ℓαи∂мαяк || ℓιтєяαтє/ιиνιтє σиℓу

[saige.]

{Gotta leave this a wip since I have to leave now Dx}

--

{{Mɪɴᴛғʟᴜʀʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ Bᴇᴇᴋɪᴛ}}

Beekit stared outside with still eyes, yet her body motions told another story; her tail twitched, paws fidgeted, body continued to adjust to fit a more comfortable position to sit in the air-damp ground. Eventually, she let out a huff through her nose, whimpering slightly at the dreaded sight of the pouring rain. Normally, Beekit wouldn't mind a drizzle here and there, but today...today was different. Anxiously she gazed out, deep green eyes burning with plead for StarClan to cease the falling water and return sunshine to the land, but with the dark clouds cluttered overhead, that was more wishful thinking than anything. The pale tabby torn her fixed gaze away from the nursery entrance, eyes trailing lazily across the ground to come upon the still slumbering form of Mintflurry, her mother.

Turning around, standing as she did, Beekit crawled back to her mother, now feeling the cold air that had been blowing on her small structure and chilling everything both on and beneath her fur. Settling down and curling up against the warm belly of Mintflurry, the enticing scent of lingering milk, combined with the welcoming and defrosting allure of her mother's body heat was enough to put Beekit back to sleep. Luring back to the draw of sleep, the kit began to doze off, eyes fluttering shut. For a good while, she remained asleep, curled up next to Mintflurry in synchronized sleep, but approaching pawsteps caught her attention. Waking up, gaping her jaw in a squeaky yawn, the golden she-cat looked up through half-opened eyes. In the distance, through the foggy rain, Beekit could make out a figure approaching the nursery. Quickly, she nudged her mother awake, her still-cold nose sending enough sudden shock to wake up the sleeping Queen. The white and brown she-cat grumbled softly, licking her chops a few times before slitting her eyes open enough to meet that of her daughter's. "Beekit...? What's the matter?" She asked, her voice still soft, yet it was laced with a tired rasp.

Beekit cocked her head to one side as her mother awoke, blinking her matching eyes before glancing over her shoulder. "We have company, Mintflurry," she mewed, sitting up straight and directing her attention at the approaching shadow; Cricketsong. Beekit blinked at the appearance of the Warrior, nose immediately catching at the damp prey that had been brought to them. Almost as if on cue, her stomach began to rumble, and an embarrassed fluster formed in her light-toned cheeks. Flicking her ear to the sound of laughter, Beekit swung her head over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at her mother, only to be returned with an amused smile in return. Mintflurry looked up at Cricketsong, nodding her head graciously, "StarClan isn't going to make hunting today easy, are they?" she asked in a friendly manner, shuffling her forepaws to sit upright, yet her legs still rested and jutted out from beneath her somewhat big belly. Even though she had had Beekit moons ago, bits of pregnancy fat remained and kept not only her, but her daughter warm on cold nights and rainy days such as this. "Thank you for the hare, Cricketsong. We'll be sure to savor the hard work of our fellow Clanmates. Right, Beekit?" Beekit merely answered her mother with a nod, her stare fixed on the hare and glistening with ravenous hunger.

---

[[Sɴᴀᴋᴇᴘᴀᴡ]]

Though still captivated by the allure of sleep, Snakepaw lay awake for one key reason; Applepaw's constant fidgeting and kicking of the moss. Bits of moss had been tossed at him throughout the night, followed by the eye-catching movements he noticed when his eyes unwillingly flickered open randomly in the night. A groan escaped him, quiet yet deep, as he stretched in his moss-bed, claws unsheathing and scraping against the floor of the den. Snakepaw opened his amber eyes, allowing them to graze around the den to see that most of the other Apprentices lie still and asleep, despite Applepaw's moving around in her bed not too far away. It was his fault, however, for placing his bed close to hers, but what did it matter now? He was pissed for being woken up, sure, but it would do no good to ponder on thoughts of getting back at her later when instead, he could be getting some fresh air.

