Camp potions, pills and medicines // 01.01 MEETING

[SABLESTAR]

His paws still feel numb as they slide over the muck. Another night of rain began just before he stepped back into the earthy decline and his ears twitch as water stuck to the flyaway tufts between them, dribbling down his whiskers. His fur stuck together in layers pins by the time he made it back to the center of their camp. Back again to the white cedar, the reeds to his hide as he faced what was soon to become his ShadowClan.

"All of you, gather around." He waited with impatient thuds of his tail-tip, tilting his chin up to see another night of blank canvas, and smiled. "I come to you with news of Hawthorne's death, rumored to have occurred late in the night." Sablestar's squinted stare flickered between Dunny and Shade before finding something else to focus on. "It would not surprise me if his followers try to find blame within one of us, but it is nothing I expect you to tolerate. We fled to this place so that we may grow strong without him, and in my searching I came across a miracle."

The stars could not touch him here.

"We sit on a treasure trove, here. I was visited by a spirit from ages before us, who gifted me with knowledge of how cats truly lived and thrived together. I accepted my place as champion over this land and was granted the honor to follow their legacy with nine lives. Nine lives to serve you all, where we live under the name of ShadowClan." Sablestar took a breath. He knew it sounded impossible, he would have thought the same if he hadn't seen it. "I have been given the champion's title as Sablestar, and I ask that you follow me in adapting to this new promise of life. All of you over the age of twelve moons will live as ShadowClan warriors, each of your lives a crucial key in protecting, defending, and fighting for the cats around you. Those younger than twelve moons but no more than six will be trained by these warriors, holding the title of 'paw' at the end of your name until ready for a name fitting of your skills and loyalty."

He looked for Stoat, Seal and Smudge among those gathered now. "Those not old enough to train will be defined by the 'kit' title added to your name. Until your sixth moon, you will watch and listen to you older Colo- Clanmates, under the watch of the Clans Caretakers- warrior-aged cats that contribute to your safety and wellbeing."

Sablestar settled back to relax his shoulders to conclude what he had to say. "Do not expect your warrior names to be given tonight. This is a change we will be learning together, and as I see you shape into the Clan you will be given a name fitting for you." He would still have to choose a deputy, and a healer would come to him with Fleecefur's name etched onto their tongue, but it could wait. They would build to their full potential in time.

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• // hi guys!! with this meeting that means shadowclan is officially OPEN for your characters to make threads and explore their new home!!
  no warrior names will be given in this thread, but feel free to add that 'paw and 'kit suffix to ur ocs in those ages!
  if you have a warrior name already picked out PLEASE share that in my channel on discord (or message me), and the same goes if you would like me to choose for you :) have fun!!
  "mew"
• 

  SABLESTAR— he/him ･fifty-two moons ･colonist ; no clan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[Flamerunner]

FLAME OF SHADOWCLAN

Flame listened intently as Sable addressed them all, his expression darkening with a flicker of unease. Hawthorne was dead? The words struck him like a falling branch, the weight of them heavy in his chest. When? How? He exchanged uncertain glances with the other cats, a gnawing sense of dread curling at his tail. Sable's roar echoed in his ears: It had nothing to do with them.

Flame wanted to believe it, needed to... but doubts lingered. They had fought for land they never claimed, and now here they were, licking their wounds, trying to recover from a battle that felt both distant and painfully close.

ShadowClan. The name lingered in the air like smoke, unfamiliar and strange. He blinked, trying to process it, before his blue gaze shifted to the kits huddled nearby. Smudge and Seal. His heart clenched at the sight of them, too young, far too young, to have witnessed such horrors.

And Sable was now Sablestar. A leader with nine lives. A champion of this land. Flame's fur bristled as his thoughts swirled. None of it felt real, and yet here they stood, swept up in something far larger than themselves. The talk of new names for all of them only added to the surrealness.

Flame exhaled softly, his breath heavy with uncertainty. He didn't understand what had truly transpired, nor did he know how to feel about any of it. The grief, the change, the loss—it all weighed on him. His fur prickled briefly before he gave himself a few hurried licks, his head dipping down as he hid his face, trying to still the unease unfurling within.

RUN BOY RUN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— THE SUN WILL BE GUIDING YOU

 

[Marbleshine]

MARBLE OF SHADOWCLAN

Marble's eyes were wide as she padded over, confusion clouding her face as Sable called them all together. Her plumey tail brushed gently along Seal's back, a quiet reassurance that she was there if the kit needed her. She tilted her head, listening intently as Sable began to speak. Her frown deepened as he mentioned Hawthorne's death.

