☆*: .｡. o The Blind, The Broken, The Forgiving o .｡.:*☆
❧ Shadowclan Apprentice
❧ Purrks - Shadow Fiend, Mind Reader, Kitty Softpaws T2 Snakes and sinners, smoke and mirrors
But why am I the one that has to pay?
the growl, that caught her off guard. her ears drew back, not in anger, but in fear. a subtle fear and the momentary flashing thought of what if i made a mistake? what if she kills me? the fury that dawnstar held, the raw power in her voice. that shook her.
You are a member of ShadowClan and call yourself my kin.
did she really deserve to call herself dawnstars great-grandkit? did she even deserve to be in shadowclan? she felt like curling up, never to be seen again. death would be a sweet embrace, right?
right...? no. it wouldnt. the cold darkness that awaited her? that wasnt something she wished to imagine. the void that swirled around her, it was inescapable. how had she been so so naive as a kit? how had she put family before everything when they had done nothing for her? they hadn't even stayed, been there for her, nothing. seemed it was a curse, for dawnstars kin, huh?
dawnstar had her family torn apart, albeit by the leaders' sister and over the moons, but nonetheless, it was broken. the entire family was. how many of larkfires' kits had gone missing? her siblings? her damn father?
do i even deserve to call myself your kin? i keep breaking, yet i dont know how to fix myself. she nodded, a shallow, hesitant nod. "i... will. try. certainly try." she didnt deserve the dusk name. not yet.
"when... when i'm a warrior... please... take my 'dusk' name... until... until i earn it. what you... choose is up to you, but i dont deserve it, not yet. like how... aunt larkfires' name was taken from her."
Reply lengths/time depends purely on my motivation, please be patient as I have Dysgraphia and ADHD, and tend to forget things!! if i label a thread or post as [open], feel free to reply to it!
❧ Links and Character Site
Pantherkit medium-furred, dark brown mackerel tabby with white paws, hazel eyes
purrks: n/a
he/him | shc kit | 4 moons
The soft patter of Pantherkit’s paws was swallowed by the heavy silence of the leader’s den as he padded carefully toward its concealed entrance. The lichen draped over the opening swayed faintly in the chill breeze that whistled through the clearing, the faint sound of it brushing against the stone like distant whispers. From the outside, the den appeared dark and foreboding, its moss-covered entrance giving away little of what lay beyond. Pantherkit hesitated, his pale-hazel eyes narrowing as he studied the shadowy veil. He had been here before, of course—this was his mother’s den, the very heart of ShadowClan—but stepping inside always carried with it a strange weight. The place felt so much larger when Dawnstar wasn’t there, as if the air itself held its breath in her absence. Today, though, he knew she was inside. He could feel her presence like a stone in the pit of his stomach; commanding and unyielding, even without seeing her. Swallowing his uncertainty, Pantherkit pushed through the hanging lichen, his small body slipping into the darkness beyond. Immediately, the air grew cooler, the stone walls holding onto the chill of leaf-bare like a secret. His breath came out in faint, misty wisps as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, pale streaks of light filtering through cracks in the moss-draped ceiling above. Dawnstar’s scent hit him first—strong and familiar, carrying the faintest tang of blood that clung to the macabre trinkets littering the space.
Bones—small and large—were arranged in strange, purposeful patterns, some stacked neatly along the edges of the den, others strung together with sinew and hanging from jutting pieces of rock like eerie ornaments. Pelts of prey and enemies alike lined the floors and walls, their fur worn and smoothed over time, giving the space an unsettling, hollow beauty. It was a leader’s den unlike any other, both dark and regal, perfectly befitting a cat like Dawnstar. Pantherkit let his gaze sweep across the cavern, taking in the familiar sights while still feeling dwarfed by the sheer scale of the place. The ceiling loomed high above him, the tunnels leading deeper into the earth like the gaping mouths of slumbering beasts. Somewhere within this space, Dawnstar sat—likely watching him already. Pantherkit’s paws shuffled slightly, a quiet determination settling into his small frame as he pushed himself further into the den, his thick pelt brushing against the edges of a nearby fox pelt that lined part of the floor. “Mama?” he called softly, his voice low but steady as it echoed faintly off the stone walls. It felt strange to use that word—“Mama”—as though it were something sacred or secret. She was Dawnstar, leader of ShadowClan, a name that carried weight and power wherever it was spoken. To others, she was a figure to be respected, feared, and obeyed. To Pantherkit, she was those things too, but she was also something more—a figure of impossible strength, the center of his small world.
