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Post by Greymuzzles on Sept 14, 2018 13:26:09 GMT
“I don’t care what you say, you rotten little furball! I got here first, so it’s mine!” The high, spitting voice broke the early morning peace, and Tigerheart loosed a low, irritable growl as her eyes tracked to the source. She had hoped to enjoy a little quiet on her return from the dawn patrol, but no; two cats were already squabbling, and one of them, to her distaste, was one of the very felines who had joined her on patrol. The younger she-cat had said little out in the forest, with the other Boars around her, but that had changed, now, and her shrill voice carried far across camp; was already causing a stir.
“But I caught it—”
“Then you can make yourself useful and catch another!”
It was a disgrace. Arguments were common within Treeclan, and she’d partly accepted that in her seasons with the clan, but fighting a clanmate for prey was something else. There was no need for it here, as she’d realised within her first moons, and the sight and sound left a bad taste in her mouth. But even worse than the argument itself was the disparity between the contestants, for that was no fellow Boar the she was screeching at, but a Bird. And the she-cat was showing her teeth; flexing her claws; threatening to attack.
Enough was enough.
With another low growl the tabby warrior stood and prowled across the clearing, her paws soft on the newleaf grass. They didn’t even notice her approach, and within moments she was close enough to see the source of their argument; to tower over them both. It was all for a rabbit, and the disdain tightened its hold at the discovery, for though the prey was a good size it certainly wasn’t worth the clawing of a clanmate. But her fellow Boar seamed intent on exactly that – and Tigerheart caught the movement in the corner of her eye—
Neatly rolled her weight to barge the Boar from her paws.
“Hey!”
The tabby warrior didn’t even look at her. Instead she reached past the she’s sprawled frame ad neatly plucked the rabbit from the floor, deciding then and there that if they were going to fight over it, neither would have it. Naturally it earned her another protest—a sharp “that’s mine—” from the Boar and startled “what’re you—” from the Bird—but she silenced both with a hard golden stare; a wordless warning…
And padded silently away, feeling both their eyes upon her frame, but not caring for the burn of their gaze. She’d distracted them—kept the words from spiralling into blows—and that, for the moment, was enough.
Ooc: Note that this is set before Dustypaw's apprenticeship, so at this point in time Tigerheart is not Dustypaw's mentor, and no one knows that she's going to be given an apprentice. Also worth noting that the two other cats are random NPCs, and the title may change because I'm not too happy with it (but couldn't think of anything better).
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Post by kiwi on Jul 27, 2019 21:16:07 GMT
It wasn't about food. It never was about food. It was about proving points. This disrespectful she-cat was fighting Frostleap on a meal she caught herself! It didn't matter if the she-cat was here first. It didn't matter if she was a Boar. Frostleap wasn't here to sit around and catch rabbits for lazy good for nothing oafs who squabbled with her. She didn't even know this cat that well at all! Well, she did. She'd likely gotten in a sparring match with her before as an apprentice. She'd gladly do so again, too!
Just before they were about to throw claws, another she-cat stepped in. A towering, towering she-cat. Unmistakeably a boar. This boar knocked the other one clean out of the ring, basically, knocked onto their paws. And then...... she took it?
Wait, what?
"But that's mine!" Frostleap argued, her tail twitching irritably. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was being unreasonable. That didn't stop her from running after the she-cat. And then, she did something only Frostleap would do. She launched herself at the she-cat, aiming to at the very least hook her claws onto her back. She used a powerful, high -reaching leap to do so, wanting to gain a bit more air so she wouldn't immediately be in the way of powerful claws.
From across the clearing, but not too far away, a massive tabby tom was being roused from his slumber. By what? As he peeled open one of his amber eyes, what he saw both annoyed and angered him. A bunch of squabbling she-cats fighting over prey. He would expect nothing less from she-cats, after all. They were good for creating drama and kits. Growling to himself, he rose himself to his paws, prepared to go over there to check out the commotion. And, perhaps, assert himself as he was the more superior warrior.
