you bought a star // joiner

[✧ Sootspritespark.]

I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootsprite | 31 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99

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As the sun breaches the horizon, sootsprite is always slipping down from silken sheets, soft pawsteps muffled by plush carpet underpaw. In a matter of moments she's weaving her way over and out the dog-door, not paying the slightest bit of mind to said beast sleeping soundly upon its own bed nearby, soft whuffs of snores the only sound in the house. it had taken a few days for her to think it over, to come to a decision, but now the molly was steadfast in her certainty, assured and determined. A powerful leap of her hindlegs sends her barreling up-and-over the short white fence and out into the beyond, a familiar treck, though instead of avoiding the woods this time she seeks them out. Pausing at the line of strong forest scent that she assumes must mark the confines of their territory, the curly furred molly twitches near impatiently. Perhaps she hadn't thought this through well enough - wait if she is stuck waiting for hours before someone arrives? A lazy, languid sigh slips past her maw and she settles in for the wait regardless - she's not going to turn back, not now. She's never wanted anything more in her life, and though she finds herself thinking such thoughts quite often this time it rings true.


// @Hailstone friend ping, no need to wait!

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[ThistleBack]

Jaws rotate, gnashing with his focus on the disturbed sway of morning light-lit ferns or drinking in stale mouse trails. His travels along the soft hum and obviously man-tamed border of the twolegplace, were more common than not for the lead warrior.If not for the debatable abundance of rodents, but for the possibility of recruitment. The more claws, the more scratches. Simple math, and Thistleback did love his calculations.

Silver eyes catch before his nose can sense, a stranger silhouetted by their own dark coat against the frosted evergreen forest.

Patiently waiting, the stranger’s messy fur is twisted and black as the coals of a burned forest- their collar yellow as the promise of summer. Always the ambious seeker, he prowls forth with a white tipped tail flicking above the ground. He rests his hackles to show he means no harm but it was hard considering the sprouts of thorns crowned on the blades of his shoulders.

Black knuckles crackle with each step, his petulant scowl shifts into a smile. Jagged and framed by skull white. " you look, expectant. Hello dear- my name is Thistleback. " he introduces himself with a hoarse weaving of words. " are you looking for someone? This is Skyclan territory " he keeps his tone friendly, as gentle as he can but his vocals are withered by war. Such can be seen in the bandaged wounds at the bob of his neck.

" the forest calls to you, doesn’t it " he chuckles, eyes darting to the sway of the nettle canopy. The roar of freedom as it was.

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OOC INFO REF

• — apprentice tags! if they wanna come <3 @Snowpaw @Quillpaw
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw & snowpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — voice & accent
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
  OPEN for Dice battles | stine#3004
  
• 
  
  

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[Grapejuice]

It was such a beautiful morning. The sun was peaking through the trees, glinting off the frost that had collected over night. It crunched beneath his paws as he strode along the fence, even as he tried not to.

The usually chunky blue tom had lost some weight, looking more in shape than before. Truthfully, he had always been in shape. He was strong, quick, and could scamper up trees just as good as everyone else. He just actually looked like it, now.

He comes up upon them in no time at all, peering at the kittypet who sat in their forest. Thistleback said something about the forest calling to her.

"The call of freedom!" He said. "Go! Go, be freeeee!" He continued, making a shooing motion with his paws.

Or join them! That worked too. But that's up to her. He is here to be silly.
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[SLATESNARL]

The life of a wild cat had once been a hopeful young kit's dream. He stared out the windows of his twoleg's nest, imagining the possibilities that could be — hunting for meals, fighting off dogs and foxes and other drooling beasts, staking a territory of his own. Once Slate had managed to slip past the comfy walls and dive headfirst into the outside world, he found that life as a stray wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Fending for yourself, not having a reliable next meal, gaining nasty wounds and licking them without twoleg intervention. It was brutal, but Slate had felt doomed to roam the sidewalks forever, never gathering the will to see what was out awaiting in the wilds.