For all the bone-chilling severity she could command, Pantherkit still wanted her attention, still craved those moments when he could simply exist in her presence without judgment or expectation. He padded forward carefully, each step deliberate as his claws pricked faintly at the stone beneath his paws. “I… I wanted to see you,” Pantherkit admitted, his pale gaze flicking downward as he searched for the right words to justify his intrusion. “You’re always so busy, and I…” His voice trailed off as his tufted ears twitched uncertainly. He didn’t want to sound needy—he wasn’t a crybaby like some of his siblings—but the truth was that he missed her. Even with the strength of her presence looming over ShadowClan like a shadow, Dawnstar was often a distant figure, always occupied with warriors, patrols, and other clan matters that Pantherkit was still too young to understand. He wanted to matter, to have her look at him the way she did when she spoke of ShadowClan’s future—like he was a part of something important. Pantherkit stopped a few tail-lengths from where he imagined she might be, his breath quiet as he sat down and curled his tail neatly over his paws. His thick fur made him appear larger than he was, though the subtle hunch in his shoulders betrayed the lingering hesitation he couldn’t quite shake. His eyes darted up toward the darkest corner of the den, where shadows seemed to gather most heavily, as though Dawnstar herself might emerge from them like a phantom. “I wasn’t trying to bother you,” he added quickly, his voice softer this time, a quiet reverence threading through his words. “I just… wanted to talk to you. Or sit with you, maybe.”
The den felt heavy around him, its eerie decorations a constant reminder of his mother’s reputation—her power. But Pantherkit didn’t shrink away from it. He wasn’t afraid of Dawnstar. If anything, he wanted to understand her better, to learn how to be strong the way she was. Sitting here, in the dark heart of her den, surrounded by the trophies of her victories and the silence of the tunnels twisting beneath the camp, Pantherkit felt closer to her than ever. Even if she didn’t speak right away, even if her gaze potentially pinned him with its familiar sharpness, he would stay. He was her son, and he wouldn’t be chased off—not by bones, shadows, or silence.
She slammed her claws against the stone wall and yanked them down. Her ears hide, snuggled firmly against her head attempting to block out the wall's screeching protests. With each thin layer of stone she scrapes off she can feel her frustration ebb. It doesn't take much to rile up Dawnstar. The clan leader's short temper had been infamous once upon a time. There were days she merely woke on the wrong side of the nest and hissed and snarled at every clanmate for merely breathing in her direction.
Icestar's gaze always reflected their disappointment that wasn't spoken aloud to her. The she-cat's inability to control her temper had been the bane of her existence for a long time. It wasn't until she was placed in a position of power that control would be finally learned. The lives on the line combined with real responsibility tempered her outbursts and had her thinking more before she acted.
However, that didn't mean it was gone. She had urges to disregard the lives that relied on her judgment to continue living safe and content existences. As fun, as it would have been to let loose and act blindingly on feeling and instinct, leaving ShadowClan in ruins was not in the game plan yet.
One ear turns toward the lichen-covered entrance when it detects the small paw steps drawing near. Dawnstar musings are pushed from her mind as she drops back down onto all fours and gradually makes her way to the large nest. As the brown face comes into view the stern expression on her face softens a fraction. She doesn't answer the call and her scowl deepens. Her thoughts turned to Pantherkit's inability to spot her in the darkness upon entering. Reason quickly supplies that this was a kit, an untrained kit, Dawnstar was placing unreasonable expectations simply because he was her kin.
