pafp with twisted beaks and eyes of tin // questions

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 14 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

Peri never wants to see a body of water bigger than a puddle again he thinks, not if he can help it. He'd nearly died - he'd not fallen in, thank the stars, but for a moment he was certain he would've if claws hadn't snagged into wood when they had. If he had, would the riverclan cats have saved him, the way they did the others? He's... not sure.

Flanks heave anxiously even now, long after they've all made it safely across, mind racing. He- he needs a distraction. Cold blue eyes glance about the group, darting from one face to another as he takes them all in, only a pawful familiar to him before this journey. And then it lands on one in particular, and something flickers. He knows this tom, if only from a distance. Dovethroat - a name that had rung unfamiliar, but now that he really looks, he's seen him before.

Curiosity gets the better of him, blackened paws moving before he thinks better of it, carrying him over to stand before the pale cream figure, posture slouched and nervous. But, he reasons, there's no reason not to ask - there has been no official word from riverclan on it after all, and he'd heard she'd escaped the border confrontation safely despite silverthorn's best efforts after he'd fled. As far as he knows, dovethroat would be the best cat to know what he seeks, and when will he ever have such a chance again?

"You're m-my mo- Hyacinths apprentice r-right? Or, used t-to be? How- how is she d-doing? She hasn't g-g-gotten sick, right?" he asks quietly, part of him still worried his clanmates might overhear. They wouldn't understand after all - especially not scorchstreak. He knows they walk different paths now but - wisteriapaw and snailstride still weigh heavily upon his heart, and he fears she'll be yet another. The grey tabbies in his life seem to be stupid when it comes to these sicknesses after all.

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: [lease wait for @dovethroat.
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[dovethroat.]

Even if he was not a RiverClanner, Dovethroat liked to think that he still would have enjoyed the water. It was a wonderful, calming, fickle thing. The way it could range between something entirely benign and a raging rapid fascinated Dovethroat. That being said, perhaps he would be fine with a bit less swimming for the time being. Dealing with the bridge had not been pleasant, no matter how much he liked to swim.

He has not committed most of the faces or the names to memory, of the ones who are not from RiverClan. Not yet. For most of them, if he remembers one, he forgets the other. Periwinklebreeze is a hard name to forget after hearing it, but he could not pick said Periwinklebreeze out of a line-up. He probably would not even remember what clan they were from. Though, with a bit of deductive reasoning, one could argue WindClan was the most likely.

The issue of Hyacinthbreath is a tough one; and it's especially tough because all the other RiverClanners have to be here. Nobody else in the clan was fond of his ex-mentor. Iciclefang, Fernpaw—all of them, really—they had turned on her with a sort of wicked glee, some carnal hunger for revenge that made Dovethroat's stomach churn.

So when Periwinklebreeze (he can't remember that's who this is, for the time being) comes up and asks him about her, Dovethroat clams up for a few seconds. Not only is this possibly precarious, it also will end up doubly unfortunate—he has no clue. Hyacinthbreath ran away; no she was chased away, and Dovethroat did not know a thing that had happened to her since. Part of him had hoped she had gone back to WindClan.

Staring with stupid-looking, wide eyes at Periwinklebreeze for a few moments, Dovethroat feels his throat tighten. "I—I, uh," he stammers, searching for the right words. He casts a glance over each shoulder, and then casts a few more half-glances over them a few more times. He does not want to deliver any bad news; clearly, they don't even know this. "...I—I d-don't know." He wants to leave it at that, but he knows that is not anywhere near sufficient. "She—sh-she... um," his mouth feels dry. "She g-got, uh, d-driven out. We—I—um, haven't... s-seen her since."

His manner of speaking is plodding, slow, and awkward. He hardly sounds like himself.

[⋆]​

​

 

[smogstar]

His posture has seen but a minor reduction in stiffness in the time since crossing the thoroughfare. With his paws gnashed at by the metaphorical teeth of the waves below, it's hard to shake the weight of mortality from his shoulders—death had loomed a whisker's breadth away, and he supposes it'll serve as a continuous theme throughout this adventure. That said, he's well aware of the commitments he made. Whatever perils were implied by volunteering in his clan's name, they ought to be faced with the same assurance that placed him so far from his home in the first place. And when the situation calls for it, he'll play the part convincingly.

