camp WWYD? // story time

She had been sitting casually with Whitepaw and a few other apprentices, relaxing from their shared tunneller duties earlier in the day, when something that is said hits her as slightly odd. "Wait - sorry, what?" Cottonpaw's shoulder fur ruffles and her eyebrows furrow. At the gathering before last - one she was barred from going to because she was attacked by that nasty RiverClan tom - they claimed that she crossed into their territory? "No. No, no, no - Cicadastar -" the long river-rat's name tastes like acid in her mouth, "- he lied, just like that? And to dozens of cats from all five Clans and - and no one thought to tell me?" She can't tell what makes her angrier. The fact that she's likely become a joke amongst cats from all of the Clans... or that her own Clanmates hadn't the brightest thought to let her know. Ignorance is not bliss, she doesn't think.

"No. No!" Cottonpaw stands, taking a step away from her friends and pacing a few paces left and right, and then left again. "First, Magpiepaw goes on and embarrasses me the way he did -" it's been weeks since, and it's relieving how her heart doesn't ache as bad anymore. "And now RiverClan is spreading lies about me? Wait - no, I guess that happened first. Magpiepaw must've felt pity towards me..." he did mention the last few gatherings when she confronted him... Had he made it to that one? Does he, too, think she's inept? The fur along her backside bristles, and anyone passing her a brief, bewildered glance would finally see the longstanding Sootstar blood boiling within her. "Wow. Wow."

She finally pauses, staring off at nothing at first. It's easy for her to calm herself down, as much as she admittedly doesn't want to. She'd rather claw off the ears of those toms in RiverClan - and then maybe yank the tail of the bicolored apprentice in ShadowClan. To pity her, of all cats. It wasn't an act of friendship - it was a ploy, a chance to see if she really would disobey their laws. Cottonpaw is angry, fuming, even. She grits her teeth as she leans back and sits on her haunches.

"I went ahead of the patrol, yes, and I was near that damned bridge, yes - but I hadn't put a paw on it, much less crossed it and the river into enemy land." Her eyes are frenzied as she looks towards her friends for a sense of approval, ears folding back. She sucks in a deep breath, tail settling around her paws. The scruff of her neck burns, as does the long, thin scar that mars her eyelid and cheek. "That cat - Smokethroat - made his way to me, grabbed me, and used me to goad the rest of the patrol into a scuffle." She wonders, briefly, if this should inflate her ego at all. To be the chosen prize at the end of a messy scandal. It, she decides, does not.

"StarClan," she huffs, nose twitching, "That - that really upsets me. I hope they both fall in the gorge, and that their bodies aren't recovered," Cottonpaw decides, easing off of her tirade with a simple huff.​
 
Spiderbloom remembers the day Cottonpaw was attacked very well. She remembers the boiling rage inside as she recalled what happened to Juniperfrost. Pulled across the border and mauled,band those fish eaters had the nerve to frame it as Juniperfrost who crossed instead.

Her hatred for Riverclan has only grown since then.

She understands Cottonpaws anger very well. She hopes she holds onto it. Lets it grow.

"You're right to be angry. Lying is one of Riverclans favorite hobbies." She says. "Juniperfrost didn't cross the border either, but they told the forest that it was he who attacked first, instead of being pulled across by that snake."

She still wants Hyacinthbreaths blood. She wants to rip her apart for taking him from her.

" That's why you should never believe a word out of a Riverclanners mouth." She finishes, looking at the apprentices. "They will suffer for what they did to you. I'm certain of it." She says to Cottonpaw.​
 
Always listening, always watching, the ever-wily Snakehiss was almost never out of reach of another clanmate's business. He liked to eavesdrop on the other WindClanners, absorbing their hushed conversations like a sponge. Who knew when he'd need to reference that information later on? Cottonpaw's conversation with her fellow apprentices was no exception to Snakehiss's nosiness.

He watches with a neutral frown as the she-cat jolts up from her position and paces angrily, venting her frustrations toward RiverClan's conflict and the impact the situation had left on her own reputation. Snakehiss hadn't cared enough about Cottonpaw in the past to approach her about what was said at the gathering, but now was a more than perfect opportunity to stand for her honor and condemn those heathens living across the water. Harebrain. Why hadn't she stayed with the patrol in the first place? He hopes that the predicament Cottonpaw had gotten herself and her clanmates in was enough to teach her. She couldn't go off on her own like that, not when there were so many drooling hounds in the other clans thirsting for the ichor of the Moor Queen's kin.

The green-eyed tom parted his jaws to share his input, "RiverClan has a penchant for shifting the blame onto WindClan, and then refusing to take accountability for their actions once they've been challenged." First with Juniperfrost, then with Cottonpaw... what would happen next? This couldn't keep happening to their clan! They had to find a way to put an end to their heinous lies and acts. "Absolutely pitiful, the lot of them." Snakehiss muttered with a disapproving shake of his head.

The young warrior pads from where he's been standing over toward Cottonpaw's side, even so much as brushing his midnight-hued pelt against her own ashen one. In addition to Spiderbloom's input, a guileful promise leaves his lips as a fiery determination lit his gaze, "I will draw that deputy's blood myself for what he's done, mark my words." He was sure that Cottonpaw felt a bubbling, hot and angry urge to tear into Smokethroat herself, but if she were smart, she would keep her distance from that fish-breathed mongrel. He wouldn't put it past a RiverClanner to kill yet another one of their own, especially Sootstar's daughter.