And who was it that was fighting, anyway? Well, one of the younger borderline birds. A fellow boar, probably of pure Clan descent. However, the last one was.... oh. It was the outsider. The one that fit being a Boar, but only by technicality and skill. Tigerheart was her name. He was there when Thistlestar had accepted her in. Despite her being a few moons his senior, she was far from gaining his respect. Tigerheart lacked pure Boar blood, and judging by her inclusion in this petty drama, he'd be willing to wager she lacked other things too.
Well. Leave it to a tom to settle a she-cat's dispute, he supposed. He started approaching, prepared to step in and stop the dispute. However, Tigerheart just picked up the prey and walked away, leaving the boar and the bird behind to wonder what happened. At least, that was what started to happen. However, as the she-cat walked away the Bird launched herself at her for an attack.
Really? A Bird she-cat trying to launch herself at a Boar? He was almost dumbfounded at the sheer audacity. Was she stupid, hormonal, or both? With she-cats, the lines could be blurred. The interaction was interesting, to say the least. He wasn't going to step in and help, however. Tigerheart could handle this on her own. He definitely wasn't about to step in to defend her. He did, however, turn his attention to the Boar, who was just now getting up on her feet.
"Make yourself useful and scram, before I tell the whole Warrior's den how you squabbled with a Bird over prey." He snarled, unsheathing his claws as a warning. He would never raise his paw against his own Clanmate; that was stupid, and far beyond him. However, he was this she-cat's senior, and he wanted to make sure she knew who was the one in charge. While he was no deputy, he had years of age, experience, and reputation to contend with.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Jul 28, 2019 15:48:11 GMT
‘But that’s mine!’
The barest flicker of a torn ear was the only indication she gave of having heard, and even that was not intended as acknowledgement or response. It was merely a twitch born of perpetual alertness, and though internally she acknowledged increased irritation, she was also resolved to leave the comment ignored. Right now, she didn’t care who had the greater ‘right’ to the confiscated rabbit. She cared simply that they had been so petty as to fight over it—that there had been a threat of claws—and that this sort of dispute was not, in truth, an unusual occurrence. Anything but, in fact.
Sometimes she almost wondered if she might have been better off staying a lone.
She’d seen within a moon of joining that Treeclan was downright dysfunctional – and as if to confirm that very fact one of she-cats behind her made what could only called a dumb move. She sensed the shift as only a seasoned fighter could—caught a change in the air; the barest impression of grass and paws shifted in a distinctive way—and the response cut in without a grain of thought. It was lucky for her would-be-assailant that Tigerheart had half-expected retaliation; knew she was surrounded by ‘friendly’ faces to boot.
Rather than lash out, the Boar merely stepped quickly and neatly aside, clearing herself from the airborne feline’s path. In almost the same movement she pivoted, turning herself to face the little mousebrain with an automatic curling of lip: a silent warning she couldn’t quite prevent from working its way through. Old habits died hard, after all. But control prevailed, and the flicker was there and gone in an instant, leaving her frowning at her counterpart: half-surprised at the sight of the Bird, and not the Boar.
And cats said her branch were the reckless ones…
Ooc: Cooouldn't quite see how to work Barktusk into this one, since Frostleap's the more immediate problem, but hopefully I'll be able to refer to him next time!
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Post by kiwi on Jul 28, 2019 20:01:24 GMT
Frostleap didn't truthfully expect to land a hit; at least, she didn't expect to land a meaningful one. But she still had kind of hoped to still land on the she-cat, and landing in the dust left her bristling. The little she-cat bared her teeth at the other towering above her, whose lips were also curled right back at her. For a moment, anyway. Frostleap's ears pinned to the back of her head, and she stood defensively while viewing the she-cat.