Standing up, Snakepaw yawned, his powerful jaw clamping with a loud "click". Glancing around at the others, the marble tabby blinked slowly before turning and heading towards the entrance of the den, a gust of frigid air whipping against him. The Apprentice cringed as the cold feeling started to nip at him, but he braced it and stopped at the mouth of the den. Shuffling his paws to sit down, Snakepaw watched MorningClan come alive before him, despite the strange new-leaf rain. The amber-eyed Tom tapped his tail lightly against the ground, huffing as the rain pelted against him in sharp, needle-thin drops. Retreating back into the Apprentice's Den, Snakepaw took refuge in the warmer den, heated up with the body heat of his fellow Apprentices that slept there as well. All the while, he hadn't even noticed Applepaw had up and left. The gray and black tabby blinked in bewilderment. How had she gotten past him without him knowing? Snakepaw shook his head, cursing himself mentally and lightly for not noticing her pass by him. Trotting back out to the front of the den, he awaited her return. Even if he wasn't the nicest Toms around, he still took kindly to Applepaw's company.

Sure enough, she came into view and approached him with an air of exhaustion. When the question of hunting came up, Snakepaw raised a brow, glancing around at the rain that hailed down around them. "You really want to hunt in this weather, Applepaw? I think you have more water in your head than there is puddling around camp," he teased, a mocking smirk playing upon his muzzle. "But if you really want to go out with a drenched pelt, be my guest. I'd gladly take that opportunity to see you like that." Snakepaw gently touched her arm with his paw in a playful gesture, that same mocking expression etched on his face as he spoke with the she-cat.

{Finished hours later Dx Now to shower}

[indefinite.]

"Wʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏsᴇ sɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ
ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇɴs."

Gɪɴɢᴇʀsᴛʀɪᴘᴇ

Tᴏᴍ | 18 ᴍᴏᴏɴs | Mᴇᴅɪᴄɪɴᴇ Cᴀᴛ | Cʀᴜsʜʟᴇss | Sᴍᴏᴋᴇᴘᴀᴡ

"Bᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀɪᴛɪsɪᴢᴇ,
ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴏғ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ,
ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ."

Gingerstripe tucked his body deep inside of his leaf-bed, the chills from the outside air seeping into his den. His long legs were pulled into his belly as tight as he could, the rest of his body coiling around them. Even his tail was wrapped around, resting on his snout. His sightless eyes had closed, and the only movements he had made in quite a long while was his sides heaving with every breath he took.
After a long while, his body relaxed, sprawling out across the mossy bed. He let out an immence yawn, blinking open his ivory green eyes. He saw nothing. This was usual for the blind tom. Being that he was born blind, he never saw anything but darkness. Sometimes, he would find himself hesitating to open his eyes, hoping that he would see light.
As soon as Gingerstripe rose to his paws, a light gust of wind whipped into his den and through his orange pelt. He almost leapt aside, but instead his whiskers twitched curiously and padded out to the opening of the den. He looked out, though seeing nothing, he could feel it all, better than any other sightful cat would. The wind blowing, the rain splattering his face, and the thumping of water onto the camp ground.
He let out a shiver from the cold air. Blasted rain. Most the herbs will be destroyed now. He let out a hiss below his breath, claw shethering and digging themselves into the wet soil beneath him. His tail lashed furiously, because now the rain had come down much harder, pelting his body with immense force.
Gingerstripe looked around at the awakening cats, whiskers twitching. I'll have Smokepaw go out and look for herbs. No way in Starclan am I going out in this weather.

"Cᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛʏ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ ʜᴜʜ?
Tʜᴇɴ I'ʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ sᴍᴀʀᴛᴇʀ."

Oᴡʟғʟɪɢʜᴛ

Tᴏᴍ | 18 ᴍᴏᴏɴs | Wᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ | Cʀᴜsʜʟᴇss | Bʟᴜᴇᴘᴀᴡ

"I'ᴍ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋᴇʀ, sᴍᴀʀᴛᴇʀ, ғᴀsᴛᴇʀ,
ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. Wᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ
ᴡʜʏ? I ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅ."