When he isn't standing his ground against his own demise, the ShadowClan deputy primarily keeps to his own ilk. No logical basis existed for him to align with individuals outside of his own clan. Should conversation be in short supply, he can find a fair partner in Needledrift. If he's found wanting of moralistic lecturing, Clearheart was always a hop, sprint, and jump away. And the inane platitudes of Honeyjaw, Magpiepaw, and his apprentice far outshone those of outsiders. Showing concern towards non-ShadowClan cats did not fall under any of the promises he'd made; being the deputy of an insular, unsavoury bunch, he assumes he is thought of likewise.

However, in overhearing the emergence of a long-forgotten name, he cannot help his ears from pricking up. Hyacinthbreath. Sootstar's favourite runaway. The one who'd shed light on the insecure state of WindClan's machinations, ultimately leading him to cross into the moors for a visit with the queen herself. Upon reflection, it wasn't immediately clear to Smogmaw the last time she'd crossed his mind.

Interest piqued, the tom roves in the younger cats' trajectory. "Driven out?" he echoes, a subtle flicker of curiosity in his cold eyes. Had she gone and gotten herself banished for a second time? "You'd figure that, after it happening once, she'd learn a thing or three." Scrutinising brows ride on his gaze, which in turn flicks towards Periwinklebreeze. "Think she'll give SkyClan a go, next? I'm not familiar with their resettlement policies, but I've heard they're pretty lax." ​

 

[SLATE]

Similar to Smogmaw, Slate doesn't find the thought of forging bonds with other clans particularly enticing. He is here with his clan to get what they need and return, not to make friends. However, it seemed that even the other SkyClanners already had other ideas, such as his own apprentice conversing with a particular WindClanner. The lead warrior has the mind to scold her for talking too much with the moor cat, potentially slipping sensitive information past that running mouth of hers.

Slate didn't care about the drama of other clans unless it involved SkyClan, in which he'd have to care at that point. If his supply of prey, the safety of camp and the wellbeing of his clanmates were at stake then Slate gave a damn enough to indulge in listening to the gossip concerning everybody else. So, naturally, damaged ears pick up on the mention of SkyClan by the deputy of the marshes. Moons ago, Slate would have not blinked an eye at the insult of his clan's honor, but now he thought of the pines as his home. All of the clans had their issues, so why should they take the most amount of crap from everyone? "You're really gonna take jabs at SkyClan now? The real question you should be askin' why WindClan has so many refugees to begin with." The burly Maine Coon snorts, amber eyes aglow with annoyance.

Dark pupils narrowing, he sends a hardened stare toward Periwinklebreeze. "But I think we all know the answer to that." Sootstar, the mad queen, the tyrant who couldn't even keep a medicine cat for more than a couple of moons it seemed! She was on, what, her fourth medicine cat? And now her third deputy ( whoever that may be ). A moor rat stumbling upon SkyClan land and groveling at their paws has become a repeating occurrence, as bothersome as it was, but there was a reason for it — who could stand to live under a leader like Sootstar?

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[HONEYJAW]

There's no telling just how high tempers will flare in their journeying. It's natural, he supposes; close quarters'll do that to anyone. He just wishes he didn't have to be right there while it all happened. He's plodding along some distance from the other cats, not all too eager to get close to them. Not because of the others and their odd way of thinking — really, Honeyjaw isn't too proud or firm when it comes to clan boundaries. Perks of living a life beyond them, right? But with how young the clans are, you think more of them would feel the same way. Instead they swallow up this isolationist nonsense, and it makes trips like this near impossible. Probably by design. Easier to care for a small group than a large one, right? And easier to rule that way. Which reason each leader would pick, he doesn't know.

From what the others say, Sootstar would choose power, and Blazestar, care. But really, they don't seem like the best judges of character. Not a single one of them. A sympathetic wince bleeds way to a full on grimace, his brow scrunched and head a little low. Smogmaw has never been the most tactful of cats. He leaned instead towards sheer bluntness, indelicate but masterful nonetheless. This is not that. "Okay, so that was counterproductive," he tells the warrior whose name he really does not know (Slate), his tone derisive but in the way that a father's can be. That I'm not angry, just disappointed kind of voice. "If we're not making jabs at SkyClan, we won't be making them to WindClan either. Fair's fair and all of that."

