pafp FIELDWORK / open

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

"No, you have to go limp," Sedgepounce instructs, much to the chagrin of his pale-furred test subject. They're sequestered in the sandy hollow outside Rabbit's Run, though the lack of solid footing is quickly becoming a hindrance rather than a help—Sedgepounce tries to square his paws in the yielding dirt, and then tries once again to carry Foxglare on his back.

When the dogs attacked on the journey, cats dropped like flies. It was crazy. Left and right, flanks were torn. Legs were crushed. The WindClanners were mostly successful in leading the brutes away, but dragging the wounded to safety? Carrying Stormpaw all the way to the Highstones? That was a different story.

Sedgepounce doesn't want to be stuck in the same predicament again. Thus, training. If he can be better prepared to carry cats out of the battle field, their chances of getting trampled or thrashed is lessened. And Foxglare is the best test dummy because, well...he's the only cat that'll go along with Sedgepounce's harebrained ideas without much persuading. He did have to agree to take the next dawn patrol, though.

With no small amount of difficulty, Sedge worms a shoulder under Foxglare's side and rolls the tom onto his back. He tries to stand. He succeeds, kind of. His legs wobble and he can feel Foxglare's unamused look boring into the side of his head. He tries to take a step. It's like being crushed under a monster's blackened paw. "Why...'re you...so...heavy," Sedgepounce wheezes, and is prompty squashed like a bug when his legs give out under him, falling to the floor with a lung-stricken oof.

// pls wait for @FOXGLARE !!​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Though Foxglare's tolerance for the Sedgepounce's more ... creative ideas was surprisingly high, he was beginning to regret agreeing to this particular venture. He lay on the sandy ground of the hollow as Sedgepounce awkwardly nudged around at him trying to figure out how to hoist him onto his back. Even as he entertained the other warrior's (admittedly noble) rescue training session, he could see that this wasn't going to work. Still, he kept his trap shut, cause it seemed Sedge could use the strength training—even if he was dropped in the dirt a few times in the meantime.

He supposed this should have invoked some sense of embarrassment within him, but he only felt mildly amused and now, a bit frustrated in reflection of his companion's vague exasperation. Foxglare had only been half-serious in his leveraging of tomorrow's dawn patrol, mostly offering it as a means of testing Sedge's seriousness in his unorthodox training session. He was surprised when he agreed so readily, but went along with it, knowing that he would likely be going on the patrol anyway—he didn't mind them really.

Sedgepounce manages to succeed in lifting him finally, at least, sort of. He makes an effort to move forward, with little avail upon shaking legs, and Fox stares at the side of his head, wondering if he should start counting how many seconds he manages to stick it out. "Why...'re you...so...heavy," he gasps out, and Foxglare rolls his eyes, grumbling, "Ya said I needed to go limp, this is jus' me goin' limp."

He would only end up counting to 3 before Sedgepounce would lose his battle with gravity, landing comfortably atop his comically crumpled form. Foxglare sat there for a moment longer, considering letting him try to scoot his way out from beneath his dead weight under the guise of "just doin' as he was told", but decides to let him off easy and just rises to his paws.

"Ya'know," He says, sitting up beside him with a rare twitch of his whiskers. "Maybe you should start with carryin' something more your size. Like a rabbit or like a... mouse."

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 12mo moor-runner of windclan
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[hollowcreek]

( ✧ ) This was an odd sort of sparring, at least that was Hollowcreek's assumption upon seeing Sedgepounce's floundering. Loose sand flew through the air in the struggle and the dark tabby couldn't recognize exactly what was going on between the two. Was this a spar at all? Was this some sort of game they were playing out of boredom?

"Is this how kids have fun now?" He mumbled, half-amused as he sat to look over the hollow. The scent of rabbit nearby had grown stale, thankfully meaning this performance did not scare it away.

"Didn't look like you were winning, Sedgepounce. What are we doing here?" Hollowcreek's inquiry is not condescending or laced with any animosity, purely curious.
​

( I SEE YOUR COLLARBONE ; AND WANNA LOSE CONTROL )

 

[SOOTSPOT]

The noises above ground were not flattering. When he poked his head from the tunnels, Sootspot wasn't sure what to expect and so his movements were tentative, the tom ready to sneak back to safety in case he had stumbled upon something he shouldn't have done. Soil sat upon his muzzle like an old scar as his eyes settled upon Sedgepounce and Foxglare, exasperation pinching them. He knew there was a reason why he did not associate with most of the clan, though hardly a fighter himself, the chimera figured there was more to it than flopping onto an opponent and calling it victory. In WindClan, it was a social faux pas to avoid the use of claws, yet the loser's pelt was remarkably absent of red marks, his fur only sullied by sand. It was Hollowcreek who asked first if it was truly training with words that easily could've come out of an elder's mouth. Remarkably, though the furthest thing from a veteran, Sootspot found himself thinking the same of his only slightly younger clanmates (they'd have been apprentices together, had they not been so damned tall). His eyes searched for an explanation before the others' words gave him one, without one, the two would clearly be unfit warriors.

