╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗ Hiddenpaw
Golden braided tabby with white freckles and brown and blue heterochromia
They/She | 8 Moons | + every 26th | ThunderClan Apprentice | Timid and Shy
[7/100]
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Insane. Insane insane. Absolutely crazy. Hiddenpaw curled up at the edge of the clearing, nervously chewing on her tail. Crazy crazy crazy. She should have just not done it. Was she crazy? Ha, probably. Their dual coloured gaze frantically searched the clearing, and let out a shaky breath of relief when they found... Nothing that caught their attention.
She hoped it stayed that way.
{OPEN!!!}
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╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗ Mothflame
Fluffy leopard-spotted she-cat with dichroic eyes and a scar covering half her face.
She/Her | 23 Moons | + every 19th | ThunderClan Warrior | Sweet but Deadly
Purrks:
Mind Reader [INACTIVE] • Killer Aptitude T1 [INACTIVE]
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The weather was getting colder and colder by the day and she was grateful for her thick pelt. Of course, thought, it didn't completely shield her from the chilling breeze. Growing bored, Mothflame unsheathed her claws and dug them in the dirt below, carving lines on the ground. Boooooreed bored. There is nothing fun to do. No drama. No... Fights.
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『 Tigerpelt 』
⚝ TC Warrior ⚝ Tom ⚝ 25 Moons Old
Short Ginger fur with striking green eyes
Apprentice : Pinepaw (otter)
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Tigerpelt looked over at Hiddenpaw, noticing her actions and facial expression. The worried Warrior padded over to her and tilted his head. "Are you alright?" He asks softly, hoping to not spook the Apprentice.
Spring long-furred, scarred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | dreamwalker
she/her | … | 24 moons
From the moment Spring had plucked the squirrel out of the fresh-kill pile, she didn't even feel an ounce of effort to want to eat it. All the pregnant feline did was just stare blankly at the plump prey lying in front of her, its coarse fur still slightly ruffled from the late leaffall wind. It should have made her stomach rumble, or at least reminded her of the energy she’d need in the coming days, but instead, the sight only deepened the emptiness she felt. Hunger felt like a distant memory, something other cats felt, something that somehow no longer applied to her. She lowered her head, her nose brushing against the squirrel’s gray fur, and felt a dull, nauseating wave that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. It was as though her body was rejecting everything in life that should sustain her, making her feel weak and drained before she’d even begun to waste away. Spring’s breaths grew shallow as she struggled to shake off the oppressive fog settling over her, like a weight pressing down on her chest, forcing her to sink deeper into the hollow emptiness inside. She hadn’t eaten in what had felt like days, and the toll was creeping into her limbs, making her white paws ache as if she were dragging stones with every step. Her fur felt damp and cold to the touch, and her once-bright eyes now dulled, like the light had been drained from them. Spring blinked, her remaining vision briefly blurring. A faint dizziness washed over her, and she had to close her eyes to steady herself, though it barely helped.
The weakness was settling deeper, clinging to her with each passing hour, sapping away her energy and leaving her too weary to even pretend she was okay. A faint, unsettling chill crept up her spine, a nagging reminder of how vulnerable her body felt, how frail she was becoming under the weight of her grief and emptiness. The silence around her grew heavy as she sat there, her mind lost somewhere between the world she knew and the inescapable void lurking in her heart. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of sinking into sleep and never waking up, a sliver of release from the ache gnawing at the very bottom pits of her soul. But a pang from her belly kept her tethered, a frail thread binding her to the present, even as her soul felt ready to unravel. She let out a shallow sigh, pushing the untouched squirrel away. The empty pit in her stomach remained, but so did the emptiness in her heart, an ache that no amount of prey could fill. Spring knew she needed strength, for her kits, and herself, but the will to fight was slipping away with each passing day. The calico’s gaze drifted towards the center of the clearing, the molly having kept herself far from the busy hours of the day so no cat had to look at her with an accusing look or call her a traitor. She had purposefully chosen the farthest corner, hidden in the shadows cast by overhanging brambles, hoping that the others wouldn’t notice her—or worse, wouldn’t try to approach her.
