Posts by orbweaver

    she's two-faced honestly lol

    she acts nice and sweet and pure on the outside but she really likes fantasizing about murdering people in her freetime

    sometimes, in her freetime, she does actually murder people! it's all for starclan, she reasons

    really she's gone off the deep end lol

    open to anything but death!


    A good morning? How could it be good if nothing truly good had happened that morning? Cornstalk had some interesting ideas about the world if she thought this morning was truly better than the rest, with such heat bearing down on her festering wounds, just barely beginning to heal. Juniperthorn had the right idea, certainly, as the blood marking on his chest pulsed more faintly than the rest, but even seeing him approach made her want to tear his throat from his neck and transform it into a household icon. How wonderful would it be to turn every organ he had from wasting away in his body to something truly useful? Perhaps he would like that. She knew she would. "Yes, it is... Good. And warm," Orbweaver murmered, smiling, a wolf among the sheep, a trojan horse sent into Athens.


    This tom, made of cinnamon sugar and hope, swaddled by the feathered wings of angels and wrapped in bright ribbons of light, stood on the border and faced barbed words from a cat incapable of understanding what she saw. She saw a future in him, she saw a land untainted by the poor ethical choices of those who had not been enlightened. She saw nirvana, heaven, the light at the end of the tunnel all at once. He was the messiah, the stars whispered to her. He was the one to usher in a new age, and she was a martyr, a pawn, a vessel. How dare a sewer rat speak to him that way? Orbweaver wanted to bare her teeth, launch herself at Lavenderskies with reckless abandon, but wisely, she restrained herself. She came up alongside her and a strange she-cat she had never met before and looked at Lavenderskies's profile, kneading her paws into the ground as if she might float away if she did not ground herself. "Why do you stare at him that way?" she wondered quietly, innocently.


    He was big, he was tall, he drifted through the world with a dazed look in his eyes and a consistency to his fur that suggested he was never surprised or annoyed, but there, just over his broad chest, Orbweaver saw it. The calling, the tiny mark of blood and bone that spelled his doom, the markings of the stars; he was weak. He was sinful. He needed to be exterminated, he needed to live among the stars so they could take care of him; Aquarius could dribble water into his lips and Gemini could offer him entertainment in that massive plain of cosmos and galaxies. Indeed, he was no angel, but he was no demon either, he was just a hurdle between her and true nirvana. Orbweaver just barely kept her claws from unsheathing, every part of her body longing to dig into his supple chest and find his heart beneath all that muscle and bone; did it beat strong? It had to, if it were to spread blood through every inch of his body. She could see it, every artery and vein and valve within that perfect organ. "I-I'm—I can't—" Orbweaver began, lolling her head this way and that, as if dizzy. "I can't remember. All I know is that my name is Orbweaver... and I don't have any home anymore."

    More crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks, smoothing down the fur there, slowly growing spiky and hard from the rapidly drying blood, almost all of it not belonging to her aside from the tiniest trails of crimson running from a small cut just beneath her eye; he had barely struggled, but with his flailing claws, he managed to get one notch into her cheek. He ruined her innocence, he made her impure. She could only pay this back to the stars in blood. Orbweaver's yellow eyes fluttered from side-to-side, left-to-right, as if searching for some invisible demon among the trees and thick green underbrush, although it only played into her grand act, her wonderful deception. However, instead of a demon, there walked an angel, wrapped in flaxen seeds and dipped into white chocolate at her chin and a single leg. Her chest, too, was marked with the symbol of death, the harbinger of doom, but it didn't pulse as fervently as the one on the massive tom who approached her first. She simply had to taste him before she could get to this regal-looking she-cat with the kind eyes, but should her task go along without a hitch, she would get to her soon. How sad that she offered kindness so readily, unaware that she was merely bringing a trojan horse into the folds of SkyClan.

    "Help? Camp—you-you're a group of cats, aren't you?" Orbweaver murmured suddenly to this newcomer, feeling a drop of blood roll away from her nose and into her mouth, dropping a splash of iron with every barb it connected with. Truly, all this talk bored her, all this pretending and acting made her want to tear out every strand of curly black fur she owned; how anyone could speak this way without tearing out their vocal chords was truly beyond her. "I... Yeah, yeah. I would lik-like that, if you don't mind..."


    orbweaver is a cat who believes herself to be a messiah of a new age, a skyclanner who is being manipulated into murdering those she believes are marked by death by the dark forest

    if anyone was to ask her, she would tell them that it is starclan speaking directly to her, offering her as a tool to complete their tasks

    she believes only a few cats are not marked by death, those who would be evil by cat's standards (murderers, etc.)

    she has essentially been amde to forget everything of her old life (murdered her ex-mate) and is an assassin without any ties now!

    she is originally from shadowclan, so if you want to be one of her family members, feel free to ask me :^)

    anyways!! she is open to almost literally anything; she can kill, maim, be friends (although that is her way of getting close to her victims), enemies, or otherwise!

    if you want to have a long-term plot, your cat could be instrumental to tearing her away from dark forest control!

    just let me know~!


