| Sprucejumper |
9 Moons - ThunderClan Warrior
Kitty Softpaws - Active | Ultimate Predator - Inactive | Agatha Kitty - Inactive
A blink to let this Raggedear know he'd heard the name was all the emotion he displayed, yet confusion bubbled deep within the recesses of his mind. Raggedear?! Had this tom been called Raggedkit and it just happened to match up his ears as he grew up and been named that? Which you know... maybe this former kittypet wasn't the most knowledgeable when it came to clan cat names, but rude? Or had he had another name at some other point and it had been changed? The heavens themselves knew how much these cats liked the whole name changing thing, but once he'd assumed he got a grasp on how their whole naming system worked, he at least thought the warrior name - the one that let others know you were in fact neither a kit nor had paws - was the last one, but now? Now he wasn't so sure. Well... if Angry suddenly decided to name him something else, he'd just go straight back to Fudge. To hell with this nonsense.
Despite the admitted curiosity that bubbled within the tom's silence, he refrained from wording it out. It would take too much effort. Too many words. No one had time for that. Besides, he didn't fully understand clan customs. He might have spent most of his life by now among them, but he didn't interact with them. Not really. Not outside of The Boulder, and they were... different. Who knew if asking would be forbidden somehow. That would be something to be remembered for... Killed by Angry for asking about a name. Yeah. No thanks.
Despite his curiosity and usual disinterest in the entirety of the conversation once he realized he wasn't in trouble clashing horribly and vying for dominance in the back of his mind, Sprucejumper found his whiskers twitching in mild amusement - Mudhound would have no doubt roared in glee as if he'd laughed out loud at the motion - at Raggedear's admission, nodding along despite himself. A squirrel this warrior's size would have been a feast. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn't have been able to carry it back all by himself. He might have grown taller in his moons since the start of his apprenticeship, but he was hardly the big, bulky feline his former mentor was. The backache would probably have not been worth the hunt to begin with.
It wasn't until the red warrior questioned his reason for being him that he caught himself, settling back to deadpanned aloofness as he... did not understand what was being asked of him. Did one have to always be on patrol to go hunting? He certainly hoped not. The Havana Brown mix did not do well with others. He did not do the whole socializing thing well. Him and The Boulder worked because... well... they could understand him. Perfectly. Almost like if they could read his mind. He didn't have to talk around them. He could just be. It wasn't the case with anyone else in the clan, and as such, he found himself shrugging, his blank, hooded stare unchanging as he uttered his single worded response.
"Hunting."
@
JellyCat [Raggedear]
| No worries! Write what you are comfortable with. 
On the flipside, apologies for Sprucejumper's general dosage of grumpiness. This is actively I believe the most he has emoted in a roleplay that isn't with Mudhound. 
|
Re: Haggard Ruins
