pafp TRAGEDIES IN SILENCE — watching

[GHOSTMASK]

†—— A petite black form, harlequined with the white splashes that gifted her a cursed name, slinks through camp. As quietly as one can slink when still weighed down with kitten fuzz and bumbling paws, surprisingly quiet for her age, not that the cat she tails would particularly notice that. Ghostkit follows her father like, well, a ghost; wide eyes so dark they blend into the half-circles scooped beneath them; the blue gaze is fixed on the moving gray back as he moves about camp, forcing her to speed up to keep up with his much longer strides. He keeps to the sides of camp, she sees, the shadows he seems to know as well as a snake knows the flattened grass, slouched over.

She also notices the cats around his moving shape; some appear to avoid him entirely, subtly padding a tail-length this way or that. Some simply sit, casting cool glances on the shape of her father; most have no reaction. But perhaps that's what's telling; when her mother pads around camp, often with the small gaggle of kittens at her heels, cats might stop. Not to steer away but to offer a word; even those who do not speak give her mother respectful glances or half-smiles. Her father does not receive these things, Ghostkit sees. She wonders why. He seems to pause and she scampers behind a leaning fern that reminds her of the cool refuge of the medicine den; shadowed blue eyes peer at her father from around its feathery green edge.

---

┏━•†˚୨୧⋆ OOC ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ INFORMATION ⋆୨୧˚†•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ༘*.ﾟ

• ooc: please wait for @GRANITEPELT !!
  

• 

• † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right? —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten) —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Even as a kit, Granitepelt knew when his Clanmates did not like him. The first time he remembers being ridiculed—not by a denmate, even, but an adult, high ranking Clan members—were by Bonejaw and Pitchstar, Briarstar’s infuriating kin. They’d mocked him for mourning his sibling’s death, tried to force him into apologizing to the medicine cat for using cruel words when her incompetence had killed his littermate. Things have not changed. The cats who have watched Granitekit become the slinking, sturdy warrior he is now still look at him with eyes glazed with repulsion or indifference.

He no longer minds—but he takes note of every shift in posture, every gaze flicked away upon his approach. Granitepelt registers every movement, every drop in tone. He buries them like treasure in his mind, kicking dust over them for safekeeping. One never knew when they’d come in handy.

Today he has a little shadow. Perhaps she thinks she’s stealthy, but her father is a ShadowClan warrior adept at sneaking. He’s known the she-kit has been trailing him, and he has chosen to ignore her pursuit. This child in particular seems to get a sick satisfaction out of following him like a fly drawn to open wounds. Her white face glows like a moonlit mushroom in the marsh, blue eyes shadowed and watchful. And just who—what—is studying his movements from those deep blue pools? Is there a demon lurking behind that innocent face? Is there a phantom possessing her little limbs, her sharp tongue?

Granitepelt stops in his tracks, unnerved. A fern rustles; he spots ebony and ivory behind and around it. “Why in StarClan’s name are you following me as though I’m prey?” His voice is cold. He does not meet his daughter’s eyes. He cannot, for fear of what he will find there. “What do you want?”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[Briarthorn]

BRIARKIT — hello, my old heart.
There was so much time in the world, entirely too much time, and silence was a beautiful thing.
Those are two things Briarkit is pondering on while she perches herself in the best shaded area she could find, thinking her simple thoughts about relatively simple things.
Her eyes are ever-watching, however, and Ghostkit trailing after Granitepelt does not go unnoticed. Briarkit’s disdain for the blue warriors children is not unhidden, only quiet in her glares and cold shoulders.
So while the duo is on the she-kits radar, she doesn’t let herself think to much about them until Granitepelt’s voice catches her off guard, the harsh tone causing her hazel gaze to spin in his direction.
Curled harlequin fur peeks out from leaning ferns where his kit hides. Brairkit isn’t focused on Ghostkit, though. It is Granitepelt that is captured in her judgmental gaze. He wasn’t angry, that was a different emotion, but his behavior was certainly strange compared to what little the she-kit did know.
"speech"

tags​

​

 

[GHOSTMASK]

†—— she's been spotted, then; ghostkit isn't surprised, precisely, but the way granitepelt slouched had made her think he wasn't paying attention. her father puzzles her, like a mystery to be unraveled—her father; she calls starlingheart mama sometimes, mother sometimes, out of obligation more than anything to her mother's softened heart. granitepelt is always granitepelt, or father, though she never addresses him—never is near enough to, somehow. the kitten's tufted white tail carves a trail through the mud behind her, catching on the pure white fur that had gifted her this name.

