Fellcone could not say he was surprised. Since Frozen had started this.. freakout? during the meeting, upon Twilightstar's bloodied arrival. Not all cats could handle the sight of blood, let alone a butchered leader declaring war. "She looks nicer when she is more intact." Rough, but true. No one wanted to see their leader beaten and broken, let alone one as popular as theirs. ".. She will be like that for some time, until she is treated and it has healed." As best as it could. Some scars ran so deep, they never went away. Even small reminders could rip them anew, a raw rekindling that left one in pieces.
The water washed away the grime, leaving soft but damp fur in its wake. Since Frozen made no efforts to dry it, Fellcone shuffled to groom him, tongue rasping over his fur. No sense in letting him just hang there - wet, probably cold. It was not terribly windy, but the slighest breeze could bring a chill. His fur did not seem that thick.
"I will go with you, if that is not an issue." He would rather stay with Frozen, keep him safe. Fellcone did not trust the territory right now - too many intruders. There were probably more, just lying in wait. Ready to ambush a lone bean. Fellcone would protect what was his, stand guard outside the hollow. Watch, wait. Be ready to strike with bared fangs. "I am sure, if it is truly important they will discuss it again in the future. I am not concerned." Clan affairs meant very little. Besides, it was not like he could help Twilightstar - she had a crowd, was being handled by the medicine cats. He would just.. stand there, useless.
At first, Featherpelts words inspired a bit of relief, mixed with disappointment. If he was set on leaving she’d be spared further embarrassment, but she’d also have to beg him to spar or be out a partner. Her pride demanded that she choose the former, and she was preparing to return to her bush after a cursory nod before Featherpelts next words. What? was her rather rude first reaction, followed by an awkward shuffling of paws and a hasty I mean, sure. Why not. He didn’t look like he’d be a terribly difficult opponent, but looks could be deceiving. Rookie’s dadish cat and Marigoldpaw’s friend had been the shrimpiest little thing you’d ever see, but he was fierce enough to do significant damage when Shadowclan had fought Windclan in the past.
She wasn’t quite sure how one went about initiating the spar, now that it was agreed. Normally she only went against her apprentices (she made a mental note to take Goldenpaw out for a bit of practice later), but she probably couldn’t say ‘just attack me’. After a moment of deliberation she took a few steps backwards and sideways, so her butt wasn’t pressed up the bush anymore, and mewed a bit awkwardly You can start whenever. One thing that would definitely have been rude was if she had just jumped Featherpelt in order to get things going. @Roo_!#Earth
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Re: WindClan Territory
Quote:
Originally Posted by gs29513
At first, Featherpelts words inspired a bit of relief, mixed with disappointment. If he was set on leaving she’d be spared further embarrassment, but she’d also have to beg him to spar or be out a partner. Her pride demanded that she choose the former, and she was preparing to return to her bush after a cursory nod before Featherpelts next words. What? was her rather rude first reaction, followed by an awkward shuffling of paws and a hasty I mean, sure. Why not. He didn’t look like he’d be a terribly difficult opponent, but looks could be deceiving. Rookie’s dadish cat and Marigoldpaw’s friend had been the shrimpiest little thing you’d ever see, but he was fierce enough to do significant damage when Shadowclan had fought Windclan in the past.
She wasn’t quite sure how one went about initiating the spar, now that it was agreed. Normally she only went against her apprentices (she made a mental note to take Goldenpaw out for a bit of practice later), but she probably couldn’t say ‘just attack me’. After a moment of deliberation she took a few steps backwards and sideways, so her butt wasn’t pressed up the bush anymore, and mewed a bit awkwardly You can start whenever. One thing that would definitely have been rude was if she had just jumped Featherpelt in order to get things going. @Roo_!#Earth
featherpelt- he/him - 17 moons
featherpelts tail twitched once more, he cleared his throat.
"right. of course."
he crouched slightly, his tail swishing behind him somewhat wildly. he stalked around her trying to figure how to make the first strike. he jumped around nervously. he wasnt really one to instigate a fight, but it would be so painfully awkward to leave her all on her own. he shook his head slightly, his fur dragging behind him in the slight breeze. he figured now was as good a time as ever to make the first strike. he swatted at her, claws sheathed, hoping to land the hit however timid the attack was.
Featherpelt looked, quite frankly, terrified. Like an apprentice at his first training session, even. It might be an act of some kind, or he might surprise her. Deadmoon wasn’t the most confident herself, she just hid it a bit better, slowly turning as her opponent slid this way and that, presumably hoping she’d drop her guard. When the blow did come it was with decent speed, but she was able to jerk backwards and away enough to prevent his paw from smacking her in the face.
Now that they had properly begun, Deadmoon saw no reason not to at least try going on the offensive. Lowering her stance a bit she moved swiftly at Featherpelt’s left side, before swinging her own left paw up almost behind her, hoping that he’d be watching her instead of the blow aimed at his right shoulder. It might end up being problematic that she’d gotten so close if he avoided the hit and tried to jump on her, but feints were much more her style than pure force. #Earth @Roo_!
