WindClan: Life Before 2023's Fire

[Tavvi]

Originally Posted by Panda

(Sorry I took so long to respond!)


Chestnutkit looked up to his mother now that he could hear the softness in her voice. He climbed beside her side, and curled up allowing the sunlight and his mother's warmth to melt away his worries. "Oh, they're just wanting comfort." He repeated her words, beginning to ponder what she said. "I guess I understand now. They just wanted their mommy to comfort them, and that can't be bad right?" Near the end of his sentence, he stretched out the word right into a long, loud yawn. His eyes widened in curiosity of the word stepfather, but he kept his questioning tone rather relaxed as he spoke. "What's a step-father?" Once he finished his question, his eyelid began to flutter, desperately trying to stay open. His curiosity was able to keep him up, just enough to listen to his mother's answer. The kit didn't want to fall asleep as most kits, but it was obvious that the sun warming his pelt was making it almost impossible to stay awake.

(No problem, I was on a visit to my cousins for most of the past four days anyway :3)

Gorsebird wrapped her tail around Chestnutkit's body beginning to groom the kitten once again. Her amber eyes seemed to be shimmering with a look of maternal pride, quietly pleased that at least she could say one of her kittens was what could be considered normal. "No, Chessie, there's nothing wrong with wanting a little sympathy and love now and again...but a little goes a long way." Gorsebird meowed her tongue continuing to rasp over the little tabby's body as she cleaned away any grime or dirt that had collected itself on his pelt in the last day. She then briefly shuddered at his stepfather inquiry before regaining her composure, "Well, Chessie, a stepfather is like a second or new daddy for kittens who's daddies have left or are dea--not there!" Her whiskers twitched towards the end of her explanation beginning to get uncomfortable, though she tried to maintain an outwardly happy face. Then noticing Chestnutkit's lethargic behavior she cooed stopping her grooming and in place commenced a cuddling session with her son.

(For some reason commencing a cuddling session sounds really cute to me.)

[graves]

Originally Posted by hiraeth

crowfall's head turned as he saw the other tom moving towards the fresh-kill pile. his eyes narrowed, examining every scar left on the small feline's body, observing every reaction. paranoid. frightened. broken. the black tom's claws dug into the ground and he glowered, a disdainful scowl twisting at his features. why is he like that? dipping his head lower, crowfall made his way towards the calico tom, his expression raising into that of friendliness, hoping not to scare him.
"hello," he said quietly, speaking in a soft, gentle tone. his eyes brightened and a smile curled at his lips. "how're you?"
the young tom didn't normally strike up a conversation, but whoever this other tom was clearly needed someone to talk to. even if crowfall wasn't the best option, he had to find out what had happened to the pitiful creature. back up a little, you're too close, crowfall thought, scooting backwards by a tail-length to give the other more room.
"if i may ask, what's your name? i'm crowfall, by the way."

larkfall looked down towards the freshkill pile, looking for the smallest pick of the prey. he didnt want to take something big - a more useful warrior could use it more. he jumped up a few feet at the greeting by the tom, crowfall was it? looking towards him with wide eyes and then the ground, a bit nervous to make eyecontact. cuckoosnark hated when he made too much eye contact. especially with other cats. larkfall had just planed to get freshkill and go back to the warriors den, hoping cuckoo wouldnt find out somehow that he had left in the first place, not talk to anyone. but..this tom seemed nice, he even took a few steps backward for larkfalls comfort. "My names L-larkfall! and im okay, just getting uh..a mouse, the usual." he said awkwardly, prodding a mouse with his paw gently.

[Charmer]

@king kaleb!

