kiwi
Apprentice
Probably drawing!
Posts: 60
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Post by kiwi on Feb 7, 2020 1:58:51 GMT
'Claws are good for bringin' blood and fear and death. They are good for fight and defence, and nothin' more.' His verbal opponent's words were flat, calculated. To Barktusk, they were nothing more than the simple attitude any other Queen would give him. Her words meant very little to a purebred Boar like himself. The mere idea of fighting not being good for anything; let alone suggesting that blood and fear and death weren't in fact good things, were foreign to the meathead of a warrior.
A huff of a rebuttal escaped his tusked mouth as he rolled his eyes, tailtip lashing in annoyance at her words. Still, he kept his eyes fixed on her, wanting to make sure he didn't miss any movement on her whatsoever. He was itching to fight with her too, though he knew that indeed their fight would be a messy one.
"Claws can solve anything and everything; to suggest otherwise makes you weak. I wouldn't expect anything less from the likes of you." He let his disdain of her be quite open; after all, he had no reason to hide his dislike of a foreign Clan cat. The added dislike of Queens was dripping in there, though was hidden well behind the words that were upheld by TreeClan's overall acceptance of prejudice towards outsiders. "You're a soft, weak cat if you think claws cannot, infact, solve everything."
Even though he felt that way, he didn't exactly use actions to back up his claim. While he was puffing himself up quite a lot, trying to appear to be the bigger cat, a fight wasn't breaking out between the two of them. Yet, anyway. While he would have enjoyed pouncing on her, she was as strong a warrior as he, much as he hated to admit it. He did hope his words would do the fighting for him; the irony in that thought process lost on someone with as low an IQ as he.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Feb 8, 2020 14:05:27 GMT
She might just as well be speaking to a rock, and she knew it even as she had her say: could see the confirmation in every inch of the tom’s bulky frame. Everything about him now spoke the same two facts loud and plain – he didn’t believe a single word of what she said, and he was waiting for an excuse to fight. He was too thick-skulled to take these words of experience on board, and should she let her own control slide…fur would fly. And she was tempted, right now, to let it fly.
But this was Leopardstrike’s clan, Leapordstrike’s home…and another’s stupidity was not a good reason to start a fight. There was enough distance between her and her adopted clanmates already: she didn’t need to give them another excuse to treat her as the outsider she knew, deep down, she’d always be. She needed to think, to see past the insults, to hold herself restrained – so though her ears angled backwards and her eyes narrowed at Barktusk’s returning scoff, she didn’t allow aggression to make its full claim—
‘You’re a soft, weak cat—’
Tigerheart blinked, surprise washing through her as the tom’s words hit home: as one in their midst banished the rest from her reach. Weak? Her? The very notion held her still and silent for a long baffled moment: and then a rumbling half-choked laugh clawed from her chest and burst from her jaws, declaring her incredulity to one and all. Those of her birth clan would be rolling on the floor with their mirth, if they heard that, and though the she-cat fought against her own laughter that very knowledge only heightened her amusement, temporarily robbing the aggression from her form. She was anything but weak. Anything but soft. But it would be a waste, she could see, to argue it.
“Mousebrain.” She stated simply, forcing out the word as she fought back her laughter; bundled it to silence once more. “Talk to me when you’ve learnt some sense—if you ever do.”
And with that she bent her head, retrieving the contested rabbit before she turned away once more.
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kiwi
Apprentice
Probably drawing!
Posts: 60
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Post by kiwi on Feb 9, 2020 23:01:09 GMT
The response he got was not one he was expecting. Rather than indignation, anger, even....all he got was a laugh. A laughter that made his pelt prickle with discomfort; embarrassment, perhaps? He didn't like the feeling, and he wasn't well-versed enough in words to quite comprehend how he felt about this. It didn't feel good, and he curled his lips in a half-snarl, his lower fangs only serving to make him look even more ridiculous.
'Mousebrain,' The petty playground insult shouldn't and wouldn't be too bad coming from his friends, but from a she-cat laughing in his face it stung hard, making a low growl rumble from his chest. An indignant huff puffed from him as she demanded she talk to him once he learned some sense; if he ever did at that. He stamped his foot out of upset, rising to his paws and stamping after her against his better judgment.