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Re: WindClan Territory
Quote:
Originally Posted by gs29513
Featherpelt looked, quite frankly, terrified. Like an apprentice at his first training session, even. It might be an act of some kind, or he might surprise her. Deadmoon wasn’t the most confident herself, she just hid it a bit better, slowly turning as her opponent slid this way and that, presumably hoping she’d drop her guard. When the blow did come it was with decent speed, but she was able to jerk backwards and away enough to prevent his paw from smacking her in the face.
Now that they had properly begun, Deadmoon saw no reason not to at least try going on the offensive. Lowering her stance a bit she moved swiftly at Featherpelt’s left side, before swinging her own left paw up almost behind her, hoping that he’d be watching her instead of the blow aimed at his right shoulder. It might end up being problematic that she’d gotten so close if he avoided the hit and tried to jump on her, but feints were much more her style than pure force. #Earth @Roo_!
featherpelt - he/him - 17 moons
featherpelt was in fact not focused on the blow, he teetered slightly but quickly regained his balance. he felt his ears fall slightly against his head. he wasnt strong, he wasnt intimidating, but starclan knows he was fast. he figured maybe this is a good time to play to his strengths. instead of targeting another blow, he dodged the next one she sent his way. contorting himself almost sideways to escape her blows, weaving in and out as well. he used his length to his advantage, letting his tail follow lazily he was able to set it so that if deadmoon wasnt paying enough attention, she would trip and fall, giving him something of a chance to overpower her.
Fellcone could not say he was surprised. Since Frozen had started this.. freakout? during the meeting, upon Twilightstar's bloodied arrival. Not all cats could handle the sight of blood, let alone a butchered leader declaring war. "She looks nicer when she is more intact." Rough, but true. No one wanted to see their leader beaten and broken, let alone one as popular as theirs. ".. She will be like that for some time, until she is treated and it has healed." As best as it could. Some scars ran so deep, they never went away. Even small reminders could rip them anew, a raw rekindling that left one in pieces.
The water washed away the grime, leaving soft but damp fur in its wake. Since Frozen made no efforts to dry it, Fellcone shuffled to groom him, tongue rasping over his fur. No sense in letting him just hang there - wet, probably cold. It was not terribly windy, but the slighest breeze could bring a chill. His fur did not seem that thick.
"I will go with you, if that is not an issue." He would rather stay with Frozen, keep him safe. Fellcone did not trust the territory right now - too many intruders. There were probably more, just lying in wait. Ready to ambush a lone bean. Fellcone would protect what was his, stand guard outside the hollow. Watch, wait. Be ready to strike with bared fangs. "I am sure, if it is truly important they will discuss it again in the future. I am not concerned." Clan affairs meant very little. Besides, it was not like he could help Twilightstar - she had a crowd, was being handled by the medicine cats. He would just.. stand there, useless.
Frozenberry never found it aesthetic exactly to be covered in one's own blood and guts, even if some wore it better than others. That didn't make it fashionable. He could go a lifetime without witnessing that scale of physical devastation, and already, there was a nagging in the pit of his stomach (you aren't cut out for this life) providing ample anxiety for the inevitable Next Time. A meeting was one thing, but what if (when) it happened during a battle?
The languid bath time tried to soothe those thoughts to little avail, and he mechanically resumed until his pelt had been cleared of all traces of his shame. A noise of surprise rattled out of him when he was suddenly being groomed and he peered wide-eyed and questioning to Falcon because- that was, new. unexpected. FELT weird. had been ages since he'd been groomed by himself, let alone someone else. "--don't have to do that. I'll dry," he said quickly, not that the attention was.. unwanted, not really (it was nice feeling cared for, albeit foreign), but he didn't want Falcon to feel obligated. Wasn't like he would be grooming himself; he'd just let the fur dry where it desired, lacking the energy to care. Quieter, he added, ". . . but thank you."
Torn, he found himself at a crossroads. Lingering worry about Falcon seeing the outward grossness (it was on display loud and clear- the panic, the running, collapse, hallucinations, all of it) formed by his darkest memories made him uneasy. If Falcon took him up on his offer, that wouldn't be rejection. If Falcon departed after realizing what a mess he was (why didn't he already?), that was rejection. rejection based on the cat he was now, his broken state. Staying with him from this point forward was a commitment. Frozenberry wouldn't allow him to choose abandonment.
but there was nothing to do accept nod, accepting.
A couple tail-lengths away from the stream and into taller heather for protection (being seen terrified him), Frozenberry curled up with the hesitant invitation for Falcon to join his side, if he wanted. If he still wanted. Selfishly, he wished Falcon wouldn't actually take the spot beside him but partially drape himself on him, craving the added weight and sense of protection for comfort. But that wasn't a scenario he could ask for -- as it was, it felt like too much that Falcon wanted to remain here to begin with.