A soft gasp escaped her. Hawthorne... gone? The weight of it settled heavily on her chest. His father had been taken so soon, and now him too? Why? How? What could have caused such a tragedy?

Her voice wavered as she finally spoke, the worry clear in her tone. " What caused Hawthorne's death? " Her ears flicked back, her mind racing with questions. Rumors... What rumors? When had they started? What had truly happened? And why would anyone blame them for it if they had no part in it?

She struggled to piece it together. They had fled, yes, but they hadn't fought for nothing. She had followed her family, her friends. Yet so many others had been left behind...

Sable's words continued, speaking of a spirit that had visited him. A spirit? That spoke of cats thriving together? Her mind reeled at the thought of him becoming a champion of the land, blessed with nine lives. ShadowClan. The name fit, she supposed, given the darkened, shadowy place they now called home.

Marble wiggled slightly, uncertain. The new traditions sounded strange. Young kits would be called -kit. Seal would now be Sealkit. Cats older than six moons would be -paw, and them... warriors. Her gaze dropped to Seal, worry mixing with uncertainty. It was a lot to take in.

Her eyes drifted upward, searching the gathered crowd to find her brother, Possum. She wrapped her fluffy tail around herself, grounding her swirling thoughts. So much had changed, so quickly. Would they all truly be able to thrive in this new life?

GO ON AND TRY TO TEAR ME DOWN ——･ﾟ✦​

･ﾟ✦ —— I WILL BE RISING FROM THE GROUND

mention of @Sealpaw and @possum

 

[possumgrin]

Resting on one of the slightly drier patches of their new territory, the tufted tom sat, lazily dragging his tongue over dirtied paws. Each stroke was interrupted by the persistent drizzle above, thwarting his efforts and prompting the occasional irritated shake. His grooming was brought to an abrupt halt when a familiar voice, Sable's, called out. He responded with a quiet sniff and a tap of half-muddied paws before rising to investigate. By the time he arrived, a small crowd had already gathered. He maneuvered into the group with little care for the cats he might accidentally bump along the way.

Tufted ears pricked, he tilted his head to listen. When the news of Hawthorne's death struck, it hit him like a blow. Dead? How? His bright eyes darted among the colony, noting the shock mirrored on the faces of his companions. The grim news pulled his lips into a rare, thin grimace. Haven't we endured enough already? He thought bitterly.

His sister's unmistakable meow snapped him from his downtrodden musings. Turning toward the sound, his eyes widened as the pale molly voiced the very question weighing on his mind. Before he could process her words, Sable seized the opportunity to shift topics. The tom felt his chest tighten, nerves coiling like a taut spring. What came next utterly floored him. Sablestar? Paw? Shadowclan? The words jumbled in his mind, a deluge of information overwhelming him. Nine whole lives seemed utterly ludacris. He could barely keep up. A new name? Possum swallowed hard, unease gnawing at him. He wasn't sure how he felt about taking on a new part of his identity, but he disliked the idea of causing waves even more.

Disjointed and uncertain, his gaze instinctively sought out Marble. When their eyes met, her expression reflected his own apprehension. Damn. Reluctantly, their attention shifted back to Sable- no - Sablestar for answers. Unease would surely simmer in the gathered cats, and Possum braced himself for the slew of rising questions to follow.​

▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼ ▏OOC▕ ▲▼▲▼▲▼ ▏INFO▕ ▲▼▲▼▲▼ ▏HEALTH▕ ▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼

• ​
• 
  
  ▸ possum, possumgrin
  ▸ LH blue ticked tabby w/low white and orange eyes
  ▸ amab, cis male,18 moons
  ▸ ex-colony cat, warrior of shadowclan
  ▸ heterosexual/romantic, single, crushing on no one
  ▸ child of npc x npc ; sibling to marbleshine
  ▸ "speech", thoughts, powerplay
  ▸ peaceful and healing powerplay accepted
  ▸ toyhou.se - hub - playlist - penned by tasmagoric
  ​
• 
  
  strength
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  stamina
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  agility
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  hunting
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  swimming
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  climbing
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  charisma
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[Mothbite]

