Hello and welcome to Purrgatory! We are an 18+ Warrior Cat Roleplay set in an AU where the clans were unable to leave the forest territories and perished!
It has been 100 or more years since then, the clans of the forest are but distant memories to any cats still alive, stories passed down to kits of strangely named wild warriors and leaders with nine lives but the time of the clans is upon us once more and the stars shine yet again.
It's truly pathetic and hypocritical, but her anger unfurls like a hungry flame. She had been on the border when her sin was committed; her herb was something she could've plucked by her own paw! StarClan bless her, she could've stolen the damn thing herself and faced the consequences that way - that kind kitten of an apprentice was hardly involved at the end of the day. But for Cicadabuzz to send her leader's own son into her camp to steal her supplies? The boy is lucky her claws don't crest his face instead, out of respect of his mother.
No; children are fallible and often excused from the trouble they cause. They only follow the paw that guides them. If Cicadabuzz had journeyed into her own territory and cusped the herbs bugself, then Serpentberry's bone to pick would be far smaller. No. She wants their whole carapace on display in her den. She wants to line her nest with the brittle pelt they boast. To use Juniperstar's own son against her... disgusting.
She's almost too patient by her own standard. She waits on the thunderpath, even whilst monsters roll down it. Their thunderous roar doesn't scare her any longer, not when her directive rests just beyond this tarmac and stone. Her tail ticks once, twice, and then three too many times before she dives across the road and into lands she hasn't tread in moons. It's almost instantaneous. The way the ground feels damp beneath her paws, the moistness in the air. She didn't hunt here often, but Serpentberry can still recall the old winding paths and middling streams. It's only a flutter of a thought - how much has changed?
She scents the air. The molly figures she may find Mothbite or Stoatpaw or maybe Magpiepaw themself and insist to be brought to Cicadabuzz. Instead, bug's sent is fresh in the area. They had trodden through here not long before she arrived. Serpentberry grinds her jaw as she presses further and further into the marshlands. She sees them fussing over a small plant, and rather than addressing the upper paw she may have, Serpentberry bites out a laugh.
"Oh, so you are capable of finding your own roots and petals?" She can't help it, taunting bug. Her tail lashes behind her, "I thought you were lame in every which way, given you've gotten kittens running around to find supply for you."
No; children are fallible and often excused from the trouble they cause. They only follow the paw that guides them. If Cicadabuzz had journeyed into her own territory and cusped the herbs bugself, then Serpentberry's bone to pick would be far smaller. No. She wants their whole carapace on display in her den. She wants to line her nest with the brittle pelt they boast. To use Juniperstar's own son against her... disgusting.
She's almost too patient by her own standard. She waits on the thunderpath, even whilst monsters roll down it. Their thunderous roar doesn't scare her any longer, not when her directive rests just beyond this tarmac and stone. Her tail ticks once, twice, and then three too many times before she dives across the road and into lands she hasn't tread in moons. It's almost instantaneous. The way the ground feels damp beneath her paws, the moistness in the air. She didn't hunt here often, but Serpentberry can still recall the old winding paths and middling streams. It's only a flutter of a thought - how much has changed?
She scents the air. The molly figures she may find Mothbite or Stoatpaw or maybe Magpiepaw themself and insist to be brought to Cicadabuzz. Instead, bug's sent is fresh in the area. They had trodden through here not long before she arrived. Serpentberry grinds her jaw as she presses further and further into the marshlands. She sees them fussing over a small plant, and rather than addressing the upper paw she may have, Serpentberry bites out a laugh.
"Oh, so you are capable of finding your own roots and petals?" She can't help it, taunting bug. Her tail lashes behind her, "I thought you were lame in every which way, given you've gotten kittens running around to find supply for you."
