[Soup]

Originally Posted by ~Northern_Lights~

@Soup
Fawnsplash purred in agreement with the tom, experienced when it came to the problem of war-mongering cats. Many of Windclan's warriors shared the same beliefs to the ones Stonewater described, making the she-cat feel a little better about it. She supposed she wasn't alone in baring witness to the stupidity of some cats, as harsh as it sounded. "Violence is a vicious cycle, which only brings about more issues down the line. It is pointless, in my humble opinion," The she-cat spoke, maturity lacing her words. Deep down, an intense feeling of giddiness was rising up within her as the conversation deepened between the two of them. Fawnsplash had never had someone listen to her as intently as Stonewater did, making her somewhat sad the two of them were not of the same clan. She could not comfortably interact with him like she could with Kestreldust, for example. She fell into comfortable silence as she thought of some more conversation starters, not satisfied enough for it to end just yet. "Do you have an apprentice?" She inquired, slightly awkwardly as she realised how out of place it was. The chestnut feline had been hoping to get an apprentice for a while now, but she still had yet to. She began to think she was not as appealing a warrior as others were, seen as a less appropriate or worthy warrior to be a mentor. She tried to make an impact to Windclan, to show off the hunting skills she did have, but it was apparently still not enough. Sighing, her golden gaze drifted for a moment as she listened for Stonewater's response. (It's quite alright~)

The charcoal tom sighed. He looked downwards, searching the forest floor with keen eyes as he thought of what to say. Finally, he glanced back up, noticing the she-cat was waiting for him to respond. "No." He realized this was a short answer, and perked up his head. "I mean, not yet. I'm sure Passionstar will see to it, though." Deep inside his mind, he wasn't sure at all. In his heart he felt as if the strong leader saw him as only someone who was good at using his head. The tremble in his whiskers betrayed the image he was trying to set for the molly, and he exhaled slowly. "Probably not."