granitepelt's voice is glacial, cold, so cold in a way she cannot imagine as a child of greenleaf. still she approaches his turned face, small paws squishing in the oft-mucky floor of shadowclan's camp. a silence that yawns like a great salt desert between them, then, as ghostkit weighs her options. faintly she can feel eyes on her as her father has felt hers, her short black pelt prickling with the pressure of a gaze, but she doesn't budge. the words she offers are plaintive, childlike as they should be, but the tone is oddly flat. vacant, empty, a vacuum from which none of the suitable emotion appears, "I wanna know. Why does everyone smile at Mama, and not you?"

---

┏━•†˚୨୧⋆ OOC ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ INFORMATION ⋆୨୧˚†•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ༘*.ﾟ

• ooc: reinvades this >:)
  

• 

• † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right? —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten) —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

​

 

[APPLEJAW]

ShadowClan gets a lot of new kits, whether that's random ones in the trash or the nursery suddenly, suddenly, becoming so crowded before she even realized it, and now its stuffy and annoying. Applekit has to watch all the other kits too to know what they're like– If they played good games or not. New cats were harder to make opinions on. Not even Smogmaw or Halfshade knew what to think about them, and the more things you knew, the better your life would be and the smarter the cat you were, Applekit knows.

Applekit knew what to think about their parents, though, but she thinks they don't even know, because Ghostkit is tailing after Granitepelt. Granitepelt talks to her like she doesn't want to talk to her, and Applekit thinks that's weird. Briarkit thinks its weird, too. She can see the she - kit watching nearby. Applekit doesn't watch all sneaky - like the way she does, though. Applekit isn't scared of him. She wasn't scared of anything.

Her ears swivel to hear what she asks. She doesn't sound sad when she asks it, just like she wants to know. Applekit knows why, so she tells her sniffily, " 'Cause Granitepelt's no good. " she didn't really know why, but her parents had told her so. And watching him now, maybe Applekit could guess.​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Flintkit is a kitten vitrified; where once he had been soft and round like mud-bottomed rivers or even kind-faced like the moon, now he is merely a reflection of the tom who had sired him: stone-hewn and dusted in white charcoal with a burning scowl to match. Whether he had been born to wear this displeasure so clearly or he had simply learned fast is a question he's not sure of himself. And on his first venture outside of the medicine den where Starlingheart houses him, Flintkit had even learned to make enemies of other kits-- truly he is his father's son.

But what he has not yet learned is how to shrug off any lingering stares or harsh words. Flintkit's pride is still unweathered and sturdy; he loves his mother, likes his siblings, puts his father in a halo and hopes he'll spare him a glance. At least he has better luck with that than Ghostkit seems to, but if he feels bad for her at all, he does not show it. Instead, Flintkit revels quietly in the fact that he is the one Granitepelt most often looks to; he is the one that the marble-cut tom will humor with questions. There is a certain schadenfreude in seeing his sister dismissed as a pest. Flintkit wonders if he should say the same thing whenever she's bothering him.

The young mirror approaches, sharp ears twitching as he listens to what Ghostkit asks, and he feels a worm in his chest, thin and needling. What did she mean, cats don't smile at Granitepelt? Of course they do-- Starlingheart does whenever she sees him. The boy's muzzle wrinkles quietly. Beneath his skin, though, between his ribs, there is a different question lying for him, jaws open and ready to gnaw: if cats didn't smile at Granitepelt, would they smile at him? They look identical, nearly, and he thinks they act much the same, too, though Flintkit spends more time with his siblings, he supposes. His anxiety only worsens when Applekit chimes in, nasal and prissy: 'Cause Granitepelt's no good.

She says it so matter-of-fact that Flintkit feels sparks behind his teeth. "That's not true," he protests, thin tail whipping behind him, slate brows cutting deep over his sharp gaze. "He's good." Flintkit struggles for an example; feels emboldened when he finds one: "He's good to Starlingheart." That much is at least true, he's sure.