"That's it? You're not going to even defend yourself?" He inquired, annoyance and indignation shining through his voice. Boars weren't meant to solve disputes through words; especially this Boar, who lacked a decent vocabulary at that. However, he couldn't just...attack her. Again, he had been trying to avoid that, whether consciously or subconsciously, as her pelt really did ripple with the scars and muscles of a warrior that might even be his match. A fact that annoyed him even to admit. "Don't walk away from me, we were talking!" He almost sounded like an apprentice in a petty squabble once again.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Feb 10, 2020 21:25:54 GMT
She had no true sense of where she was heading, for she hadn’t yet decided what to do with the prey, but her steps were confident and measured all the same. And why wouldn’t they be? Though she knew the tom had aimed to ruffle her, undermine her security, his attempt had fallen far short of that very aim. She was neither cowed nor afraid, and she had no qualms about showing it—
But she tracked his movements all the same.
Tigerheart was no fool, and she knew that plenty of cats would greet her turn with a leap and flash of claws. That alone was enough to tap into her natural alertness, and his growl only heightened awareness, warning her that they might not be through. She had given him the plainest of cues, but that didn’t mean he had to heed it. And he didn’t heed it, of course. Her ragged ears twitched as they caught his heavy tread—confirmation of his failure to let the matter drop—and one turned back to acknowledge his kittish retort: search for the first warning of the fight he seemingly sought.
‘You’re not going to even defend yourself?’
“Why?” She huffed, her voice muffled by the rabbit; still wrapped with the amusement cast up by his foolish words. “You ‘ave made up your mind – and I know my strength.” And oh, how true that was: if she wasn’t strong, she wouldn’t be alive. But she wouldn’t have wasted her breath in explaining that even had she been inclined to spill the past to this veritable stranger, so she left only her confident easy tread to back it. Only her obvious alertness to his movements to speak of the experience that had brought that certainty to her form.
His petulant command she ignored in its entirety, seeing no reason to dignify it with response. She didn’t even look back to him, instead choosing to scan the cats that happened to be in front of her – and then altering her steps as her eyes caught on a scrawny tucked away figure and a flighty half-formed thought flittered her way.
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kiwi
Apprentice
Probably drawing!
Posts: 60
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Post by kiwi on Apr 25, 2021 8:58:42 GMT
Barktusk, though a skilled and seasoned warrior Boar, was certainly not as keenly honed to combat as his Tigerheart. Although, he certainly carried himself with the foolish confidence of a cat who did. With that being said, he really did not want to get into an altercation; or at least, he hadn't wanted to, when this argument first started.
Now? Now this she-cat continued to get under his skin, ruffle his fur, and dig her claws into him with an attitude that drove his anger through the roof. Unlike other cats, he was not nearly as level-headed in combat; he was blunt, brash, and solved problems with big paws and big muscles.
Once again, very unfortunate that he lacked the most important muscle - a brain.
He took a step toward her; a decisive one, and one that wasn't entirely too friendly. His fur was bristling, his glare shooting thorns at her and his tusks jutting out more in indignation. He puffed out his chest, lashed his tail, and unsheathed his claws.
"Hey."
He attempted to use his louder, more commanding voice, to get her attention; a challenge at that. Would she really be so bold as to turn her back on a warrior threatening her.
"Don't you turn your back on me, outsider."
His voice was even more of a low, rumbly growl. It was a challenge.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Apr 29, 2021 20:22:23 GMT
‘Hey.’
The she-cat’s ear flickered a second time, once again giving him the barest acknowledgement - and stoutly refusing to give him much more. It wasn’t too hard to work out what he was trying to do, but in reality the attempt was a pathetic one, for he was not as mighty as he thought. Perhaps, had he used more than that one word, she might have been inclined to glance to him once more, but as it was it only amused her further, re-confirming his lack of wits all the more. Really, if she didn’t know better she might think she was dealing with an apprentice.
‘Don’t you turn your back on me, outsider.’
“I already ‘ave,” Tigerheart purred, making no attempt to mask the humour that still lingered within her, and refusing to play into his claws. She was reasonably sure, now, that he was trying to provoke her into lashing out, but his insults were so petty as to be inconsequential, and she had already decided against a fight. Besides, she had been called ‘outsider’ more times than she could count; the label had lost all its bite many moons before, and if that was the best he could muster than she endure a whole lot more.
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