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.
BUSTARDPAW
✧ . SUPERNOVA
{$title} girl it is not that serious you are in like 6th grade
Bustardpaw's older brother had just been made deputy, and that normally was a point of elation for most. Celebration hewed upon each of her family member's faces, with crescent eyes and ivory-tipped grin. And yet, she could not find herself with the same mawkish sentiments, dripping out of them like honeyed rot. Being deputy was so much more of an achievement than becoming an apprentice, and though her ceremony had still been conducted... The young molly could not help but find that she did not receive the same honor. It's only natural. Everyone probably becomes an apprentice. Not all cats can be deputy. Logic, however, faulted at the blade of virulent emotion, which always aimed for the weaknesses of the spirit. So? I want a celebration, too! I don't want to be left behind or something bad like that. Why'd he have to be deputy, now of all times?! Ugh! I hate my stupid life.
She wasn't sure if she hated Brightpetal, though a teenage mind was like a cornered animal - any slight was the end of the world, and any reprieve was simply a falsity.
Sitting within the shadow of grand commemorations, Bustardpaw found herself an outlier to the joy that simmered upon each outlined smile, like she listened to the pitter-patter of rain's babble from afar. She decided "no more," heading out into the oaken forest, allowing the long silhouettes of titan-limb trees to envelop her whole. If she had to listen to her parents talk about how proud they were of Brightpetal, she was sure to implode right then and there. What about me, huh? Aren't you proud of me? The torbie would rather be nothing than "the deputy's younger sister," as though the delegation shone through her translucent soul, revealing that she had been nothing at all within. She was worth something, she was sure of it - or perhaps she had only deluded herself in doing so. Ever-burning fire sat stoutly between her ribs, so there was certainly something still worth fighting for within her. In a desperate attempt to make any sort of name for herself, Bustardpaw crouched down within the dew-laden forestry, the sunlight resting upon the leaves and bark like an illumination of some faraway world, though concrete and breathing right upon her paw-tips. Daffodil-hued eyes caught upon a blackbird, with stark sables staining the alabaster beneath. It pecked at something, beaded gaze turned only towards the monochrome earth. In a quick moment, she burst forth and lunged for the bird. This was her chance, her moment to shine! She would become the greatest hunter known to Thunderclan, and then her parents would have no choice but to congratulate her and shower her in praise, and - thud. Harsh snow cushioned her fall as the blackbird swiftly evaded her grasp and rose into the sky, only to become a speckle upon a cloud somewhere higher. In her zeal, she had totally forgotten that she was nowhere near a trained hunter. With a mist-laden sigh, she stood up and shook the fur from tigrine purls.
She wasn't sure if she hated Brightpetal, though a teenage mind was like a cornered animal - any slight was the end of the world, and any reprieve was simply a falsity.
Sitting within the shadow of grand commemorations, Bustardpaw found herself an outlier to the joy that simmered upon each outlined smile, like she listened to the pitter-patter of rain's babble from afar. She decided "no more," heading out into the oaken forest, allowing the long silhouettes of titan-limb trees to envelop her whole. If she had to listen to her parents talk about how proud they were of Brightpetal, she was sure to implode right then and there. What about me, huh? Aren't you proud of me? The torbie would rather be nothing than "the deputy's younger sister," as though the delegation shone through her translucent soul, revealing that she had been nothing at all within. She was worth something, she was sure of it - or perhaps she had only deluded herself in doing so. Ever-burning fire sat stoutly between her ribs, so there was certainly something still worth fighting for within her. In a desperate attempt to make any sort of name for herself, Bustardpaw crouched down within the dew-laden forestry, the sunlight resting upon the leaves and bark like an illumination of some faraway world, though concrete and breathing right upon her paw-tips. Daffodil-hued eyes caught upon a blackbird, with stark sables staining the alabaster beneath. It pecked at something, beaded gaze turned only towards the monochrome earth. In a quick moment, she burst forth and lunged for the bird. This was her chance, her moment to shine! She would become the greatest hunter known to Thunderclan, and then her parents would have no choice but to congratulate her and shower her in praise, and - thud. Harsh snow cushioned her fall as the blackbird swiftly evaded her grasp and rose into the sky, only to become a speckle upon a cloud somewhere higher. In her zeal, she had totally forgotten that she was nowhere near a trained hunter. With a mist-laden sigh, she stood up and shook the fur from tigrine purls.
