Border RC SC Because he's a Fallen Angel, and he used to be God's Favourite ❄️ Galepaw

[Stoatstream Stoatstream]

SOMETHING SACRED

HIDES IN EVERY DROP OF DEW

Hunger furled claws around her stomach, like a blink of an eye prey had grown so... Scarce. She wasn't ignorant of the hunger; it wasn't the first, it clung to her very beginning, but it was so long ago, it was a visage of pain. Stoatstream was just a kitten, given scraps of food her father could find. Her stomach turned at the thought. If she were hungry, she only dreaded to think how her father had starved before Shadowclan. Now, a warrior all her own, she was all too aware of the plights he had faced in trying to keep her safe.

Part of her found sorrow in the fact that Timberfrost suffered so much to care for such a tiny kitten all by himself, leaving himself exhausted and hungry. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees his limp form. Pelt soaked in sweat from his fevered state, barely awake in the days passing by, but holding on. But he needed help. Herbs and good prey. She had already pushed herself to hunt more and more. Saffronkit needed to be fed, and she hadn't hesitated at being the one to step in for her sister. There was a bitter sorrow where she stood in her father's own paw steps, out in the cooling seasons, paws wandering without a thought.

Wandering...

Stoatstream blinked; she had been so lost in her dread that at some point she had wandered to the edge of the pocosin, facing the Thunderpath. Out of habit, she hesitated, but she wasn't an apprentice anymore. And now, of all times, she had to do something to help. Be useful for her family. She swallowed her pride, her fear, and stepped upon the acrid pathway, darting across.

She passed through Fourtrees, hesitating to gaze up to the night sky, nearing an empty moon, just a sliver remained. She let out a sigh, grimacing at the sight of her breath curling into the sky, the first of many bitter nights. But she had something to seek, something to take.

There was no pride in her plan; it made her stomach churn, but with prey scarce and her hunting prowess being limited to learning in the pocosin, there was but one place she knew she could hunt the easiest. But she would have to be careful, so very, careful. She had made this same mistake once, it had nearly cost her life, and she wasn't prepared to fight, exhausting clung too close to her bones to even suggest a fight.

It would be easy, in prospect, but as the scent of Riverclan grew stronger, her blood began to run cold. The scent still struck fear into her core. Of course, she was growing more used to it, but without him there, it only served to knot her stomach in terror. Padding out from Fourtrees, the scent of the river washed over her. It was cruel, she still found intrigue in the water, the creatures below, but she had been warned time and time again. To come into Riverclan territory would be her demise.

Even so, she pushed ahead, crouching as she walked, eyes darting around desperately for any cats, for the scent of anyone nearby. But, it seemed, she was safe. Stoatstream wasn't proud of it, but she would have to embrace the title she took. A name spat at her with vitriol, a name spoken with pride by her clan; thief.

Certain she was alone, she crept to the water's edge and peered into the rushing river. Part of her was inclined to dive in, make the hunt easier, quicker; her father had taught her to swim for a reason. But the faith in her stenth made her remain land-bound, instead of waiting in silence watching the fish dart past. She needed something big in one swipe or at least a bountiful collection to bring to her father, to her sister, to her clan.

And yet, so focused on the water, she hadn't noticed the figure cloaked in what remained of the moonlight observing her in turn.

YOU'RE MORE THAN STAINED GLASS ​

YOU'RE THE LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH ​

STOATSTREAM She/Her, Shadowclan Thief, 13 moons old.
A slender white cat with lilac markings and dark blue eyes.
Mentored by Sablestar // mentoring none
Sibling to Fleafire, Monsterpaw and Saffronkit
Timberfrost x Oleander (Gen 3) / mated to none
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
penned by Pheo ↛ phoenixwashere on Discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[Galerunner Galerunner]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

Silence had always been welcoming to him. It did not ask questions, did not look at him with that ever familiar expression he had grown so used to, and did not shy away when it wished to be held. It was a cold, unfeeling presence, but it was a presence all the same, and so he relished in it. The night provided him such silence, silence that he could not get in those sunny hours of morning. The birds cawed, crowed at him and his every move, and the words they spoke... it overwhelmed his senses at times, tearing into his curled ears when he wished for peace, and flitted about his head in such a dizzying manner. No, no—while he could see the interest in observing, of hearing the world work around him, the night cooed his name in an unfamiliar, welcoming way. It was his friend in the times when he did not have many, and it was rare that he found another that shared in such a notion.

