- Jun 1, 2023
- 135
- 28
- 28
Things had been...not quite hectic, he supposes, but maybe busy lately, what with getting into the groove of apprenticeship and all. By now, Luckypaw feels as if he's starting to spend more time in the tunnels than not, even if it's not quite true, and being in camp with the sun blazing above is a rarity saved only for occasions like this - chores. Today, Cygnetstare had instructed that he would help out around camp, find something for his paws to keep busy with, and even if he'd much rather be hidden away beneath the earth, it's not as though he has much of a say in the matter. Around dawn when he had first been given his orders, there was a bit of bustle about camp - dawn patrol and early birds heading out - which quickly petered out, leaving him to work in relative silence, though of course it hadn't lasted all too long in the end. Now, he's sat almost pressed up against the gorse wall, paws gently brushing over and prodding around any areas that looked weak (almost like shoring up a tunnel wall, he thinks, though sharper), cats milling about all around him as plenty return from morning patrols and plenty more are preparing to head out for the day. Through it all, Luckypaw has remained almost resolutely silent, focused entirely in on his task, though perhaps it's the surrounding hustle, or the heat prickling his fur, or even the slight soreness from keeping his paws in the same position for so long; either way, for a moment he looks away from the gorse, stealing a glance at his partner, and it's this moment when something sharp pokes in hard on his pawpad.
"Ah!" he yelps, dropping both paws away from his work and gingerly holding the left one up, searching for a thorn to be removed. With nothing to be found, though, save for a single bead of blood welling up at the offending site, he's satisfied to give it a rough lick, shaking it out as if it might stop the pain quicker. If Scorchpaw has stopped as well to look at him, or even if she's paid him no mind, he'll still offer a "Sharp," as his only explanation, holding up a paw as though the hidden pinprick can be seen at a distance. Momentary distraction over as the sting begins to fade to a dull ache, Luckypaw turns to settle back in, paws lifted to start back where he had left off, but they end up hanging in the air, unmoving. Now that he's stopped, well...another look is sent towards Scorchpaw, more contemplative this time. Lately, they hadn't exactly been getting along all that well, not like they were kits - though, it begs the question of whether or not this strange air between the two of them isn't just the new normal, the result of growing up and into their respective apprenticeships. It certainly felt like it at times, the way they bounced between icy stares and not looking at all, and even if he can't quite shake that feeling of jealousy that starts to pool in his stomach at the mention of her, he also doesn't want that to be normal - doesn't want them to tread around each other when they used to walk side by side.
He's not sure what to do to fix it, though; he doesn't know how to purge his feelings even if he wanted to, which - well, at times Luckypaw will admit he doesn't. Sometimes, it feels just shy of justified, memories of flooded-orange skies and mice flitting through his head. No, he doesn't have any idea where to start, or where to go after that, though at the very least he knows that sitting here in silence isn't ever going to make things better. Sometimes when they get to talking, it's as if they're back to where they were at kits; perhaps that, then, is the secret to things. Taking a moment to psych himself up (and when had he started needing to do that to talk to his sister, he wonders?), he'll finally return to the task at paw, prodding at a section that looks thinner than its surroundings. "Soo, uhm, how's your training been going? Do you guys...see a lot of other cats at the border? Or, I dunno - what's your favorite thing you've done, maybe?" Though a bit stilted, the words are still earnest - an earnest attempt, he hopes, that will at least start up some sort of conversation. Besides, he really is curious; the gap between moor runner and tunneler seems to grow wider and wider each day they're separated by so many layers of earth, and even if a small bit of their training overlaps, there's still plenty of things they each do he's certain the other has no understanding of. Maybe learning about their respective paths would help them to get along - or, maybe, he thinks, with a slight sinking feeling, it would only serve to exacerbate their strange little feud by pointing out just how different they were growing.
// @SCORCHPAW
"Ah!" he yelps, dropping both paws away from his work and gingerly holding the left one up, searching for a thorn to be removed. With nothing to be found, though, save for a single bead of blood welling up at the offending site, he's satisfied to give it a rough lick, shaking it out as if it might stop the pain quicker. If Scorchpaw has stopped as well to look at him, or even if she's paid him no mind, he'll still offer a "Sharp," as his only explanation, holding up a paw as though the hidden pinprick can be seen at a distance. Momentary distraction over as the sting begins to fade to a dull ache, Luckypaw turns to settle back in, paws lifted to start back where he had left off, but they end up hanging in the air, unmoving. Now that he's stopped, well...another look is sent towards Scorchpaw, more contemplative this time. Lately, they hadn't exactly been getting along all that well, not like they were kits - though, it begs the question of whether or not this strange air between the two of them isn't just the new normal, the result of growing up and into their respective apprenticeships. It certainly felt like it at times, the way they bounced between icy stares and not looking at all, and even if he can't quite shake that feeling of jealousy that starts to pool in his stomach at the mention of her, he also doesn't want that to be normal - doesn't want them to tread around each other when they used to walk side by side.
He's not sure what to do to fix it, though; he doesn't know how to purge his feelings even if he wanted to, which - well, at times Luckypaw will admit he doesn't. Sometimes, it feels just shy of justified, memories of flooded-orange skies and mice flitting through his head. No, he doesn't have any idea where to start, or where to go after that, though at the very least he knows that sitting here in silence isn't ever going to make things better. Sometimes when they get to talking, it's as if they're back to where they were at kits; perhaps that, then, is the secret to things. Taking a moment to psych himself up (and when had he started needing to do that to talk to his sister, he wonders?), he'll finally return to the task at paw, prodding at a section that looks thinner than its surroundings. "Soo, uhm, how's your training been going? Do you guys...see a lot of other cats at the border? Or, I dunno - what's your favorite thing you've done, maybe?" Though a bit stilted, the words are still earnest - an earnest attempt, he hopes, that will at least start up some sort of conversation. Besides, he really is curious; the gap between moor runner and tunneler seems to grow wider and wider each day they're separated by so many layers of earth, and even if a small bit of their training overlaps, there's still plenty of things they each do he's certain the other has no understanding of. Maybe learning about their respective paths would help them to get along - or, maybe, he thinks, with a slight sinking feeling, it would only serve to exacerbate their strange little feud by pointing out just how different they were growing.
// @SCORCHPAW
[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]