Another piece of reasoning finds its way onto Flintkit's scales when he spots Briarkit, perched owl-like and watching the unfolding spectacle. At least Granitepelt was around. The boy's lip quirks as he levels her with a stare that could cut; she could not say the same, so why did she feel as though she could stand back and watch? She'd be lucky to have the family that Flintkit did. And Applekit would be, too, for that matter. Finally, the kitten whips around and fixes his attention on Granitepelt, waiting for the warrior's answer. Surely the older tom would just confirm what he is thinking?​

​

 

[CHITTERTONGUE]

જ➶ Odd. So odd to see young nieces and nephews all following after a tom who has not had the best of interactions with his own family. At least only his sister seems to be on the...nicer end of things. But still he wonders about it all. He thinks but can't think too hard least his own mind shatter. He has too much to worry about. So he merely flicks the tip of his tail, his wide grin forever gracing his black lips. He is curious too, especially on what Applekit says. She says Granite is no good and of course family will defend him. The kits are young and they have not seen through the moons. Flintkit already does so quickly. But he is intrigued, leaning forward. Why do others not smile at Granite? They lean away from him as if he is some skunk in the marshes. The tom, himself, always has a grin on his maw rather he is looking at the tom or not. He is not the basis to go off of. Instead he is the outlier. The one that is the farthest from the truth.

Pushing himself to his paws the tom tilts his head as he makes his way toward the little family and plus one. Tail twisting and coiling like a snake. "Granite is a loyal warrior. How is he no good? That makes no sense." He giggles out softly as he sits down.​

 

[lilacfur]

Eyes tore away from what had been occupying the warriors time to look at the display between the father and his kits. Granitepelt's tone with the girl was something easier to shrug off. Truthfully she didn't see him in a good mood often enough to find it out of the ordinary. Even to his own kin of his creation. No, what had drawn Lilacfur's attention to the scene had been Ghostkit's question and the words that followed.

'Cause Granitepelt's no good.' Applekit sounded so matter-of-fact. Certainly something learned, and there was little question as to who.

Lilacfur approached to stand beside Flintkit, her tail flicking over his side in silent greeting. "Granitepelt loves your mother dearly, Flintkit." She reassured her nephew gently. She wouldn't agree that he was good to her by Lilacfur's standard, but now was not the place to say such things. Not in front of so many young eyes and ears.​

[ sad hello's and mad high low's ]​

 

[Swansong]

————— ☾ —————
NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit as found the nursery far more crowded lately, but he doesn't quite mind. Being the oldest litter means he's seen plenty of kits come and go; he'd like to think himself experienced by now. Admittedly, though, he finds himself far more concerned with the kits themselves than their parents. He thinks little of Granitepelt in connection with his kits, since he's not the one sleeping in the nursery. It's strange too see Flintkit next to him; Swankit forgets, sometimes, that the more familiar face of Flintkit echoes the far more unknown one of Granitepelt.

Still, Swankit knows enough to see the truth in Ghostkit's question. No one seems to like her father very much, least of all Swankit's own parents. He's been warned, of course, they all were. Applekit comes at the ready to declare Granitepelt no good, and Swankit nods quietly. He doesn't know why, though. He kind of wants to.

Sleepy eyes watch the other cats reactions, slot them quietly into the back of his mind. Flintkit is upset, almost angry. Protests that he's good, that he loves Starlingheart. Can you still be bad if you love someone? If you're loyal, like Chittertongue says? That's what really matters, right? So why isn't he good? Swankit blinks slowly. He guesses it doesn't make much sense.

And yet... "Ghostkit's right, though..." Swankit pipes up, pauses for a moment. There's something else that doesn't make sense. "Um. If mister Granitepelt is good, then how come no one smiles at him? Except for miss Starlingheart..." There has to be something wrong with him, he just doesn't quite know what. Unless he is good, and no one notices... Then, should he hate Granitepelt or like him? Oh, this is all too confusing...

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
————— ☾ —————

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 3 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
  ​
• 

​

 

[batpaw.]

"HEAR MY STOLEN LULLABIES"​

Sometimes, Batkit wishes he had a father. Not often, but on occasion.

This is not one of those occasions. This entire interaction was a fiasco that he would, thankfully, never have to deal with. Instead he just... doesn't have a dad. Which is fine. Who needs dads? Especially dads that get upset at their kit for following them? Batkit doesn't like his denmate either, but he doesn't like any of them. And sure, having a kit stalk you might be annoying, but that's just having kits. All of his fellow kits are annoying.

The implication that cats not smiling at you means you're a bad cat causes Batkit to bristle slightly. If that's the case, doesn't that mean he's a bad cat? Batkit doesn't get many smiles from anyone other than Snowfeather. Whatever, he's not going to think about that. Honestly, he doesn't have any stake in this matter, so why is he even listening? He stays curled up next to his mother, pretending he hasn't noticed the exchange.​

✦ ❄ ✦​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

The she-kit comes out of hiding readily enough—he does not look at her, not yet, but he can hear the shifting of her little paws on the soft earth. He pictures her—black fur spiked at her neck and throat, face white like the enemy’s, like the moon’s. “I wanna know. Why does everyone smile at Mama, and not at you?”

