Open Event Border ThunderClan ShadowClan i dont need to be rich ──✩°。⋆⸜ proposition

This tag indicates this is an event specific thread.
This thread takes place at the border of the clan territory.

juniperstar juniperstar

don't tell me you're not the same person
ThunderClan
Leader
112
37
Freshkill
545
Pronouns
they/she
Played by
tieirlys
juniper

this is the last.

the moon heads for the peak of the sky now and she looks up at it with a sullen sort of longing. why did this place feel so heavy...? beyond just the stink of the Thunderpath, there is a miasma of misery... does everyone feel it? the spotted tabby hesitates to finish this last leg of her trip, almost resigning to allow Owlbark to handle it. if it would mean one less heart-aching meeting... if it would mean avoiding addressing what crimes he's allowed to run rampant under his rule. the way he has weaponized their child. her stride is not tall, proud and easy as it had been earlier in the day... it is low, slinking... unenthused.

as much as she wanted to turn and walk away, to not extend the offer or invitation at all...

there are shades flickering just on the other side and she cannot ignore that she has been recognized. that there is no more running from this. a soft sigh falls from the tight space between her lips, righting her spine as she closes the distance to the sulfuric border with a nose wrinkled with barely restrained disgust. "Someone get Sablestar. I have a request for him." it was not an offer for him. he would not be allowed to refuse her, should he stand there and coo about how much he loved her.

his childish nonsense about not choosing them over her... he could entertain that delusion all he wanted but she couldn't. not when the fate of all the clans came to confront that silly dream. her speech is far more rigid and unforgiving, body kept at alert and unwelcoming to whatever affections might spill from the ShadowClan leader's mouth. this was business... not a time for trying to soften the ruffling of her fur or settle family matters. "I won't be allowing you to refuse this one, Sable..." is how she greets him.

  • juniperstar
    leader of thunderclan
    eight lives remain
    ignore me
 
-

Fleafire skulked near the edge of the sulfur-reeking Thunderpath, the stench clinging stubbornly to her nose. Restless paws dragged her from camp under the moon's heavy glow. The smaller of shadows amongst the patrol, her claws barely kissing the mud.

She'd hoped for something interesting tonight. Though, she hadn't expected a bunch of ThunderClanners to be on their border. Keen eyes immediately sought them in the dark. Catching on the shapes that stepped out on the other side. Part of her itched for a fight, ready to show off everything Froststorm and Jadethorn had drilled into her head, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

Instead, an entitled she-cat had the gall to step right up and demand Sablestar. That alone could've gave away that she was of some kind of authority, but it was obvious who she was. Their kits really did look every bit like them—save for Magpiepaw, who took after Sablestar.

Fleafire's glanced back at the others with her, brow arching. As much as it pissed her off, she was small and would be quickest to camp. She'd be a good dog and go fetch their master...

Her tail flicked sharply before she turned, slithering back into the pocosin. "…I'll go." She muttered, less than thrilled.

She broke into a sprint, a small, blazing shape tearing through the dark. The night pressed heavy on her pelt, alive with the chirp of frogs and the slap of puddles against her legs, warm filthy water soaking her hocks. The she-cat didn't slow until she reached camp, making a beeline for the leader's den, chest heaving as she hesitated outside. Occurs to her only then that she's never actually been into his den before.

Fleafire pokes her head between the roots. "@SABLESTAR." She spat breathlessly, tongue flicking between her teeth. "J-Juniperstar is askin' for you at the—the thunderpath." The warrior sniffs sharply, waiting for the tom to emerge before weaseling out of his way.

And I say, "Hello Satan, I, I believe it is time to go."
FLEAFIRE
11 MOONS
SHE/HER
- Undersized cinnamon solid with folded ears. She's thin but stubby with very messy fur.
"SPEECH" - crimson | 'THOUGHTS/EMPHASIS' - crimson
Fleafire values family and strength the most. She is clever, sharp-tongued, and quick to anger. She is guided by her desire to become stronger and protect those she cares about—at any cost. Fleafire respects strength but not necessarily authority. She will push boundaries and take advantage of the weak at any given opportunity.

Due to her experiences, Fleafire is corrupt and lacks morals. She does not believe in Starclan but now believes in the Dark Forest. While not a devout follower, her loyalty belongs to her mentor, Froststorm, who reached out when she was at her lowest and saw her into warriorhood.

Growing up in a kitten mill, being separated from her mother, ending up on the streets, and being powerless have deeply affected her view of the world. Despite that, she has grown more resilient as a result of her hardships and bounces back quickly. Her training and mended relationships with some of her clanmates has solidified her devotion toward ShadowClan.


Me and the devil walkin' side by side
 
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You walk along the edge of danger
AND IT WILL CHANGE YOU

.


The last clan. And the one that made his fur prickle with unease. ShadowClan. Copperstorm's steps slowed almost imperceptibly as they neared the border, his breath drawing in sharp and cold. ShadowClan, the home of his father. His hackles twitched as the tension settled in his shoulders, eyes narrowing against the low light that filtered through the trees.

Keep it cool. What were the chances Charcoal would be there? What were the odds that his father's shadow would appear among the gathered cats? Slim. There was no reason for him to be present. And even if he was, they weren't here to fight. They were here in peace. Still, the memories gnawed at the edge of his calm. The fear. The ache. The hate. He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes for a brief second, pushing down the roiling thoughts. When he opened them again, he instinctively shifted closer to Boarpaw, his tail brushing lightly across the apprentice's flank in a protective sweep. His golden gaze flicked to the young tom beside him, searching for signs of unease.

No. He's safe. You're here. He's safe.

His attention snapped back to the sound of pawsteps, an apprentice, or maybe a young warrior, darting off to alert Sablestar. Copperstorm watched the figure go with unreadable eyes, tension held close beneath the surface. And then... a thought. A tug in his chest. Marbleshine... Possumgrin... His adopted siblings. Were they thriving here? Were they happy? Did they ever think of him? A clan divided by circumstance, by blood and belief, was it still a family? The question burned at the back of his throat as he finally turned to glance at Juniperstar. But he swallowed it, pushed it down, and instead offered her a quick, quiet smile. A steady nod.

He was here. For her. For Boarpaw. Whatever came next, he would face it.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis


33 MOONS
𖧧
THUNDERCLAN
𖧧
SONG
𖧧
bio
 

Juniperstar held a tightness in her gait that he knew was reserved for her mate. She talked about him less and less these days. Their kits brought him up less and less. Owlbark couldn't hide his satisfaction in it. He disliked - perhaps a stronger word would describe it better - the tom and every encounter he had since the colony had been against his will. He wanted nothing to do with the traitor and his odiferous clan. This meeting was on Juniperstar's word, though, and he could not deny that.

Owlbark tended to stick behind the leader on the other visits to the clan; a shadow with glaring green eyes. He had loomed behind her with a snarl ready to leave him at any sign of resistance or aggression. This meeting was different, though. He was at her side, sitting tall and attentive. He kept his snarl buried deep, but he hoped Juniperstar could feel it waiting and ready any time she needed it. She was soft in his eyes like a shaft of moonlight in the forest and he had to be the mighty oak holding her together against the onslaught of day. He wished he didn't feel that. He wished Thornstar was here and he could lay down all reservations and follow blindly at his heels.

Hawthorne is not here, though. Juniperstar is.

When Sablestar made his eventual and languid approach to the patrol, Owlbark doesn't let him leave his sight.

  • ooc: -
  • OWLBARK
    THUNDERCLAN DEPUTY
    51 moons, ages every 1st of the month
    open to peaceful interactions
    "SPEECH"
    penned by muddly
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