And perhaps he was not surprised to see such a cat illuminated by the night, pale coat shimmering as his did, a daughter of the moon in the same way as he was borne from those glimmering ripples in the water. She was familiar to him, a presence he had felt in those few moments at the gathering, something he hadn't focused on much. That night was a dizzying flurry of events, and her name? Her place in all things? It drifted away from him, just out of grasp of his pale claws. It was a frustrating thing to him, but intriguing all the same—and sure to not be repeated, as he was far too drawn in by the way she stalked the water now. It did not seek harm in its gaze, merely a dull interest—one of the few things that it remembered of this pale she-cat was the bloody clan to which she belonged to, the clan that had doomed Shellkit to death. So it goes. But to regard her poorly for this, regard one with such rage due to the actions of others... no, he didn't see sense in it.

For this reason, he stepped out of the thin shrubbery. Gentle white paws split the rushes in two, stepping into the burbling shallows of the creek with experienced ease. His long legs were not unlike those of a heron, allowing him to stalk through the waters with relative ease compared to those of shorter stature. Of course, there was no stalking to be done here—but his eyes were watchful, staring with a curious sharpness to them, as though the familiar cat held the secrets of the world, or perhaps she could be an interesting piece of prey that he would like to dissect. Both seemed equally likely, but there was no violence in his frame as he regarded the oddity in front of him.

"Such eyes." It mused, unblinkingly studying the other. "They are adapted for the night, are they not? There is a certain... hunger there—a sense of violence, even." It looked away for just a moment, eyes instead tracing the glint of the moonlight on the brook that he now stood in. "There is no danger for you here. Not on this night, not from these paws... but even so, tell me—" It regarded her once more, the way she held herself, the tense nature of her body. This was an unfamiliar land to her... but he could see her blood in those around him, in the way she expertly watched the water, in the way she yearned to leap in. "I have never seen a plover regard the water with such unfamiliarity... but even in familiarity, these tides are dangerous to you. Surely you do not consider this an easy meal?" With this question, the lynxpoint tilted his bluish head.

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 11 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC

 

[Stoatstream Stoatstream]

SOMETHING SACRED

HIDES IN EVERY DROP OF DEW

With eyes trained beneath the surface, it was only as the cat, draped in moonlight, breached her vision that her pelt reflected against the water that she realised she was not alone. Stoatstream's ears pinned back, her expression entrenched in fear at the immediate scent of Riverclan, she breathed as if to try desperately to defend herself. But, she hesitated, seeing how relaxed the cat before her was. As her gaze darted about, it was clear they were alone. Did he not see her as a threat?

She blinked away panic that threatened to spill from her maw, gaze landing instead on the stark ivory cat before her. Like something formed from the very moonlight, he stood before her almost defiant of their own clan standings, fearless and curious. Stoatstream watched in a muted curiosity as he spoke, soft and winding. Though she spoke as he uttered about violence. "N-no, I don't mean to be any threat, I'm just-" Her words trailed off as the tom continued, the molly visibly relaxing as he confirmed they were alone. She had no choice but to believe him.

But her face settled into some sort of confusion as he spoke more. Regarding her as a... Plover? The little seabirds. That stuck out to her, something she couldn't shake as she spoke. "Well, I don't have much of a choice. My clan is starving, and my kin are ill or too young to fend for themselves." She admitted, quietly, peering into the water with a muted sorrow.

Stoatstream looked to the tom again; it was hard not to feel her gaze drag towards him. His pelt shone in the night and spoke with a gentleness she had only been given once before from a Riverclan cat. "I was taught to swim and hunt fish in the ponds, and I hoped to retrieve my Father prey he enjoys so he may regain his strength. It is not an easy feat, but compared to my clanmates, it's a skill I've learned being raised amongst the reeds of the pocosin."

