[tye]

Originally Posted by RedHead

"Oh, how great this is, to be stuck within a clan that has literally gone crazy." Flowerpaw had stayed back most of the time during when her fellow clanmembers had apparently "gone mad" preferring to watch from the sidelines as they attacked each other. Then that storm had come and everyone seemed to calm down, but the young she-cat was still weary. She was hiding out in the apprentice's den, teal eyes watching out for any cat that might attack her with no reason. Plus she was freezing. There was nothing worse for thick, fluffy fur than cold, cold rain. She had been surprised that it wasn't snow, it was so cold. But just her luck, the molly had gotten soaked, and her fur was still drying out. "Something needs to be done about this clan." She scoffed, wrapping her tail closer around herself.

(open)

Bunch of buffoons, he thought to himself. For some reason he wasn't affected by the chemicals, watching away has his clanmates go crazy chasing tails and literally attempted..and some succeeded to kill each other. It was horrifying to watch at first, stepping in to stop them yet they would either ignore him or try to snag a bite of his fur. Anger abrupt like a geyser within him when they tried to touch him with their foaming, crazed self. Absolutely disgusting. After all that, it seemed to die down literally. Instead of horror and fear, Warblerpaw hoped that Brightstar would gain control of the situation because if the next cat tries to touch him again he'll give em' a good scar for life.
The maine-coon apprentice slowly stride passed the den until he heard a weary voice echoing from deep within. His ears strained to hear anything else but it went silent. Seems like some cats are still afraid," he murmured. Warblerpaw started to pad in the den until a little light sparked in him revealing a half smirk, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. It'll be more amusing if I spook them just a tiny bit. He quietly stepped, making no sound then suddenly rushed before the cat has a chance to get a good whiff of him, yowling loudly. "Grahh!" he pounced toward his denmate, claws sheathed.