Thistledown was still high from the excitement of his first gathering the night before. The fact that he hadn't managed to go during his entire apprenticeship had stung, even though he knew on some level there had been good reason for it. His mentor had been concerned about the unrest between clans, and wanted to make sure he had all the training she could give him and blahblahblah. The point was, he was a warrior now. He had fought in the battle in Thunderclan's own camp. No one could take that from him, and he could be proud of that... As proud as any cat could be when other clans called this move by Windclan cowardly and against the warrior code. The small warrior shook his head, growling as he tried to knock loose these thoughts. What he needed was a good hunt. He needed wind in his fur and prey under his claws. And as luck would have it, as he was making his way toward the edge of the camp, he spotted Fireflare. The ginger tom had been a warrior longer than he had, and while he hadn't spent much time with him as a clanmate, he had never been unkind to Thistledown before and seemed to be a decent hunter based on what he brought back to the prey heap. "Come hunt with me," the little tom said simply as he passed by, confident that the older warrior would come along.

[oats]

―
« I AM WHAT I AM. »
―

CUCKOOSNARL was in no way one of the most judicious of toms. Maybe he wasn't honourable at all. Only Starclan knew how he felt looking into Larkfall's eyes as he verbally beat the tomcat down, or resorted to ulterior options. No-one could say if he was the Devil incarnate, or some paragon of virtue, for he had poured all too much love and time into crafting an un-noteworthy persona to wear in the face of most Senior warriors— most of whom were cats who could seriously damage his reputation if they did so wished. He was nothing, if not irrelevant in the eyes of the higher authorities of his Clan, and he would have it in no other way.

He could say he hated himself for what he did... but that was a flagrant lie. Cuckoosnarl was hedonistic to the point where it became less of some sort of niche quirk and more of a one-way ticket to the Dark Forest. He'd live fast, die brutally, and take everyone near with him in the meanwhile. Of course, larger, more volatile, more important stars died in this very way. Not those who were boring in the eyes of astronomers, no, not those who went quiet into that good night, that burned out without a peep, without fanfare.
Without names.

That was the way that someone like Larkfall would die— which was why he was honestly doing him a favour, allowing him to bask in the tabby tom's light. That way, when Cuckoosnarl fell from grace (and note, dear reader, his use of the word ‘when’ and not ‘if’,) he would at least have some bid to relevance. Or at least, that was what Cuckoosnarl told himself. Whatever helped his ego in the long run, right?

Nonetheless. Cuckoo padded, or strutted, whichever you prefer, into Windclan's camp, his chest puffed out. He had an air of self-satisfaction about him, though. A rook hung from his jaws, and he perked his ears forwards, straining to listen to whatever gossip floated on the breeze that meandered about the clearing. »Come hunt with me,« floated over from a far corner of Camp. »What's a step-father?« Asked another, more blustery gale, pushing him back ever so slightly. Casting his gaze over to the fresh-kill pile, he spotted...

Ah, speak of the devil. Larkfall stood, curling into himself as he always did— honestly, he acted as if Cuckoosnarl laid hand on him every day, it wasn't that often, was it? Anyways. He seemed to have picked out the smallest piece of prey on the pile, and for once, Cuckoosnarl felt the slightest, the tiniest twinge of guilt. As quickly as it came, it was quashed. Who was this fetching young tom his mate was speaking to? He padded over, large strides carrying him fox-lengths closer, his grimace hidden by the corpse of the rook he carried. It was apt that that tailchaser's fur was as dark as the bird he carried. Perhaps he wouldn't have to be so aggressive though— it nearly hurt him, the thought of tarnishing such a silky-smooth pelt.

Raising his tail in a sign of false cheer, Cuckoosnarl trotted closer.
―
@king kaleb! @hiraeth

[lio]

@king kaleb! @milo

the sight of another tom walking closer brought an odd sense of discomfort to him, his pupils narrowing to slits. crowfall subconsciously moved closer to larkfall, his claws unsheathed protectively. why am i doing this? that tom- larkfall?- means nothing to me. we just met, his expression deepened into that of hate to the newcomer, albeit him only just arriving. briefly, crowfall's gaze flickered to the calico tom beside him, ears perked and standing at attention. it was as though his body poised instinctually. i don't know what it is, but that tom gives me a bad feeling, he thought, tail lashing. his claws scraped at the ground below him, eyes ablaze with a hidden fire. i feel like i need to protect him, crowfall's attention switched onto larkfall once again, he seems so fragile, so small. so vulnerable. this cat could easily beat him down-- wait, is he...? his thoughts trailed off as the other drew closer, no, he can't be the one to cause all those marks, could he?

