deciding to wear a frown. "Weaselclaw told me that you wanted to give me a gift? Magpiepaw - we're not friends. We cannot and never will be, not with how embarrassing your Clan is. With how embarrassing you are." She briefly wonders if he'll understand her tense jabs. He's always come across as air-headed and lost... maybe his companion will make him understand later. "Don't ever do that again. You're a ShadowClanner, yeah? Remember that. If you don't..." She trails off. Every time she repeated her spiel in her head, she got this far, and was never sure how to end it. She exhales, "Well, you and yours have a habit of dying in unsettling ways." All she knows of are the two previous leaders, of course, but perhaps that's enough. The real question comes from if she means the death threat as is, or if it's just a further ploy to keep the wobbly tom away.​

 

[STUMPYSPOTS]

STUMPYSPOTS ♀​ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡​

Long use to the fumes of the thunderpath after their more than unpleasant stay underneath it, her nose hardly wrinkles upon her approach. Stumpyspots had not been traveling with Maggotpaw and their mentor, but instead had been assigned to a patrol. The calico had only strayed off for a few minutes to hunt but ended up finding a WindClan patrol at their border. They are not marking the land… what were they here for? She stands confused until the blue apprentice starts speaking. She’s small, she carries a frame fitting to Sootstar’s and was without a doubt one of hers. She glances wearily at Weaselclaw, then to the apprentice again as she goes on. Brown and blue eyes shine with confusion, then anger at the apprentice’s audacity. Before Magpiepaw can speak she steps in front of the medicine cat apprentices and narrows her eyes on Weaselclaw. The words his daughter spoke were clearly puppeted, she was no fool. ”This is why WindClan sits at our border? To insult ShadowClan? To threaten a medicine cat apprentice?” Her voice is nasally and rough, the WindClanner’s may be off-put by it. Boldly and defiantly she gives a hard stare to them all, ”Whenever I think WindClan can’t sink lower...” She would not forget this disrespect easily, Chilledstar nor Smogmaw will either once they hear of this. Padding a few paces backwards she looks at Magpiepaw expectantly, her tail flicks in the direction of camp in a silent ’we should go.”

 

[FERNDANCE]

The Thunderpath only stunk slightly less than some of her clanmates, its smog and fumes bothering the cinnamon tabby but rarely deterring her from venturing out toward the borders. She remembered the last time she was at WindClan's borders, it hadn't been... entirely peaceful, but she didn't recognise any of the current participants. It was a large patrol and it made her tail lash instinctively behind her even as she offered an indifferent expression. The reason for their patrol soon became... not quite clear but clearer, it took a few seconds of indignant blinking and off-handed glances towards her clanmates for her to realise what had been said. Magpiepaw was being threatened, ShadowClan was being threatened. The fur around her neck bristled, puffing out like a lion's mane as she moved closer to the borders. "WindClanners who come to our lands tend to die in unsettling ways as well," she reminded with a frigid smile, pupils narrowed into slits. She didn't care if Weaselclaw was speaking through his daughter, if it'd been demanded that she say those words on the pain of death - she'd made up her mind that Magpiepaw would be hurt by the sentiment all the same before she'd even given the purple-eyed fella a second look.

"Threaten my friend again and I'll hurt you."
​

 

[Maggotfur.]

EYES COVERED IN INK AND BLEACH​

maggotpaw | 08 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold mediumpurple​

---

Maggotpaws large frame hovers over magpiepaw like a vulture, making a rather striking picture. The blue and white molly is more interested in whatever choice bits the thunderpath has t offer than herbs - be it carrion or something shiny and new to add to her ever growing hoard. The windclan patrol that lines their side of the path is startling, but they make no move to attack - a pity, she thinks, because she can't help but spot a familiar figure amongst them. She wonders if they'd be up for another fight - perhaps this time sunflowerpaw would be the one left with a bloody nose. She's not sure her.... acquaintance would be as eager as she though.

The large feline watches, listening to the words of the windclanner in shock. This is what they'd wanted to say? She snorts before she can help it, sleek figure coiling dangerously. "Whats so embarrassing about Magpiepaw? He's been blessed by starclan, become a medicine cat apprentice - what number are you on again?" she quips, words drawled out tauntingly, each syllable simply dripping with venom. Though turquoise gaze shines with humor, and she doesn't take the situation all that seriously, she's quite off-put at the blue scrap of fur they'd called 'cottonpaw' having the audacity to mock her- well, friend. If anyone was to criticize his choices, or tell him how strange he was, it'd be her - that's what friends were for after all.