-

indentA treasure trove? Moth scoffs. Sable - Sablestar, sorry - must be out of his damn mind. This place was a trove of nothing but muck and misery. Even snow would be preferable to the freezing rain that falls on them now, frosting over Moth's thin coat. Worse than the rain is the shame and humiliation that bubbles up in his chest, warming the tips of his ears to a fever pitch. Sablestar had promised him a better life, with full bellies and warm dens and no more arguments. Instead, he was standing here, injured and cold, in this starsforsaken swamp, having turned tail and ran from battle. If he ever saw his friends again - what few friends he did have - they'd probably beat his ass on sight.

indentAnd what about Hawthorne, anyways? Hadn't getting rid of him been the plan all along? Not that it would help them out now, after the fact. The colony had split cleanly in two, with no chances of coming back together. "Marble's right!" He shouts, over the din of the falling rain and hushed voices. "How''d he die, and how'd they decide we're to blame for it?"

-

 

[Coalstrike]

I'LL SHOW NO MERCY, I'LL SHOW NO REMORSE.

——————————​

Charcoal's amber eyes flickered with disdain, his tail lashing sharply as he listened to Sable's announcement. Hawthorne was gone, reduced to nothing more than crow food. The rival Sable had made was no longer an obstacle. Charcoal's lip curled slightly at the questions swirling in the air around them. What did it matter how Hawthorne died? If the tom was too weak to endure, he had no right to stand in the way.

The talk of stars, spirits, and champions felt like meaningless noise to him. If Sable wanted to lean on some fantastical tale to solidify his rule, so be it. Charcoal didn't care. It served its purpose. But spirits? He scoffed internally. Ridiculous.

Fluffing out his fur, Charcoal shifted his gaze toward Marble. Her questioning demeanor irritated him slightly. Why did she bother? The answers wouldn't change the outcome. He tilted his head as Moth joined in, her voice rising alongside Marble's.

A sneer twisted his features. " They are mousehearts. " he muttered, his voice dripping with derision. His amber eyes fixed on Moth, narrowing with scorn. " They'll find any excuse to put the blame on us. We fought them, and now they need something to cling to, some reason to paint us as villains. "

His tail flicked again, a harsh reminder of his simmering irritation. Let them whine and point their paws. It didn't matter. In the end, they were here, and they were strong. Hawthorne wasn't. That was all that mattered.

—————————————————————————————————

I'll watch the battle until the dust is clear.

 

[BONE]

Pale limbs unravel as a call voice invades her ears. Turning her gaze upon Sable she finally moves to see just what he is gathering everyone around for. Her maw keeps shut as she listens, ears pulled forward as he speaks of Hawthorne's death in the middle of the night. Her gaze narrows very slightly and yet she says nothing. Questions nothing. Hawthorne had been their enemy afternall and his death is a boon if anything. But others ask about it and she feels herself stiffen, her eyes rolling with vague annoyance. "Honestly, who cares how he died. He is gone and that is victory enough." Why should she care how the enemy is dispatched. But with that news comes more and this different than the rest. They are upon hallowed ground. Cats having lived here before and they came to Sable. Dubbing him Sablestar. They are to live as Shadowclan now and the word flicks across her mind. A name fitting of the place they dwell in now. Although it makes her wonder just what they actually want to make Sablestar their champion. Now she sits as a warrior of Shadowclan. Her muzzle parts on a sigh at the sudden change that is bring initiated.

Not sure if she is comfortable or not. But she can work and she will live. If she has to become Shadowclan then so be it. The woman looks for @vampire in all of this. Hoping to pick up some type of comfort from the older feline. If only for a short moment. Seems like things are going to be different from now on and she has to be ready for it. Just like she was before.

 

[gingerpaw]

ginger

Sable's absence hadn't gone unnoticed... and the fact he bears new wounds is enough to draw up Ginger's suspicions. It was not just convenient and their leader's shady lack of willingness to explain certainly did little to put his curiosity to rest. The dappled youth knew better than to ask questions where they weren't wanted... to know the answer would not benefit them in any way that mattered- you shouldn't ask if you weren't ready for the real answer. Ginger knew he didn't want the truth... didn't want to know what horrible way Hawthorne had died. He was just tired of being hungry- he didn't want anyone dead.

He frowns, listening with a silent understanding of his position, that he has chosen a side that will do what it takes to survive even if he himself would not strike the way they do to see it made reality. They just had... different ideas for how to achieve success. Survival wasn't always fair or generous. It could live with that.

