[Daragca]

Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 39 moons
The Dancing Bird

The large tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Tuftedtusk addressed him directly. He had picked up quickly on his longing gaze. No surprises there. Owlthroat paused for a moment of thought before he lifted his head and spoke, ”Aye, shame I wasn’t a part of it.” It was hard to not let the jealousy slip so loosely from his tongue.

Usually so bitter to other cats, Owlthroat always came across as cutting. But curiosity seemed to triumph eventually, he wanted to know how it went. Unfortunately he hadn’t gotten much out of Willowpaw’s blathering, neither was he incredibly sociable. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to learn a little more, satisfy his urges with stories of bloodshed instead of the physical sensation. It had been a while since he had been in conflict, desperately long while. Black claws itching beneath ebony paw pads to do any type of damage. He wasn’t particularly pleasant to be around when he got like this, but appearances were key and he needed to make an effort to keep them up.

As if on cue he tilted his head to groom through his already meticulously picked fur. The black shadows that graced it had somewhat of a shine to them, as he worked through his pelt his slitted yellow eyes returned to rest on Tuftedtusk. Unable to help himself. ”Did you have fun?” Owlthroat’s deep voice snarled playfully. If one listened closely enough there was an edge to his voice, gently lapping at the corners of a smirked maw.

One day soon he would be a part of something bigger, the dancing bird returned to his glory days. The plans were there, barely. His Windclan father at the centre of it all, Rabbitfoot would have his eyes clawed out and his neck torn. Messy, without mercy or forgiving, just pure artistry. Twitching his ears, he let it slip away to ponder another time. Gleefully waiting to hear Tuftedtusk’s firsthand report on the battle.

[​​ @Aroogi ]