PAFP Border CHARLIE'S INFERNO | dual joining

[EZRA]

The air's cooler around here. The sky's already covered by pine trees, he bets—smothered by the dense, sprawling woodland he's taken care to avoid. Until now, at least. Rumor has it there's more than squirrels and adventurous housefolk wandering around here now. There's wildcats in these woods, all mashed up into some burgeoning collective.

"Hmm. This must be it,"

Ezra huffs, lifting his muzzle from the pine-covered floor. He rubs at his nose with a paw. Not that he's a stranger to the concept of cats claiming territory or anything, it's just that these clans seem like a pretty novel concept. But he's kept his ears open. Time's gone on. Strays and housecats alike whisper about the one nearest the neighborhood.

If they haven't died off in the month that he's been stuck with this four-legged, sharp-toothed little burr in his side, he wagers that they'll have to stick around at least a little bit longer.

"Eyes peeled, 'kay?"

he meows at the kitten beside him, aiming to ruffle the fur atop their head. His paw lands closer to their ear.

"What's it look like out there?"

A month. A whole month of suspended babysitting. You save one kid from a stray dog one time and then they're stuck to you like glue. Even now, the little pipsqueak hunkers next to him, skepticism rolling off them in waves. He'd tried to explain how joining these weird new clans ought to be a good thing—something about numbers, medicine, protection. "The weather's not always gonna be like this, Kris. We gotta find somewhere to hole up sooner than later." And it's true! Kinda. True for them.

He can't keep taking care of some kid, especially when winter comes rolling in. If he can bide his time here for a week or two, let them get acclimated, then he can disappear while they're none the wiser. If he can find some other unlucky cat for them to follow around like a little gosling...even better.

OOC:

pls wait for @KRIS to post!

​

EZRA HE / THEY, LONER, 22 MOONS OLD
a scruffy alley cat with light gold fur and copper eyes. ezra has spent his whole life on the streets of twolegplace—he is cunning, self-serving, and charismatic by nature. while not inherently cruel, he's used to doing what he must to survive.

blind and experiences horizontal nystagmus // sensitive to bright lights
mentored by none // mentoring no one
NPC x NPC // begrudging caretaker to kris
penned by bellus

 

[KRIS]

— It's nothing like the city. At first the plush, cool grass had been a welcome change, but now Kris finds themselves missing the scorch of pavement beneath their paws, the waves of heat made visible rising, rising from the tarmac. It smells better here, undoubtedly, but it's so... different. Disorienting. This forest is not where they belong, they think, but as quickly as the thought flashes into view they squash it, a sluggish minnow in the shallows. Ezra is leading them here — it can't be all bad.

This must be it, he utters, and their lips stretch into a skeptical frown. "S'all trees," they chuff plainly. There's no glittering windows, no towering human constructions, no concrete or rebar or rubber or trash-heap stink; it's nothing like home. Kris feels their heartbeat in their chest. And what are they doing here, anyway? Ezra had spun tales of abounding food, a cornucopia of fat rats and succulent sparrows, easy pickings that you didn't have to fight for like you did in the city. All Kris can see is towering pines, tall and indifferent to their plight. Their deep navy gaze travels up the stalwart trunks. They see nothing worth noting.

They flinch and then relax into his tousling; the anxiety in their gut gnaws a little less. "Trees... more trees... no cats." The edge in their voice crescendos slowly, "ain't anything 'cept trees. Didn't you say there'd be, like, tons of food? 'M hungry." And now they pout almost audibly, turning to face Ezra full-bodied for the first time since their journey truly started. And what a journey it was! Hours of walking, walking, walking, and Kris is tired, and they're hungry, and they want to rest right now or else they think they might blow up, a smattering of grease and meat in the grass like the little animals that yearned to be roadkill back home.

And then a cat actually arrives. Kris whips their head to face the stranger, naked suspicion in their midnight glare; they arch their back, bristling like a pinecone, sidling up to Ezra's flank in a smooth and instinctive motion. It would be obvious to whoever greets them that this is a practiced response. They say nothing, waiting instead for the stranger to identify themselves (or, perhaps, for Ezra to take a more diplomatic approach — he often did.)

OOC.

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KRIS

A young, ash-brown tabby with large swaths of black striping and a dusting of old scars. Kris was loner-born to city cats and has scrapped for their keep for as long as they can remember. Their introduction to Clan life is mostly against their will, and as such they struggle to adapt or make friends with their peers, too unused to the unspoken ways of life to fully fit in. Kris has a penchant for cruelty and can certainly be a bully — however, deep beneath their spiky exterior, they yearn for connection and simple belonging.

Nonbinary they / them | 03 moons
Kit of SkyClan | Clinging to Ezra
Child of Adelaide x Ilya | Gen 1

"Speech." — Penned by Meghan

 

[flowercloud]

Her jaw was tight, her head was held up. Ears perked forward as she pressed her paws against the ground. Duskpool walked somewhere near her, and she didn't mind. Inside, somewhere deep inside, she minded. She wanted to tell him to go away, but instead, she held her tongue. Days ago, she passed out. And days ago, the tom had carried her back to camp. Despite her saying she didn't need him- she proved herself wrong over and over again.