Content + Interaction Warning This character frequently explores themes of mental health, extreme violence, abuse, trauma, and self-harm.
Deadmoon was a bit miffed that Featherpelt had evaded her more significant attack, her feints were generally quite well executed, but she supposed that speed was a Windclan cat’s best attribute most of the time, and they fought like it. It was good to land something, but she didn’t get to give him the real clobbering. He probably did lots of dodging and ducking and looking for that one perfect opening, instead of bulldozing about and taking a bunch of hits in order to deliver your own like Shadowclanners. She’d probably have more success with such a move against Riverclan, they weren’t known for their speed, just for being fishy.
Unfortunately for Deadmoon, Featherpelt had just a bit more of that Windclan Speed than she did, and was whipping around behind her, his tail snaking around her legs, almost before she knew it. In her haste to whirl and keep him from getting at her from behind she neglected to take care with that looping tail, and while it didn’t cause her to completely fall over there was certainly a bit of tripping going on, her turn a bit wild and Deadmoon coming out of it certainly not able to launch an attack of her own, and a bit more vulnerable to anything Featherpelt threw at her. #Earth @Roo_!
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Littlepaw
semi long furred grey and white tabby ▵ She/Her ▵ 13/100 ▵ Kittysoftpaws-active, Ultimate predator-inactive
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She stood there as she waited to see how Owlpaw would do with practicing on a stick, which wasn't long. Littlepaw watched as he prepared himself to lunge forward, but she noticed a few weird positions he was in that she didn't see Dreamlight in. She wanted to tell him but she was sure that was the job of their mentors so quiet she was. It seemed that he had missed his mark just landing barely close to the stick, oh he was close! Littlepaw was hoping that he'd still make it despite the few things that looked off to her, not everything had to be a huge mistake. Even if he wasn't looking at her she could tell he seemed ashamed of himself, she didn't understand why when it was a simple mistake, it could be fixed right? Like Owlpaw she looked over to Dreamlight to see what she would do but she wouldn't need to worry about that now. An ear flicked before she turned to look back at Leechscar as he spoke and she listened. "Okay" She gave off a nod and looked back to send a look of support to Owlpaw before she trailed after her mentor. She wasn't about to get left behind not when she might get an 'talking' about being slow or something.
Bump Policy: anytime! im usually on late nights (EST)
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Re: WindClan Territory
Quote:
Originally Posted by gs29513
Deadmoon was a bit miffed that Featherpelt had evaded her more significant attack, her feints were generally quite well executed, but she supposed that speed was a Windclan cat’s best attribute most of the time, and they fought like it. It was good to land something, but she didn’t get to give him the real clobbering. He probably did lots of dodging and ducking and looking for that one perfect opening, instead of bulldozing about and taking a bunch of hits in order to deliver your own like Shadowclanners. She’d probably have more success with such a move against Riverclan, they weren’t known for their speed, just for being fishy.
Unfortunately for Deadmoon, Featherpelt had just a bit more of that Windclan Speed than she did, and was whipping around behind her, his tail snaking around her legs, almost before she knew it. In her haste to whirl and keep him from getting at her from behind she neglected to take care with that looping tail, and while it didn’t cause her to completely fall over there was certainly a bit of tripping going on, her turn a bit wild and Deadmoon coming out of it certainly not able to launch an attack of her own, and a bit more vulnerable to anything Featherpelt threw at her. #Earth @Roo_!
featherpelt - he/him - 17 moons
featherpelt twisted himself back on all fours. he smiled a bit, panting from the quick twists and turns.
"that was impressive" he chuckled a bit "i totally thought i wouldve had you with that trip. it works most of the time." he admits.
he resumes a more stalk-ish stance, slowly gaining his confidence. he attempts a couple more swipes at deadmoon, before attempting to pin her. he tried his best to use his semi large build to his advantage.
A heat rose in his face as Deadmoon nudged his paw into place, and silently he adjusted his form to match her words. Well. It did feel more comfortable, but he'd rather have figured it out himself. Being observed, scrutinized, was an uncomfortable feeling for him. It'd be much easier if he was just already good at everything, so he'd never have to deal with the embarrassment of learning.
They were still on this whole crouching thing? Goldenpaw's ears swiveled back, trying his hardest to keep from frowning. He wasn't a kit, he knew how to hunt! Still, though, he complied, stalking forward—and this time, keeping the adjustments in mind, it felt more natural. He paused a short ways before bunching his haunches and leaping towards Deadmoon's outstretched leg. His paws landed squarely on target—well, if hitting the tip of her paw was the objective (he didn't really want to overshoot it and tumble into her)—and Goldenpaw quickly stepped back.
Raising a paw to clean, he meowed, "There, I can hunt." It took a great effort not to add a snarky, 'can we hunt now?' on the end of that.
Re: WindClan Territory