A bad habit she was trying to temper. Seasons spent under her mother's tail had taught her that expectations met value and value met love. Or that is how she interpreted it. Yet, when she tried the same method on others she deemed family she was slapped in the face with a reality she hadn't thought about before. Their backs and tails drifted to her mind as she remembered how they walked away. The dark tabby didn't want these kits to do the same to her. After all her loss, she had learned to be content with what she had. So long as what remained of her family tried, she'd learn to be happy with whatever they accomplished no matter how small it seemed. So long as they stayed here in ShadowClan with her she wouldn't drown them under her expectations, or at least try not to.
Sleepysunrise's eyes came to mind. She'd have to talk to that one later. "Well come here then," her tail beckons her son into her nest. "You know I'll always make time for you if you need me." Dawnstar noticed the hesitation in her kit's body language, so subtle that you'd miss it if you weren't searching for it. Pantherkit reminded Dawnstar greatly of Sleepysunrise in little ways. Unlike some of his siblings who had no problem grabbing her attention in any way they could, he sat quietly by himself watching. It made it easy to overlook him or believe that he was more content that way. It was almost cute to see that he needed her as much as she needed him and his siblings.
"What do you want to talk about?"
Quote:
Originally Posted by iliri
Sootpaw short-furred, dark, charcoal-gray tabby tom with white markings, and sharp amber-copper eyes.
purrks: prison escape - tier 1
he/him | shc apprentice | 16 moons
The sunlight filtered weakly into ShadowClan’s camp, as though it dared not shine too brightly in the cold season. It pooled around the clearing like a spotlight, drawing long, thin shadows that stretched toward the cliffside where the leader’s den loomed, tucked behind its veil of lichen. To most cats, that den was a place to be avoided unless summoned—an unspoken barrier of authority few would cross without reason. But Sootpaw wasn’t most cats. The young tom paced just outside the den’s reach, his steps rhythmic but impatient, tail flicking restlessly at his side. His dark tabby fur was slightly scruffy, dusted here and there with bits of dirt from his earlier training session. Sharp copper eyes darted from the lichen-draped entrance to the rest of the camp, where the other apprentices and warriors busied themselves with duties. He’d already lingered here longer than he probably should have—long enough for a warrior or two to glance his way with mild curiosity potentially—but Sootpaw didn’t care. If he wanted something, he’d be going for it. That was the thought prodding him forward, over and over again, like a thorn in his paw. He’d been stewing over it for days now, the way his training had hit a wall. The moves he’d learned were fine, but they were basic, rudimentary—he could feel it. And fine wasn’t good enough. Not for a ShadowClan cat. Not for him. Sootpaw wanted to improve, to prove he could be more than just another face in the crowd.
Stopping suddenly, his gaze fixed on the leader’s den, and determination hardened in his chest. Dawnstar was right there, wasn’t she? If there was any cat who could teach him the edge he wanted—needed—it was her. ShadowClan’s leader had always carried herself with an undeniable strength, and if he could pick up even a fraction of that, maybe he’d finally feel like he was getting somewhere. “Alright. That’s it.” Sootpaw muttered to himself, his voice low but resolute. Without further hesitation, he stalked purposefully toward the cliffside, his movements confident and direct, but not without his usual sharp edge. He ducked beneath the lichen that guarded the entrance, the rough texture brushing against his back as he stepped into the cooler shade of the den. The inside was just as he remembered when he was a kit—dark, quiet, and almost unnervingly still. The macabre decorations of bones and fur gave the cavern a chilling presence, as though the walls themselves were watching him. The air here was heavier somehow, muffling even the sounds of the bustling camp outside. He paused briefly, his claws flexing against the stone floor, before clearing his throat. “Dawnstar?” His voice echoed faintly, a little too loud for the stillness, but he didn’t falter. His tone was even and to the point, firm without being disrespectful. Sootpaw had never been one to skirt around things, and today would be no exception.