There was an almost ease that melded into her form; it wasn't as if she trusted the stranger, tall and bright-eyed. But he did not seem aggressive nor spiteful towards her for her Shadowclan lineage, so she found herself capable of speaking freely with the rather peculiar tom. "I am no plover, but you can call me Stoatstream." She added with a hum, if she were to converse with the other, she would rather be addressed properly. Though she was more than curious what had caused him to address her as such.

YOU'RE MORE THAN STAINED GLASS ​

YOU'RE THE LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH ​

STOATSTREAM She/Her, Shadowclan Thief, 13 moons old.
A slender white cat with lilac markings and dark blue eyes.
Mentored by Sablestar // mentoring none
Sibling to Fleafire, Monsterpaw and Saffronkit
Timberfrost x Oleander (Gen 3) / mated to none
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
penned by Pheo ↛ phoenixwashere on Discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[Galerunner Galerunner]

—————————————————— Rocked by an endless motion ✦

Her voice had a strange intonation to it, as though she spoke through the water. It tilted his head quietly, noting the way she spoke in such a careful, yet uncoordinated, manner. Gale would not forget that strange notion, the way the other stumbled through words—though perhaps it was simply where she was from. He had not met many Shadowclan after all. On first sighting of him, she appeared terrified—and it was only just that she was. As easily as the river could take her, so could he—and perhaps in another world, in another life, he would have flung himself upon her, eager to tear into such a sworn enemy. But this world was his to hold, his to decide upon, and so he remained sturdy and steadfast as she calmed down.

"That does sound quite the predicament." It mused calmly, face a visage of no emotion. The sorrow within her face… something just a breadth away from guilt, from grief, and Gale understood such motions far too well for a cat of his age. "…Prey he enjoys, you say?" It echoed once more, letting the silence of the night lay heavy on the two. It was an almost calming thing, the trickling of water around his paws, tugging gently at his tail. In another time, it would pull him to his death—just as easily as it provided life for this she-cat. "I don't imagine fish is a common thing to come upon in the muck… Though, I suppose these clans are only so old." It followed her forlorn eyes, gazing into the ripples that defined the two. "We did not originate from this land, either. As easily as you've found yourself in the mud, we found ourselves in the river—and I am sure, with weary steps such as yours, you would have rather been one with the water."

At the hum of her name, he nodded quietly to himself and looked back up, blue eyes staring. It noted her appearance, one of freshly fallen snow, hardly marred by her time alive, and tucked the visage away into some far spot in his mind. It hummed in turn, echoing her voice. "And I, Galepaw…" A name he was sure to lose, sure to outgrow just as he outgrew the life he once held, the legs he once stood upon, and the arms that once held him close. "And if you are no plover… then, I am sure to find what you are eventually. One cannot hide who they are for long, as best as they try."

It sniffed quietly, deep in his own thoughts for just a moment. "I cannot imagine you came here of your own volition. Not with the danger that lurks just nearby…" It tilted his head, studying the other. "You mentioned a father—but is that all you provide for? Surely he can provide for himself, no?"

—————Whether truth or just a story

It's not up to you—————

• 
  Galepaw
  ✦—Riverclan Apprentice | 11 Moons
  ✦—He/They/It
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
  #87878E #BAB2AC

 

[Stoatstream Stoatstream]

SOMETHING SACRED

HIDES IN EVERY DROP OF DEW

She watched with a muted curiosity, eyes drifting across the face of the other. If she had been any further from him, she could have easily mistaken him for those star-pelted cats she had yet to decipher. Was it a phenomenon of the night? She certainly couldn't ask the other, not on a first meeting, not when she found herself rather curious about the other.

That was only exasperated as his words poured from his maw, delicate and winding; she had never seen a cat talk in such a way. But as she realised what he was saying, she blinked to attention, chuckling rather sheepishly. "Well, we have ponds, murky though. I only know how to fish in those from being taught by an old tom who resided within long before the clans ever settled in these lands." Her tail tip flicked, gazing at the water as her expression faltered slightly. "I would like to have thought that would have been decent enough practice to fish further, but I had underestimated the power of the water's current." Her and Galepaw's reflections rippled on the water surface; even without having interrupted the surface, their visages could not be held in the reflection, not for long.