Of course, Snakehiss was speaking as a cocky new warrior who truly hadn't gotten a taste of battle yet. Deep down he knows how daunting it was to face an opponent and put your life on the line; he hadn't felt such dread since he was an apprentice. However, it doesn't do his reputation any good to show weakness especially in the face of those scum heaps. "How dare he permanently leave his mark on your eye? I ought to take his other one." Snakehiss hisses lightly, dark fur beginning to bristle with genuine emotion. Of course, he was only trying to sell his concern over Cottonpaw, but unfeigned animosity toward the RiverClanners seethed in his gut as well. Hopefully Sootstar had a plan to eventually cut those fish-eaters down where they stood and put them in their place once and for all. Snakehiss would give anything to see the light leave Cicadastar's eyes for good, to hear the mournful cries of his deputy and the other fools who supported him. Best of all, he could imagine the praise and reverence that his clanmates would shower him for such a feat.
 
He had been there in that moment, trailing behind with eyes narrowed in thought. He had not seen all of it, but to hear it from her maw– he had expected no different. His mind returns to the day of Juniperfrost's demise. How mightily the warrior had been pulled from his place at the border and the sickening sounds of it all. Though he does not voice the thought, at least Smokethroat had more honor than this. At least he had sought a fight rather than murder. (Sunstride knows, just as well, that he would do the same. That should words be flung against him and this clan, there would be little stopping him from tearing into their fish-filled sneers. Cruel, he knows. But was it truly, after all that they had done?)

Looking to Spiderfrost, the lead warrior's tail flicks gently along the former rogue's flank. They had known each other for some time, though they were not friends. He understood how she mourned Juniperfrost and the life they may have had with their kits. One day they would be warriors worthy of returning the favor. If Cottonpaw and Snakehiss did not take it first, at least. Sunstride looks to them in silence for a moment, and then settles nearby. He does not remark on her safety as Snakehiss did, or assure her that she would have her revenge. Instead, casual and slow, he asks: "What did you feel, in that moment? When he pulled you across? In detail, if you've a mind to share it."
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  • ooc:
  • SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
    —— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
    —— gay, monogamous. mate to wolfsong from 07.05.2023. npc x npc, no larger family.
    —— has recently regained some of his earlier lightness, but maintains his steady facade.

    sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
  • "speech"
 


"SPEECH"
She remembers the anger she had first felt when she had heard what had befallen her young niece. RiverClan had some nerve to come across their border, harm one of them. Not just had this happened once but twice. And both times had they gone to the gathering afterwards, stood tall on that rock and with a foolish boldness they had lied to the other clans. Painted WindClan as cats who disrespected the border again and again when really it was them who held no respect for the scent lines that seperated them. Let me catch one of them putting even a toe across the border she thinks to herself, claws curling into the soft sand underfoot I would shred them to pieces.

She agrees with Snakeblink, if she had the opportunity she would gladly finish what her brother-in-law had started and rip that flea-bags good eye right out. She can feel a growl finding purchase in the back of her throat but she surpresses it in favor of listening to Sunstride's question. She thinks it a little crass of him to ask the she-cat to relive her feelings during that time but she says nothing, only affixes the gray-furred apprentice with her golden gaze, waiting expectantly for the answer.

 
It baffled Badgermoon that the RiverClanners could simply stand before all the Clans - and StarClan themselves! - and lie. Not simply tell their version of the story, nor piece together scattered accounts of the event, but truly lie. thought the deputy, his head resting on his forepaws as he listened to the angry words his Clanmates exchanged. His yellow eyes were half-narrowed, an expression of sympathy and anger on his face, one which shifted into a grimace of approval at Snakehiss's bold words.

"StarClan willing, you'll be able to someday." meowed Badgermoon in agreement in response to his former apprentice, giving a lash of his dark tail. He knew that he was not the only one who wanted a piece of Smokethroat, though his vendetta with the one-eyed RiverClanner was less personal than some of his Clanmates'. He simply despised Smokethroat for being a RiverClanner, for being the future leader of the fish-eating cats. But he couldn't blame Cottonpaw, nor Spiderbloom, for especially hating his RiverClan counterpart. For them, it was personal.

Sunstride's question was not one Badgermoon would've asked, but it made sense for the Lead Warrior. He's much more in tune with the whole emotion... thing. reflected the black-and-white tom with some admiration. I wish I could do that. Musing, he waited for Sootstar's daughter to reply, curiosity clear in his perked white-tipped ears.
 
❀​ I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES ❀​

periwinklebreeze & 13 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner

"Th-they lied?," he echoes, ager in his dark features. Riverclan only sinks lower in his eyes every day, and yet again he can't help but wonder why his mother had gone there. But.... she is not without her own crimes, he supposes. "I hope st-starclan punishes them for their l-lies," is all he offers after a moment, settling in to listen as well - though he knows he is likely unwelcome, it's not as though they can kick him from the camp. He thinks of his own terror during that fight - what must it have been like, he wonders, to be dragged onto the bridge?

  • Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '

    ooc: —
    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 figure. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with 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