[graves]

Originally Posted by milo

―
« I AM WHAT I AM. »
―

CUCKOOSNARL was in no way one of the most judicious of toms. Maybe he wasn't honourable at all. Only Starclan knew how he felt looking into Larkfall's eyes as he verbally beat the tomcat down, or resorted to ulterior options. No-one could say if he was the Devil incarnate, or some paragon of virtue, for he had poured all too much love and time into crafting an un-noteworthy persona to wear in the face of most Senior warriors— most of whom were cats who could seriously damage his reputation if they did so wished. He was nothing, if not irrelevant in the eyes of the higher authorities of his Clan, and he would have it in no other way.

He could say he hated himself for what he did... but that was a flagrant lie. Cuckoosnarl was hedonistic to the point where it became less of some sort of niche quirk and more of a one-way ticket to the Dark Forest. He'd live fast, die brutally, and take everyone near with him in the meanwhile. Of course, larger, more volatile, more important stars died in this very way. Not those who were boring in the eyes of astronomers, no, not those who went quiet into that good night, that burned out without a peep, without fanfare.
Without names.

That was the way that someone like Larkfall would die— which was why he was honestly doing him a favour, allowing him to bask in the tabby tom's light. That way, when Cuckoosnarl fell from grace (and note, dear reader, his use of the word ‘when’ and not ‘if’,) he would at least have some bid to relevance. Or at least, that was what Cuckoosnarl told himself. Whatever helped his ego in the long run, right?

Nonetheless. Cuckoo padded, or strutted, whichever you prefer, into Windclan's camp, his chest puffed out. He had an air of self-satisfaction about him, though. A rook hung from his jaws, and he perked his ears forwards, straining to listen to whatever gossip floated on the breeze that meandered about the clearing. »Come hunt with me,« floated over from a far corner of Camp. »What's a step-father?« Asked another, more blustery gale, pushing him back ever so slightly. Casting his gaze over to the fresh-kill pile, he spotted...

Ah, speak of the devil. Larkfall stood, curling into himself as he always did— honestly, he acted as if Cuckoosnarl laid hand on him every day, it wasn't that often, was it? Anyways. He seemed to have picked out the smallest piece of prey on the pile, and for once, Cuckoosnarl felt the slightest, the tiniest twinge of guilt. As quickly as it came, it was quashed. Who was this fetching young tom his mate was speaking to? He padded over, large strides carrying him fox-lengths closer, his grimace hidden by the corpse of the rook he carried. It was apt that that tailchaser's fur was as dark as the bird he carried. Perhaps he wouldn't have to be so aggressive though— it nearly hurt him, the thought of tarnishing such a silky-smooth pelt.

Raising his tail in a sign of false cheer, Cuckoosnarl trotted closer.
―
@king kaleb! @hiraeth

Originally Posted by hiraeth

@king kaleb! @milo

the sight of another tom walking closer brought an odd sense of discomfort to him, his pupils narrowing to slits. crowfall subconsciously moved closer to larkfall, his claws unsheathed protectively. why am i doing this? that tom- larkfall?- means nothing to me. we just met, his expression deepened into that of hate to the newcomer, albeit him only just arriving. briefly, crowfall's gaze flickered to the calico tom beside him, ears perked and standing at attention. it was as though his body poised instinctually. i don't know what it is, but that tom gives me a bad feeling, he thought, tail lashing. his claws scraped at the ground below him, eyes ablaze with a hidden fire. i feel like i need to protect him, crowfall's attention switched onto larkfall once again, he seems so fragile, so small. so vulnerable. this cat could easily beat him down-- wait, is he...? his thoughts trailed off as the other drew closer, no, he can't be the one to cause all those marks, could he?