He has no real place in the conversation, and certainly no need to intervene, but he's here regardless and doesn't know how to shut up.

𝘈 𝘗𝘖𝘌𝘔 𝘉𝘌𝘎𝘐𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘚 𝘈 𝘓𝘜𝘔𝘗 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘛  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘚𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.  HONEYJAW. HE - HIM. WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. ADOPTIVE FATHER TO DRAGONFLYPAW. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. —————————————
  ——  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected with a salt-and-pepper dusting.
  

  ✦ NOTICE honeyjaw is currently on the journey and will not be active outside of retro threads, or finishing those he had previously posted in! please message me on discord for plots or interactions between journey cats.

• "speech"

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 14 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

"sh-she what?! Why?" it comes out louder than he means to, but it hardly matters - clearly, eavesdropping ears had already been listening in long before he's spoken. Fur bristles icy gaze landing upon smogmaw with a look of utter disgust . "Shut up. C-clearly, you still st-stick your nose into b-b-business that isn't yours," hasn't the tom done enough? Poking around when they were supposed to be allies, attacking sootstar once they were no longer, dragging his mothers name into the dirt with his lies. "N-nobody asked y-you for your lies, y-yet you s-speak as th-though you're any b-better," he reiterates - he doesn't care if he's a depty now, he's certainly not his, and truly shadowclan must have poor taste in cats if filth such as him had risen up the ranks.

Starclan above, he hates him - the boy blinks, startled by his own viciousness. But- if smogmaw hadn't been there at that gathering, would any of this had happened? Serpent tongued, a carrion bird simply waiting to swoop in and steal whatever was left. He'd seen it then, curled into his mothers side - deemed weak, unimportant. He'd seen it again when sootstar had come back to camp terrified, in the patrols that had went back to the scene of the crime as a precaution. A creature like him, who could shake such a vile woman, could put such a look upon a face he so feared, playing innocent? Tch.

Slate takes offense to the toms words in his own way, but the young tom only flicks his tail, shoulders rolling as he meets the lead warriors stare. If he is looking for an argument, he's looking at the wrong cat - whatever hurt he'd felt at dandelionwish's choice to leave him behind had long since petered out, the raging fire crushed until there was nothing but cooling embers left. And he's certainly not going to be the one to stand up in sootstars defense - not now, and probably not ever.

Head shakes when Honeyjaw speaks, a frown tugging at his jaws in a way that's almost painful as he snorts. Is it really a jab if it's true? Their moorland queen may be starblessed, but her path runs red with blood nonetheless. And had skyclan not taken in many of his former clanmates? No, he will not take back his stance on the shadowclan filth in front of him - smogmaw has always been a snake in the grass, the others are just too blind to see it; so why should the others have to hold their tongues?

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: ic opinions rip
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovethroat shrinks in on himself. He knows very little of what goes on in most of the other clans, and at least part of that is by choice. He is unaware of Hyacinthbreath's reputation among any others, even though he can only assume she remains unpopular among WindClanners. Hearing the deputy of ShadowClan comment on her is almost surreal enough to break him out of the impending panic that weighs heavy on his chest. "She, ah, she—she wouldn't, well—" he hesitates, trying to find the right word. Being of more reserved quality in general, Dovethroat finds himself effectively silenced as more and more voices begin to cut in and defend "their" honor. Honor of their clans, really, but it seemed shockingly few people had become aware of such a distinction. Suddenly a SkyClanner is here, and Dovethroat is unsure what to do further.

"Let's—let's just," he tries to intervene, but Honeyjaw interjects with the least related of all arguments yet. Something within Dovethroat sounds like a branch snapping off and his voice dies completely for a few moments. "Wh-When WindClan attacked, she w-wouldn't—she didn't strike—I—" now the only one cutting Dovethroat off is himself, and he offers a thinly knit smile that looks much more like a grimace. "I th-think, um, this—this isn't g-going anywhere," he says with a touch of harshness that he does not necessarily intend to have.

To hell with it, he thinks irrationally—hardly thinking at all. Cicadastar is not here, and he is more straightforward with his thoughts than he had been with mostly anyone before. "I d-didn't kick her out. A-Ask Iciclefang if y-you want to talk to s-someone who did," he blurts.

