Quote:
Originally Posted by FiveDollarMixtape
Brownfeather got to her paws, her own yellow eyes narrowed. Her fluffy pelt was bristling and starting to rise, giving the tiny warrior an illusion of being much larger than she really was. “That’s not what I’m saying,” she nearly hissed. “I’m saying that if you’re going to care so much about how entitled young ShadowClan cats are from the second they leave the nursery, or be entitled enough to bother to remind them about duties that they can and have been taking care of without any help from you, that you’d bother to remember which cats were born here and which ones weren’t!” The warrior took in a breath before she continued, her tail starting up a continuous right-left-right-back again lash. “And if you’re going to bring up such an important part of your past - one that wouldn’t be obvious like me joining the Clan would be - to a cat you barely know, it seems to me like you’re the one who cares about it.” With that, Brownfeather turned, beginning to make her way towards the entrance of camp, making sure to call back to the tom that she was just going on a walk to make sure Badgersong knew he hadn’t won.
He barely knew her. What right did he have to criticize her, anyways? None, she thought as she disappeared through the entrance, absolutely none.
(scene?)
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{Yup, sounds good to me!}
Badgersong's gaze never wavered from the face of Brownfeather, not as she stood and not as she went to move away, leaving him. Just as ever young cat who gets theirs feathers rustled does, her pelt stood on end, trying to make herself look like a bigger cat than she was, but it didn't fool him. She would remain a young cat in his eyes. A cat with fight and courage in her, sure, but a young cat. Her words fell on deaf ears though, he wouldn't give her the pleasure of continuing the conversation, though its clear she didn't want it continued anyways. "Perhaps you should learn to control your temper. Maybe then I would consider you more than just an entitled young warrior." He would call to her as her back was turned, her pawsteps carrying her out of the camp and soon enough out of sight. Slowly he would lower himself back to the laying position, unsure whether he felt agitated or somewhat happy to actually be speaking. Even if it wasn't on friendly terms with someone. Sometimes it was good to just work the vocal cords again.