More friendly faces arrive - and while she cares little what stumpyspots has to say, ferndance has her cackling. At least things never grow dull when the strange molly is around. "Mhm.. best watch out, perhaps you'll be next on the menu for the carrion-birds to peck at - the thunderpath is a dangerous place," she giggles again, can't help it really - the mental image is just too much.
​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw sees the undergrowth sift, revealing a white-crested shadow with enormous crystal-blue eyes. The tabby’s tail begins to lash behind him, but he holds his tongue, knowing Cottonpaw will make him proud. And she does—the more his daughter speaks, the more his bad sentiments begin to drain away. He looks at the small blue smoke with clear fondness. With her speech finished—punctuated neatly with a threat—Weaselclaw gives her a tender lick to one ear.

Of course, ShadowClan’s crowfood draws more flies. The first to appear is a tortoiseshell with a gross pushed-in nose. Weaselclaw’s lip curls at her audacity. “Chilledstar and Smogmaw would be happy to hear about yet another ShadowClanner on their council who breaks the warrior code,” he says coldly. “You all have a liking for cats in other Clans, don’t you? ThunderClan leaders, WindClan apprentices… perhaps it’s because it’s hard to be attracted to rats eating rotten flesh.”

He recognizes Ferndance—she is a lead warrior, too, though she’s hardly intimidating to Weaselclaw. He flicks a battle-scarred ear at both her threat and the threat of the white-faced apprentice beside her. “WindClan does not fear code breakers.” His teeth are bared in full now, and he meets the highest ranking warrior present’s gaze with animosity burning in his blue eyes. “If that little marsh pest tries to make eyes at my daughter again, we will do more than threaten, believe me.”

Weaselclaw flexes his claws, sinking them into the earth. His muscles scream at him to leap over the asphalt and wipe the smiles off of their disgusting mud-smeared faces… but he does not. He remembers his promise to Badgermoon—that he would not cause trouble. Sootstar would not be pleased to hear he’d started a physical fight over Cottonpaw’s indiscretion. Again.

“See to it you keep your eyes and paws to your side of the Thunderpath from now on,” he snarls. He begins to turn away, giving Cottonpaw a sharp nudge with his shoulder to follow.

// on his way out but won’t stop the thread :)

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — weasel . weaselclaw
  — he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
  — short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Oliver

​

 

[Sundewtail]

Sundewtail was far from the meanest cat in Shadowclan. In fact, she was probably among the nicest. She was a little strange, and her memory wasn't all there, but it didn't stop her from carrying on and going about her day. She often hunted on her own, the focus on a task was oddly comforting to an otherwise scattered mind.

Today though, she did not hear the croaking of frogs or the chirping of birds. She heard her clanmates at the border talking to someone.... So she went to join them.

She had never given the thought to be rude to other clans...Until now. She listened to the words of her clanmates and deduced that Windclan was picking on Magpiepaw. Unacceptable. She arrives beside her clanmates just in time to hear Weaselclaw speak.

" See to it you keep your eyes and paws to your side of the thunderpath from now on," She parrots. "He speaks this, not knowing the hilarity and hypocrisy of his words." She narrates.

"He threatens us, but he so soon forgets that Shadowclan defeated Windclan, who so boldly trespassed onto our territory, and reduced his beloved queen to nothing more than the carrion that so often litters the Thunderpath." Her words are harsh and venomous.

She looks to Magpiepaw. "Don't mind them. A Windclanner's favorite pass time is throwing threats and spitting venom. It's about all they're good at. Snakes, all of them."​

 

[smogstar]

"Keep my name from your scum-sucking muzzle."

Verging on ShadowClan's border is the moorlands' infestation. Shoulder-to-shoulder, bearing resemblance to maggots clustered on a dying host, they dwell together along their ridge of the thunderpath. It is Magpiepaw who receives the bulk of their ire, though, like any parasite, they jump at the opportunity to latch onto the other ShadowClan cats in their midst—who roam in their own rightful territory, mind you. However, Smogmaw can only laud WindClan's brow-raising approach to settling the friction between them and their neighbours; rather than rectify the problems that plague the heart of the moors, they seek to make the waves around their shores far more precarious.

