Honeykit weaved around other cats and sat down next to the medicine den.
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Deuteronomy 31:6 ~ Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.”
Cinderpaw
~<>~
25/100
8 moons || she/her || ShadowClan Apprentice small black tabby with minimal white markings and 3 legs; amber eyes
Dawnstar calls a meeting and, as Cinderpaw looks around at the cats who had returned from battle, the sting of envy in her chest does not go unnoticed. She should've been there, she should've helped in some way. But she does not have training. She cannot even hunt let alone fight. So she would not have been any help - she knows that - but as she gathers below the Grimpeak, she still feels guilty for not contributing.
Owlthroat had sauntered his way over as Dawnstar’s roar had broken through camp. The day had been long and the late sun cast a glow beneath the Grimpeak. Starkly outlining Dawnstar’s scarred figure. Riverclan was gone, he was thankful for that much. But jealousy crept into his mind as he pondered the battle, he wished he had been there. Nothing pleased him better than carving and slicing cats, seeing the red spatters of another win. Owlthroat knew it was his fear for the water which had held him back and his blackened maw curled in disgrace.
When would be his next chance? He yearned for nothing more than a battle, because there was nothing he was better at. It was a guilty sadistic satisfaction of his very own. He wasn’t particularly interested in what the leader had to say, it was undoubtedly more of the same. More apprentices, possibly warriors. Last meeting he had been assigned Willowpaw as his own, what a mistake that had been. The blubbering mess of a cat turned his head sideways. She was frankly untrainable, how could he even begin to start training a mess like that. A discorded brain even more broken than his own, unable to keep a simple train of thought.
But he would train her, to the best of his abilities. Owlthroat didn’t want to make himself appear as incompetent, especially when his own ego he held above everything. The greatest warrior alive wouldn’t fail and crack under the pressure of someone like her. Escaping his mouth a small sigh echoed as he moved forward, trying to find an unnoticeable spot within the crowd ahead. Catching sight of Tuftedtusk seemed like somewhat of a relief, he didn’t know him much. Only past mention, but from what he’d heard he seemed like a sensible cat. Albeit on the gruff side similar to himself.
Tuftedtusk’s red-brown fur seemed mottled with greens and spindly cobwebs, he had been in the battle. It almost soured Owlthroat and caused him to turn away, but there weren't many other places to sit down now that the clearing had begun to fill with cats. The choice had been made for him. Pushing forward once more, his towering figure lowered onto his haunches. Tuftedtusk’s gaze was unfocused and unwavering upon Dawstar. Dipping his head in a brief courteous nod, he secretly hoped he’d catch his eye.
Conversation would be often a bore at these meetings, he hadn’t managed to get much out of Willowpaw in regards to the battle. Part of him yearned to ask the questions, hear about the bloodshed and the rage. It left him hungry.
The tom noticed the black and white tom sit beside him and give him a nod out of the corner of his eye. He turned to him, noticing the craving in his eyes as he surveyed Tufted's scarred and battle wounded pelt.
"Hello.. Owlthroat is it? Couldn't make it to the battle eh? You wouldv'e enjoyed it." The large marbled tom had always had a softer spot for clanmates than outsiders and would always be a bit less of a gruff standoffish cat around them. His tail flicked as he waited for the warriors response, keeping Dawnstar in his pereferals.
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❝With you beside me, I know everything is just how it should be.❞
[Tick Kit]
[Purrks- Bewitched/Constant Hunger-Chill of Death-Shadow Fiend- ACTIVE -Lyrebirds Lullaby]
[He Him] - [Shadowclan Kit] - [6 Moons]
TickKit strode toward the meeting call at the very second of the leader’s voice ringing over the clearing. Undoubtedly he had been working to focus more on things, his mind had centered itself around the idea that his mother was disappointed in him which was proven true time and time again at the sudden avoidance of him. Eyes flittering from shadow to shadow TickKit seated himself and lowered his head, he doubted he’d another chance to right his missed ceremony but if he simply stayed in the nursery all through his life he’d turn into a pile of mush for sure! He was sick of all the prey-kits scrambling around him all the time and the little snots that would squeal their hearts out. His ears rung at the thought, paws shuffling over one another as he slunk into the shadows. He squirmed around for a moment, he’d rather stay here where he wasn’t as easy a target by his mother’s angry gaze.
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”The cookie you knew is no more, for he has fallen deeper than the deepest abyss.”
Owlwing was hunting when he heard Dawnstar's call for a clan meeting at the Grimpeak. Another sting of guilt and annoyance panged through him, as he wished again he had been at the battle. He felt helpless, being stuck in the Medicine Den at he time of the fight.
He quickly plodded over to the quickly gathering circle of cats around the Grimpeak, chatting and waiting for their clanmates to appear. He was glad he was out of the Medicine Den, but he wished he could have taken part in the battle.
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Owlwing
26 Moons/Tom/Humorous
Warrior of ShadowClan
Last edited by TheElasticBandit; June 20th, 2024 at 09:41 AM.
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.
Tuftedtusk chuckled at the older toms barely repressed excitement to learn about the battle. His eyes met Owl's and he smirked. "Indeed I did. I was fighting this nasty molly named Owltalon. She injured me, yes, but I bit down on her maw and mangled it." His eyes glittered as he remembered how angry the molly was and her malice filled eyes. "She won't forget my teeth in a hurry."
He licked his lips, remembering the sweet taste of her blood. Oh how he wished he couldv'e killed her. The fish deserved it. However, she had also earned his respect by not giving up until the very end.
~ BRIARSPLASH ~
very large & fluffy dilute gray tortie she-cat with goldish-green eyes
[ shadowclan warrior | she-cat | 26 moons | abrasive, standoffish, loyal ]
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Briarsplash stepped out of the warrior's den, shaking the sleepiness from her pelt. She gave a quick stretch, careful not to pull too much on her belly and flank wounds as they recovered with the help of Grousepaw's treatment. Then she padded over to the group of cats assembling, sitting down and mindlessly grooming some dirt from in between her claws as she waited for the meeting to begin.
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art by c1nder Berryshine is RiverClan's medicine cat!
she has a semi-closed den policy.
Quietpaw
Shadowclan apprentice
Purrks: Mind reader(permanently active) and Shadow fiend(inactive)
46/100
Oh goodie, a meeting. Would have been one of Quietpaw's favourite things in the clan if not for how exhausted it always left her. But she had to come or she would becoms as clueless as the rest of her clanmates. Choosing a place further away from the other cats, but still gave her a good view of her grandmother, she waited for the dreaded meeting to start.
Mistlewhisker
ShadowClan Deputy
she/her | 41 moons
[Large black cat with a half white muzzle and a pale green eye] Purrks: Beefed Up T3, Shadow Fiend
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[Squirrelpaw - @furrensic ]
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Mistlewhisker padded towards her spot under the Grimpeak, the gargantuan feline’s silky pelt dappled in the afternoon sunshine. She cast her one-eyes gaze out over her clan mates, noting her apprentice settled amongst the crowd. Though, she imagined Squirrelpaw wouldn’t be her apprentice for much longer. The thought sent a pang of an unfamiliar emotion in her chest, and she found her paws pulling her until she settled down silently next to the russet molly.
Re: ShadowClan Grimpeak
Berryshine is RiverClan's medicine cat! 