“I wanted to speak with you.” He stepped further into the den, his amber eyes scanning the space until they landed on the familiar, commanding figure of ShadowClan’s leader. The air in the room felt like it cooled another degree under her gaze, but Sootpaw kept his posture straight and steady. If he was nervous, he wouldn’t show it. “I need help with my training,” he started, his voice serious but tinged with his usual bluntness. “Owlthroat taught me the basics, but I feel like I’m hitting a wall. I want to learn something more. Something that’ll actually make me more useful in a fight.” His tail lashed lightly at his side as he spoke, a flash of quiet frustration surfacing but quickly tempered. “I’m not asking for an easy path, and I’m not here to waste your time,” he continued, his tone sharpening slightly. “I just think I can be better—ShadowClan deserves better. If I can learn to fight smarter, stronger, I’ll be more than just another mouth to feed.” His amber eyes were steady, unwavering, as he looked at Dawnstar, meeting her gaze head-on. “I want to prove myself.” His voice dipped quieter, but the determination behind it didn’t waver. The words settled into the air, and Sootpaw let the silence stretch, waiting. He knew he was pushing his luck by standing here in the leader’s den, daring to ask for something more, but Sootpaw didn’t care. He wasn’t a cat content to linger in mediocrity—ShadowClan didn’t allow mediocrity. And if anyone could help him tear down the limits of his training, it was Dawnstar. So he waited, still as a shadow, his expression set with quiet resolve.
The hulking feline tattered ears twitched as they listened to the soft footwork pacing back and forth beyond the den. They weren't particularly loud, but they weren't soft either. Despite the numerous voices she could hear outside the den, the paw steps remained insistent. It sounded like they were drumming in the back of her mind. It made sleeping difficult. Dawnstar had learned to use the symphony of sounds coming from the clearing as a lullaby to sleep during the day, the pacing was new however, and thus difficult to incorporate into the lullaby. Which meant a quick nap was out of the question.
Dawnstar's brilliant eyes glared holes hot enough to burn through the lichen, wishing it would strike the pacing irritation dead where they stood. It had to be an apprentice. ShadowClan's kits were bold enough to enter her den without fear of repercussions. The warriors weren't normally stupid enough to pace restlessly outside of her, her Enforcers knew better than to dare make her wait. Apprentices though, they were too old to be as reckless as a kit and too young to know better than to keep her waiting. Or worse deny her sleep.
Her big black claws pierced through the hides that served as her nest in growing anger. As much as she would like to snap at the cat, this was a good way to test her patience... maybe. Finally, the pace changed as the cat's paw steps grew louder with the approach. She hissed quietly while gathering the strength in her legs to haul all that fur and muscle upright. Her tail stirred the air behind her as Sootpaw entered, pestering her about training.
"Seriously," Her tone boiled with the built-up frustration of being denied a good nap. "You've been pacing back and forth in front of my den for StarClan knows how long for some battle training?" The extra lip service was cute, however, Dawnstar was focusing on her lack of sleep. "I would have thought you had come to tell me you murdered one of my kits."These furballs were part of the reason she was insane.
"If you simply want extra training, come in and ask." Her fangs peeked out as she hissed the order. "Do not pace outside of my den unless you want to become a part of my decor." The Clan leader rose, tired and irritable, and stalked toward the tom. "Let's go, If you want to learn more I'll make you my sparring partner." Sleep helped her to an extent with her stress. Since it was unlikely for her to get another nap in, beating on an old apprentice who was nearing his limit on apprenticehood would have to do instead.
[If you don't mind doing a starter, I would but 9/10 says I will get sidetracked and forget]
Quote:
Originally Posted by c1nder
☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆
☆*: .｡. o Duskpaw o .｡.:*☆
☆*: .｡. o The Blind, The Broken, The Forgiving o .｡.:*☆
❧ Shadowclan Apprentice
❧ Purrks - Shadow Fiend, Mind Reader, Kitty Softpaws T2 Snakes and sinners, smoke and mirrors
But why am I the one that has to pay?
the growl, that caught her off guard. her ears drew back, not in anger, but in fear. a subtle fear and the momentary flashing thought of what if i made a mistake? what if she kills me? the fury that dawnstar held, the raw power in her voice. that shook her.
