Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 42 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Plans? Owlthroat let a chuckle slip from his maw. ”Better the clan, better myself”, he’d entertain Newtbelly’s train of thought for now. It would be a role he’d have to naturally slip into, he was familiar with most of the other enforcers. But he’d been troublesome in his youth, so being promoted at this age came with more expectations.
”I don’t doubt you’ll succeed Newtface. Just focus on doing well, looking after the clan, don’t be afraid to use your authority.” Newtbelly certainly had the ability, Owlthroat had seen him step up time and time over. He was making a point. The pair equally anxious without knowing the other's mindset. Tumultuous times.
His paws shifted slightly under his body as his thoughts drifted.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 42 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
Plans? Owlthroat let a chuckle slip from his maw. ”Better the clan, better myself”, he’d entertain Newtbelly’s train of thought for now. It would be a role he’d have to naturally slip into, he was familiar with most of the other enforcers. But he’d been troublesome in his youth, so being promoted at this age came with more expectations.
”I don’t doubt you’ll succeed Newtface. Just focus on doing well, looking after the clan, don’t be afraid to use your authority.” Newtbelly certainly had the ability, Owlthroat had seen him step up time and time over. He was making a point. The pair equally anxious without knowing the other's mindset. Tumultuous times.
His paws shifted slightly under his body as his thoughts drifted.
Better the clan. Was he selfish if he'd never even thought of such a thing? His impact felt so little. Do what his superiors say. Keep the status quo. Gain everyone's support, be respected. He wouldn't even know where to begin making an actual change in the clan. Though, he assumed Owlthroat probably didn't mean the statement that boldly. Still, he'd never thought about his duties in that light, and he wasn't sure that would ever change. Then he mentioned his authority. Again, another thing he hadn't considered. Sure he was an enforcer now, but being a new enforcer, he didn't really feel like one. Despite how he valued authority and the clan's order, he couldn't imagine ordering a more seasoned warrior around. He'd have to make decisions - the kind he was used to ignoring: leaving them a problem for someone else's paws.
Relief filled his bones as Owlthroat mentioned how he didn't doubt him."I'll do you proud." He mumbled, burrowing his head into his nest. Big promises. Big promises all around. He hadn't failed to deliver yet.
The tom's black fur swished around as he tossed over to his other side, he was still tired, and bored.
__________________ - By Shrew
Osprey
The tom sat in the ditch waiting for an answer from Starclan. "Silverpelt is quiet, maybe being a kittypet was a bad idea."The tom lied down falling asleep.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 42 moons Killer Aptitude T3 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue T2 The Dancing Bird
TW: Dark Ideation
I’ll do you proud. The words rang true from Newtbelly’s tongue, to a certain extent he’d already done so. So much pride and heart put into Owlthroat’s apprentices, in a way carrying part of his prestigious legacy. But Newtbelly was the only one that had truly succeeded, held a title against his name. With that came demands, upholding his rank was now of upmost importance. To fail would be a spit in Owlthroat’s face, unforgiveable. In his head, he gave him this opportunity, Newtbelly wouldn’t be the cat he was today without his guidance. The age-old question of nature vs nurture.
The older tom’s eyes narrowed in thought, drifting to images of his children. His mate, all that he’d achieved it amalgamated to his ego, the whole lot of it. In some ways grown, in other ways shrunk. These days his words had less venom, but he’d been too close to his miserable self for far too long to entirely detach. Dark thoughts brushing his mind at the possibility of his own failings, the possibility of his children’s failings and how that would reflect upon his own image. No, he would never truly be separate. The urge to lash out would always claw away at him like a greedy leech, fat on blood. When a parasitical creature latches on, clings on for moons. Separation would be impossible. It started from a place of good, young and bright eyed as he watched his life rip apart. Mother and brother, taken in kit hood. Their lungs filled with green sickly phlegm, life slipping away minute by minute. It wasn’t a pleasant death, nor one full of glory.
Olivepaw came later, water filled her lungs. For that, death remained quick. But the panic in her eyes haunted him, the nightmares didn’t come as frequently. For that, he knew his own children would never swim, forbidden under his iron claws. They wouldn’t tempt fate, tempt karma against his actions. A woeful, tragic story. It wasn’t like he was the only cat who’d faced death, entire bloodlines wiped away in terror. But it was his personality that twisted it where others rebounded, he soured in nature. Bitterness creeping in at the corners until it felt like nothing else had been left to remain. Not entirely true, Tuftedtusk had coached something out of him, built affection. Flytail was a mixed bag. Newtbelly of course, not that the words would dare grace such a prideful tongue.
The sparks of innocence and love.
Owlthroat clenched his crooked yellow teeth as he ripped his mind away from his thoughts. Re-centring them back onto his former apprentice, he couldn’t quite read him.
Re: ShadowClan Warriors' Den
- By Shrew