So she let him fret. But she would hold her head high and pretend nothing bothered her.

Her ears perked, her green eyes following the soft sounds of voices. And her pointed direction turned, flicking a tail for the patrol to follow her. The amber points body moved lightly- but it didn't mean she didn't feel heavy as stone. Her gaze fell onto two cats, paused in their tracks. The deputy sits, fluffy tail wrapped neatly over her paws despite the hostility- and she dips her large head.

"Calm, you are not being attacked," she murmurs softly, voice gentler than recent weeks, but hoarse- different. "I am Flowercloud. You are on the border of Skyclan. Who are you, two, and what business do you seek?" She asks. It's not much, considering she should ask more, but... she was wary.

flowercloud - 35 moons - skyclan warrior - mentoring none

 

[Teaselfeather Teaselfeather]

TEASELFEATHER

Over hill, over dale, through the valley and vale do not weep, do not wail, I am coming home to you

Teaselfeather padded silently behind Duskpool and Flowercloud, a faint frown etched across their face and their limbs held stiff with tension. Worry clung to them like mist. They were a warrior now, yet it felt like they were failing, failing to find a way to truly help their mother. She was exhausted. Worn thin. And Teaselfeather, for all their quiet observations and soft words, found themself at a loss. How could they ease a pain they couldn't touch? Even now, as they walked beside her, they said nothing. Just watched.

Their gaze shifted to the strangers Flowercloud spoke to, and a quiet unease twisted in their belly. Maybe it was the way everything had spiraled so violently out of control before, so much blood spilled by cats whose names they hadn't even learned. Maybe it was the memory of Rosebelly, their sharp-tongued brother, lying still and cold at the paws of a clan who spoke of justice and kindness but delivered death. Teaselfeather couldn't help the way they held back, lingering just a few paces behind. Mismatched eyes watched the newcomers with a rare, unreadable intensity, an edge typically reserved for those they considered enemies. It wasn't distrust out of cruelty... It was caution shaped by loss. By grief.

The last time they had offered kindness to a cat from another Clan... They were repaid with a brother's blood.

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[DUSKPOOL]

DUSKPOOL​

The thorn-prickled male held up a wooly plumage in Sweetpaw's direction, stoppin' the kid from gettin' closer to the strangers nestled at their border. Another duo, eh? He thought dryly, unimpressed with the thought. Just how many newcomers are they gonna get?

"Why don't one of ya go on and fetch Hawkstar, eh? Reckon she might wanna know we've got a kit at the border." He mused to the closest warrior with a mangled flick of his ear.

Pressin' forward on large paws, Duskpool studied Ezra with a molten gaze, takin' note of Kris's small frame when Flowercloud's voice broke him out of his stance, chest vibratin' subtly to watch his half-sister with an air of caution, unsure of where he stood with her since the gatherin'.

Banishin' the thought for now, Duskpool raised a hard brow, sharin' a glance with the patrol, it ain't hard to assume the two of 'em were here to join SkyClan, unless they've come to see their friendly neighbors. The Sun Guard had to snort quietly at the ridiculous thought. Not unless they're clancats, but they ain't got a lick of clan scent on 'em. If they wanted to cause trouble, he doubted the older one would do it with a kit.

Duskpool ain't one to charm or flatter, and he never wasted words on pleasantries unless he needed to, but reckon there was a strange comfort in the older warrior. Cats who come with ill intentions ain't so lucky, but those seekin' refuge with good intentions, then well, he's cold and stand-offish, but he ain't outright rude. A silent appraisal and quiet authority, Duskpool rumbled, "Loners, I reckon. Reckon the two of ya got names, eh? Yer either joinin, or ya want somethin' from us. I take it with the squirt; it's the first option." His words steady, watchin' 'em with squared shoulders, trackin' their movements with a molten iris.

we're only haunted by the things we refuse to accept

ooc

information

main ref

• @sweetpaw
• 

  DUSKPOOL he/him a storm carved in flesh and smoke, duskpool towers with the bulk of a maine coon and norwegin forest cat. his wooly black pelt bristles with ghost-stripes and scars—old wounds etched like lightning through dusk. one copper eye burns like molten steel and the other a mangled ruin of war. every step is heavy, thunderous—war-born, death-burdened, and unflinchingly alive.
  
  ᯓ★ sun guard of skyclan during coffeestar and hawkstar's reign (mentor to sweetpaw)
  ᯓ★ father to almondpaw and cinderpaw
  ᯓ★ brother to outlawbite & thistlestrike, half-brother to flowercloud
  ᯓ★ eighty-three moons; ages on the 1st of every month
  ᯓ★ speech thought action
  ᯓ★ peaceful/healing powerplay permitted
• ​