She didn’t need their pity, their forced kindness, or the harsh whispers that followed her, calling her a coward, a traitor. She had once belonged here, but now she felt like nothing more than an unwelcome stranger in a place she’d once called home. As Spring watched the clan go about their lives, each cat filled with a purpose and belonging, she couldn’t shake off the emptiness festering inside her. She’d once felt that same sense of purpose, moving through the days with her head held high, trusting that her place here was secure as she worked as their medicine cat. Now, that sense of security felt like a memory belonging to someone else. She kept her head low, trying to make herself as small and invisible as possible, though the effort took more from her than she’d admit. The shadows felt colder around her, pressing down like a weight on her shoulders as if even they disapproved of her presence here. Spring closed her eyes, wishing for a moment of escape, a way to shut out the whispers, the accusations, the silent glares she could feel without needing to see. She wanted to fade away, to slip into the solitude she’d chosen, free from the weight of others' expectations or judgment. But her body betrayed her—another wave of dizziness made her stomach twist, her paws trembling faintly as she tried to hold herself steady. Hunger roared itself into her awareness, a raw, gnawing ache that cut through her haze of numbness.
It clawed at her insides, reminding her of the life growing within her, a life that demanded sustenance even when she could barely summon the will to care for herself. The bitterness of it all welled up, a painful reminder that while her mentality felt fractured, her body could not afford to crumble—not with unborn kits depending on her to stay strong. Spring squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the wave of despair that threatened to consume her. She didn’t know if she had the strength left to do this, to pull herself together for them. The idea of it was exhausting, yet she was tethered to the hope that somehow, through the inky void of darkness, she would find her way back to the cat she once was. For now, though, she stayed silent and still, curling into herself in the shadowed corner, waiting for the numbness to pass. The distant sounds of the clan drifted through the clearing—reminders of a world that moved on without her, of cats who no longer looked her way with warmth or familiarity. It was all but a mass of white noise to her, a loud, aggressive hum that barely penetrated the fog wrapping around her heart. After a moment, Spring’s gaze dropped back to the squirrel. She knew she needed to eat; she needed strength for the life growing within her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she leaned forward, parted her jaws, and bit down. The taste hit her in a way that was almost overwhelming—thick, earthy, and slightly metallic, an explosion of flavor that should have made her mouth water but instead made her stomach twist painfully.
She forced herself to chew, her teeth grinding mechanically through each bite as she tried to ignore the sickly heaviness building in her throat. The swallow was worse, the bite sinking her throat like a stone, dragging her insides with it. Almost immediately, her stomach clenched in protest, a wave of nausea rolling up from her belly, threatening to undo her efforts. She pressed a white paw to her mouth, swallowing hard against the sensation, struggling to force her body into submission. But even as she fought to hold the food down, a shudder ran through her, her resolve wavering faster than she hoped. It felt wrong, very wrong, to try and nourish herself when her body felt so starved. The life inside her was demanding, pulling her back from the brink, and yet she felt like an intruder in her own body—torn between the instinct to care and the relentless, aching emptiness within. Was this what Dovefluff had to deal with when she was pregnant with her kits? Spring had seen glimpses of her adopted mother’s strength in those days, her soft blue gaze filled with pride despite the weariness that came with each step. Dovefluff had worn motherhood like a crown, a resilience lighting her eyes, even as she endured the exhaustion of bearing kits and raising them. But that warmth felt unreachable now—as though it had vanished along with Dovefluff herself. The memory felt like a cruel reminder of the gap Dovefluff’s absence had left in her life.
Spring’s gaze fell to her paws, tracing over their trembling frame as though searching for some part of her mother’s strength, something she could hold onto to fill the emptiness that gnawed at her. The weight of being alone in this, with no guidance, no soft words of comfort, only magnified the hollowness. Dovefluff had always been there to catch her when she stumbled, but now the emptiness of that loss echoed in her heart like an endless, unanswered call. A faint sigh escaped her lips as she glanced up toward the sky, staring past the endless blue into the fading evening light, where the burning speckles of stars would soon appear. A silent plea hovered on her lips, an unspoken wish that somewhere beyond those distant, shining points, Dovefluff might be watching. She wanted so badly to believe that her mother’s spirit lingered up there, watching over her, lending her strength from afar. Yet, as much as she wanted that comfort, the emptiness felt vast and unyielding, eagerly swallowing her hopes before they could fully form. “I wish… you were… here.” She whispered to herself, her voice cracking under the weight of the words. The sound was barely audible, swept away by the evening leaffall breeze, yet each syllable clung to her like a prayer, a thread binding her to the memory of her dear mother. “I don’t know… if I can… do this… without you.” Her voice faded into silence, and for a moment, she let herself sit in the quiet, the world around her distant, as though it, too, was mourning.