The mention of new names finds his lips twisting into a deeper sort of grimace, made bored by such a lame addition as '-paw' for its young age. Had it not earned some right to be respected as more than just a kid? It lets out a frustrated sigh, not willing to argue with whatever nebulous ghost had advised Sablestar of this stupid idea. "Gingerpaw... ugh... it's so dumb," it mutters, glancing to its side to see if Vanilla and Fennel feel the same. "Are you guys really gonna call me that?"

-- interacting with @fennelpaw and @Vanilla

 

[vampire]

Against the shadow of the looming pines, the white cedar is stark—a pale altar they all halo out around, Sable holding ceremony at its base. Their newfound group is large, but not so large she fails to recognize some of the rain-blurred faces in the crowd. Vampire herself settles in with jutting shoulders and head held high, cobwebs blotting out the clotted wound on her chest. Her patrician face is heavy; expectant.

The white-blotted tom brings bloody news on his rainsoaked breath. Hawthorne's death, and so soon? Vampire tilts their head, drives their dark gaze into Sable as if he's a prism to filter the details out of. Not so, of course, and does it matter? It shouldn't, but it does, somehow—she just … wants to know. She bats the thought away as if it were a pinwheeling moth about the ears. The important part is that he is dead, and she knows firstpaw the stagnancy that poisons his followers. Perhaps lacking their blood-chosen (scoff!) leader, they might just dissolve. Flit away in the wind and scatter forever.

Unlikely, but it is a pleasant thought.

Names, blessings, treasures, lives. Very … cute. Vampire's face doesn't rumple in a confused sort of distaste, but their eyes acquire a strange cast. He supposes as long as these traditional trappings don't weight their wings too much for upward movement, they'll be … fine. Could even be beneficial; he reconsiders, thinking of the merits of unity. Tradition can be binding like that.

Adaptation has never felt a more pleasant virtue than now; the impossibilities of nine lives, of visiting spirits, slide from their back like water from a duck's wings. Not quite so for her new Clanmates; the crowd takes to murmuring with that fluid ease large groups always seemed to. Vampire is more than happy to lend their own voice.

" They were always going to find something to blame us for, I assure you, "

they mrrow, cutting through the crowd easily to find a place at the shoulder of @BONE. Fortunately, the younger cat's burning eyes are easy to pick out in the drab hues of the pocosin. Charcoal is right, if a little zealous as he cuts into the mrrows of Moth and Marble.

" It may even be fortunate, that something happened so soon, "

he murmurs almost thoughtfully. Cowards, they are; about that, Charcoal is fully correct. Certainly, it would be easier for them to freely fling blame at the freshly-named ShadowClan than to accept that their inaction may well have been their demise. Their foolishness. A pause for thought, and she adds,

" Get it out of the way, so to speak. No need for pretenses of civility. "

​

 

[VANILLAPAW]

Sable calls for everyone to gather, and she joins in, sticking to her siblings sides. What could he possibly want at this hour? A sudden flash of dread shoots through her stomach- were they being attacked, had Hawthornes followers caught up to them? Instead of them latter, Sable drops a on shell on all of them: Hawthorne had died, mysteriously- Marble asks why, and Moth chimes in as well. Vanilla doesn't exactly care, she she isn't surprised to see indifference in most of her clanmates eyes.

On another paw, Sable bears a new name, Sablestar, and she finds her lip curling in sight disbelief. Nine lives. No cat has ever had nine lives as far as she was aware of. She steps closer to @ginger and @fennelpaw as if she could shield the two from the sudden realization that nothing would ever be the same anymore. Nothing would have ever been the same the moment you lead them towards Sables side, a warped thought in her head speaks and she sucks up a sudden breath. Only time would tell if she had joined the right side, but in the moment, in the days before the battle, in the weeks before, she had been more than willing to throw it all away if it meant it'd provide safety and food.

Her teeth clench taught together as he delivers news after news, her ear flicks in indignation about the cats younger than twelve moons but older than six being named as "in training", something infinitely less satisfying than a warrior. A 'paw' is what is tacked on to the end of her name and decidedly, Vanilla hates it. "Why can't we just get warrior names, too?" she grumbles in agreement to Gingers sentiment. The scabbing claw-marks beneath finally groomed and no longer blood-slicked fur sting; hadn't she proven her worth enough? She had bled for this new Clan, and so had Ginger, and so had Fennel. "No. I better not hear Vanillapaw from your mouths, either." though quite bluntly said, there is a small chance she is just joking, apparent only to the two standing closest to her. A plumed tail sweeps around to gently curl around Ginger, trying her best to provide comfort to its frustration. She felt just the same: this was stupid.