Owlflight rocked back and forth on his paws, claws digging into the earth beneath him. His amber eyes were locked on a helpless mouse that was nibbing on a flower seed. His body was still, claws dug deep into the soil beneath him. His couch was low to the ground, belly brushing the forest floor, tail dangling just above it. The black and white tom crept slowly from the shade of a large bush, pawsteps silent.
Then, a drop of water splattered on his snout. Owlflight blinked, shaking it off and continuing his crawl forward. But another drop hit him, this time on his shoulder. The warrior frowned. Rain. Just what I needed... Of course, he was being sarcastic. Rain while hunting was the last thing any cat needed because just as it was doing now, it scared away prey.
The mouse had heard wter splatter beside him, and so it looked up into the skin. When a droplet of water fell onto it, it was soaked within seconds. And so, the mouse stuffed the seed into his mouth, shook out his small pelt, and dashed away. It didnt know it was being chased until Owlflight leapt from where he was hiding, paws thundering the wet forest floor as he sprinted after it. Rain poured down harder now, pelting his fur angrily. The warrior had to talk himself out of stopping. It's just water. No harm can come from it. The tom didnt believe this, because his father who had been the previous lader of Morningclan, Lightstar, had died during a flood. And his mother Brighteyes? She just passed two moons ago from falling into the harsh stream and being too old to pull herself out.
As more rain came down, it somehow managed to always find Owlflight and cling to his pelt, dragging him down in his chase. The mouse was smart, he would give it that. It was constantly ducking into bushes, leaping over logs, and hiding under leaves, well until Owlflight squeezed it out with his paw. However, as the tom guessed, the mouse must have seen a small opening in the bottom of a tree trunk, just small enough for it to pass through but not Owlflight. This crevace thouh, turned out to be a shadow coming off a bush and wth that Owlflight trapped it between himself and the tree trunk, killing it with a swift bite.

"Bᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ғᴇɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ, ᴛʜɪɴᴋ
ᴏғ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴀʏ."

Cʀɪᴄᴋᴇᴛsᴏɴɢ

Sʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ | 18 ᴍᴏᴏɴs | Wᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ | Cʀᴜsʜʟᴇss | Sɴᴀᴋᴇᴘᴀᴡ

"Tᴏ ʙᴇ, ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ
ʙᴇ. I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ
ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ."

Cricketsong set the piece of kill down, settling herself to sit on her rump. SHe pulled both hr legs and tail close to her. The nursery wasnt any warmer than the warriors den. Actually, it was colder. There were so many warm sleeping bodies all stuffed inside the warriors den. In the nursery, there was only two.
Cricketsong shook her head, her bright eyes, ones inherited from her mother Brighteyes, clouding over with saddness. "No it seems." She paused for a second, eyes pleading as she asked, "You dont think Starclan are angry with us, do you? I mean this weather, the shortage of prey, the floods..." Her mind trailed off to her parents. Lightstar, the previous leader of Morningclan, had been her father. He had died in a flood a day after she and her brothers, Gingerstripe and Owlflight, were born, and two days after he had made the final decision to keep Morningclan in hiding. As for her mother Brighteyes, she died from falling into the creek and being too weak to pull herself out. The loss of food had gotten to her, considering she always fed her kits and any other cat before her.
Mintflurry had been a close friend of Brighteyes, so now that her mother was gone, Mintflurry had taken the position of the wiser she cat she could confind to, that cat she would always know would be open for talking with her about things she couldnt dream of talking about to her brothers.
Cricketsong dipped her head graciously. "Don;t meantion it. After all, I just didnt want to spoil good prey. So much has already gone to waste from the wretched rain."

"Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ
ᴍᴇ, sʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴄᴛs. Mᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ."

Sᴘᴀʀᴋsᴛᴀʀ

Tᴏᴍ | 30 ᴍᴏᴏɴs | Lᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | Cʀᴜsʜʟᴇss | Aᴘᴘʀᴇɴᴛɪᴄᴇʟᴇss

"Tᴏ ʙᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ɪs
ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ. Tᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴏᴜs
ɪs ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ."

Sparkstar padded from his den under the high rock, arching his back and stretching out his legs as far as they would let him. It wasnt until he heard that familiar pop that he relaxed, rasping his tonue across his whiskers. The pitter patter of the rain outside drew his attention, and he curiously padded out. His curiosity finally ceased when water slowly began to soak his brown tabby pelt. He drew backwards into the safety of his den, giving his pelt a quick shake.
The tom sat down, rasping his warm tongue down his chest fur to flatten it. Wrapping his tail around his broad paws, he watched the rain fall outside. The rain calmed him, made him at peace with his surroundings. For some strange reason, it made him forget of all the trouble Morningclan faced with Nightclan just around the river bend. It was... comforting.
It wasnt until he saw Rapidstrike padding towards his den that he whipped up enough courage to walk outside in the harsh weather. Morningclan must live on, inspite what Starclan thinks of us and our decision. It hadnt been more than a fewmoons ag, or so it seemed, that SParkstar's dear friend Lightstar had made the decision to keep Morningclan hidden, but soon after his decision he drowned in a flood much like this rain would case. I hope no cat gets injured.
Sparkstar chuckled at the tom's remark. "I'm afraid so. Seems that Starclan gets angrier with us every day. I mean, rain this harsh and cold in New-Leaf? They cant be serious." The noble leader fought hard to ignore the rain that stung him.

