pafp Can’t do it, not even not sober | sparring

Rosepaw was dead. Dandelionpaw didn't know if he could have changed the red tabby's fate in anyway, looking back and dwelling on what-if scenarios was unproductive and did nothing but settle like a dark pit in his chest. He wanted to believe StarClan had a reason for this, but he could only feel bitter and uncertain about the future now. His friend had tried to help him and paid for it with his life, if he was a more skilled fighter he wondered if he'd have been able to stop it from happening at all but the hawks were something WindClan had never dealt with before to this degree. No amount of skill was going to change the fact he was just an apprentice, he had no way of seeing the future and knowing how to respond to the attack., there was nothing he could have done. But still, still yet he thought about it constantly; his rational side being beaten into the ground by the insistance that if he was just a little stronger, just a little more capable, he could have spared them all such grief. If only he was better at reading the vision sent to him, if only he was able to fight with a tenacity like a lion, if only...if only...if only...

'If only's were not going to change anything, but he certainly could. Dandelionpaw had asked a lot of Coldsnap before; one too many times to carry a body for burial and one too many times pleading for morality to form at some point within the hearts of their clanmates. He was asking more even now, to teach him to fight-he did not care the means or the method so long as he could hold his own and so that perhaps in the future he could wield his claws to save lives the same way he did with plants. At the very least, it would be a good distraction for his mind which was otherwise clouded with so many different things that he felt lost in the ocean of it all. On long strides he kept pace alongside the dark tabby, steps light and careful and posture lacking his usual slouch.

"Try not t'mess up me face now..." The sepia point would state with a teasing tone, standing at the edge of the camp where they had the space and he was not far from his den in case of an emergency, "Ain't got a leg to stand on but at least ah'm pretty." A loner once made a joke moments before bleeding out at the barn, he'd stopped in seeking help and not a cat could aid him in his injuries; gallows humor-one of the other barn cats had called it. The last dying words of a soul meant to make light of their circumstances and he wondered if it applied here when he was not quite dead but felt almost rotted inside from his grief and apprehension.


Dandelion wasn't the only cat left scrambling for a foothold in the wake of Rosepaws death. So many cats had found themselves affected by the loss of the apprentice, and perhaps surprisingly so, Coldsnap was no exception. There was an ache in his chest that wouldn't go away, a regret that sat heavy on his shoulders. Rosepaws death was a slap in the face, a wake up call to something a part of him was still afraid of accepting: that for some of these cats, there was still a 'too late'. And that realization terrified him, because what were those words if not a manifestation of regret and guilt? 'Too late' meant that Coldsnap had cared, meant that Rosepaw had meant something to him.

'Too late' meant he'd wasted what precious time they'd had together.

In typical Coldsnap fashion, he was quick to try and spare himself the pain of those words, shoving them down into the dark, quiet places where they couldn't echo up to tear him apart from the inside out. Instead, he through himself into whatever work he could find, and really it was pure luck that Dandelion had managed to catch him at all at the rate he'd been going lately. What else was he supposed to do though? Every time he found himself with a spare second for his thoughts to catch up with him all he could think about was how things were all wrong now, that he'd lost his chance.

If there was one cat aside from Hyacinth though that had a chance in hell of keeping his attention though, it was the Windclan medicine cat. Somehow, Dandelion had become an unexpected ally in all of this -whatever 'this' was. The things he said and the way he spoke about the cats he cared for made Coldsnap want to believe in him, and as stupid as it sounded, at this point he trusted the thoughts and opinions of a cat his own age over the adults who led their group.

So if Dandelion wanted to learn how to fight then Coldsnap would teach him. If there was one cat in all the clans that could be trusted not to abuse that power he had confidence it was the ex-barn cat beside him. Besides, after what had happened with Rose and all of the tension that was sitting between the clans right now, it honestly took a little stress off his shoulders to know that the medicine cat would be able to defend themselves if they ever got into a scrape.

At their comment he'd let a small smirk settle on his lips, yellow eyes flashing toward the other with a hint of amusement. "Whats wrong, you don't want a matching set to mine?" he asked, tail flicking behind him as he walked. Cold had accumulated a fair bit of scars after an apprenticeship under Hyacinthbreath, but the most prominent ones he wore were those given to him from Rosepaws own brother during their fight, among which were a set of clawmarks running across his cheek.

He didn't respond to the comment tagged onto it, because what was he supposed to say- yeah, you are pretty and that would suck? Of course not. And if certain words tried to echo up from that abyss then he made a point of acting like he didn't hear them, making his way to the edge of camp where they could work in relative peace.

