pafp COMMODITY OF TENACITY ☽; games

[WOLFWIND]

This particular morning, she finds her eyes falling upon Roeflame. Wolfwind had thought her a sucker when she'd first come. And she probably was– not like there was anything she could've done about it. She was close with someone she shouldn't have been close too, oblivious to how well - placed any criticisms really were. She was a kid. What else should she have thought?

A start like that, and she had managed to become something capable. Lookin at her, you might even think she's more of a badass than Wolfwind, judging from that gnarly thing across her face. (You'd be fuckin' wrong, but it's a mistake that she's let you make excuses for). Course', she was still fresh off the press of being a warrior (It hasn't even been four seasons for Wolfwind, herself; but she sure felt ancient herself. What would that make Sunnyday or Howlingstar? A corpse of rotting bones? The thought is one she doesn't like, so she brushes it off with a shudder). It's easy for you to lose yourself when you have your warrior name...

Wolfwind catches Roeflame's eye, flashes a smile, makes it look like she's comin' over for a friendly chat... And then she'd roll a conveniently placed moss ball between a forepaw and kick it up to her with god - like speed, for sure. " Think fast! "

[ @Roeflame . >:D ]​

 

[ROEFLAME .]

ROEFLAME — break the air to feel the fall.
Wolfwind was the type of warrior that only a cat with certainty-tuned characteristics looked up to.
Brash, bold, daring, fierce… Roeflame had seen her as nothing but aspiring since she was a small child tucked away in the medicine den, plagued with her both no-breath and the silvery shadow that kept her close at all times.
She’s not a kitten anymore, though, despite the trickle of fear of her breath being stolen at any time, that would never go away.
When she makes eye contact with Wolfwind, it isn’t hard to tell the blue warrior is up to.. something.
Think fast! A ball of green goes flying towards her, and Roeflame has to jump up to catch it as it almost goes flying past her ears.
"Nife phry!" The younger warrior would declare, though her tone was muffled and obviously one of humor.
She’d dart to the side in a flash of metal and cinnamon, only to come to a sweeping stop to the right of Wolfwind and kick the moss right back towards her.
"Catch!"

"speech"

tags​

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[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Raccoonstripe is a few foxlengths away, observing the young warriors' game with an unreadable expression. There's a part of him that yearns to join in, to shed the weight of his responsibilities and loll about in the dust of camp like a kit. Still, there's something almost sad about watching Wolfwind and Roeflame bat the mossball around, fiercely competetitive despite the juvenile nature of the game.

He'd watched Roeflame grow up under the deadly and terrifying watch of Cinderfrost. In the marshes where ShadowClan now dwells, Wolfwind and Lakemoon had played the same way, their blue pelts streaked with mud and grime, eyes shining with laughter.

Thinking about Lakemoon causes Raccoonstripe's mirth to die. The passage of time has brought more than physical separation to his kin.

The mossball lands near him. Thoughtlessly, he hooks it on a claw and flings it in Wolfwind's direction. "Catch it in your mouth or it doesn't count!" He calls.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[WOLFWIND]

There was no doubt, now. Clearly ThunderClan material. Wolfwind whistles high in praise. " Nothing gets past ya, eh? " her tail sweeps behind her in satisfaction. A test is all it was, and Roeflame kicks her victory back over to her.

But wait– It's intercepted by none other but her conniving uncle! She's suspicious the moment it rolls toward his striped ass, and she feels her suspicions are justified when the moss ball is in unclaimed territory once again (even though he looks weirdly moody right now). " Eh? " his words damn sure weren't registering, not until the moss - ball was practically in her face already. She lunges for it with her mouth then. And she's practically ready to call triumph when she catches it with her teeth, but it slips out a moment later. " Er– shit. Whatever, it counts! " she gives the moss-ball some extra airtime bouncing it on her head instead. " Don't let it touch the ground! " she shouts.​

 

[RUMBLETOOTH]

જ➶ "I got it...!" The woman croaks with a wide smile upon her muzzle. It has been a good minute since she has dropped her guard and puts herself into having fun. The tension down her spine relaxes as she swiftly dives for the mossball, scooping her paw underneath it just in time to bounce it up into the air. Her other paw catches it in another bounce as she struggles to keep the thing airborne and she ends up turning onto her back, paws juggling the thing before she gives it a sharp and higher hit into the air. She couldn't actually yell that well for someone to take over so at the moment she is hoping someone else will take over as she dips out of the way so she doesn't collide with anyone. Her pelt is dusty but she hardly cares as she watches to see who will take the plunge. Her own paws shift back and forth in anticipation for her own turn within the game.

Afterall she did not have anything else to do right now. And what a better way to spend her down time but playing a good game with her clanmates.​

 

[crowflower]

Crowflower had just returned from an early-morning hunting patrol when she noticed Wolfwind moving through camp. Moss green eyes follow the blue molly curiously, the bird she had dropped on the fresh-kill pile already forgotten in her distraction. The bone-white tip of her feathered tail flicks in anticipation, her gaze no longer focused on Wolfwind, but the moss ball flying from cat to cat.

Games are usually activities that the solitary she-cat tends to avoid. More physical competitions aren't to her taste, for her sparring skills are passable, at best. However, a game of catch is not one that Crowflower can resist. Almost despite herself, Crow slinks over to join the gathered cats, muscles taut as she waits for the perfect moment. Racconstripe tosses it at Wolfwind who fumbles before recovering with an impressive juggle that arcs to Rumbletooth who bounces it once, twice, then lofts it high into the air.

Instinct takes over. The glare of the sun makes Crow squint, but she never loses sight of the ball. She pounces off the ground in a powerful leap, paws outstretched to grasp the ball as if it were a bird in flight. In one swift motion, she catches the moss and grasps it with her teeth before twists and lands on the ground in a crouch. Pleased with herself, she grins and tosses the ball back into play.​