    / marked controversial for graphic depictions of blood! :^)

    Blood, so red, so pure, rushing over her paws, her face, her claws. Once it was warm, heated by the pump of a cat's arteries and veins and muscles, but now, slicking down her fur and exposed to the wind, it was cold against her fur. Once upon a time, this blood belonged to her beloved, the love of her life, the only cat who could make her smile as if no one was watching her. He laid somewhere out in the woods now, a body mangled and mauled by her own claws, left out for the wolves and whatever predator who followed their bloodlust. Now he could no longer make her smile, make her happy, make her joyful, he could only look at her with those cold dead eyes and remind her of her pact with the stars. She saw them everytime she closed her eyes, she saw those magnificent cats made of stars and quasars, and she saw them point their grand shimmering claws at all the cats she interacted with. She saw her peers get marked with a pentagram of blood, their chests stained by the stars marks for doom, indicating that these poor, lost souls were her duty to deal with. Yes, her beloved was kind and wonderful, but he was selfish, he was greedy, he was so terribly twisted and skewed in his path to righteousness. The stars needed to set his paws right, but they were incorporeal, they were invisible presences no one could see or feel or hear. The stars were not physical, but she was; where the stars could not enact their plans and business, Orbweaver could; she was their claws, their teeth, their eyes and ears, their wonderful disciple, the messiah of a new age full of a perfect race of cats. Those who sinned would go to the stars and whisper into her ears among them, and Orbweaver was glad for it. They kept her sane, they kept her on the ground.

    Speaking of the ground, it felt hard and firm beneath her, dry from the intense heat and cracked from how the sun broiled down upon it from gaps in the canopy overhead. Orbweaver was no fool; if she were found among the grass, her paws bloody, her claws even more so, suspicions would be raised, she would be questioned and turned away. But Orbweaver need not be turned from her new home, she needed to reform them, she needed to set them on the right path, make their whiskers straight and their tail parallel. So instead of setting her paws inside of the border as a taunt to their livelihood, she ran in, her whiskers askew and her chest heaving with the weight of her breaths. Her curly black fur was rendered straight from the sheer amount of blood clinging to her body, and in her frantic act she ran into a nearby tree and there she slid down it, crocodile tears slipping from her wide yellow eyes. It was all an act, but perhaps they did not need to know that. She felt nothing, but such information was not for the eyes of the SkyClanners.






    18 moons old / intj / erudite

    warrior / born in shadowclan / currently in skyclan

    apprentice is n/a / loyal to herself, the dark forest, and eventually, revolution

    created 7/27/19 / ages up the 27th of every month


    bisexual biromantic / not open to dating / emotionally shot

    dating orbweaver would probably be the last thing you'd ever do. romance is not a dance of feelings and coy flirting for her, no, it is an asset used to get beneath the skin of those around her, to make them rust and to get them to lie beside her, which is the point where she puts her next plan in action. she pierces their heart and tears their jugular, then walks away from the situation unharmed, and with a flawless mental state. she is efficient and deadly, not sentimental. maybe, perhaps when she breaks from the control of the dark forest and those capitalizing on her deteriorating mental state, she will find a way to return to a point where she could enjoy the company of another without imagining their guts spilled on the floor.

    npc x npc [both deceased]

    previously mated to an npc named bearstrider

    trusts no one but herself, the stars, and revolution


    [CURRENT BODY:] a lanky, curly-furred black she-cat with striking yellow eyes

    ↳ like a shadow given form and life, orbweaver looks to be a miasma of darkness breathed into the imitate movement. her body seems formless, covered by her long, curly fur and coveted by the abyss itself. in some situations, such as in a darkest nightmare or in the deep, lost call of nighttime, orbweaver is a terrifying leviathan in the penumbra of the moon, but in the light, with her curly fur and large, innocent eyes, orbweaver looks like she could have never done a wrong thing in her life. from the shadow of darkness, two large, yellow orbs peer from her figure, always locked on her targets, always glittering with a cold fire.

    — INJURIES/ILLNESSES: a small scar on the underside of her right eye, still recovering


    ☾ [EXTERIOR TRAITS] calm, cool, collected, innocent, cute, harmless

    ☾ [INTERIOR TRAITS] cold, cruel, vicious, scared, hopeless, manipulative

    ↳ Orbweaver knows what she must do, and so she does it. a vested interest in how the stars shimmer at night and how they visit her in her dreams has made Orbweaver understand the greater future StarClan holds for her. she had killed before and she plans to do so again, but in reality, none of this is orbweaver at all. before, she was happy, kind, easygoing, a cat who paled at the sight of blood and cruelty, but not anymore. something happened to her, something happened in her dreams and she was no more, for now she is cold, cruel, although she always hides it behind the air of coolness. she had blood on her paws and murder on her mind, and that scared girl is gone within the folds of her mind.

    — DISORDERS: a big mix of them.


    hard physically / easy mentally

    will start fights / will not end fights / will not run

    peaceful powerplay allowed

    attack in #d53034 and mention orbweaver