Yellow eyes didn't once stray toward the medicine cats den.

"Okay, you can consider this a test run. I don't know where you are in skill when it comes to fighting, so just... bring whatever you've got. Once I've got an idea of what you need to work on I can start teaching you to fight properly from there." he said as he made his way a few paces away to stand before the other. It didn't seem right to start from scratch with Dandelion when he was sure there was something to work off of, so a quick spar to gauge the others skillset would be a good starting point. After all, one little skirmish wasn't going to turn the healer into a proper warrior.

windclan warrior - male - 9 months - a large, dark grey tabby with yellow eyes

"Take his legs out from under his big ass and he's at your mercy, Dandy." Hyacinthbreath muses with amusement from behind the two toms, tail flicking behind her. She could enjoy this, watch Coldsnap get his ass handed to him and give herself a little chuckle. It was nice that Dandelionpaw wanted to learn how to fight; Hyacinth was a firm believer that everyone should know how to fight, even kits. You never know when the situation would call for it, after all.

"Try not to trip, yeah? I'll just.. Sit over here and watch." Hya chuckles softly, scooching herself over to a tree to lean back against it.

This was far from a bad idea... even though Dandelionpaw's warrior training had halted a moon ago, he still should know how to handle himself. Besides... if he's anything like Honeytwist, maybe one day he will be a warrior walking among WindClan. She scoffs at the thought, praying to the stars that he'd at least finish training an apprentice first when the time arrived.

This would have to be something the warriors of WindClan worked with Dandelionpaw over time. Their top priority would need to be getting him trained on his main job though... and StarClan help WindClan when it came to that!

Silently she settles down on the sidelines, likely close to her lead warrior, to watch the spar. "Keep those claws unsheathed!" She reminds.


( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )

· SOOTSTAR, female — she / her
╰ ‣ 31 moons . pisces. ages on the first
╰ ‣ windclan leader . marsh-born . believes in starclan
╰ ‣ former soldier of the marsh group

· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like heather and wet dirt , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue smoke . scarred chest, difficult to see through fur . green eyes

· ESTJ-A ❝
EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Lawful Evil
╰ ‣ Cunning, brash, fierce, confident, self-reliant, envious & selfish
╰ ‣ finds great difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel, usually shows mercy to those she can find sympathy with

· SOOT CLAW x PEBBLE BREEZE, sister to Pebblenose
╰ ‣ heterosexual. romantically interested in Weaselclaw
╰ ‣ mother to owlpaw & shrikepaw
╰ ‣ average fighter . skilled hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.

"Looks much better on ye than it would me!" The chocolate legged healer commented, tone light and both eyes sparking mischief on their own. He was slowly formulating how best to go about this because if Coldsnap was going to help him then he needed a proper basis and being creative wasn't going to cut it right now. He'd need to show off his strong suits, open himself to reveal his weaknesses, only then could he figure out a proper balance on the two. Dandelionpaw had been in a few scuffs of his own prior but nothing life threatening, not until the hawks at least and he had been easily pinned then and unable to break free of his own accord. The image of Kestreltalon running from the scene in a panic crossed his mind and he would never begrudge a cat their own self-preservation but it did make him realize he could never do the same. He'd rather die.

Hyacinthbreath's advice was met with only the faintest flicker of his ears, he had already made the decision to rely on his speed when it came to combat because his towering height lacked the definition to be forceful to any degree. No, if he wanted to take someone down he had to sweep low and quick and bring them to a more managable level because even a cat as tall as he was had no chance in hell of taking on another cat with any amount of weight to them. Dandelionpaw, despite his barn cat origins, had the very fitting form of a natural born WindClanner with long limbs and a wiry body. He was, perhaps, a bit taller than most by a large margin but he made up for it in agility; mostly.

There was a deliberate pause before he moved, the shiny ebony curls tipping each paw slowly retracted back into place and he made a concious effort not to look in Sootstar's direction because he as sure the silent defiance on his face was blatantly visible. If he made wounds, it defeated his purpose; he had given up on trying to rationalize with the clan that claws out training only made more work for him and lessened his stores but he was certainly not going to add to it. If he got a little cut up here then so be it, but he would never purposefully add to the pools of blood already lining the moors unless he had to.

With little warning outside the sudden slitting of his eyes as he focused the sepia point sprang forward as if moving for a direct attack into the dark tabby's face only to twist to the side, rolling to catch himself and making a sweeping lunge with his front paw to take a swing at the other tom's forelimbs without putting himself directly in pinning range cause he was, at least, very aware that if he got stuck under Coldsnap's paws he was not going to have the strength to break free without impolite tricks.