 

[Wolf]

AND I AM SORRY MY CONSCIENCE CALLED IN SICK AGAIN​

---

Taking orders from another cat was new– enough so that Wolf wasn't sure if it bothered him or not yet. He obliged Sable for now though, in part because he was curious, but also because he was trying to embrace the whole 'as a group' thing. He wanted to be here, after all, chose to stay when he could walk away at any time.

He took his place in the growing crowd before the white cedar, mismatched eyes landing on Sable with curiosity as they impatiently waited to begin their announcement. And boy, what an announcement it was. Wolf wasn't sure weather to laugh at the stupidity of it being visited by spirits? What a load of horsehit or commend the tom for what was apparently a very creative lie since as nobody else even batted an eyes at the fact that he'd been visited by a spirit.

Wolf had to be missing something, a subtle glance around telling him that on the surface, nobody else seemed to think this was out of normal. Sable was either an evil genius or the rest of the clan was filled with idiots. Maybe both. Or some third thing where Wolf had just missed the memo on ghosts being real.

"Interesting." he noted, eyes narrowing just a bit as they returned to their newly named 'champion. Sablestar. Their leader. Ruler of 'Shadowclan'.

A clever ruse, to put himself in a position of power. Ambitious, but it was obviously working in their favor and Wolf couldn't bring himself to hate it. Had he known the group was so gullible, he might have done it himself first.

"So you can die eight times before you're killed for good? That should be useful– for the clan." he justified, in a tone that wasn't quite so genuine. " It's safe to assume Hawthorne didn't have a similar friend if he's dead already. Does his group have a contender for leader with him gone?"

If not, now might be a good time to truly scatter and drive the cats out. Some might even see the sense in joining with Shadowclan, if Sable and the others were inclined to let them stay. Soft as they were, he had suspicions they might.

​

---

loner/future shadowclan - male - a large, monochrome chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars​

​

 

[fennelpaw]

(‎♝) the tomcat's tail lashes eagerly at his side as sable tips his head up and ascends to kinghood. fennel watches with a gleeful grin, eyes alight with worship, paws kneading the ground. the x-shaped scratches on his shoulder still sting as he moves, but they have scabbed over, begun to heal as the former colony members pick up their pieces. hawthorne is dead, sable says, in more eloquent words, and the chocolate boy almost whoops. he remains quiet however, shoulder to shoulder with his siblings, who tone down his energy. he too notes the scratches that litter his new king's frame, though even if suspicion wells up, it is quelled by sheer reverie. the dark tom announces his group's new name, shadowclan, and fennel whispers it under his breath. "shadowclan..." because they strike in the night. shadowclan, forever feared. sable announces himself as sablestar, and hunger gleams in fennel's eyes. with such a cool name for their king, surely his subjects will receive equally epic monickers.

when the news is dropped, fen falls back onto his paws, one brow raised. beside him, ginger mutters with distain, and fennel fears he agrees with his sibling. "pfft," he snorts, rolling the name fennelpaw around in his head. "it sounds... wrong." for once, his gaze leaves his king and he finds ginger's doubtful eyes. embarrassment at his reverence towards sablestar hits him, and the chocolate boy twitches his nose. "don't worry, gin, one day your name'll be something cool." ears flick in agreement with vanilla's statement, and the boy presses into his sister. "i dunno why, cause that spirit told him so i guess. your paw isn't even vanilla colored."

WAS YOUR SOUL REDISCOVERED? ‎♝ WAS YOUR HEART REARRANGED?

• // speaking to @ginger @VANILLAPAW " #8f4a1e "
• 
• FENNELPAW ‎♡ HE / HIM, SHADOWCLAN APPRENTICE. 7 MOONS, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a shorthaired chocolate smoke ghost tabby with hazel eyes. dark chocolate fur covers his body, sliced through with darker stripes, barely visible in direct sunlight. his eyes seem a deep pine hue, but within them, a cinnamon-red color peaks through, fading into hazel. he has an x shaped scar on his shoulder, and a scar through his lip from a spat with a rogue.

 

[Hollowmist's iconHollowmist]

♢Worried 'Bout The Future

Ain't Fuckin' With The Past♢

It was no fool, this, Hollow was certain of. To have Sable so boldly stand before them bearing fresh new wounds across his eyes with the supposed 'rumor' of Hawthorne's death... The writing was on the wall and the chimera briefly wondered if Sable really thought all of them so stupid. Their good eye scanned the crowd for their siblings, tail twitching faintly in annoyance.