{{@Without && Beamz: Aww darn! I was gonna have Owlflight do that XD

@Firefly: Cant wait to see the finished product! :3

@Finn: Would I ever say no to you? XD Accepted. }}

[carrie dee.]

{ To make things interesting, I'm going to make Bluepaw have a raging on her mentor, Owlflight. Ya know, 'cause imma rebel and all. XD }

[indefinite.]

{{ Hahah wow! Thanks Finn! Owlflight appreciates it XD }}

[moon.]

|| Ah, sorry Deffs! D: I didn't know 3: ||

➔ ➔ ａｐｐｌｅｐａｗ

Applepaw sneers at her denmate. Her eyes, amber and glittering, are playful, but her expression is fierce, a bit on the defensive side. This is Applepaw - a completely confusing cat, though she always has wisdom and good nature in her sight. So he wanted to play rough, huh? All she had wanted was a little hunt, though he does have a bit of a point.. Outside, it is pouring and headed towards freezing. Prey will be hiding, and a trek through the forest during a storm won't be fun. Applepaw pushes towards Snakepaw, further into the den as to keep her pelt dry. Of course, to no avail, for her pelt is already soggy and dripping, jaws clamoring together as they tense, protecting herself against the icy chill that runs up her spine. Okay, I'm tired, I wasn't thinking. She hisses, playfully, of course, ears back a bit as she turns to face Snakepaw, sitting down whilst fluffing out her black fur. Amber eyes twinkle as her wise gaze rests on a fellow apprentice. We'll just stay in here, then. It's better to stay dry and warm so we aren't catching any sickness. Besides.... She pauses, wrapping her white-tipped tail around her paws, attempting to keep herself at least the slightest bit warm. If the water got to your brain, I don't know how we'd all survive! Applepaw teases, eyes bright in a newfound pleasure.

The young she-cat suddenly realizes something - it just dawns on her as sudden as her snap awakening had. She knows nearly nothing of Snakepaw, yet she is chatting with him in a den that they are destine to be stuck in until the storm passes or until they need food - whichever may come first. This is a good time to just talk, though something inside of Applepaw nags her to greater things. Her night terror is still fresh on her mind, and every time she turns her head, she sees shadows dancing on the walls, black ooze slowly making its way towards her... She winces, hoping that the dream has no meaning at all. "Every dream has a meaning, Applepaw." The young cat remembers her long lost sister, Redpaw, saying. Her sister had disappeared so long ago, but even young, the fiery apprentice was very knowledgeable. Every dream has a meaning...? Well then what did this nightmare mean? It was surely just her imagination. Maybe she was remembering her dark days, when she was completely alone, nobody there for her, nobody to lean on. Just as she is now. Of course, the dark days of her life aren't over. They probably never will be. Besides, who will help out a crooked, crazy, broken she-cat?

Turning her attention back to Snakepaw, she absently glances up at him, usually lively eyes now drained and clear, staring at basically nothing, even though their amber eyes clash. We could play a game, to pass the time... Or even look for some mice in the back. Sometimes when they're cold, they... you know.. hide near the dens. She murmurs, absentmindedly pushing some moss back into her spoiled den. Her speech wasn't full of her usual spunk, for she is in a bit of a trans that most beings go into when they are trapped in thought. For Applepaw, this is horrible, because her own thoughts are more terrifying and self-hating than most others are. Live! Just be an apprentice for once - she is constantly telling herself this. It is hard, though, knowing that her mother and sister betrayed her, knowing of the lies and.. other things that her father committed, knowing that her sister - and best friend - just fell off of the face of the map, vanished from her life, straight into thin air, just like the souls in the cave... The souls that came to eat her. Maybe it is time she disappears with the rest of her family.

➔ ➔ ａｓｐｅｎｆｒｏｓｔ

|| without a doubt; Is that alright if I role play Aspenfrost with Ashflight? I don't just want to wake her up randomly xD ||

[carrie dee.]