Whatever personal affairs the medicine cat apprentice may have pale in comparison to the more pressing matter at hand. Sundewtail provides a clear narration of this: agitators who hold zero inclination to live by their own words. Typical, really. Nothing more ought to be expected from their lot, the clan which so willingly infringes on other clans' security, and then cries foul when the same is wrought onto them. Recalling Sootstar's raw outrage during that gathering so many moons ago births a caustic delight somewhere within him.

Dark-toned paws would park in close proximity to Ferndance, giving wide berth to Magpiepaw. It is crucial, in the deputy's mind, for the medicine cat's successor to learn how to give as good as he gets. He must defend himself, whereas Smogmaw aspired to rebuff WindClan's hostility. Deadpan eyes pursue this 'Cottonpaw', whom receives a loving gesture from the parting Weaselclaw. It is one he'd give to his own daughter, and the disparity in age between the two was not too far off from him and his kits—thus, knowing that Sootstar mated with this filth, a core assumption may be made.

"She speaks with remarkable cadence, Cottonpaw does," remarks the deputy matter-of-factly, brows ridging only just a smidgeon. His tone is lukewarm. Cool, yet not devoid of warmth. "A bright future would await her had she been born outside of WindClan." His head skews netherward as he expands his scrutiny of the ashen warrior-to-be. A sudden thrash of the tail collides with someone's midsection (Ferndance's, in all likelihood). "No," he then cooes. He addresses Cottonpaw directly, now. "I don't believe you will reach adulthood, young one. The starry sky is painted with many WindClan cats, condemned to senseless deaths in your leader's senseless wars. Remember that, when your mother forces you to fight her battles." And her father does the same. What a family.​

 

[HOLLYPAW---]

☽༺♰༻☾​

sparkspirit was right, the thunderpath stank. hollypaw did not attempt to hide the way that her nose screwed upon the first whiff of it. how could they live here? so close to something that would undoubtedly cloud their air with toxicity beyond belief. the shadowclanner's would have to arrive soon, any longer and her pelt would reek well into the next moon. maybe even after. would she stink until she became a warrior?

by the time she looked back up from a disdainful look onto her ebony coat, rats flooded the border. each of different sizes and shapes, all with a scorned look. all except for one, a black feline donned a cheerful tone as he addressed cottonpaw casually. she blinked, confused, before turning to sootstar's daughter. the shadowclanner must be confused, why would a child of their leader want anything to do with him? luckily, cottonpaw puts them into place. she could practically see the shadowclanner's puff with indignation.

hollypaw sits tall as weaselclaw handles the rest of the group, standing when he is done. they were ready to leave now, the task fulfilled. yet, shadowclan keeps speaking. a swirl-pelted tom who spoke of death, how windclan buffed starclan's ranks. called it senseless, damnation. how mislead he must be to spout the words with such confidence. death, it was not so negative as he painted it. the greatest honor to be bestowed is a place amongst the stars. hollypaw huffed a silent laughter to herself before turning over her shoulder to follow behind her mentor.
​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The flame-streaked tunneler follows along with the patrol, taking up a place beside her clanmates as they stop at the border. The asphalt smells of death, unnatural and unclean. There is good reason they do not travel this far if they can avoid it. But today, standing with their paws at the edge of the path is a necessity; their apprentice seems to have made a good impression on a ShadowClanner, one stupid enough to offer a gift to her through her father. And that ShadowClanner will be put in their place today. Scorchstreak doesn’t know who this Magpiepaw is, but they are lucky that they are being met with words at the border and not with claws in their camp. Eventually the aforementioned Magpiepaw appears, bringing with them an oddly large group of their clanmates. ShadowClan must feel truly threatened by WindClan’s might.

Of course, each ShadowClanner has to get their two cents in, most of it the same recycled threats and insults as though no WindClanner has heard their droning before. This is exhausting. They wouldn’t have even tagged along if their apprentice weren’t at the heart of this entire exchange. Smogmaw’s voice joins the conversation, though, and isn’t he the most useless deputy of all the clans? He claims that Cottonpaw would have a bright future, were she born anywhere but WindClan; what a load of shit. Scorchstreak looks to her apprentice, hoping to catch the smoky she-cat’s response to such a statement. They have half a mind to do something stupid, something insane, and start a fight. But Weaselclaw has already turned away, and this interaction has met its end.