"Fight me!" She spat, her tail lashing angrily at her. "I'm not letting you walk away with prey that's rightfully mine!" She also knew deep down that she was being incredibly petty. Prey was abundant and plentiful in these woods. TreeClan territory was blessed with prey as plentiful as their drama. And yet, going out on another hunting patrol meant taking another Boar with her. She could hardly stand to spend more than a little bit of extended time with the giant, bumbling oafs that she was forced to call Clanmates. For all the strength in the world, they couldn't knock a bird out of the air or sneakily creep up on a mouse. In her eyes, they were as worthless to her as she was to them. "Or are you too afraid to lose to a Bird?"
Tigerheart lived up to Barktusk's expectations, mostly. At least she wasn't getting her pelt ripped to shreds by a Bird. That would certainly be embarrassing. She also chose the high road, choosing to sidestep rather than outwardly defend herself against her. Still, as Barktusk stared at the both of them, he did observe the strange patterns in which Tigerheart's pelt was groomed. In his eyes, this could really only be interpreted as this she-cat being fussy. Ah. So she chose to not fight in order to not mess up her fur?
A typical self-obsessed she-cat.
(( OOC: No problem. He isn't about to intervene, just sorta watch, probably for this response and then come in again at the next one. They're both here doing different things. ))
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Post by Greymuzzles on Jul 29, 2019 19:51:00 GMT
If the she-cat before her was proving anything, it was that rashness and fighting spirit was not purely the domain of Boars. She knew a cat spoiling for a fight when she saw one, and if the reason hadn’t been so petty—the challenge so foolish—she might even have been a little impressed. It took considerable guts (or stupidity) to respond like this when so vastly outsized, and under other circumstances she would have been prepared to give her counterpart some credit for that very fact. But as it was she could only see an oversized kitten raging at the injustice of the world.
“…No.”
She spoke around the rabbit, letting the word fall flat and heavy behind her counterpart’s question. It was an answer to her demand and her declaration and her question all at once, for not one of them deterred from that single, simple response. She would not fight a clanmate so much smaller than she, knowing her untrained; knowing what she herself could inflict with a mere misjudgement. She would not accept that the prey should go to an individual who would fight a needless petty battle; who would rather draw blood than let a pointless squabble go. And she was certainly not concerned that she might lose to a Bird – not when they were so poorly trained; when even Boars fell short of what she had previously known.
Ooc: Makes sense! Aand apparently Tigerheart has decided to be monosyllabic for now. Sorry about that |:
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Post by kiwi on Jul 29, 2019 21:00:07 GMT
The she-cat's words fell onto Frostleap's ears thick and heavy. Resounding. It was a simple no. How could she argue with that? She could turn this into a petty squabble or argument, but for what end? This she-cat wasn't giving her the prey, and truthfully, Frostleap could just go catch another. She was defeated. Again. She knew it, too. There was nothing she could say or do to this she-cat to convince her otherwise. She wasn't good with words like her brother, and she wasn't strong like this Boar. She had little choice but to retreat. But she wasn't going to do so quietly or happily, however. Frostleap's grey and white fur bristled as she gave Tigerheart a dirty glare. "Fine. Enjoy the rabbit then. Just remember who caught it for you." She spat, stalking off and away from the conversation. She would seek out her brother and vent to him later. Behind Tigerheart, however, Barktusk spoke up, giving Tigerheart some minimal regard about her latest 'accomplishment'. Perhaps stealing prey is in fact the peak of Tigerheart's day; he wouldn't know. Toms weren't involved in such petty squabbles. At least the sensible ones. "Good on you for sparing the effort. They're hardly worth it." Admittedly, Barktusk was pretty comfortable with letting some of his prejudices be known. The prejudice against Birds at it's most minor level was mostly a given and accepted thing anyway by most of his Clanmates. Why bother hiding it? And why should he bother hiding it to a she-cat for that matter? "Those Bird Queens can be...quite temperamental."
(( OOC: Hey it's no problem! Let the muse flow and don't worry about forcing things ))
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Post by Greymuzzles on Jul 30, 2019 19:28:20 GMT
Sometimes, the simplest response was the best choice. Her one-word answer left no room for argument—no crack in which to curl an insistent claw—and as consequence her counterpart had little option but to give in to her larger form. Tigerheart could see the recognition forming, and so she stood her ground and waited whilst it made good its growing hold. The Bird’s pretty little fight was done, and though she glared and spat, claiming the last word, the tabby was about as moved by it as she had been by the moments before.