Now, Slate was a warrior of SkyClan... he supposed. He didn't really feel like one. He was more so sticking around just to catch up with his littermate and reconnect with the only family he had left in this world. The title of a warrior and the duties that accompanied it was more of an obligation than anything; Slate could have left weeks ago, but... maybe he would stick it out and give this wild cat thing a chance. The tom was securing better meals than he was on the streets, that was for sure.

Despite having been born one, Slate despised kittypets. He despised the idea of a daylight warrior, one who played pretend in camp all day before running back to their comfy and warm nests to feast on kibble while the rest of the clan fought for survival. So, when Slate detects the stranger as a house pet, he wrinkles his nose and snorts, "You reek. Not hard to tell where you came from."

Thistleback seems to think that the she-cat is either waiting for someone or perhaps wanting to try her paw at clan life. The other tom with him, whose name he can't recall at the moment, appears to think the exact opposite — she should go run off elsewhere, away to another clan or even beyond the clans altogether. That sounded like a better idea to Slate. There were a lot of mouths to feed around here. No wonder SkyClan was the laughingstock in the wilds, they let in a lazy kittypet every other day!

Slate figures that Thistleback is going to play the role of Mister Charisma and try to offer this she-cat a place in the clan, which he has no way of arguing against. So, the charcoal-colored tom sags his shoulders and gives a roll of his eyes, directing his gaze elsewhere before giving an audible, "Hmph." He just wanted to move on as quickly as possible.​

— * ✰. ooc information recent events * ✰. —

• 
  
• 
  ✰ SLATE
  —— amab, uses he/him pronouns. twenty-nine moons old. warrior of skyclan; former rogue.
  —— unrefined, rough and tumble rogue who is not accustomed to clan life. only trustful of his littermate, duskmane.
  —— link to tags. @ on discord for plots.
  
  quite the hulk of a cat, slate stands above the average clanmate with an arrogant gait. he has a dark gray ( bordering on black ) colored pelt with a pale-brown-tinged underbelly and whisps of tan at the tips of his chest hairs. amber-colored eyes contrast against his dark palette. notable features include a jagged scar across his right eye and two small scratches across the bridge of his nose.
• —— decided to officially remain in skyclan as a warrior
  —— participated in battle with windclan, currently recovering from belly scratches and a bite mark on hind leg
  

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[✧ Sootspritespark.]

I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT AND WHO I WANNA BE
sootsprite | 31 months | demi-girl | she/they | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #ffff99

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A bright and sunny smile is on her face in but a matter of moments as pawsteps quickly approach, sunshine yellow gaze falling upon a rather spiky-furred frame first. "But of course it is - just the ones I was looking for then," she says in that sing-song tone of hers, voice lofty and lilting in a confident way. She's a kittypet who's used to getting her way after all. Head tips to the side as she takes in thistleback and his fellows, sending her collar ever so slightly askew. "I'm looking to join up - I heard you all let 'kittypets' join up without having to leave our twolegged ones. " she hopes that's the case - for is Hailstone has misled er, she's certainly going to cuff the warrior upside the head the next time she sees them for wasting her time.

Wide eyes turn to land n grapejuice as he cheers nonsensically, her smile turning just a bit sharper. "But I already am free - I go where I want, do what I please, and have a warm bed and 'scritches' waiting back at home for me," even if she now has to share them with a mutt of all things... though, she supposes, had the stupid flea-ridden thing never been brought into her nest than she never would have known the joys of the outdoors, never would've met him, never would've been sitting upon the border. She'd be stuck living his boring indoor life, with toys that only hold her attention for but a moment and nothing to do but watch and pace.

Slate is the only unfriendly face she sees, and the 'clueless' molly turns to get a good look at him - it's a shame, she thinks, that he's of such a sour disposition, because he's certainly easy on the eyes. Her gaze roving over his figure, she gives an appreciative hum - "Yes well, can't be helped - my poor twolegs have been tricked into letting a dog of all things live in the nest," how that had ever happened was quite the mystery - regardless, the tiny thing was not even as big as herself and certainly had been blessed with half the brains - one good swipe had taught the rank thing to keep it's distance.

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