{ Oh, as well I added another charrie. Another tom; I felt bad for having nearly all she-cats. He's actually based off of my best friend on another forum, and Fadingpath was his screen-name. I haven't talked to him in a while, so . . . Yeah. ^^ I'll post sooner of later, but not all of them at one. }

[viva la vida;]

{ { r a ι n p e l т

ѕaw c ι n d e r e l l a ιn a parтy dreѕѕ
ѕнe waѕ looĸιng ғor a nιgнтgown
{ warrιor } { calм, нappy } { walĸιng тнroυgн тнe ғoreѕт } { apprenтιce-leѕѕ } { crυѕнleѕѕ }

The sun struck, which was high in the sky, struck the deep grey stone. A slight breeze tossed the slightly red leaves from their unstable perches on the long, slender branches. The songbirds were letting out clear, high notes which were pretty but still calming. As the squirrel's chattered, finding nuts to fill their bellies and the stomach's of their children. In a large, airy stone den, a pretty, striped grey she-cat slept. Walls of rock surrounded the she-cat, their presence protecting Rainpelt from the sun's harsh, golden rays. The empty, moss-filled nests were abundant around the grey she-cat, varying in size. Some where well worn, others fresh. You could tell the difference in which a dainty she-cat's nest, such as Rainpelt, from a large, muscular male, such as Strikeheart. That male was the only other who abided in the den, chest rising slowly, but steadily. The she-cat's eyes fluttered open, the soft blue eyes framed by thick, long lashes. Looking around the den, the she-cat slowly rose from the cold, stiff ground. Arching her back, Rainpelt's muscles screamed in protest from stretching. Her pelt glimmered in the golden rays, reflecting them back. Shaking herself to remove the sleep from her limbs, the warrior walked out of the den. As soon as the she-cat's paws hit the soft earth, she scanned the camp. Warriors milling, speaking, and conversing. It was nature; but, every time Rainpelt walked into the camp, she always made sure no intruders were there. Even though the she-cat knew of no loners or rogues in the territory, you could never be too careful. Also, she wanted to make sure that there were no hurt cats. Just because they weren't crying or screaming, didn't mean they weren't in pain. Some cats just hid it better than others. But this she-cat didn't want to be in the spotlight, at all. It made her nervous, and she would rather be off to the side, fighting the ones who nearly slipped through. As she broke the thick barrier of greenery, the grey female exhaled the breath she didn't know she was holding. Rainpelt felt more like herself when she was alone, able to be more herself. Love wasn't an option for a she-cat that was painfully shy. This didn't depress or wound the she-cat at all: it was a fact, and she knew it. The grass surrounded her in a green vortex. Greypaw opened her senses to see if she could find any cats around her. Finding no one, the she-cat's face was slightly light with a smile, continuing onward into the deep clutches that was the forest.

{ { ѕ т r ι ĸ e н e a r т

ι read тнe g r a ғ ғ ι т ι ιn тнe вaтнrooм ѕтall
lιĸe тнe нoly ѕcrιpтυreѕ oғ тнe ѕнoppιng мall
{ warrιor } { reѕтleѕѕ, recĸleѕѕ } { wanderιng } { apprenтιce-leѕѕ } { crυѕнleѕѕ }

Light struck through the warrior den, at sunhigh. It was cloudless day, with a slight wind tossing and turning any loose fragments that it could get into their greedy hands. As soon as any ray of sunlight struck the male, the tom's eyes snapped open. The vibrant, dark green, flecked with gold, shinned in the darkness that was the warrior den, spacious as well as airey also. Time to get up. Strikeheart had never had a problem with rising after sleeping, unlike other cats. Trying to ignore the ache that came from training yesterday, the tom rose from the ground, his paw pads scraping against the soft ground. The male's limbs hung loosely from his body, which showed that Strikeheart had just awoken. Tufts of fur stuck up on random parts of his body, as the green eyes scanned his own body, they were noticed. A smile touched his lips, for only he could sleep so messily. A small pink tongue appeared past a pair of dark lips, and Strikeheart bent his head lower. Letting it rasp against the rough tufts, the fur was slowly smoothed down. After a few moments, the male's pelt was once more shiny, sleek, and dark. The sunlight hit him like a truck, knocking him off balance and forcing him to blink multiple times. Sleep made his eyes heavy, but the golden rays forced the feeling right out of him. Scanning the camp area, the male spotted cats milling around, talking as well as chatting.