She was no stranger to dirty looks. The departing comments rolled right off her fur.
In truth, she was mostly just glad that her counterpart had seen a slither of sense. Arguing further would have gained her nothing, and the Boar was irritated enough by the situation as it was. She wanted a fight about as much as she wanted the rabbit in her jaws.
‘Good on you for sparing the effort’
An ear flickered, and Tigerheart twisted sharply to face this newest voice, muscles operated by lessons learned long before. The newcomer had startled her, so focused she had been on the Bird and her own thoughts, and for a moment she balanced on a precarious cliff edge between outwards calm and instinctive aggression. For a moment her eyes burnt with the threat of it, betraying the choice unmade—
And the she-cat blinked, banishing that same blaze.
This was Treeclan. This was home. This was a…friend. In the weakest, most metaphorical sense.
As if to reinforce that very train of thought—the silent reminder hurrying through her brain—Tigerheart dropped to her haunches; set the rabbit, for the moment, at her paws. Her eyes stayed on the tom through the movement, certain habits impossible to shift, but soon enough she was straightening up; freer to speak.
“I don’t fight needless battles.” She eyed him still further, sceptical of his approach; manner made gruffer than ever by the irritation buzzing in her blood. “And Birds are not the only ‘temperamental’ ones.”
Ooc: Thanks for being so understanding~
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Post by kiwi on Aug 1, 2019 22:48:52 GMT
Barktusk caught that glimpse in her eye, of aggression quickly hidden behind calm eyes. It's not hard to notice when another cat feels tense towards you, no matter how fleeting that might be. He was a Boar, after all, trained in the art of fighting. Despite the she-cat quickly dropping to her haunches and presuming a less intimidating demeanor, the fact of the matter remained that she indeed felt intimidated by him. Hm. Perhaps that was a good thing, after all.
'I don't fight needless battles'
Respectable enough, in it's own regard. Quite a levelheaded response, really. Especially coming from, well. Though she didn't seem quite happy with him at his words. What should he care, though? He certainly didn't care. Let her be mad at him; it was the truth.
'And Birds are not the only ‘temperamental’ ones.'
Trivial, he supposed. Yes, it was true. Birds were not the only temperamental ones. There was a whole temperamental lot in all of them. He couldn't deny that there were Borderlines, as well as Boar She-Cats, to worry about. And even he wouldn't deny that his fellow toms could get moody. However, he doubted a fellow Boar Tom would act the same way as Frostleap had.
But...how to respond? He didn't want to give this she-cat a single footing in a conversation with him. This conversation quickly turned into a diplomatic minefield, and he wasn't known for his best wordplay.
"You cannot deny that cats like her are far too common in this Clan--" He motioned his paw vaguely, motioning in the somewhat direction of where Frostleap had ran off to. "Especially those Birds, they have far too much energy than to know what to do with. If she had the energy to argue, then she has the energy to keep hunting." He curled his lip, his eyes narrowing and his ears flickering back. He wasn't good with words, really, and he knew he had to watch his words somewhat. But as to what extent? Unknown, and he was bad at gauging that particularly fine line.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Aug 3, 2019 20:08:16 GMT
Tigerheart was no fool. As fleeting as that almost-aggression had been—as quickly as it had been quieted and tucked away—she knew that her counterpart’s recognition of it could not be kept at bay. He was a Boar, after all, and though Treeclan’s training fell short of her own, peaceful as this valley was, she wasn’t so stupid as to think that the flickering signals would have escaped him. Treeclanners learnt enough to spot those signs, however short lived, and so her dim moment of surprised was not at his inevitable recognition of the momentary threat, but at his lack of response.
