private END OF BEGINNING — cherrypaw

[SLATE]

Thud, goes Slate onto the floor of the Sandy Ravine, dark wisps of fur smearing into the dirt. The lead warrior ceases his fight, taking a moment to still his movement and look up at his opponent who was valiantly standing over him — he had lost. His apprentice had earned his submission this time, as he did not easily give it. "Not bad." Obviously Slate could choose to launch a counter-defense, or in a real-life scenario Cherrypaw could go for his jugular and end the fight then and there, but he was satisfied. All that the male was looking for today was Cherrypaw's ability to pin a larger opponent, anyhow. She had already demonstrated her persistence with Falconpaw in a recent spar. It would serve her in battle.

Slate lets Cherrypaw climb off of him before he gets to his large paws, a quick shake of his coat flinging some dust and debris out of his fur. "It's almost time for your assessment." Eight moons flew by in nearly the blink of an eye. Slate could not believe that the prissy young she-cat he had taken on as an apprentice was now practically an adult, a fully-trained warrior. At one point, he had not been confident that he could sculpt Cherrypaw into the fighter that he wanted her to be. However, it turned out that Cherrypaw possessed the skill necessary; she just needed to apply herself. Maybe Slate's first real mentorship would not reflect poorly on him after all. "Do you think you're ready for it?" The Maine Coon inquires, curious as to where the tortoiseshell's mind was at regarding her apprenticeship and training.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

• @Cherrypaw

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

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[Cherryblossom]

"Hm." Cherrypaw's pale chest puffs slightly at the praise, but she says nothing more. The tone of his voice carries a finality, the end of this bout, and she neatly steps away from him. Her porcelain muzzle dips for a few licks of her chest fur while Slate rights himself. Dandelion wine eyes screw as he shakes the sand from his pelt, nose wrinkling against the disturbance on top of her already mussed pelt. The calico had long since resigned herself to the post-spar tangles. As long as she took the time to smooth it out before returning to camp, she was at peace with it.

There is something thoughtful in molten amber hues today. "Yeah?" Her head tips ever so slightly. "No way," she drawls sarcastically, flicking the blossomed plume of her tail. With so many warrior-aged apprentices, talk of warriorhood was inevitable, just as apprenticehood had been for them as kits. Struck by a disgusting, disquieting sense of longing, Cherrypaw's eyes narrow. "You're my mentor, you should know." The edges of her lips quirk into something too small to be a smile, but significant enough to let him in on the tease. "I guess so." Nothing more to it. "Any hints?" She angles towards him, a familiar challenge glittering in her eyes.​

 

[SLATE]

The Maine Coon had promised to himself long ago that he would make a warrior out of Cherrypaw, and to be honest, Slate felt that Cherrypaw was prepared. Starting out as a bratty apprentice with no sense of duty or responsibility, she had applied herself to her training over the moons as much as they butted heads and disagreed at times. She could defend herself, hunt, and even scale trees much better than he could ( he could not take credit for those skills ). Her attitude was still as fiery as ever, but that never stopped cats from earning their rank as a warrior. Hell, he was on Orangestar's council and one of the most controversial figures in the clan as far as he could tell. As long as Cherrypaw did not cross her mother, she would be fine.

Slate smooths down a wisp of fur on his chest with a lick of his tongue, opening an eye as Cherrypaw presses him for any clues as to what he'll ask or order her to do. He answers with a typical grunt, though no real sternness accompanies his tone, "No hints. If you use your brain, you'll pass." Truth be told, Slate hadn't a clear idea of how this assessment would go, either. He had asked around, trying to get an idea of how other mentors approached these things, so it was now just a matter of tailoring this test to Cherrypaw specifically. Not all apprentices were built the same; therefore, Slate would have to think about how he could challenge his apprentice while allowing her an avenue to succeed. He didn't want Cherrypaw on his heels any longer than she had to be; in fact, it would be nice to catch a break from training a younger cat for a little while.

It would be strange, having to treat Cherrypaw as an equal, an adult. She had been a child in his eyes for so long. Obviously, a signifier of her new rank would be a bestowment of a new name. "I wonder what name Orangestar would give you." Slate decides to muse aloud for once — such was not typical of the gruff warrior, but it was amusing to get a reaction out of a she-cat like Cherrypaw. Always was she prepared to dish out insults to others, and rarely the other way around as she was quite the popular peer. "Cherrytongue's fitting, with the amount of gossiping you do." Cats were named for their skills, right? Cherrypaw was good at using her tongue, whether it was for chatting with her friends or giving attitude to a clanmate.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

•  

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​