She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of earth and leaves, holding onto the fragile hope that some part of Dovefluff’s strength lived on in her. But even as she sat there, trying to draw in courage from the past, the cold ache within her refused to fade, leaving her feeling as lost as ever. Amid her quiet mourning, her body began to betray her once more. A sudden, violent wave of nausea rose, tearing through the thin thread of calm she’d clung to. Spring’s stomach churned, twisting painfully as her mouth filled with a bitter, metallic taste. She stumbled to her paws, and staggered away from the nearly untouched squirrel, heading toward the thick shadows behind a nearby patch of brambles. She barely made it behind the tangle of branches before she retched, her body expelling the scant mouthful she’d forced down. The act left her heaving and gasping, each breath dragging painfully into her lungs as she leaned against the cold earth, feeling as though she were unraveling from the inside out. A raw, burning frustration clawed its way to the surface, bubbling over in a surge of anger she couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t fair—she needed to be strong, she needed to keep going for the lives that depended on her. And yet, even this small act of nourishment, this simple necessity, was turning into a battle she seemed destined to lose.
She clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding together as she dug her claws into the dirt, feeling the soft, yielding earth give way beneath her. Everything felt wrong as if the world itself was mocking her, pushing her further into the emptiness she was trying so desperately to escape only to keep failing miserably. Why can’t she just do this right? Why can’t she just do anything right? She pressed her forehead to the ground, eyes squeezed shut against the wave of helplessness that crashed over her, drowning her in its icy depths. Every breath felt like a struggle, every heartbeat a painful reminder of the life inside her that she seemed powerless to protect. The cold bite of the earth beneath her paws was grounding, but it did little to ease the anger pulsing beneath her fur. For a long moment, she stayed there, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to regain some semblance of control. But the emptiness remained an unyielding void that seemed to stretch on forever, echoing her every failure, her every weakness. She couldn’t go on like this—not if every attempt to fight back was going to end like this, with her broken and exhausted, teetering on the edge of surrender. With a low, bitter growl echoing in the depths of her throat, she lifted her head, her gaze dark and hard as she stared out into the camp, watching the distant forms of her clan-mates as they went on about their day. They would carry on with their lives, oblivious to the storm raging within her, their easy companionship grating against her already raw nerves.
A spark of resentment flickered in her chest, being both hot and consuming, as she watched them move through their days without the weight she carried, without the heavy chains that seemed to bind her. But as quickly as the anger came, it faded, leaving her feeling even more hollow than before. She forced herself to stand, her limbs trembling under the weight of her exhaustion, and took a shuddering breath, her gaze hardening with a bitter resolve. If her body and mind were going to fail her at every turn, then she would push through anyway—she had to. She didn’t have a choice in the matter. For her kits, for the memory of the mother who had once guided her, and for herself. She didn’t have anything else left in this hell. Sure, there was Drizzlecloud, but she didn’t even know if the spotted feline wanted to be around her from the aftermath of the meeting. Whoever would? Her past self certainly wouldn’t. Her former self would have stared at her hard with disgust and called her out for all the wrongdoings she’d done. Honestly, she wouldn’t blame her. She deserves it. After everything, all she had left was nothing but a hollowed-out shell of her former glory and that was all it was gonna be. Nothing else would replace that in the slightest, if not ever at all. A hard sigh expelled past her nostrils, the calico finally settling herself back down beside the nearly untouched squirrel as her legs tucked beneath herself. Hopefully, no one noticed her turmoil a little ways earlier. That would have only made her day far worse than she would have liked.