There should have been a flash of teeth; a narrowing of eyes; a flicker of claws. There should, at least, have been a few harsh words. But there was nothing, and so she was left to wonder if he had spotted the signs at all. She supposed it was good if he hadn’t, for her reputation was sour enough as was, but the uncertainty of it left her feeling vaguely uneasy; had her watching him even more closely than before, half-wary of what the future might have in store. Boars were hardly a thread—not compared to the *Claws she had once known—but she didn’t really want the situation to dissolve once more.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem inclined to turn to blows.Instead he merely gazed steadily back at her, speaking as calmly as he had a moment before – and making no mention even of her rapid turn. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed the fleeting aggression, after all…
Or perhaps he’d merely decided it was not worth pursuit; not worth the risk of making that flickering instinctual threat worse. She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t certain it mattered, either—the outwards result was the same, after all—so she traded watchfulness for his response with focus on his words, allowing a fraction of unconscious ready tension to slip from her frame. Not relaxed, not by any means, but perhaps as close as she ever came.
“She is youn',” she stated simply, curling her tail around her paws. “Youn' cats are often rash.” She certainly had been: it was part of the reason her brother had gone over the falls, lost to her until luck or fate or Starclan had taken her into the valley. She supressed a shudder at the thought—oh, how she had grieved for him—but she knew from bitter experience that rashness was amongst those traits that could fade as age tightened its hold. She only hoped the Bird would learn in a kinder way: that the rashness would dwindle before she or another was hurt. She suspected, deep down, that such would not be the case.
‘they have far too much energy—’
Tigerheart narrowed her eyes as his words washed over her; as she spotted the cues that should have come in the moments before. Those signals sharpened her mind upon him once more, giving a welcome excuse for her to banish the circling memories, and for a moment her stare was hard: gave far more than she’d likely give with words. It was another warning, of a sort. It was a warrior spotting the first hints of a mindset that they were unlikely to approve; communicating that here was ice…and it was already beneath the speaker’s paws.
“The same could be said of 'alf the clan’s Boars.” She watched him with care again, wondering if this might strike a nerve. She pressed on, stepping through the opening he had made: unafraid to speak the truth. “Perhaps they should put their energy to better use, too.”
Ooc: *This is a direct reference to Tigerheart's past clan (which exists outside the valley), and one of the ranks they held. More info about it is in her profile.
On a separate note: I've decided to change the way I write Tigerheart's accent, since it was coming off a bit too...soft for my liking. She's meant to have a fairly thick accent going, so I'm hoping that this little tweak will fit her/carry it across better!
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Posts: 60
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Post by kiwi on Aug 19, 2019 23:06:25 GMT
He clearly said the wrong thing. He watched the she-cat's eyes narrow as she looked at him, though she was far more direct than he expected a she-cat to be. Barktusk stared at her, almost slightly bewildered as she just pressed into the conversation. 'The same could be said of 'alf the Clan's Boars', The she-cat wasn't afraid to press further against him, and he was perhaps caught way too off guard to stop her, to interrupt. 'Perhaps they should put their energy to better use, too.' Annoyance curled across Barktusk's features, showing off more of his massive underbite and his tusk-like lower fangs. To liken the Clan's Birds to that of Boars was highly disrespectful. This outsider's accent made it very clear she wasn't like the rest of them, so these were quite unwelcome words indeed. A smarter warrior might use her own words against her; to point out that she was using her energy to break up simple squabbles. But Barktusk was not a smart warrior. He was Barktusk. "Birds and Boars are nothing alike." His voice was a growl, half out of annoyance and half because of his underbite. "Comparing them is nothing short of stupidity." He didn't do good with words, admittedly. Again, a more sharp-tongued cat might be able to speak with much more eloquence. But he wasn't no Crowfall; thank StarClan. He sneered at her, flicking his ears back in annoyance. "I don't expect the likes of you to understand." His words had many layers of insults rolled into one, but he felt it. Who was this outsider, this she-cat to try to lecture him? (( OOC: I absolutely love her new accent, and it definitely translates quite well It makes her sound a bit more rough. ))
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Post by Greymuzzles on Aug 20, 2019 20:31:42 GMT
His reaction, this time, was not subtle at all, and that made it easy to spot the changes that flooded across his features and form. Before he had seemed reasonable—merely a cat looking to talk—but now the irritation was as plain as day upon him, whispering that he wasn’t the only one with the metaphorical ice beneath their paws. Tigerheart herself was apparently right out there with him, and all she could think to that was: ‘of course’.