Larkfall was going to open his mouth to say something else, but closed it once he saw cuckoosnarl pad his way into the clearing. the way he walked made larkfall want to cave in on himself, tail high and head in the clouds - he could only dream of that confidence. but hey, cuckoosnarl told him that he was all larkfall needed, so confidence really didnt matter, right? wide, green eyes stared towards the familiar grey tom. he walked with a purpose, and that purpose was to get him to stop talking to crowfall. they both knew that. he took a pawstep forward before crowfall had stood infornt of him, growing closer by the second. couldnt he see he was making it worse for the both of them? that if cuckoo really wanted to, he could crush them both? larkfall pushed towards crowfall, leaning up to whsiper something in his ear.

"go, please. youll make this worse for yourself."

his voice was so small yet determined, serious and not scared. that was one thing he wasnt scared of - was defending others against cuckoosnarl. he wouldnt defend himself after what mental damage his mate had done, but he would defend others. why had cuckoosnarl come back from his walk so early? had the toms hes secretly meeting in the territory not shown up? larkfall knew. larkfall knew that he was merely a one of the toms that this warriors played with. he had so many others - so many others that he was fond of, that he cheated on him with. but that didnt stop larkfalls everlasting dedication to him. in larkfalls eyes, cuckoosnarl was his savior from a boring life, he was his knight in shining armor, his light, his everything.

but larkfal knew cuckoosnarl didnt feel the same. not after coming home smelling like toms every night.

he padded forward, gaze more soft and cheerful, walking hesitantly towards his mate with cautious pawsteps. he knew if he made the wrong move or said the wrong thing it would set the tom off, so he was always on edge.

"my love," he spoke. his tone cracked, "i was just geting some freshkill. im sorry i left the den before you returned." his tone was formal, submissive, and unatrual. but it was natrual for him by now.

[lio]

hesitantly crossing over the pungent scent markers and into the windclan territory, a pristine feline held her head high, not allowing her expression to show the confusion and fear she really felt. the molly, lanna, cast her gaze across the large territory, her tail lashing uncertainly. her steps were light, silent on the warm ground. scents swarmed around her and she had to stifle a gag at every mix of each smell, her princess-kittypet nature not giving any knowledge of the outside. of course, she knew about her old yard, before it was demolished and she was forced to leave the property, having been left behind by her owners.
she still felt the betrayal.
shaking her head, lanna looked around as she moved unguardedly through the windclan area, unaware that she could be in great danger. why would anything try to hurt her, anyways? everybody adored her. she was simply too beautiful for them to handle.
yeah, that's it. too beautiful.

@king kaleb!

[graves]

Originally Posted by hiraeth

hesitantly crossing over the pungent scent markers and into the windclan territory, a pristine feline held her head high, not allowing her expression to show the confusion and fear she really felt. the molly, lanna, cast her gaze across the large territory, her tail lashing uncertainly. her steps were light, silent on the warm ground. scents swarmed around her and she had to stifle a gag at every mix of each smell, her princess-kittypet nature not giving any knowledge of the outside. of course, she knew about her old yard, before it was demolished and she was forced to leave the property, having been left behind by her owners.
she still felt the betrayal.
shaking her head, lanna looked around as she moved unguardedly through the windclan area, unaware that she could be in great danger. why would anything try to hurt her, anyways? everybody adored her. she was simply too beautiful for them to handle.
yeah, that's it. too beautiful.

@king kaleb!

spireflare had been full of rage lately.
he seemed to be going backwards, while fireflare was only moving up in the ranks. fireflare seemed to be striving! gloating that he was the brother that spireflare wished to be (thats how he saw it, atleast) and it made his gaze red. it made his blood boil. it made him want to screech into the sky and swipe anything with his claws that was breathing. so he did was he always did. he wandered the territory for a victim, if he wouldnt find anything maybe he would just kill a rodent for fun, watching his claws dig into its scaple and crush it under his paws, and leave it there. but, at the scent of something sweet, something unfamilar, it peaked his interest. his ginger ears flickered, maw open to taste the air.
kittypet. crossing on his land? this was too good.
so he started with a crouch, relying on his ginger pelt to help himself fade into the brownish yellow grass. his claws dug into the ground, kneading it, ?pretending it was that mollys neck. she really was oblivious, wasnt she> walking out so clearly, so that spireflare could target more easily. how considerate. he waited.

