twolegplace WHY DO I GIVE VALUABLE TIME — skyclanner

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Slate hasn't roamed this part of the city in a long time.

He was raised on these very streets, scavenging for food in the alleyways or hunting as many sewer rats as he possibly could. Many a time he had scrapped with fellow rogues and escaped the wrath of a twoleg or a yapping dog, as well. This had been Slate's home for most of his life, but now several moons later, he could say that he no longer missed this wasteland. The solitude and space, if anything, was all that Slate longed for at times. However, he was now living with his brother as a clan cat, free to roam the forest and live in the safety of a camp where there were no dogs or twolegs. He also lived off of fresh-kill; mouthwatering catches of rodent and avian were much more filling than rubbish or meager rats.

The massive obsidian warrior cautiously took to the sidewalk, his pace somewhat hurried as he kept on his paws and constantly checked around him for signs of danger. He's not too keen on shouting for Thistleback at the top of his lungs, but he's definitely keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of the lead warrior. He had mentioned hailing from the city before, so Slatr figured that he'd check the familiar alleys and avenues for any sign of the missing tom.

// if you'd like, your character is free to know slate from his days as a rogue! you may also hit me up on discord if you'd like to discuss any specifics :0​

 

[RED]

"Well, well, well—what a surprise! A familiar face in the crowd." A coo edged upon a malicious tongue, narrowing cerulean gaze pinpointed upon a hulking obsidian figure in the midst of the very home he hailed from. It wasn't very often some cats coming from the forest would grace their own stomping grounds just for shits and giggles, lest something happened and the crimson tom was all too keen in knowing what it could be. The clans intrigued him and disgusted him at once with their entitlement, but this particular man was someone he familiarized with all too well. "Slate, my friend—my comrad! Thought you had been eaten by the mighty clans in those woods." He peers down from above the warrior, obsidian tail tip flicking with excitement as if he's cornered a squeaking mouse. "What brings you back home? Did ya get kicked out like that pretty little molly did, too? Shame—what a shame." Snow capped paws slide down the fence post he perched on, landing swiftly on his paws upon the hard cement before Slate while a feign expression of sympathy falls on his scarred face. It doesn't last long before a cackle breaks his mask, and he laughs before erupting into a small coughing fit. A smile then grew upon his maw, incisors protruding under his lip as he did and looked at the rock tinted warrior. "Been a long time since I've seen your ass around here. You look tired, my friend. Why don't you sit on a spell? Have a chat with an old friend, yeah?"
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[ EXECUTIONER STYLE ]​