They look at the road and can see red in their mind’s eye, can see the gore that once streaked this path. Their maw presets in a deep yawn before the calico straightens to their full height, head held high. "Threats don’t mean much from clans with such frail leaders," they say offhandedly, and then turn away. They do not put the ShadowClanners fully at their back; they slink off with a golden gaze still trained on the other clan. The tom who threatened their apprentice directly will not get a surprise attack on any of their clanmates—they will put him down first, if he so much as makes a move in the wrong direction.

The calico attempts to shift closer to Cottonpaw as they stalk away, hoping to catch the young tunneler’s eye. If successful, they murmur to her, "You did well. Remember what they said to you—the other clans are not your friends. And no ShadowClanner is worth your time." Only their fellow WindClanners are worth anyone’s time, and even then one must be cautious of traitors. Cottonpaw’s kithood naïvety must end here.​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

​

 

[Magpiepaw]

Maybe he didn't quite understand why this was an entire ordeal, why a full patrol of WindClanners showed up just so Cottonpaw could....what? Tell him he was embarrassing? His clan was embarrassing? Be upset for....being friendly and giving a gift to a cat he thought was nice? It was silly, it was silly in the same way a kitten holding a grudge on being scolded for wandering was. It was so silly he couldn't quite comprehend it was even happening. A lot of fuss and show for what amounted to a simple 'we can't be friends' and that was fine then. Clan borders didn't matter to him, a medicine cat apprentice chosen for far loftier goals than a normal member of ShadowClan might be but apparently they mattered enough that the mere presence of the moorland cats was enough to bring forth several more of his clanmates.
Of course now they want to be here, not when he had asked for an escort for cobweb gathering but when the chance arose to be loud upon the border.
Blue-violet eyes danced to Stumpyspots stepping before him before he could even think of what to say, Ferndance arrives as well not too long after and he listens with raised ears as what started as a display of power for a trivial thing escalates into a series of insults and namecalling from both sides.
"You're all terribly loud." The black and white tom comments with an airy breath, "Cottonpaw was speaking to me."
And already the WindClan patrol was attempting to leave it seems, he wriggles his way in his wobbling manner past the taller cats before him to stand once more at the forefront of their side, paws aligned neatly with the edge of the thunderpath.
"I am above your squabbles, you are welcome to feel how you will and I will mourn your scorch marked descent downwards with genuine remorse. The stars know us, I hope you are not burnt by their brightness."
With that politely, though cryptically, worded farewell given he was turning with his tail up to take his leave; expression ever neutral though Magpiepaw wasn't one well known for expressing himself either way.
​

 

[𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒮𝒯𝐿𝐸𝒥𝒰𝑀𝒫]

Thistlejump observed the WindClan cats’ approach with apprehension and confusion. What were they doing here? The relationship between ShadowClan and WindClan was tense at best, and any time a patrol of WindClanners set foot in ShadowClan territory, Thistlejump felt that nothing good ever came of it.

Thistlejump glared at Cottonpaw, shocked by the WindClan cat’s audacity, and wondered what Magpiepaw had done to prompt such a threat. Magpiepaw was a likable feline, and although Thistlejump had not interacted with the medicine cat apprentice much, she thought that he had a pure heart and was therefore fond of him.

Cottonpaw spoke of Magpiepaw’s intention to bring her a gift, and Thistlejump felt horrible for her Clanmate. She knew that his heart must have been in the right place, and she was sorry that his kindness had resulted in his life being threatened.

“I’m sure that Magpiepaw has never meant any harm.” Thistlejump reassured the WindClanners quietly, yet her voice was drowned out by the hostile remarks of her Clanmates.

The insults from both sides overwhelmed Thistlejump, and she took a few steps away from the WindClanners. She did not care for WindClan by any means, but she disliked how much hatred was being exchanged between the two Clans. Thistlejump hoped to be as peaceful as she could be and was anxious at the perceived possibility that a fight may break out. Not only that, but she was not very good at fighting, and her hesitance to provoke WindClan also came from self-preservation.