You are a member of ShadowClan and call yourself my kin.
did she really deserve to call herself dawnstars great-grandkit? did she even deserve to be in shadowclan? she felt like curling up, never to be seen again. death would be a sweet embrace, right?
right...? no. it wouldnt. the cold darkness that awaited her? that wasnt something she wished to imagine. the void that swirled around her, it was inescapable. how had she been so so naive as a kit? how had she put family before everything when they had done nothing for her? they hadn't even stayed, been there for her, nothing. seemed it was a curse, for dawnstars kin, huh?
dawnstar had her family torn apart, albeit by the leaders' sister and over the moons, but nonetheless, it was broken. the entire family was. how many of larkfires' kits had gone missing? her siblings? her damn father?
do i even deserve to call myself your kin? i keep breaking, yet i dont know how to fix myself. she nodded, a shallow, hesitant nod. "i... will. try. certainly try." she didnt deserve the dusk name. not yet.
"when... when i'm a warrior... please... take my 'dusk' name... until... until i earn it. what you... choose is up to you, but i dont deserve it, not yet. like how... aunt larkfires' name was taken from her."
Dawnstar honestly was not sure what to do with some of these cats. The clan leader has been through all types of trauma and pain, and she dealt with it on her own without any cats' comforting words or support. She stood on her own four paws, pushing forwards, due to her own will. Yet so many cats fall and don't even try to get themselves back onto their own paws.
"It's perfectly fine that you don't know how. No one knows how until they have no choice but to do it on their own." There was no fixing a break from loss, no herb, no word, no comfort. There were scars that one either learns to live with or...
"Very well, if you want your name taken from you I'll allow it. But if I take it I can't promise I'll return it. I don't change names I've given without a very good reason. You simply telling me you've grown back into your prior name won't be enough. You better be certain this is what you want." She warns.
[Unless she has anything else she'd like to add, she's free to leave. Also, Rift is not a name Dawnstar will give her, do you have a different name in mind?]
__________________
siggy art by redshiftreign
Dawnstar is the leader of ShadowClan and her kits currently reside in her den, enter and she may maim or kill you. She has a closed den policy. ShadowClan Resources ||| Dawnstar ||| ||| Kit Curriculum Finder
☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆
☆*: .｡. o Duskpaw o .｡.:*☆
☆*: .｡. o The Blind, The Broken, The Forgiving o .｡.:*☆
❧ Shadowclan Apprentice | She/Her
❧ Purrks - Shadow Fiend, Mind Reader, Kitty Softpaws T2 Snakes and sinners, smoke and mirrors
But why am I the one that has to pay?
family used to be her breaking point. she wouldve leapt in front of a damn fox for them. and yet, would they have done the same for her? they took her trust, and broke it over, and over, and over again. and yet, hawkpaw seemed genuinely sorry. did that fix anything? hell no. maybe she was more similar to her great grandmother than she realized, than she even knew.
"if you dont return my name to me, i havent earned it." plain and simple, no sugarcoating it.
"thank you... for the advice, and... listening to me." she dipped her head respectfully, and took her leave from the den.
Reply lengths/time depends purely on my motivation, please be patient as I have Dysgraphia and ADHD, and tend to forget things!! if i label a thread or post as [open], feel free to reply to it!
❧ Links and Character Site
Grottokit shifted in his nest beside Mother. For the last several minutes, he'd been disguising intense thinking as intense watching - as if Dawnstar would ever be taken out by ne'er-do-wellers, and as if anyone in ShadowClan would actually have the guts to try, but being mindful never hurt anyone.