She never seemed to be off that ice, in truth – and his answer was not of a sort that could let her strike back out for safer ground once more. The tone alone prohibited that, immediately setting off warnings in her mind—drawing fight-ready tension back around her frame—and the words…well. They certainly weren’t picked to be friendly.
“Not in body, maybe—but personality?” Her own retort was calm, but she knew that these words, too, were not likely to set things to rights. If he had disliked her last comparison then he’d surely dislike this second one, too, but he had approached her, had opened the discussion, and for better or worse she would see it through.
“‘Ave you not noticed? Do you really think only Birds start fights?” Her tail tip flicked as she asked it, responding to his sneer and his insult and the gem of knowledge she was revealing—she was an outsider, oh yes, but she saw so much more for that very fact—but she refused to be cowed by the veiled reference to her past. Why should she be? Her foreign nature was no secret, and it didn’t somehow strip her of intelligence or invalidate what she knew…even if she more typically kept quiet and out of the way.
Ooc: Glad to hear it! It's definitely feeling a better fit for her already, so it's good to know that at least one other person likes the results >_>
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kiwi
Apprentice
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Posts: 60
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Post by kiwi on Oct 17, 2019 7:13:50 GMT
The irritation rolling in Barktusk's warrior-red blood only grew stronger as this Outside queen talked to him. Every word spilling from her mouth seemed to drive a thorn further and further into his paw, making it harder for him to want to listen to anything she wanted to say. And yet, he did, only interrupting when he wanted to add something to say.
"Birds are cowardly and weak. We walk two Branches for a reason. A tradition that must be hard for you to understand." As previously stated, Barktusk wasn't great with words. If he found one way to insult her, he'd just keep hitting it until it no longer worked. Maybe even a few more times after that. Until then, though, he'd keep bringing up her past.
"It might not be only Birds who start fights, but at least Boars know how to finish them. I can't really sy the same for that... hormonal Queen that you scared off." Barktusk huffed, his tailtip twitching as he tried to, for now, hold back on his hostility. They were in the middle of camp, so this was not the place to be throwing claws at another. Especially a she-cat as, unfortunately, muscular and skilled as this one. No matter what she thought of herself, she would never compare to the skills and brawn of a real, trained TreeClan Boar.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Oct 19, 2019 11:28:27 GMT
It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it the moment the words were out of her mouth. No—in truth she’d known it even before that, for the growl that had already been in his voice was a stark warning of his souring mood, and the comments themselves made it quite clear that he was no reasonable, fair-minded sort. There was a seed of prejudice already set out right before her paws, so she knew, deep down, that his stiff retort really shouldn’t have caused any surprise. And yet it did, in its way, and that was a problem. Enough of a problem to have the fur prickling quietly at the back of her neck: to have her narrowing her eyes in a cold, cold stare.
“My brother is a Bird.” She pointed out flatly, tail tip twitching again in another visible sign of the metaphorical icy creak. But she didn’t want a fight—not with claws; not with a clanmate; not right now—so she forced herself to stay firm where she sat, refusing to make any small movement that might somehow be twisted into a reason to strike. She wasn’t the only one who was aggravated, she could see. Anger bubbled clearly within her counterpart, too, and she knew well enough where that might lead.
Unfortunately, she too had gone beyond simple irritation. Leopardstrike was her only true connection with the clan, and Leopardstrike, as a Bird, had just been insulted: diminished and dismissed with just those few simple words. Perhaps, if Barktusk had merely insisted Birds couldn’t fight and left it at that, it mightn’t have rankled so, but it was a hard thing to hear them labelled cowards in such a sweeping unforgiving way. A hard thing to know that he only kin was included under that same sway.