The ivory tom's next words made her jaw tighten once she looked back to him, trying to avoid looking away for too long; some parts safety, but more in a quiet wonderment for his words. But what he said made something stir beneath her bones, something so stifled that it writhed uncomfortably at the recognition. Stoatstream averted her gaze as she settled on her haunches, swallowing hard. "I may not look the part, but I long earned my place within Shadowclan. I know the pocosin better than most of my clanmates, learned faster than those my senior. I might find intrigue beneath the water, but I was shaped into the warrior I am beneath the moonlight in the pocosin." It was resolute, slipping easily from her maw. But even so, something bitter tinged her tongue, flecks of water spattering her legs, beconing.

It was... Uncanny. She had not even addressed the pull of the water, not since that fateful evening beneath the moonless sky where her clan sought to take from Galepaw's. He must have only just been apprenticed by then, judging by his face. He was a towering apprentice, far larger than her, but she was not unfamiliar with the matter of cats exceeding what one would expect for a certain age. He may talk like he is a seasoned warrior, but it is in his face, still the slightest softness to the edges, but a resoluteness that only came with a cat so close to warriorhood. The desperation to prove oneself, to show it was not all for nought. Anyone could deny it, but it is within every cat, the desperation to be seen.

And just as Stoatstream saw Galepaw, he too saw her.

"One cannot hide who they are for long, as best as they try."

She tightened her jaw, but her eyes remained lidded as she stared back. Seldom few cats saw her as she was, truly was. She knew not even Galepaw knew her extent, but her curiosity melded into a quiet acknowledgement. Perhaps they really were carved from the same stone beneath the water's surface. But, even so, a smile parted Stoatstream's maw. "That would insinuate there's at all an attempt to hide, I only tell cats what they must know about me. Those who ask, I shall tell."

Her mind wandered to her conversation with Sablestar, if she had ever lied to him. She spoke with truth, and he never pushed further. And yet, this tom she had just met seemed to understand there was more than silky white fur and a kind smile to Stoatstream. She took a step closer to the river. "Very few tend to ask, though." 'Unlike you.' The words went unspoken; she didn't need to say what Galepaw could infer. For once, she found someone who seemed to actually listen, understand, and see.

But, he seemed to have picked up on something she said amidst her explanation, his gaze piercing her own as he pushed past and investigated her. Stoatstream's expression stiffened again, closer now to the river, as she looked down below the surface and watched minnows dart past, never knowing the danger that loomed overhead. "Usually he can, he always has. For himself, for me, for my kin." Her words faltered again, for the first time in a while, it seemed. "But he is sick, no better word can I find. He has been in a fevered state of unconsciousness, and my clan's medicine cats have been yet unsuccessful in stirring him."

Stoatstream gave no finality, no certainty to her words. Such a thing would be an omen, like a declaration. "It is not just my father, but my younger sibling too. My father is a caretaker of the clan, and with him unresponsive, I've been tasked with her protection and survival as well. If I did not hunt for them both, I fear seldom few cats would in their stead." It was for no cruel reason, though it sounded as much. Simply, prey was so scarce, cats have been prioritising their own kin, their own survival.

She is all her father can rely on, and she would not allow Monsterpaw to carry that burden. "I am not proud, to have to stoop so low as to break a promise I made. But it is I challenge my morals, or I become an accomplice to the death of my only remaining kin." Stoatstream did not dare to speak of the reminder of the heist, nor the matter she had been assistant to it. Neither did the matter that she had taken the moniker of "theif" since that fateful night. It was in her very role to take what is extra, what would not be noticed or missed.

But she did not find pride in it, not in that moment, not when laid bare there beneath the moonlight to admit the fact she and her clan were so desperate to steal under the guise of the night. Her gaze finally dragged back to meet the moonlight-coated tom, sighing a little. "But that is neither yours, nor your clan's burden to bear. It is mine, and mine alone."

YOU'RE MORE THAN STAINED GLASS ​

YOU'RE THE LIGHT THAT COMES THROUGH ​

STOATSTREAM She/Her, Shadowclan Thief, 13 moons old.
A slender white cat with lilac markings and dark blue eyes.
Mentored by Sablestar // mentoring none
Sibling to Fleafire, Monsterpaw and Saffronkit
Timberfrost x Oleander (Gen 3) / mated to none
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
penned by Pheo ↛ phoenixwashere on Discord, feel free to dm for plots.