Open Event Border SkC ONE MAN'S TRASH ✧ skc border patrol ✧ ANOTHER MAN'S TREASURE

[brightnose!'s icon brightnose! brightnose!]

{$title} slight tw for roadkill

BRIGHTNOSE | SUN GUARD
"ALWAYS CONFUSING THE THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD"

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Eugh, ShadowClan again… Brightnose doesn't actually have anything against ShadowClan at the moment, and she's gotten used to leading more patrols than she used to at this point. It's just, well… the last border patrol to ShadowClan that she'd lead had made her look very silly, constantly jumping and flinching at foreign sounds and tricks of the light. Perhaps that ShadowClan warrior had been right about the time of spirits, and Brightnose hopes enough time has passed for the supposed connection between living and dead to have significantly weakened. She just wants to do her job with no funny business!

Leading her patrol toward the other Clan's border, Brightnose's nose scrunches at the pungent scent of the thunderpath that lingers in the air. "Alright, let's make this quick," she urges her Clanmates, not wanting to stay here long. Let's just check the border and get outta here. It's only upon padding closer to the thunderpath that Brightnose notices the familiar form of a felled squirrel, lying limp in the grass at the edge of the obsidian path. She frowns, approaching it to examine whether it's worth salvaging or not; the squirrel is mostly intact - it was clearly hit by a monster, but it could still be eaten if one were to get past the thunderpath stench that sticks to its fur. It's a welcome surprise in the midst of leaf-bare.
"Twolegs… so wasteful." Her tail lashes as she says it, though she's speaking mostly to herself. How could they kill perfectly good prey and just leave it like this? "We should bring this with us, yeah? It looks perfectly salvageable to me." Brightnose glances to her patrol in search of agreement.

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//open to skyclanners and shadowclanners :3 don't forget skyclan cats get one point toward their event score for participating in this patrol!

"SO I CAN'T TRUST MYSELF ANYMORE"

BRIGHTNOSE
SKYCLAN SUN GUARD
21 MOONS
SHE/HER
"SPEECH" | THOUGHTS | ACTION | #61BD6D

 

[Teaselfeather Teaselfeather]

Let me die, let me drown, lay my bones in the ground
I will still come around when the time for sleep is through
Over hill, over dale, through the valley and vale
Do not weep, do not wail, I am coming home to you

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Teaselfeather padded after Brightnose with steps that were quieter than usual, mismatched eyes flicking sharply along the shadows. Every time they neared this stretch of territory, the air seemed colder... Heavier. As if the veil between the living and the dead thinned like old cobwebs. And sure enough, those shapes lingered at the edge of their sight. Darker than most ghosts they saw. Wrong somehow. Their pelt prickled, fur lifting ever so slightly as they drew in closer to the rest of the patrol, keeping to the living like a moth to lamplight. They resisted the urge to bound up the nearest tree, where the wind was clean and ghosts could not cling to the bark like frost, but kept their paws on the ground. Duty was duty. Even if their heart thudded like a frightened bird.

Brightnose's words snapped them back to the present, their gaze following her gesture toward the squirrel. Poor thing, its neck bent at the wrong angle, body unmangled save for the ugly bruise of the monster's strike. It must have leapt just a heartbeat too slow. What a needless end. A life extinguished without purpose. Still... It would be worse to waste it. Teaselfeather stepped a little closer, nose twitching, though their gaze drifted toward the invisible line of the ShadowClan border. The ghosts there pulsed like bruises in the air. Watching. Always... Or perhaps today he was just being paranoid.... And the ghosts would not appear.

" Is it on our side of the border...? " they asked softly, tail curling in unease. " I... Wouldn't want to provoke Shadow. " Their voice, though gentle as ever, held a small tremor, not fear of ShadowClan, but fear of what lurked around them unseen. They angled closer to the nearest patrolmate, as though the warmth of another living body helped keep the ghosts at bay, mismatched hues scanning the tree trunks as if expecting something to step out.

Speech, thoughts/emphasis

17 MOONS

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SKYCLANNER

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SONG

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