Warrior Cats: A RPG

NEWS: February's Gathering is up!

Weather: Leaf-bare is here, and all the Clans are feeling the chill! There are occasional snow showers throughout the forest.

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Joined: 9-May 17
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Local Time: Feb 21 2018, 11:47 PM
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My Content
Feb 11 2018, 06:40 PM
Staccato wasn't a terribly loud nor immediately noticeable tom. Especially in the winter, where the landscape differed only shades from his fur, the creamy Angora tended to slip into the background. He was quiet too, and cautious as he moved, and as a result, the Skyclanner was like a silent cryptid among the others he lived with.

That is, usually. Today, however, the petite tom was suffering from a nasty case of kitten sneezes. He didn't feel sick, but every few minutes, the quietest, high pitched 'choo!' of the poor tom's sneeze cut through the air. As a result, Cato was more visible now than he usually was, creeping over to the freshkill pile and grabbing a little mouse before trying to walk away. But, of course...


And the mouse was dropped so that Cato could rub at his pastel pink nose. Aw.
Jan 30 2018, 11:04 PM
Staccato didn't know that flowers bloomed in the winter -- it seemed counterintuitive. It was so cold, and the sun only dappled its cold light on the mountainside for a few hours out of the day before disappearing behind stony peaks. He didn't know much, but he knew that flowers needed the sun -- his brother told him that flowers didn't grow when it was dark.

He'd told him that before the sounds went away, before Cato ever watched his sibling's face crush under the unbearable heartbreak of realising someone you loved had been hurt so badly.

But in his exploration, quiet and out of the way, he found a little bundle of flowers and thus began the moral dilemma -- let them grow or bring them to Wolf so the other could see? They weren't close enough to camp for Cato to be able to just... bring Wolf here, and the deputy was already so busy with duties that the petite Angora worried his lip in concern. It seemed silly to even think about interrupting the sometimes severe Coon's day with such an insignificant thing but...

Now or never Cato!

With a start, the impulse took over and the Angora hastily snatched two of the bundled Snowdrop blossoms before returning to camp. Once there, the creamy tom would hesitate, holding the lightly coloured stems with trepidation. Could he... even find Wolf? Was this a weird thing to do? Maybe this was too childish.

With a pronounced groan, the Turkish feline flopped onto the ground with a stupid amount of grace. It was less like flopping and more like drifting to the ground as though he were weightless -- the end result didn't change however, and pink paw pads soon covered his muzzle as the weight of his own childishness smothered him.

"But flowers!"

He sighed, off-key and lilting as though preparing to wax poetic. There was no continuation though, just the teenage heartthrob-style distress of a feline clueless.
Jan 16 2018, 12:51 AM
Staccato had never been in a clan.

Skyclan itself was slightly amazing -- the notion of living in a community was at once daunting and exciting. On one paw, there were ceremonies and gatherings, hunters and warriors working together to support each other, and kittens running about and playing games. Everyone worked together to survive, and his eyes watered a little just thinking about the beauty of such a community. He'd never known life to be like that. Alone, life was survival and grit and work, and even then he'd been sheltered from it. Here? There was culture. Experiences. Happiness and bonding.

On the other paw, it was... he didn't want to say scary, but perhaps sad.

Because when it came down to semantics, Cato didn't really know the Skyclanners. He was separated from them -- he only barely understood who was who, only barely parsing the conversations around him. Sunchaser and Wolf were nice to him, but the knowledge that the latter had about Cato made him nervous, and the former was nice but... it felt like pity. No, Staccato hadn't really bonded with anyone and had quite honestly not made the effort.

His arrival had been shameful and weepy, with a full-blown temper tantrum. It had been, what, weeks since then? A month? No matter how much time had passed, he was still so ashamed of it that he kept his head low and his form out of sight. It was a life-long skill set he had, to stay inoffensive, to avoid, to come off as polite and proper.

Today, he didn't wake until sun high. He hadn't snuck into the warrior's den until well after moon high and didn't stir as others awoke. Not that he slept particularly lightly; but that was his secret to know. No, he hadn't woken for the entirety of the morning, and when he did wake up, he found himself... hollow, in a sense. Emptied. He was tired for no reason and that spurred him to leave behind the prey pile in favour of exploring some of the rocky landscape of the Skyclan camp.

The camp was safe. The camp didn't have evil swooping birds. Horrible, horrible swooping.

But the camp did have icicles -- something that Cato hadn't really interacted with before. He one such icicle, and after sniffing it curiously, he tried to break it off to no avail. Yes, try as he might, tugging and twisting, Cato was legitimately weaker than this icicle.

This poor child.
Dec 19 2017, 03:36 PM
alternate title: when bits just types words as he listens to his online courses

Well, joining Skyclan had gone rather poorly.

Oh sure, he was a part of the clan now. But he'd joined in a haze of screaming and sobbing that he barely remembered now. He was such a crybaby; later on, Staccato had brooded over his emotionality, his dramatic way of living. His mom was right -- he wasn't really cut out to be out in the 'dangerous world'. But he could hardly go back now, could he? There was nothing to go back to. So he was here for good, and so far it wasn't too bad. He still felt so bad about making a scene while joining, so he was trying his best to be a wallflower, cautious in his motions. He watched for a little while as his new clanmates went about their day, doing patrols and chatting with each other. The nice thing about being deaf and his improving ability to read lips was that Stacc could tell what people were saying regardless of their volume of speech.

So he knew that there had been some murmuring about his joining, how he'd screamed as though touch had burned his skin when people were just trying to help. He was warm with shame, and so to escape it for a moment, he decided to walk just outside camp. He was still within earshot, but the long-furred angora traipsed through the territory. He didn't even realise how casual he was until he nearly stepped on a mouse -- something he'd failed to detect -- and the prey darted off, startling him.

Him! He was startled by a mouse, and gave a sharp squeak himself, frightened by the prey as it had been frightened by him. Honestly, despite the visual grace with which he moved, Staccato wasn't quiet -- he was awful at hunting, evidently.

He didn't speak, but he did huff, narrowing his eyes as the mouse disappeared.
Dec 12 2017, 01:22 PM
He was bleeding.

He was bleeding and even though he had bled before, Staccato was more upset about this than he was little cuts and scrapes throughout his admittedly sheltered life. This hurt like nothing he'd ever experienced, which was why he whispered as he moved, doing his best not to cry.

He barely got away from his attacker, a young eagle that had done its best to grab him by his haunches and carry him off. That had inspired a desperate attempt to run and hide, and the young, feminine feline had shoved himself into a shallow cave too small from the eagle. It had screeched (he assumed) and clawed at him some more, but after two days of it circling or guarding his only exit, it gave up on him.

Better for him, really, since he was quite literally starving, his long fur suffering from malnutrition. The soft former-molly crept onwards with only a single sniffle, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. He was hungry, everything hurt, his paws were cracked, and he wanted to go home. Instead though, he stumbled over the Skyclan border without even giving a sniff to pick up on the smell of claimed territory. The poor boy was a hopeless fool in the wilderness, and while his eyes darted around and his nose twitched, his ears remained eerily still.

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