He finally decided on a good moment to speak. "Mother." A glance up at her, one ear turned cautiously sideways. It was better for him to wait to ask this now instead of having done it in front of all the others. "Why didn't you let me move up last meeting? I don't need to wait on my siblings."
Grottokit shifted in his nest beside Mother. For the last several minutes, he'd been disguising intense thinking as intense watching - as if Dawnstar would ever be taken out by ne'er-do-wellers, and as if anyone in ShadowClan would actually have the guts to try, but being mindful never hurt anyone.
He finally decided on a good moment to speak. "Mother." A glance up at her, one ear turned cautiously sideways. It was better for him to wait to ask this now instead of having done it in front of all the others. "Why didn't you let me move up last meeting? I don't need to wait on my siblings."
Dawnstar blinked lazily as she rested in her nest, lost in thought about her kits. Over the moons, they've gotten quite large, annoyingingly so. It was getting difficult to fit them all in her nest. Even with the ones that have sadly disappeared, her nest seemed too small for the ones that remained. As the thought of her missing kits brought this unwanted ache she roughly dragged her tongue over her chest fur as if she could itch the feeling away.
Her tattered, tufted ears swerved toward Grottokit as she continued grooming herself. She paused and turned to stare at her kit with a frown. "Yes, I'm fully aware that you don't seem to care much for bonding with your siblings." There was the barest hint of gloom in her tone.
"But I do. This may be the last time you all do something together like this, without me forcing you together. You and your siblings will move to the apprentices' den and start training and I'm sure you will only further drift apart as you age. I want you to all at least do your apprentice ceremonies together. So indulge me and stop complaining, Pest."
Dawnstar was aware that she was being a tad bit selfish, but it's not like she asked her kits to do much of anything other than don't leave her and don't betray her. Knowing her kits were leaving the nest left her feeling oddly bitter and prideful, but more the former than the latter.
__________________
siggy art by redshiftreign
Dawnstar is the leader of ShadowClan and her kits currently reside in her den, enter and she may maim or kill you. She has a closed den policy. ShadowClan Resources ||| Dawnstar ||| ||| Kit Curriculum Finder
Dawnstar blinked lazily as she rested in her nest, lost in thought about her kits. Over the moons, they've gotten quite large, annoyingingly so. It was getting difficult to fit them all in her nest. Even with the ones that have sadly disappeared, her nest seemed too small for the ones that remained. As the thought of her missing kits brought this unwanted ache she roughly dragged her tongue over her chest fur as if she could itch the feeling away.
Her tattered, tufted ears swerved toward Grottokit as she continued grooming herself. She paused and turned to stare at her kit with a frown. "Yes, I'm fully aware that you don't seem to care much for bonding with your siblings." There was the barest hint of gloom in her tone.
"But I do. This may be the last time you all do something together like this, without me forcing you together. You and your siblings will move to the apprentices' den and start training and I'm sure you will only further drift apart as you age. I want you to all at least do your apprentice ceremonies together. So indulge me and stop complaining, Pest."
Dawnstar was aware that she was being a tad bit selfish, but it's not like she asked her kits to do much of anything other than don't leave her and don't betray her. Knowing her kits were leaving the nest left her feeling oddly bitter and prideful, but more the former than the latter.
His ears turned in different angles. He hadn't considered that. It wasn't that he didn't care for bonding with them, he just... wasn't sure he needed to. They were blood. They would always be close no matter what happened, right? And he was their older brother, which meant it was his job to be ready to protect them. But if Mother thought otherwise...
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't think about it that way." He'd have to round them all up at some point before their ceremony.
A pause, before he glanced up at her and leaned in to knock his forehead affectionately against her leg. He vaguely remembered what Sootpaw had said in the clearing. "How..." Was it wrong to ask? He hadn't really thought about it before. "The scars on your face. How did you get them?"
__________________
Do not quote or mention me at the Stormcrest.
Just because this notice goes away from time to time doesn't mean my preference does.