It made her colder. It made her scathing. It made her growl back what she probably shouldn’t say.
“If Boars finish fights it’s only because ‘alf of them don’t ‘ave brain enough to put words before claws. And because ‘alf of them pick on Birds, at that.” Further stiffness rolled across her frame even as she talked, answering the unacknowledged recognition of a step too far: the growing certainty that the ice might soon break beneath their paws. “I wouldn’t call that somethin’ to be proud of.”
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kiwi
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Post by kiwi on Dec 11, 2019 9:06:20 GMT
'My Brother Is A Bird' the she-cat in front of him spouted, the argument losing meaning on Barktusk. To him, it was just another example of a family bloodline half-divided. His mentor had deeply ingrained the sense of importance on keeping a bloodline pure. To speak of one's own sibling being of a different Branch as something of a good thing was, well... laughable, to say the least. Barktusk didn't appear to be impressed by her response, blinking and keeping his ground. Her hostility was enough to keep him on edge, and his brawny form remained bristling with defense.
At her later sentences, however, annoyance rippled through him once more. While Birds were hardly what he'd considered a challenge (and, true, it wasn't something to be proud of; picking on them, that is), it was still good to remind them of their inferior positions in their Clan;; even if it was just a bit of squabbling here and a bit of asserting dominance there. And as an additional reminder, it had been a Queen he was scuffling with; perhaps the most inferior of them all.
"Claws're all we need to make anything happen." Barktusk scoffed, rolling his eyes and shoulders. "Words didn't chase the rogues off from the camp did they?" He gruffly growled, his claws unsheathing and rolling in the dirt. "It was the mighty Boar of our leader that took them down, you better remember that too" Barktusk was among the many who were quite proud of their leader. "And we Boars all share pride for our leader."
The look in his eyes almost dared her to argue, though he wanted some form of a challenge. No Boar walked away from a good fight; he was itching to have one, and if he couldn't handle a fight with her physically, he'd do his best (as horrible as it would be) to fight with his words.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Dec 12, 2019 19:52:28 GMT
It was indeed the wrong thing to say, and she spied the confirmation of that almost as soon as she turned the stiff words his way. She was watching him as closely as she would an enemy, keenly aware of how readily Treeclanner’s turned to the attack, and so there was no way to miss the growing aggression that rolled through the tom’s frame. Barktusk wasn’t happy with her words: no more than she had been with his in the moments before. The she-cat wasn’t surprised by that, for her scathing reply had not been in the least favourable, but if she was honest she also didn’t entirely care if he was put out by what she had to say. He had engaged and questioned first, after all. And her words were truth: a few hard plain facts that would be so very easy for any cat to spot – should they bother to open their eyes. Besides, he had insulted her brother, and she was not so ready to forgive him for that.
…Particularly when his response was so mousebrained, only giving more reasons to dislike.
“Claws are good for bringin’ blood and fear and death. They are good for fight and defence, and nothin’ more.” Despite her irritation, her scorn, even the hard shard of anger tucked within her form, Tigerheart’s voice was flat; controlled. It was the smooth ice of a warrior pinning their temper beneath a firm paw, but most of all it was the answer of a cat who had once been ruled by a bloody brutal law. She knew where mindsets like this went. She knew what happened to a cat who relied too much on viciousness and strength and claws. She had been that cat—
…And deep in her heart, she knew she still was.
But this was not Fireclan, where she had been bred and trained for the destruction of others. This was not the wild lands, where life meant aggression. And this was not a battle: not the time to let that deeper savagery show. This was Leopardstrike’s clan; Leopardstrike’s peer; Leopardstrike’s home. So she forced herself to be cold and controlled and unmoved, even as her very stillness screamed the truth.
If I was sure I could stop myself at just a swipe, I would swipe.
“Claws can not solve everythin’. And if you think they can, the you’re a fool.” Of their leader she said nothing, knowing that to be not an iced lake but a gorge: too wise, now, to be open about what she thought of those who ruled. Knowing, too, that of him her opinion wasn’t yet sure.
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