[⋆]​

​

 

[iciclefang]

“Sadly, I wasn’t one of the ones who had the honor of chasing her from our territory,” an appropriately icy voice says, “but I wish I had been.” The tortoiseshell gives Dovethroat an appraising look. Surely he can’t be upset about Hyacinthbreath? What good had that traitor ever done for him, after all? She lets her stare linger before it flicks to the ShadowClan deputy, his warrior, the SkyClan lead warrior, and finally, finally, on Periwinklebreeze.

“Your mother was no more loyal to RiverClan than she was to your Clan,” she says coldly. “I wasn’t at the battle, but if Smokethroat tells it true, she showed mercy to more than one enemy warrior that day.”

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ OH HOME, LET ME COME HOME ❀❀​

---

periwinklebreeze & 14 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner ​

---

Something hysterical bubbles in his chest, leaving him wheezing. Of course - of course - it's his fault, isn't it? A simple warning, a wish for her child to leave - and one that would have helped riverclan in the end, rather than hinder it, had he only listened. He'd fled the battle too soon to know she'd also helped silverthorn from the waves, and so self-loathing simply crashes down upon him. Why hadn't she just shut her mouth? She'd been the one to tell him she'd made due with her choices, that he could be a good windclanner, that she'd joined riverclan because she couldn't stand to live a life where she was alone - and now she was.

Head tips back neck snapping, and he has to force himself to breathe - a shaky, stuttering exhale. He doesn't think he'll ever be used to this - this... this skewed perception of loyalty his fellow clan cats have. Hyacinth had never really raised him, had not been in the picture for a long time - yet, the day he'd found she was his other parent, he'd loved her all the same. Still does. And yet - he's surrounded by cats who see pity and compassion as weakness, who would rather slaughter their own kin then let themselvves be laabeled a traitor - even if untrue

Head shakes in disbelief, before he simply slumps - he's to tired for this. Gaze is heavy and waery as he finally blins blue eyes open once more, giving one last blank stare in the riverclanners direction. "Thank y-you for answer h-honestly at l-least," he says quietly, voice all but a whisper, and then he is gone. Turning away and wandering off on wobbling paws - fleeing like the coward he has always been. He needs to be alone - needs time to collect his thoughts, to shove his emotions right back down into the confines of his ribcage where they belong.

Perhaps someday, he'll learn not to run from the things that break his heart - but clearly, today will not be that day.

— home is wherever I'm with you ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: && boy is out <3
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched posture. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with carefully woven daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account

 

[hazecloud]

Hyacinthbreath's exile had been viciously done, which some may deem appropriate for a cat with such a vicious history behind her. Its a surprise to the silky-furred cat that one of the WindClanners would ask about her. Her health of all things, and not meant with malice or hope that she had withered in Ravensong's den. Quite the opposite with the young tom. Periwinklebreeze has faith she had remained strong in the face of yellowcough.

Hearing the tabby's name had felt... taboo? Maybe there was a better word for it. By now the events of her departure felt long, long ago that Hazecloud had nearly forgotten. Even Boneripple's abandonment. Their leadership didn't seem to have good judgement of their former friends in other Clans...

Hazecloud is not quick to respond when Dovethroat shared his explanation. There wasn't much to add, she felt. Hyacinthbreath was long gone, racing deadly teeth and claws all the way to the twoleg site. Bloodied by her former Clanmates, she must have dragged herself to probably waste away somewhere beyond that. She was never seen from a RiverClanner again.

Tufted ears pull flat against her skull when another chimes in. The swampland deputy, the heir to her former home, sinks his claws with petty insult. What a nonsensical thing to start a squabble over, to think these cats held power in their Clans. Hazecloud wondered if Chilledstar kept Smogmaw around just to cause trouble when they weren't around.

"We had put a lot of faith in her, forgave her, hoped that she would be a credit to RiverClan, and she sank her teeth into our paws for it." She does not name their deputy specifically, knowing the political weight such a thing could hold. Her words are more of a musing, mostly to herself, but she does not bother to be quiet. What an embarrassment the she-cat had been in the face of their Clan's kindness. ​