A smile pierced his muzzle all the same, as friendly as a serpent's. "If he is not winning, I imagine he is losing," Sootspot pointed out to Hollowcreek with a flick of an ear, voice teetering between matter-of-factly and amused, unsure of which one he wanted to convey to the older tom - he would shift to whatever would gain the most approval from those around him. "At what though... well, I am curious of that myself." Sootspot emerged fully from the bolt hole and shook his body to dislodge the loosest of mud upon it.


​

 

[SUNNVAR]

✦　　. 　 ˚　.   Sunstride could never decide when a cat's learning was finished. Of all the things he has grown accustomed to in WindClan, how strange a boundary to maintain. In the mountains, he had still bowed head to his elders, he had still been nipped and swiped for his moments of pride. To earn a warrior name so young seemed strange to him. The way that they would treat apprentices as if they had learned it all the closer they drew to their name. Kittens were not fragile things, but warriors were not so old as they might think. When he comes upon these two, so newly named, his instinct is instruction. Or some story of his escapades. Sootspot thinks that Hollowcreek's words could have come from an elder's maw– stars only know what he would think of Sunstride's. It is well enough that he doesn't comment.

"He is shaped much like a hare, is he not?" the deputy chuckles in agreement with Foxglare, but does not offer anything more for the two that speak in confusion. In truth, he hardly knows what this is about either. It is better to sit and pretend until it makes itself clear.

𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘍𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘗𝘖𝘐𝘚𝘖𝘕; 𝘚𝘜𝘕-𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘖𝘋 𝘏𝘈𝘕𝘋𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
  
  
  ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.
  
  

  ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——

• "speech"

​

 

[Bluepool]

Bluepool does not think herself particularly weak, but then again she does doubt that she could carry a clanmate on her shoulders without any assistance. She would leave that to the taller warriors - the big strong cats with broad shoulders and the bodies built to accomplish such feats. Her strengths lay mostly in the open moors, legs that eat the miles stretched between her and her destination like it is nothing. She is fast and that is all she ever needs to be she thinks. It is the same for most cats of WindClan. Their moor-runners were adept at speed and agility like no other, it was their tunnelers that were meant to be strong. So it is funny then, to her at least, to see the sight that laid before her now and when she sets eyes upon Sedgepounce shaking like a leaf, Foxglare draped over him like a trophy hunt, she cannot help but let a barking laugh escape from her jaws.

"If you need help getting that thing to the fresh-kill pile let us know!" she pipes from where she stands nearby, her voice teasing. In truth, she finds this whole thing absolutely hilarious and like her clanmates she wants to know what the heck is going on here. But that din't mean she couldn't have a little fun first.

// @FEATHERPAW

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

At her mentor's side, Featherpaw's mind was set on one goal- when it was interrupted, displeasure made itself very clear on her face. As ever dressed with a frown, critical eyes of yellow examined the scene. It was embarrassing, frankly- Sedgepounce, a warrior, flattened by another warrior. It looked to Featherpaw as if they were merely playing a game, an activity for kittens- disapproval lit star-clear in her eyes, narrowed gaze heavily scrutinising the foolish pair of warriors. Because what they were doing couldn't be anything except foolish.

Expectantly, Featherpaw looked to Bluepool expecting her mentor to chastise these warriors for wasting precious minutes of the day. His father, too- Sunstride sat there, amusement glimmering in his tone. Featherpaw was taken aback. Wasn't this bad?

Nobody was treating it like it was bad, like it was wasting the daylight. Her father and mentor particularly earned a confused glance, bafflement written plain in her eyes. Like a hare, Sunstride had said. "Your legs are for running..." Featherpaw drawled, a snowy paw motioning to Sedgepounce. "Not c-carrying. Like a hare."

He supposed Sunstride had made sense, in that respect...​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Foxglare takes pity on him, eventually, and thank the stars he does—Sedge thinks he might die by the time the other tom rises to his paws, and that's only a little bit of an exaggeration.

"Har, har," he crows back wryly, peering up at where Foxglare looms over him. A moment later he's popping up from the ground in a flurry, shaking the sand from his fur and stretching the wrinkles from his poor, crushed aluminum legs. Freedom feels especially liberating now that he's escaped that claustrophobic prison. His heart is fluttering bird-like by the time they're assailed by the crowd.

Hollowmoon is flanked by Sunstride, followed by Sootspot who draws himself from a tunnel like a particularly irritated shrew. He doesn't mind their skepticism so much. He's long since learned that this kind of scrutiny is harmless, if only from a lifetime of pulling useless stunts in the eyes of WindClan cats.

"I'm trying to practice," Sedgepounce confesses. His pelt burns with a bit of embarrassment, but he smiles sheepishly at all the jesting—he probably did look kind of ridiculous. For a good reason! "I'm trying to be prepared to help out the injured. Y'know, if someone's hurt, needs to get dragged away from the battlefield..." His words trail off to a somewhat dull note, the following silence heavy with unintentional implication. His maw twists to a quiet frown. It's not hard to imagine that WindClan will descend into war soon, somehow. With who, exactly, is the biggest question.

Featherpaw jabs an accusatory paw at him and the silent spell breaks. Sedgepounce sighs loudly, flopping his head over his shoulders. "I know!" he declares to them all, fixing Foxglare a thoughtful look. "This isn't really working." Back to the drawing board, then.​