Granitepelt feels eyes like shadowed waters pulling every hair on his pelt. He feels his teeth clenching. “Do you think it matters if cats smile at you? Do you think every time someone smiles at you, it means something good?” The temptation to half-turn and look upon her erupts like flea bites over his flesh, but he resists the itch. “Often when a cat tries to get your favor, they do not mean whatever nice thing they say. You would be foolish to think that.”

Oh, and her awful presence has attracted their Clanmates, like flies to rotted flesh. Her kithood cohorts flock, one of them Smogmaw’s especially bratty daughter. “Because Granitepelt is no good,” she offers his spawn, and now the young warrior does turn slender green eyes onto Applekit. The look he gives her is empty. “And who told you that?” When Smogmaw’s other child approaches, some pale, sleepy imitation of a sturdier kit, he ignores him. It seems their father—or their useless, conniving fox of a mother—has been telling them tales. He tucks this information away for later like a feather into his nest. Almost distractedly, he flicks an ear in Batkit and Briarkit’s direction. Irritating little pests.

Flintkit’s protest draws Granitepelt’s attention. “He’s good,” his replica insists. “He’s good to Starlingheart.” “That’s right. It is important to find who matters to you and be good to them.” Still ignoring the she-kit’s stare, Granitepelt goes to Flintkit and brushes his nose loosely over the top of his pearl-gray head. As he does, he nods at Chittertongue and Lilacfur. Neither of Starlingheart’s kin are fond of him—he’d be a fool with a half-rotted skull to think otherwise—but they speak empty niceties for the kits’ sake, and he’s nearly relieved, if not to have to fight the whole of ShadowClan to defend his honor in front of his children.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — granitekit . granitepaw . granitepelt
  — he/him ; warrior of shadowclan
  — heterosexual ; taken by Starlingheart
  — short-haired gray tom with white and green eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Meg

​

 

[APPLEJAW]

Applekit was only answering the question, and snuffly little kits get mad at her as soon as she does. She wasn't like them. She wasn't snuffly. Flintkit fixes an angry look on her, and Applekit shoots him a glare right back, one that said I'm right, and I know so. Flintkit looked just like Granitepelt. Of course he'd say that. Who would want to know they look like a cat who's no good? " Nuh - uh! "He's good to Starlingheart. Applekit flicks an ear, annoyed. " No - good cats can do some - good things, " she snaps. She was old enough to know that now. These little kits were too dumb to know yet.

Granitepelt says a bunch of weird things to Ghostkit. Applekit won't listen to him. Why should she ever listen to him? Ghostkit shouldn't listen, either.

And when Chittertongue tells her that makes no sense. " You make no sense, " Applekit says huffily. She'd take a step closer to her brother Swankit. At least he was smart enough to know this. She furrows her brows as she watches a grey warrior mumble to Flintkit. He was a little kit and probably needed to be consoled, so he knew he didn't look like a bad guy. Applekit can't imagine if Halfshade was no - good, but she was told she was good because she loved Smogmaw. Parents loved your other parents. That's just how it worked. She's sooo tired of snuffly kits that she doesn't pay anny attention to snuffly Batkit being a furball.

And who told you that? Applekit narrows her eyes at him, fur fluffing up defensively. " Halfshade, " she tells him, lips pursed. " And Smogmaw, " she adds; because who could argue against the deputy besides Chilledstar? Applekit's right, no matter what Granitepelt says. " You'd say he's right, " Applekit says, and turns tail with a harrumph. She doesn't care what these dumb cats say.​

 

[GHOSTMASK]

†—— as so often, so annoyingly often, seems to happen, a bunch of cats appear out of nowhere and barge in on ghostkit's rare conversation with her dad. though, honestly, she really couldn't be bothered to care much about what they have to say. after all, she hadn't asked them what they thought; she'd asked her dad, and now she's forced to listen to all of this with a flatly bored face as a bunch of other mousebrains start talking until she gets a proper reply. applekit is the first to arrive, one of the few nursery residents she doesn't entirely dislike, though she can be really bossy—and this is on full display as applekit haughtily informs her that granitepelt is "no good". ghostkit blinks dark eyes at the torbie in confusion; what does that even mean, to be no good? is she no good?