━━━━━━━━┛ ✠ ┗━━━━━━━━ “You're either living or you're not. You ain't little, you ain't a girl, you ain't a boy; you ain't strong or smart. You're alive.”
⊱ my carrd ◦ future roleplay tracker ◦ future character bio ⊰
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u know u wanna
Last edited by iliri; November 2nd, 2024 at 08:42 AM.
Crowpaw was walking around when he found a strange rock huh what if I started a collection of rocks? crowpaw thought. so he asked around other apprentices and kits.
(Open)
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ooga booga wus here
clam slid into his dms
Nightgaze fluffed out her ebony pelt as a frosty breeze ruffled her fur. Brrr! Sure was nearing winter...bit concerning but they couldn't stop the seasons..they really needed to start stocking up the prey pile. Cold season meant prey was scarce and hungry mouths galore. And so far it didn't look good...only a few measly rodents.
Brows furrowing as the small hornet picked through the fresh kill pile, not intending to choose anything just counting. A sigh fell out of her mouth as she sat back down onto her haunches. They really needed to pick up the pace...no way they could keep up with winter at this pace.
Scanning the clearing, Nightgaze picked out a familiar pelt: Mothflame! An acquaintance but from the few interactions they had she seemed nice enough, and hardworking too! Grinning brightly, she bounded up to the rosetted warrior. "Hiya, Mothflame! Ya look a bit tense, wanna help me hunt? The pile's been running low lately" She observed, keeping her tone friendly. A bored cat would be more willing to get out.
x ghostie is haunting this signature
Bean's favorite staff member Lillian was here
lio sneezed here (achoo)
you see crude graffiti... it spells "velli wuz here"
Rose caught the sickness (oh dear)
fenrir stares at rose with a spray bottle of water in hand
My Soul is in @/Ian's basement with some ice cream
Deadthroat
20 moons | Male | Warrior
Deadthroat sat in the clearing his dark brown eyes looked around the clearing. Deadthroat a handsome young tom black and white tom....he would be considered handsome if he didn't have scars throughout his whole body. His throat was lashed when he was an apprentice, causing big scaring on his throat. Along with scars on his belly and face. The tom's eyes looked around the clearing for someone to talk to....or just for his sister, Moonblossom.
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Moonblossom
20 Moons | Female | Warrior
A black and white she-cat with dark red eyes padded out of the warriors den. Her gaze shifted around the clearing, she yawned before sitting down right by the warrior den entrance. Moonblossom sighed as he looked up at the sky. The sun was bright out today. Just like her brother, Deadthroat. Moonblossom had scars of her own. Three slash marks right over her eye and one on her chin underneath the same eye.
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Honeydew
27 moons | Female | Warrior
Honeydew yawned as she stepped out of the warriors den passing Moonblossom.
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Splitpaw
9 moons | Female | Apprentice
Splitpaw yawned as she padded out of the apprentice den, her gaze instantly looked around for Burnedpaw. Her heart lifted at the thought of the apprentice.
ps some characters are already on the new site and deleted on the old....some are already still on the old...in the process of moving it over on the new site!
Brutus is the ataris claw of the crown if she is needed mention me
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[ Atari resources | Bone crest throne ] Risingstorm is one of thunderclans hornets if he is needed mention me
Duckfrond
ThunderClan Warrior
he/him | 21 moons
[Plush russet abyssinian with a bob tail and green eyes] Purrks: Just a Scratch
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Strength ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
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[Spring - @iliri ]
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Her ragged calico pelt haunted him. She was always just out of sight, slipping beyond his vision and disappearing into shadows. Ever since she had become medicine cat apprentice, her presence had drifted from his life like a distant scent on the wind. He had kept his distance, because that was what she had wanted, right? Hiding away in the medicine den, talking to no one except Drizzlecloud and Orangeblossom. Irritation, hot and irrational, still flooded Duckfrond's paws and made his claws burn with the urge to rip and tear every time he thought of the affection shared between the two. Maybe he should have tried harder; pushed his way back into her life regardless of her anti-social nature. Tch. Maybe out of the two of them, he was the coward.