[.without a doubt]

ashflight ;;

Sunlight glittered onto the forest floor, rising up to large blue moons that Ashflight had always considered her eyes. Blinking them to get out the dilation that the strain it had caused her, the cat let out a deep meow of extreme annoyance. Tossing her head up so that she could draw her attention away from the glowing void, she snorted unhappily. This was not the way she would like to spend her dream. Sighing stiffly, Ashflight opened her scent glands to the forest, hoping to find anything that would make the fantasy a bit better. There. A small nibbling arose in her ears; a small gray mouse nibbling on a seed that he had proudly found earlier that morning. Blinking slowly, the she-cat crouched herself into a small bundle; much, much smaller than her regular self. Weighing each paw carefully onto the sodden ground, she picked her way towards her prey, bunching up her back muscles readying to pounce onto the creature. As she soared through the air, time seemed to stop momentarily. Wind ruffled through her long pelt, waving it into a beautiful bundle to the back of her lithe body.

Snap. A satisfying sound arose, her sharp claws sinking into a moist body, very sharply. Whisking her small paw up, she threw the fresh-kill into the air, catching it neatly in her mouth. Ashflight was known to be a good hunter, one of the best in the clan. Her sharp scenes were always keen to making sure that any being in the forest was to be known, and soon killed. Smiling softly, she set the mouse on the ground eating it with pure delight. Now that's more like it. I wish life was like a hunt. Laughing, she tossed her head up once more, eyes glistening intently. Yeah, that'd be wonderful.

After she was done drowning her kill into her throat hungrily, a sharp prod made a hiss come from her folded lips. The long ashy hair on her back pricked up uneasily, as if she were about to go into a fight to the death. Slow words slowly rumbled to her, making a different scene come into a sleep-felt vision. "Hey, time to wake up, sleepy-head." Her brother had spoken to her, awakening her from a peaceful rest. "Rapidstrike, you mousebrain! I had the most amazing dream.." she murmured inaudibly, a grouchy look appearing on her beautifully sketched face. Grumbling to herself, and letting the tom leave the den, she got up to her feet, shaking off her pelt from the peaceful sleep she had just finished. Letting out a raspy sigh, Ashflight followed her brother out of the den, careful of the falling rain. "Dear Starclan! Please, not again." she meowed hopefully to the skies, awaiting their counter.

Nothing. Spinning around, Ashflight looked towards a fellow clanmate; Aspenfrost, whom seemed to be awakened. "Hello." she greeted the tom friendly, shaking to spray raindrops across the floor. She almost glared at him, large blue eyes boring into his soul as she awaited his greeting. Smiling nervously, the cat sat down politely, wrapping her long silver tail neatly around her petite paws, claw tucked in.

[yuki,]

● נσкєя ●
High above the forest floor, a dark shape sat on one of the higher branches of an aged pine tree. It was a tom cat. The cat clambered down the tree, leaping from branch to branch before he reached the final descent to the ground below. He had been in the area for a few moons, but had rarely come across any other cats. It wasn't that there wasn't any, he just went out of his way to stay out of their way. Having met with a couple on more than one occasion, each time he had been warned to leave, but he was yet to actually heed the warning.
Joker didn't appreciate being told what to do anyway. It just wasn't in his nature to actually do as he was told either. He glanced left then right, ears pricked as he studied his surroundings. The immediate area was his home now. He had somewhere to sleep; an old fox's den beneath the pine tree. Somewhere to hide, should the wild cats come looking; a wild mint bush that pretty much eradicated his scent. And the tree also served as somewhere to keep watch over his home. Joker was beginning to enjoy his new life.

[panacea.]

[I'm really sorry for not making my forms yet. /shot
I hope I still have a place in the roleplay, but if not, I understand.]

{lets get to know each other}
name ;
dustedhawk

gender ;
tom

warrior name ;
-
rank ;
warrior

wanted rank ;
-

{on the outside}

overall description ;
Dustedhawk's pelt is nothing special, eye-catching, nor unique. It's the opposite, if anything. The coal-grey pallor of it practically blends into the shadows. It would be easy to miss him if you didn't know where to look. In darkness, he appears almost spectral, strange. A ghost in the night, easily stolen away. His pelt is sleek and coarse, the short-haired texture rarely ruffled. It doesn't require much grooming, but lacks in protecting the skin beneath. As it is thin, it offers little solace in the colder seasons, and is easily penetrated by thorns or brambles. In direct sunlight, it becomes illuminated with a blue-ish hue around his muzzle and underbelly, which is rather striking. The fur around his eyes and muzzle are tainted a paler colour, more like a pale grey. Similar to a rock dappled with frost. There are a few white hairs flecked throughout his fur, perhaps a sign of his advancing seniority.