Sleepysunrise
[ 12* moons | She / Her | Shc Enforcer | Shadow Fiend ]
[ Month old LarkDeat reaction post - pay no heed | possible CW for distress ]
Soft growls filled her ears between suppressed hiccups. Breath heaving in and out of the other's body brought a soft lull to her head; Sleepysunrise's own muscles remained stressed, paws gripping the ground for dear life. A part of her screamed. Yanked at her mind and body to step back and toughen up; an enforcer did not act this way, and your grandmother is more likely to rip off your head than accept this weakness. Than to accept these tears staining your eyes. Echoes of screams and growls filled her senses, drawing at the gnawing tone in her mind. Claws dug in the ground beneath her; she had to do everything in her power not to rip at the soil and retreat the sharpness of her paws.
Her head bore into her grandmother's shoulder. Tears stained her fur. Darkfall's lies hung heavy in the air; how could he bring up such a horrible lie? How could he speak such horrible words? How could miss grandmama believe it, and how could she get in such a state over it? What would happen if she pinned the tom down and cut his throat and tore his jaw until the lies spilled into truths? A dark thought. She pressed her eyes closed. It felt as though a part of her slipping beneath the cracks of the one who took over that very day that earned her name; why couldn't she breathe?
Her lungs closing up, or was air simply non-existent. She pressed her eyes further until it gave her a headache; she couldn't stand this silence. It was violent. Until it broke. There was a dull pain behind her eyes when they opened, a silent reaction to her grandmother's voice. She still couldn't breathe. But her grandmother seemed so... Level. So still. So painfully silent. She swallowed, the suffocation threatened to break whatever kept her stomach down. Shallows breaths. She forced herself to breathe deeper; it was so very painful; tears seeped into fur, disappearing as if they hadn't been there. Miss Grandmama seemed so composed. Did she not care, or was she so mature? Sleepysunrise regarded her for a long moment.
Bury it down. She took a breath. Keep it down. And she took another. Don't squish the kits - that was her only requirement. She would stay here. She would protect them. She wouldn't sleep. She bury this feeling down, deep down never to resurface again. She would impenetrable like her grandmother. Strong like her grandmother. Miss Grandmama was strong. She had to be too. She had to keep her near. She couldn't lose her too. "...Thank you."
She whispered; a tremble threatening to break her voice, eyes strangely dull and shaken. Take a breath. Step away. Complete your duty, she told herself, protect those that are left. Mama will come back.
[ @/Undertaker ]
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Sleepysunrise is ShadowClan's current Medicine Cat.
She has a Semi-Closed den policy.
LIONPAW he/him || n/a || 9 moons
The apprentice stopped outside DawnStars den, hesitating as he considered this is what he wanted, but it was, it was a simple choice. ”DawnStar, may I enter?”
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Enforcer | 44 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
The tom traipsed his way back into camp, finding himself at the entrance to Dawnstar’s den. His white and black fur splattered now with dark remnants of blood, most of it had dried on their way home but his forepaw was still bright crimson. The award for taking another cat's eye he supposed, he’d clean up later. Owlthroat was largely unscathed, a scratch along his ear and a small nip to his shoulder. Treated by their healer on the way home. He didn’t find Sleepysunrise as particularly thrilling company, she rubbed him the wrong way.
”Dawnstar, I’m here to make a report.” His voice cut clearly through the shadows, he didn’t bother entering the den itself. Standing in the entrance to reel off his findings. ”Myself and Sleepysunrise encountered an outsider on our territory whilst on a herb patrol, the cat won’t be returning anytime soon. I sent them away half blind to share the message with their outsider friends, I know we can’t afford anymore of them hunting here during Leafbare.” He spat the words out as if they tasted dirty. The audacity of these cats never failed to amaze him.
”Whilst I’m here, Willowpaw.” It was about time he got back to her on his findings, she’d taken it surprisingly well. Alongside this, he couldn’t fault her in her new duties. Which was a relief, the fact of how horribly wrong this could’ve gone plagued him. ”She’s performed well in her new duties as a caretaker and has stuck to the rules set, I believe she’ll continue to do well in her role and continue to benefit the clan.” His ear flickered, as he awaited a response.