she's happy to listen to applekit, though, because ghostkit doesn't particularly care about what's going on at the moment. honestly, she'd rather let applekit handle the talking and explaining and boring stuff, and she can just listen to applekit and be bored. which she definitely is, she thinks, inexpertly licking at dark chest fur. if it doesn't involve her much, which this really doesn't, she can't say she's particularly interested—after all, why would she want to hear about other cats and their boring thoughts and their boring lives, if it's not related to her? so she just blinks at applekit, initially, mewing, "okay."

her brother arrives too, his grey brow already beginning to perpetually furrow as their father's does, not that she sees his face often enough to know it. flintkit generally seems to keep hold of some foreign anger she doesn't really get, because why would you care what all the other cats thought or did? sometimes she gets mad at other cats (one time she pushed another kit off a stump when she got really mad and, boy, did she get in trouble), but never as much or as often as flintkit does. he walks around frowning all the time like granitepelt, who's apparently no good, so clearly that's why he's always getting into spats with the other kits. almost instinctively, she knots her sullen face into something closer to a blank slate. he flicks his thin tail, glaring at applekit and protesting her flat, matter-of-fact words, but ghostkit is already swayed towards the torbie she-kit's side, though she doesn't particularly care enough to voice it.

chittertongue is here too, who she thinks she's vaguely related to, though she doesn't really want to ask him. he's all weird, and he smiles too much; that there is both a not enough and too much puzzles her, but he joins flintkit on the side of granitepelt, who, she thinks a bit sullenly, shouldn't be defended, because he's no good. lilacfur, who she also thinks she's related to, suddenly arrives, and ghostkit settles herself in her own seat in the mud to wait out the inevitable further talk. sometimes she wishes she lived in shadowclan all alone, where nobody else would be here, and she could have what she wanted and do what she wanted. she doesn't understand why she can't do things like push other kits when they bother her, or call sweetkit stupid when they clearly are. if it was just her, she wouldn't have to obey all the dumb rules, but unfortunately that isn't her reality.

swankit, who's one of the deputy's kits alongside applekit, is here too. swankit is, honestly, sleepy and a little dumb, and she almost feels sorry for him. though she supposes if he's that dumb, does he even know he's dumb? maybe she shouldn't really feel that bad; besides, he's not really adding anything to the conversation——shouldn't a deputy's kits be smarter? finally, blessedly, she receives the answer she seeks from her father, for once, so she can finally leave all the pointless words behind and leave with her reply. his words are clipped, cold, as viciously factual as her own; she wonders why everyone doesn't talk how her and granitepelt do. is that why he's no good? he still doesn't look at her; she could probably count on a single paw how many times she's met her father's eyes.

"often when a cat tries to get your favor, they do not mean whatever nice thing they say." finally clarity washes over her like clear water that cleanses the perpetual swamp-stink away, clearing the muck from dark eyes. that's a thing? the miasma of disinterest lifts, tiny paws scrabbling in the dirt as though she wishes to express this realization physically. somehow, she'd never thought that was a thing, she thought everyone just said what they thought and what they meant like she did. you didn't always do that? sometimes, cats could smile and be nice and not mean it? the idea captures her mind entirely, and just as her father tucks away his clanmates' thoughts, she places this information on a treasured pedestal.

it's so strange, she thinks, that he doesn't do that. he glares emptily at applekit and, still not meeting her seeking ocean eyes, brushes Flintkit's head with his muzzle and nods blankly to the two cats she thinks she's related to. maybe if he smiled and tried to "get cats' favor", people would like him more, she thinks with an empty derision she barely feels. maybe he's her dad but he's not nice to her, he's only nice to flintkit, and nobody likes him anyways. applekit chimes in again, tone as authoritative as anything, and ghostkit is happy to agree with her since she's doing the talking, and she's the deputy's kit anyhow. if she's gonna be friends with anyone, it should be applekit, she thinks flatly—applekit knows what she's doing, and she's always in charge of the kit games.

the other kit prances off and ghostkit turns a last dark glance towards the gathered cats, face closed and blank, before she takes her cue from applekit. her question has been answered; she no longer needs to be here, and so she slinks back off amongst the ferns.

---

┏━•†˚୨୧⋆ OOC ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ INFORMATION ⋆୨୧˚†•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ༘*.ﾟ

• ooc: out :D
  

• 

• † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right? —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten) —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

​