[BEAR.]

By the time Blazingstar had gotten through his first sentence, Rowanfury was already pushing himself to his paws. His bones creaked under his weight, a bitter reminder of his growing age. "I'd love to," he responded. "I can eat later." He wasn't terribly hungry to begin with, something he attributed to the butterflies growing in his stomach. Why did he feel so antsy? This was just a patrol... with a strikingly handsome leader. Who approached him. "Where will we be going?" Rowanfury inquired as he began to follow Blazingstar out of the den. 'Patrol' was vague in nature, and the warrior was curious as to what they would be doing.

@Suspiciousmindz

[oats]

Originally Posted by king kaleb!

Larkfall was going to open his mouth to say something else, but closed it once he saw cuckoosnarl pad his way into the clearing. the way he walked made larkfall want to cave in on himself, tail high and head in the clouds - he could only dream of that confidence. but hey, cuckoosnarl told him that he was all larkfall needed, so confidence really didnt matter, right? wide, green eyes stared towards the familiar grey tom. he walked with a purpose, and that purpose was to get him to stop talking to crowfall. they both knew that. he took a pawstep forward before crowfall had stood infornt of him, growing closer by the second. couldnt he see he was making it worse for the both of them? that if cuckoo really wanted to, he could crush them both? larkfall pushed towards crowfall, leaning up to whsiper something in his ear.

"go, please. youll make this worse for yourself."

his voice was so small yet determined, serious and not scared. that was one thing he wasnt scared of - was defending others against cuckoosnarl. he wouldnt defend himself after what mental damage his mate had done, but he would defend others. why had cuckoosnarl come back from his walk so early? had the toms hes secretly meeting in the territory not shown up? larkfall knew. larkfall knew that he was merely a one of the toms that this warriors played with. he had so many others - so many others that he was fond of, that he cheated on him with. but that didnt stop larkfalls everlasting dedication to him. in larkfalls eyes, cuckoosnarl was his savior from a boring life, he was his knight in shining armor, his light, his everything.

but larkfal knew cuckoosnarl didnt feel the same. not after coming home smelling like toms every night.

he padded forward, gaze more soft and cheerful, walking hesitantly towards his mate with cautious pawsteps. he knew if he made the wrong move or said the wrong thing it would set the tom off, so he was always on edge.

"my love," he spoke. his tone cracked, "i was just geting some freshkill. im sorry i left the den before you returned." his tone was formal, submissive, and unatrual. but it was natrual for him by now.

―
« I AM WHAT I AM. »
―

CUCKOOSNARL didn't so much as blink as the smaller-- well, taller-- tomcat beseeched his forgiveness. All he did was stare at Crowfall, taking in his defensive stance, the way he stared through the tabby, eyes filled with intent that he'd seen on the faces of many other cats... but never for his Larkfall. His tail lashed, he unsheathed his claws in turn, spitting the rook at Crowfall's feet. However, his facial expression ironed itself out, and he gritted his teeth in some sick parody of a welcoming smile. Goddamned coward, finding someone else to fight his battles. This simply could not stand. He'd been having a good day, scouting the territory for someone he hadn't spoken to yet, someone easy-- and now it was ruined, and for what? If Cuckoosnarl was alone, he would have snorted.

What was interesting, though, was the defensive stance that Larkfall took to defend this tom. As if they were... happy together. His ear twitched, the only clear tell of his annoyance. Cuckoosnarl flexed his claws. "Larkfall," he merely said, trying to make his words drip with caring worry, "We'll speak about this later. I can't believe you--"
He shook his head, as if affected. Just because acting seemed like a useless skill around everyone else didn't mean it wasn't useful. He was still, of course, watching Crowfall's distrustful gaze from afar. "How long have you been talking to him, kit? How many times have I gone to hunt, not knowing you've been doing..."

He looked Crowfall up and down, curling his lips, exposing his fangs. "That. What do I have to do to let you think you can be trustworthy again? How many times, Larkfall, for Starclan's sakes?"
―
@hiraeth