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP​

---

they do not catch all of the conversation, no, but they do catch enough of it. there is a certain level of understanding on why weaselclaw would be upset that his daughter it making friends with one of them. even when they did have an alliance, the only thing that kept them from ripping each other's throats out was the fact that their leaders had some sort of weird agreement. with pitchstar gone, chilledstar tried to let sootstar down as gentle as they could, only to be met with the deluded queen's flames. they'd never see eye to eye, and chilledstar refused to make an enemy to the entire forest for the sake of a tyrant. they cared not what their clan feels of their decision. not even close.

but to come to their borders, demanding their medicine cat apprentice and simply being rude and pompous doesn't bode over well for them. an npc has told them buts and pieces, but what they hear is what truly sets them off. they find themself staring at the patrol of windclanners. their own clan bites back, but chilledstar isn't done. to call their leaders frail was... a hit below the belt. their gaze glosses over as they see briarstar's body on the thunderpath. hit over and over and over again, tearing life after life from her body. pitchstar, only deputy at the time, nearly got himself killed trying to stay with his mother. it was chilledstar, merely a warrior and best friend to him, that had to get him off the road and peel him from her body.

it doesn't stop there. their memories force them back to when they found pitchstar dead. blood was... everywhere. they couldn't stop the bleeding if they tried, and they found themself a bit lost without their friend, even if he himself had lost his marbles due to grief and pressure of leading such a clan. their face twists from nothingness to anger and they stand tall, claws digging into the ground as they bared their teeth in a fiery anger. their blue eyes are like colored blazes, and they snap, without so much of a hint of remorse.

"threats don't mean much, hm? well, what about a promise then? i swear to the stars, you might want to watch your back. you speak so highly of yourself, and your frog brained clanmates, but your leader has done nothing but place a target on your back. clan after clan hates you, and its only a matter of time before the stars rip that last life from sootstar's miserable body, leaving you all sniveling and crying like the whelps you are. are you so threatened by magpiepaw talking with cottonpaw that you'd willingly come here to our home, so soon after such an easy victory for us? bad risk to take."

magpiepaw was no threat to anyone. this was all stupid over some kitten friendship that would end when they realized just how much windclan and shadowclan should never get along. backstabbing traitors, those cats.

"starclan has already warned you. do not make it us who has to teach you a lesson... because our lesson will end in bloodshed. stay away from my border and my clan. next time you come here, there will be no words exchanged. now, fuck off."

with a flick of their tail, their eye twitched in anger before they huffed and turned off. disrespectful worms. starclan may have cursed shadowclan, but surely they hate windclan more. they'll get exactly what's coming to them. one day.
​

 

[sparkspirit]

In the end, ShadowClan speaks an awful lot and says nothing at all. The warriors that crowd their border here lash their tails and tongues both– of course the cool farewell would be met with such hostility. It didn't even come from Magpiepaw. In a way, the odd apprentice earns his respect then and there. The others, of course, lose it immediately. He knows better than to speak out of turn, particularly when Weaselclaw and Cottonpaw already had it handled. Unlike the carrion-furred marsh cats, WindClan knew respect. He rolls his eyes, trying to catch Hollypaw's when he does. "They're ridiculous," he murmurs lowly to the dark apprentice, joining the ranks of WindClanners turning away from the border. "Between them and RiverClan, it's hard to say which is more dramtic."

A few strides away from the border, Sparkspirit stops and glances back. Instead of seeking out the ShadowClanners, his gaze trails to Cottonpaw. Should she have followed her father's nudge, he will weave through the patrol and towards her. Not close enough to touch, but near enough that he can speak without the patrol's interference. "I'm glad he's not your friend. You deserve better than that anyway." And with that last piece of comfort, he too is off. Away from the drama-mongering nonsense of the pathetic husk that had once been a clan.

˗ˏˋ〘  OOC ･ ｡ﾟ🗲 REFERENCE 06.26.2023 〙´ˎ˗

• ooc: —

• 

• sparkspirit, sparky. dmab male, he - him - his.
  ──── moor runner warrior of windclan; is very loyal to his clan.
  ──── 09 moons old. born on 12.15.22, and ages 85% real time.
  ──── echolight x elmbreeze, adopted by yewberry. brightfam?
  
  a long-limbed, trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  
  his apprenticeship has treated sparkspirit well. a newly-named warrior, he is lean and well-muscled, with paws accustomed to long treks throughout the moorland. he is deceptively sturdy and heavier than one might expect.

• "speech"

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