When she had disappeared, so too had the maddening flickers of her visage in Duckfrond's peripheral vision. While the tom was worried sick for her, it had felt almost like a relief. He was finally able to live his life without the constant reminder of what they could have had, if only she had chosen him. He was able to shred the lingering feelings for his childhood friend, leaving the ripped pieces on the floor of his heart. But his temper remained. He had no interest in new friends, because why would he? The cat who had mattered most to him had disappeared off the face of the earth, assumed dead. He wasn't ready to let his heart be broken again. Duckfrond loved fast and fierce, just like his personality. When he was scorned, his fiery passion smoldered into something ashen and dangerous. But, he had always been like that, hadn't he? Ever since he was a kit. That was the biggest difference between them, he supposed. Spring had always been quiet and anxious, keeping her gaze lowered and her body angled behind Drizzlecloud. Duckfrond met each day with ferocity, staring up at the sky and daring it to throw whatever it had at him. He'd fight the damned stars, if given the chance. They could have never been together. He had always been a fool.
Then, she returned. Broken and battered, she had slunk into camp behind Bumblestar like a pathetic shadow. The clan had whispered and stared, Bumblestar's call luring Duckfrond from the warrior's den and into the camp clearing. He had thought she was just another vision--a trick of the light. But she remained stubbornly visible, and based on the glares directed her way, everyone else could see her too. The entire meeting, all Duckfrond could think about was her. How she had disappeared, fled to the outskirts. Stayed there. Then came back, not to return to her duties or to show she was truly a clan cat, but instead to give her new kits a better life. The worst part hadn't even been that. It had been that she had visited other cats in their dreams, but not him. Duckfrond had been too shocked to feel disgusted. All he could hear was his heartbeat, thrumming in time to hers, like a bird calling to its long lost friend. He had wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout at her until she fled camp and never came back to haunt him again.
She never even looked at him.
Since that fateful meeting, her visage had continued to follow him. No matter where he went, no matter how hard she tried to make herself invisible, his leaf-green eyes had always tracked her immediately. It. Was. Agony. It only served to make him more resentful, gouging his claws into the earth and ripping at it as though it was the blasted hope in his heart that she would look at him, too. He couldn't sleep, he couldn't eat--she was right. THERE. Always just out of reach. He supposed that hadn't changed since they were kits.
It had been a rare morning indeed when Duckfrond woke up and she wasn't the first thing on his mind. He had gone almost the whole day without seeing her, though it made sense as he was out of camp most of the day. Hunting had blown off some steam--thank the stars the restriction had been lifted. It wasn't hard to find a buddy to go out with, as pretty much everyone was desperate to get out of camp and do stuff. When he returned, the sky had turned a dusty blue that signaled the beginning of sunfall. The camp was quiet, everyone settling down to eat or share tongues. Duckfrond was halfway to the prey pile when he spotted her. She was crouched in a shadowed corner of camp, looking like the most pathetic cat to ever exist as she stared woefully at a squirrel. Duckfrond scoffed, rolling his eyes at the sight. Even before she left, she hadn't been this much of a downer. Duckfrond was content to just leave her there, but a nagging in his chest began pulling him towards the dilute calico. Y'know what? No. He wasn't about to let her come back into the clan and bring down the vibe with her self-pity and loathing. If Duckfrond had been good at anything in their friendship, it was bringing her out of her head.
Duckfrond strode towards her, his face a twisted excuse of a mask of apathy over his face. She smelled of bile, and the barely eaten squirrel was clearly what she had expelled. Didn't she know she needed to eat?
"I'd suggest you throw it out, but that'd be wasting perfectly good prey. Surely you weren't gone so long you've forgotten that wasting prey is stupid as hell." His voice was sharp--still carrying the same hint of fiery personality that he had been known for as a kit, but this time it was surrounded with stone and honed to a blade's edge. "Surprised you haven't come said hi." Yeah way to go, Duckfrond, great second-first impression. "We were friends, after all." Was he being fair? Absolutely not. Did he care? Not a single bit.
[I am SO sorry for him he has Attitude Problems]
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Mistlewhisker is ShadowClan's current Deputy!
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"There's a hand on my throat, and a blade at my feet; but the weight of the world won't bend my knees."
Re: ThunderClan Clearing
