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} Fitzgerald says goodbye before going on the journey.
Fitzgerald says goodbye to his Twolegs for probably the very last time... unbeknownst to them.
With a life full of only warmth and care up to this point, the heartbreak is devastating. The only thing that comes anywhere close is a bunch of fleeting memories; family, the furred kind instead of his bare housefolk. He had been young when they had gotten separated... but he knows, knows, that he had a mother, and too many siblings to count. It is only the explanation of neighboring cats who knew far more than him that had spilled light on the truth to him; all of them had gone to different homes, and the possibilities of being close to just one kin is precious little.
If it weren't for the clear love oozing from his owners, he would've had remained at odds with them for longer.
The food, belly rubs and scratches behind the ears are too good to pass up.
And yet... and yet he's here, finally coming to a decision — he would be leaving them behind in order to join SkyClan on this journey. He only partially understands Hawkstar's reasoning. As a daylight warrior, Fitzgerald does not need to worry himself too much over shortage of prey or dangers of the wild, for he always has a fuzzy bed to curl up in and food to gobble into his belly at the end of the day. His non-housecat peers don't have the same luxury.
In a way, he is endlessly upset with himself for getting caught up in Clan business. Why did he have to be so damn curious? If he had never discovered SkyClan, he never would've had reason to fear missing out on what else life has to offer.
Now, he has friends he cannot imagine living without. A structure and a culture that makes him into someone else. The title of warrior had felt so empowering that he had compared the feeling to being served catnip — even if he only partially holds that rank. Having a second life had always made him different from the likes of Coffeestar or Hawkstar, mighty cats who command respect just by existing. It is certainly the work of that mysterious StarClan.
Fitzgerald hums, bitter. StarClan... They are behind all this. Hawkstar might have been the one to make final decisions, but those starry ancestors must've swayed her opinions.
The sigh that tears from him is heavy with grief. He is procrastinating. Wasting time in hopes of his heart deciding to stay... but by extension, he is putting himself in danger of not being quick enough to pick up SkyClan's scent. Fitzgerald is definitely late for the headcount. If he goes now, he should still be able to catch up.
The sniffles and the quiet sobbing indicate Fitzgerald does not entirely believe that.
His housefolk will not worry much in the first few days, considering he sometimes wanders off for longer, but his absence will be felt eventually. He can imagine their panic, their sadness- and by that time, who knows where he will be?
With a painful yowl that comes straight from the heart, Fitzgerald turns and swiftly puts space between himself and his real home — before he could change his mind once more.
With a life full of only warmth and care up to this point, the heartbreak is devastating. The only thing that comes anywhere close is a bunch of fleeting memories; family, the furred kind instead of his bare housefolk. He had been young when they had gotten separated... but he knows, knows, that he had a mother, and too many siblings to count. It is only the explanation of neighboring cats who knew far more than him that had spilled light on the truth to him; all of them had gone to different homes, and the possibilities of being close to just one kin is precious little.
If it weren't for the clear love oozing from his owners, he would've had remained at odds with them for longer.
The food, belly rubs and scratches behind the ears are too good to pass up.
And yet... and yet he's here, finally coming to a decision — he would be leaving them behind in order to join SkyClan on this journey. He only partially understands Hawkstar's reasoning. As a daylight warrior, Fitzgerald does not need to worry himself too much over shortage of prey or dangers of the wild, for he always has a fuzzy bed to curl up in and food to gobble into his belly at the end of the day. His non-housecat peers don't have the same luxury.
In a way, he is endlessly upset with himself for getting caught up in Clan business. Why did he have to be so damn curious? If he had never discovered SkyClan, he never would've had reason to fear missing out on what else life has to offer.
Now, he has friends he cannot imagine living without. A structure and a culture that makes him into someone else. The title of warrior had felt so empowering that he had compared the feeling to being served catnip — even if he only partially holds that rank. Having a second life had always made him different from the likes of Coffeestar or Hawkstar, mighty cats who command respect just by existing. It is certainly the work of that mysterious StarClan.
Fitzgerald hums, bitter. StarClan... They are behind all this. Hawkstar might have been the one to make final decisions, but those starry ancestors must've swayed her opinions.
The sigh that tears from him is heavy with grief. He is procrastinating. Wasting time in hopes of his heart deciding to stay... but by extension, he is putting himself in danger of not being quick enough to pick up SkyClan's scent. Fitzgerald is definitely late for the headcount. If he goes now, he should still be able to catch up.
"Bye-bye,"
he says to no one in particular. A low light is seeping out from the clear glass squares on the sides, indicating someone is home. Fitzgerald would not be. "I'll see you again... maybe."
Tears gather and blur his vision. Probably not. He likes to think the journey will not bring them too far... that the trek between old and new camp will be only a few days long at maximum, making visits to this Twolegplace possible.The sniffles and the quiet sobbing indicate Fitzgerald does not entirely believe that.
His housefolk will not worry much in the first few days, considering he sometimes wanders off for longer, but his absence will be felt eventually. He can imagine their panic, their sadness- and by that time, who knows where he will be?
"I'm sorry..."
With a painful yowl that comes straight from the heart, Fitzgerald turns and swiftly puts space between himself and his real home — before he could change his mind once more.
