Open Camp LIKE IT'S ORIGAMI ☆ ] INTRO [

[skykit]

The cheer carried across the camp.

Skykit. A name gifted unto her by the clan's leader, the King herself. A body and life nurtured and grown by Milkheart, and then her mind by Skyclan's finest- if they could tolerate her. A tufted, wispy body that stumbled to and fro defined Skykit now, a little bit of uncertainty in her dainty paws and her fur a mess no matter what her or Milkheart tried to do. But today, she was determined. She had slipped from the nursery, bright blue eyes open wide and lilac tones light beneath the early morning light.

She'd kept her flank close to the sides of camp, eyes darting above and around to ensure no one was keeping their eyes on her. Surely, the light tones of her pelt would be visible to someone. Well, more then just one someone, but she was being delusional, hopeful, as kits are want to do, determined not to be 'seen' as she crept around camp. It being early morning, only one of the patrols had already left, another gathering to get ready to go. But she was intent. She had a goal in mind, and just needed to pick a target.

Skykit had overheard yesterday a pawful of apprentices talking about stalking and pouncing techniques. She had never seen it, sure, but she thinks she knows what it looks like. Skykit's teeth are pressed down on her tongue, keeping her excitement constrained, eyes peering forward with a kind of determination that would be trademark to her. So she tries. There's a target here, amongst those waiting for those keeping the patrol from leaving. This, she believes, is perfect.

The kit crouches down, her legs off-balanced and her forepaws too far forward, but for a kit barely molded by the world, who still stumbles over her tail sometimes? It's a pretty good first attempt. She places one paw in front of another, still intent on her target, and she inhales, leaping at @Victoryscorn's tail. Whether or not she is successful in her rough, first ever pounce, is to remain seen. But she cheers regardless, the fact she believes she's snuck up onto a full warrior of Skyclan!

__________________________ IM RUNNING WITH ☆ THE WOLVES TONIGHT _________________________

• "speech"
  // no need to wait for victory! also @Milkheart since she's escaping the nursery
  

• 

• SKYKIT she/her, skyclan kit, 2 moons
  ☆ a limber long haired lilax lynx point with blue eyes and low white.
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[Victoryscorn Victoryscorn]

Victoryscorn, in a twist of irony, was never the sort to mingle with SkyClan's young blood. Kits and apprentices alike seemed to carry a kind of distance from him, as if the nursery itself were plague-ridden and he'd catch something nasty by stepping too close. Maybe it was the way scrappy kits tripped over their own paws trying to see the world, or maybe it was the sting of memory— those wide, innocent eyes stirring wounds he'd rather leave buried.

Either way, he kept his distance. Same as he avoided oversleeping. Victoryscorn favored the quiet of dawn, when the birds raised their first chorus and the sun cracked the horizon like a split shell. From his perch, he'd watch younger warriors gather for patrols, their voices sharp with pride, strong hearts beating louder than the rustle of grass.

He blinked slow, one whisker twitching, a dry chuff rumbling in his throat. Amusing, really — watching them strain to outdo the forest itself. He could barely recall those moons when he'd raced to snag the fattest vole or dreamed of settling down. Best not to think on that now. With a shake, dust and dried berries tumbled from his pelt, scattering like spilled marbles. Foolish things clung to him season after season. He stretched stiffly and padded forward, half a mind to join a hunt, when it struck.

An attack.

His fur shot up, ears snapping high, head jerking like a deer hearing a twig snap. Weight pressed into his tail, tiny claws snagging through the knots of his thick, ropey fur. But the mighty assailant was no warrior— only @skykit , scarcely bigger than the plume she clung to. Victoryscorn's heavy tail slipped free, swatting down to pin the kit flat like a fly beneath a paw.

The old tom turned, expecting some foolish apprentice practicing stealth, only to freeze. A wisp of a kit peered up at him, fur tousled, grin brighter than any birdsong. For once, Victoryscorn stood dumbstruck, moons of avoiding the nursery leaving him empty-pawed in what to say. "You… ain't s'posed to be outta the nursery," he rasped at last, voice rough as bark. His looming shadow swallowed the kit whole, blue eyes narrowing as he huffed in Skykit's face. "Where in the stars was this youngster's dam? Surely some caretaker oughta be up by now, lettin' her kits nurse at her belly… right?"

___________________ YOU KNOW THIS MOMENT, ☆ DON'T YOU? ___________________

• "speech."
  "thoughts."
  actions.
  

• 

• VICTORYSCORN he/him, skyclanner, one hundred one moons.
  ☆ an old chocolate lynx mink with blue tabby patches and a permanent scowl, fur usually stained by blueberry plants.
  ☆ mentoring no one.
  ☆ no current relationships or family ties.
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by egg ↛ eggmcbaconboy on discord, feel free to dm for plots!