Sootpaw short-furred, dark, charcoal-gray tabby tom with white markings, and sharp amber-copper eyes.
purrks: prison escape - tier 1
he/him | shc apprentice | 17 moons
Oops. Maybe he should’ve entered quicker without giving himself such trouble with visiting the leader in the first place. His mouth twisted and pulled taut, boiling frustration eating away at his stomach. It wasn’t that he was nervous. Anxiety was for anxiety was for weaker minds who doubted their own purpose. Sootpaw didn’t doubt; he burned with conviction. But frustration? That was a beast of a different kind, gnawing at his patience like a rat chewing through stored prey. He could feel it crawling up his spine as Dawnstar’s words sliced into him with all the sharpness of her infamous claws. His muscles tensed as if bracing for the cold bite of a thorn, but he didn’t look away from her or allow his ears to flatten in submission. Instead, his copper eyes darkened. The tension in the den grew heavier, pressing like ice cold water threatening to drown him. Every muscle in his body itched to lash out. Not from anger at her, but from the desire to do something, to prove that his blood wasn’t just for warming ShadowClan’s mossy dens in the dead of leaf-bare. It undoubtedly wasn’t cowardice. Sootpaw knew that much. His paws, rooted to the earth as firmly as the gnarled cedar roots beneath the colossal molly’s paws, didn’t shake from fear. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. His thundering heart didn’t race because he doubted himself. No. The raw heat in his chest was something else.
A fury wrapped in purpose, a fire that refused to flicker out no matter how many cold winds of scorn tried to snuff it. He stood there while Dawnstar’s cold gaze pressed on him like stone, testing for cracks within his naturally stoic barrier. She could look for weakness all she wanted. He didn’t break; he burned. Every second of stillness was agony, each heartbeat stretching time until the den felt like a cage shrinking around him. The scent of the place filled his nose: damp earth, old moss, and the bitter tang of roots that clawed through the soil like veins. It was the scent of a place for leaders. Cats with power. Authority. Not for him. Not yet, at least. Her voice echoed in his mind long after her words had faded. Words that had struck him with all the force of a battle blow, deliberate and cold as poison-laced claws raking over frostbitten skin. A lesser cat might’ve flinched. His muscles tensed, jaw tight as he fought the urge to bare his teeth once more. Not at her, but at the gnawing truth of it. He hated how it dug into him. He hated the restraint that kept him from lunging forward, from filling the space between them with his demand for something more.
Cats must’ve saw potential in him, didn’t they? Wasn’t that what they always said? Potential. A word that burned like frostbite. Potential wasn’t strength. It wasn’t worth. It was a promise of something that might be, a half-formed shadow waiting to take shape. He wasn’t a shadow. He wasn’t a kit still chasing dreams he didn’t understand. He was a fire with nowhere to burn. And fires, when left without purpose, burn out as quick as they are lit. Sootpaw’s claws ached to sink into something solid other than the den’s hard flooring. The frustration boiled low in his gut, as if every sharp-edged thought stabbed at his insides. He wasn’t made to sit quietly. The stagnant air in the den felt like chains tightening around his limbs. He wanted to move and fight. To tear down the walls of expectation and make his own place in the world. Firmly swallowing down sharp words that threatened to escape his maw, he nodded firmly to the molly. If he was going to learn how to fight better, then it was best for him to comply with the leader’s wants. With a flick of his striped tail, he turned and followed the tabby out of her den, at least glad to be away from all of her macabre trophies she had scattered around. They put him on edge, and that wasn’t something he was wanting to deal with for the rest of his day.
@Undertaker (of course. i’ll make a starter after i get done with writing other replies. also, i apologize for this being... a mess. today was rough, and difficult to deal with )
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u know u wanna
Last edited by iliri; January 14th, 2025 at 10:14 PM.
Re: ShadowClan Leader's Den
would hazy- work?]