This feline moves like a hulking wolf, as a result of his lean-muscled build. It isn't very similar to most of his clan-mates. Dustedhawk has broad shoulders and hindquarters, but you would be more likely to describe him as big-boned, rather than muscular. Overall, a powerful build, but not that tall or lengthy. If you didn't know him, he certainly wouldn't be considered an AshClan warrior. A few battlescars tear across his chest and tail, distorting the area around it. The tom is easily embarrassed by it, being rather self-concious about his appearance. His ears are slightly larger than normal, and he has rather broad, flat paws, which slightly enhance his footing on slippery surfaces.

Unlike most felines, his eyes are not that stereotypical blue, green, nor yellow. In fact, they are far more unusual, but an aberration in his opinion. Ugly, different, a curse. At first they appear to be a dark brown, but as the light hits them you notice a whole other colour bleeding out onto the surface. His eyes are a dull, metallic-looking crimson hue, flecked with a hint of brown, as if shards of glass float within. This is because of the blood vessels lurking beneath where some pigment would normally be, making him appear more unusual than ever. This is a genetic mutation - this feline is certainly no purebred. Far from it, in fact. Dustedhawk was born to an albino cat, perhaps the reason behind his unique eyes.

pelt color ;
a very dark grey, almost black.

eye color ;
a striking crimson shade, similar to blood.

scars/ markings ;
the tom is covered in small scars that engrave along his flanks and shoulders, and a few nicks in his ears.

length ;
average for a tom, not elongated nor small.

width ;
he isn't wide nor small. his width varies along different areas, thinning along his torso and broadening around the quarters.

{digging deeper}

crush ;
the she-cats come and go but the clan is my one true love
mate ;
i'm not ready to commit to a relationship
kits ;
i like them
kin ;
soulseeker

personality ;
Dustedhawk is independent in every way of life, and certainly lacks the social trait. He has no friends, only allies. Sure, he'll participate in training sessions, patrols, whatever - but it doesn't mean he has to be friendly. Other cats just ... get on his nerves. This feline is merely moody, and doesn't want to listen to their meaningless chatter. For example, if you invited him to share prey, he'd probably decline. The warrior is also reluctant to accept any offers of help. It doesn't mean he'd let himself bleed to death rather than see the medicine cat - he's not mouse-brained. He just doesn't want to show any signs of weakness towards the clan. It's safe to say he hasn't quite grasped the principles of warrior life. In his mind, he has to prove he is strong and powerful to fit in, when actually the Clan works together and supports one another. You see this every day, Queens treating every kit as their own, Warriors giving advice to random apprentices, bringing the elders prey and changing their bedding. Dustedhawk hasn't begun to participate in this way of life yet. Maybe he should.

Being rather serious and down to earth means he only focuses on training and clan duties. Personal matters bother him, he simply doesn't know how to react or what to say. A bit of a dark horse, this one. He has little interest in other cats. Therefore, a mate and kits are a big no-no. Dustedhawk, in all honesty, is not cut out to be a father, nor to show anything more than indifference towards anyone else. If a kit asked him to play, he wouldn't have the heart to say no. But anything else is strictly off limits. His mind is focused on one thing only. Ambition is what solely lies in his heart, it's his lifelong quest to climb the rankings, to have power. To be dominant. One of his traits is nationalism, with a strong urge for his clan to be the most powerful. He's not malicious, he just likes to be in control. Not knowing what lies ahead disturbs him, the idea that a lifetime of hard work can all fall apart in a mere heartbeat, while in battle. Therefore, if he's able to influence things, that would be less likely to happen.

Dustedhawk is also a bit of a hard-ass. Any cats who show weakness face his harsh side, but he simply wants them to work past it. If they're going to be a burden, then there's not much they can do to help. Be cruel to be kind, as the saying goes. In battle, he's usually on the front line. Injuries and death are no worry to him. When he was a new warrior, he thought he was pretty much invincible, and acted restlessly. A few battles and painful wounds haven't changed anything. One thing for sure - he'll go down fighting. It's him against the world, and he certainly won't be the one to loose. The tom doesn't have courage, he's got many other fears. This simply isn't one of them.

other ;
none <3