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.
{$title} POV: Two idiots forced into community service try not to kill each other.
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Just when Fleapaw thought she caught a break. Out of all the cats she could've been stuck with, of course, it had to be him. She was pretty sure Wolfpack did it on purpose, if for no other reason then just to piss her off.
The she-cat trudged into the apprentice den, a bundle of moss and other half-damp bedding scraps hanging from her jaws. The moss between her jaws barely muffling the irritated sound in her throat. Flea was trying lately. Like—really trying, but it wasn't easy to keep her claws to herself when every other face in this clan begged to be a scratching post. Aside from Pepperpaw, there was one other jerk who made her blood boil just being in proximity to them.
And lucky her—they had nest duty together.
She didn't even spare him a glance, brushing past with a wide arc. Fleapaw dropped the bedding she gathered and immediately began swiping the old stuff into a messy pile before slapping down the fresh. She didn't care whether it looked good or not. Once it looked good enough to be passable, she moved onto the next.
Her tail lashed behind her, thumping the ground as she tried to stay focused on literally anything but the long-legged pain in the ass working across from her. But every so often she'd catch him poking his buzzard toes into her side of the den. She clenched her jaw and tried to pretend he wasn't there with the hope he would eventually shuffle pack out of her sight like the roach he was. But nope, he only seemed to encroach more into the area she claimed for herself.
Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore. Fleapaw snapped upright with a loud sigh, amber eyes narrowing in his direction. "Can you stick to that side?" She snapped, throat tightening as she resisted the urge to yell. "I get it, it's probably super hard not to take up so much space with that massive fucking ego of yours, but just for today, could you try and manage it?" Froststorm said she needed to be more accommodating to her clanmates—that earning their trust would benefit her in the long run, but fuck if she was playing nice with him. As far as she was concerned, he could choke on a pile of rocks.
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Strike funny poses, keep my weapon hand low
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FLEAPAW6 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleapaw values family the most with survival at a close second. In conversations, she is blunt, fun-loving, and clever. She is guided by her desires which often leads her astray. Despite her abrasive personality, she cares deeply for those she loves and will do anything to protect them. Due to her experiences, Fleapaw is corrupt and has minimalistic, if any, morals. She does not care for the warrior code and its restraints. Neither does she believe in StarClan. Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, and ending up on the streets have deeply affected her view of the world.
Whip my head around a little, get blood on the front row