"Are you really expecting us to believe all this." While it was certainly a question the lack of inflection lend itself to more of an accusation as Hollow stood to address Sable...star.

Everything else was just as fantastical and they didn't know where to place it all in it's mind just yet. It all sounded almost...cult-like to them and ears pinned flat to their head at the thought that Sable had perhaps lost his mind entirely.

Ain't Got No Time To Waste On Bullshit

♢

You Know I Gotta Keep My Head On Straight

• 
  Hollow
  — Thief of Shadowclan
  — It/They
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  — A LH Black/Fawn Chimera W/ High White (LaPerm)
  #a7767c

 

[SABLESTAR]

They come forth bearing questions and curiosity, suspicion and skepticism and Sablestar found himself wearing a smile for it all. These were the same cats who brought challenge and tribulation to Hawthorne's authority and it spoke loudly of themselves to continue on. With Hawthorne's death, with him expected to be at their helm, it was never a question to him of when he would face the same speculation but if. If they had the will to continue driving forward for what they desired, what they believed they deserved.

Plenty ask for what came of Hawthorne in the end and undoubtedly his freshly patched wounds do little to shake himself as a suspect to it. Should it really matter when the result ended just the same? Had the stars never interfered and shunned him from destiny, Hawthorne would have still fallen from his naivety. "I don't know the specifics, I wasn't there." Sablestar answered coolly as he twitched his tail to curl around himself. "The spirit that bestowed this all to me was not open to many questions." Or any at all, to be precise. "It only makes sense for them to point to us- they assume all of their adversaries gather here, with you. Who's to say it wasn't someone lurking among them?" It's said as a meager thought brought aloud.

Not all of them seem to oppose it entirely, thankfully. A reprieve in all the noise. Some of the young cats criticize their new titles and he would find it all humorous any other time. Maybe Wolf's, too, if he hadn't worded it so it brutally. Sablestar would be throwing himself into death, a sensation he had only come close to before and that had left him shaken in ways he hadn't been before. Flashes of faces, longing regret creeping behind him like a wolf waiting for him to take his final breath. Eight more times.

"You don't have to believe a single word." Sablestar replied evenly, his tail-tip thudding against the earth and he regarded Hollow. "I only ask you continue to give me your support in following this path with me. I won't be able to do it all on my own. I am not so thick-skulled to recognize that without any, I'd be facing an impossible task."

this heart beats cold like the devil his own

• "mew"
• 

  SABLE— he/him ･fifty-two moons ･colonist ; no clan ･penned by gonkpilled

  a black and white tuxedo with dark amber eyes

 

[Smudgepaw]

Smudge

---

ShadowClan.

This wasn't Fourtrees, and it wasn't the old broken-down Twoleg household that her mother had come from. Sable–– Sablestar's announcement was a revelation, and Smudge looks up at him. The she-cat's heterochromatic gaze glistens with a fiery determination. Sablestar had saved her, and that was important to Smudge — with nine lives, he could make a difference. For Nightingale, she's 'Smudgepaw' now, and that meant fighting for ShadowClan's future. That's what she wanted, right?

With a frazzled exhale, Smudgepaw says: "Sablestar! ShadowClan…!" But the she-cat can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. She'll get to have a Warrior's name one day, and Nightingale won't be there to see it. Keep yourself out of trouble — I'm sorry mum, I'll make you proud.

 

[Pepperpaw]

" Am I really supposed to rejoice at the name Pepperpaw? " the she-cat drawled, her tone dripping with disdain as she slinked past a cluster of cats to join Ginger, Fennel, and Vanilla. Annoyance was etched across her face, her movements deliberate and slow, as if she had no desire to be here at all.

" Paw. Really? " she repeated, her nose wrinkling with visible distaste. Settling herself down, she began grooming her paw and ears, though her sharp green eyes flicked over the other cats before landing on her siblings.

The scar on her flank was healing well of course, she'd expected no less, but her attention was far from her wounds. With her sleek black fur, she blended seamlessly into the shadowy landscape, but she still found this entire place... ridiculous.

___________________ I'VE GOT THICK SKIN ☆ AND AN ELASTIC HEART ___________________

• "speech"
  

• 

• PEPPERPAW she/her, ShadowClan, eight moons.
  ☆ a sh black rusting cat with lightgreen eyes
  ☆ mentored by who / mentoring no one
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by lion ↛ lionheartedphoenix on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

ooc: mention of @fennelpaw @gingerpaw and @VANILLAPAW