pafp for guts and glory ✘ lesson

[SMOKESTAR]

Pikesplash was a lucky cat, luckier than most, alarmingly well off given the circumstances. While Cicadastar had held his claws for decorum, assumedly still wary of them drawing RiverClan blood after Mudpelt's unfortunate accident, Smokethroat had no such qualms. If he had heard that weak, pathetic, simpering fool try to give his kits a lesson on combat and skills he would have taught them a more impressionable one then and there by leaping upon the tom and battering him into the pebbled ground. He was lucky Smokethroat had not been there. He should thank the stars every day for that mercy. That kind of kit-like weakness he wanted to instill in any who heard would get them all killed in a true battle and his children will not be taught by a cat like that. No, he was already preparing for the day they would be apprenticed, had already discussed at length they were to be given mentors worthy of helping them become proper RiverClanners. They were not to be taught by cowards, by idiots, by fools who thought themselves so highly they need not bloody their claws in defense of their clan or even their own wretched lives.
"Cicadakit, come here..." A tail whisks outward and flicked toward himself, gesturing for the lanky child to join him where he had a squirrel set at his paws motionless. It was a clean kill, a snap to the neck, because he needed it for more than just a meal and the kits could try it themselves after the lesson was had. The prey would not be wasted, nor would his efforts and time.
A paw raises to flip the squirrel over onto its back, soft plump belly exposed to the sky, "Do you know about the spots you must guard when in battle?" He asks, curious if any of his time with Iciclefang had enlightened him to the topic, but if not he would launch into his own explaination. An explaination learned and earned through bloodshed and many trials, constant battles and constant losses, every scar on his pelt gnarled and curved told a story to the lessons that had been hard earned in his life and he accepted each and every one as something worth remembering. Out here there was no such thing as mercy, the world was cruel so a cat had to know how to defend themselves and their own.
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[Ooc]
PAFP - @CICADAKIT
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[CICADAFLIGHT]

✦₊ ⊹—— the words of pikesplash, iciclefang, beekit still weigh heavy as the endless water on his back—of them all, the quick dark flash of his father's anger is the heaviest. it manifests itself in the boy's dulled eyes, the small claws clenching into the sand, the ache nestled deep in the joint of his jaw. when he shuts his eyelids he fancies he can see his father's rage-darkened pupils staring back at him for the breath in which they are shut, can feel the stares on his back like raking claws as he makes his stumbling and stilted way through camp every day. childhood bleeds away at his paws too fast, and he'd expected it to be cut at the artery with a punishment—but none comes. indeed, he would like to think he could almost see approval in his father's lifted muzzle that day, but that is a wishful thought that he is quick to banish.

"yes, pa." the boy's answer is a quick rasping reply, his young voice carrying only the barest trace of cicadastar's throaty accent, as he pads to his father's side, bent and overlong tail instinctively lifted so it won't be stepped on. his pa's question is deceptively simple and he eyes the squirrel's soft belly with a careful sort of hunger as he appraises its loosely rolling neck and tries, hating it as he does, to remember his play-fight. iciclefang's advice had not enlightened him on the subject and so his thoughts are rough and rudimentary as he raises a thin-wristed paw to the squirrel's plump stomach, lost for a moment without words. two-toned eyes flick to his pa's scar-shredded pelt, the narrow scar of his not-eye, before the boy finally mews, "here. that's - that's where sandkit kicked me. and -" he pauses, gaze turning back onto his pa's scars as cogs rotate in his head. an intelligent voice burns low and unhappy when he speaks, "uhm - maybe here, and here. 'cause that's where you have scars," his white paw drifts to the squirrel's neck, its death-glossed eyes, and he finally admits, "i don't know, though. those are just guesses."

I AM GOD (✦) 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑰 𝑵𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝒀𝑬𝑫

• ooc: ——
  
• disclaimer: it's important to note that cicadakit is not always in a stable state of mind. his view of the world may not always be accurate to objective reality, which may include seeing things that are not genuinely there, reading motivations or thoughts from actions that are not actually implied, and making assumptions or jumping to conclusions. this is not an attempt at metagaming, powerplaying, or mischaracterization, and is not legitimately true or correct to reality or what your characters actually think or believe.
  
  it will always be noted in the post if he is seeing something that isn't actually there. all opinions & thoughts are ic only and do not reflect my thoughts and opinions as a writer.
• 
  — cicadakit
  — he/him ; kit of riverclan ; 3 ☾s
  — "speech" ; thoughts ; attacks
  — penned by dejavu
  

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[hazecloud]

A cat such as herself was not exactly what could be imposed as a shining example of a warrior. Not in a sense that held much importance in favor of the more battle-rugged warriors. Hazecloud was an exemplary role model for the silent stalking sneaking types that could evade better than actually landing a blow on an enemy. However, she would never dare to give any insight on how to behave in a fight like Pikesplash had.

While it wasn't known widely of her own kittypet roots, Cicadastar had been in the marshes when her family arrived. Kibble-scent heavy on their pelts and her parents especially clumsy in the beginning throes of survival. While she and her siblings showed little sign or hesitation adapting to the wilderness, that history would always be a stain in the eyes of their leader. He had made that clear.

"Good morning you two." She greeted the pair gently, curious to see what would come of it. Smokethroat was a true leading inspiration for his prowess on the field, his own apprentice graduating early from grasping his experience so quickly. Kittens, she found, were very similar to that of moss... In the way they absorbed information that is. Soaking up as much as they could at once. Hazecloud looked between Cicadakit and the squirrel, then back to her Deputy.

"Your ideas are always rather clever for these kinds of things, where do you come up with them?" Hazecloud's voice is soft, not trying to be a distraction despite her curiosity. Though her question was mostly rhetorical she did wonder if someone had shown Smokethroat the exercises he used on his kittens.​

 

[ROOKFANG]

THE HERMIT ─── Combat. One thing that Rookfang was secure in his self-worth was the concept of strategy and strength when it came to battle. He had a natural talent for it since he could remember, his protruding fangs and elongated jagged claws placing him on a pedestal to be shown off as a soldier. That was what he had been raised to be at first from what he remembered, his mother's hushed voice of having to protect and guard their den. To be the guardian of his siblings and ensure their safety was never to be threatened while she went away. He supposed that he had let her down, the blood-splattered walls and ground being what was left in such a decision of being labeled as the only protector of his other siblings. He knew deep down, that ever since then, his hunger to prove himself in defense and attack had led him to be ready to join any spar or training offered. It was as if he could gather all the knowledge he possibly could to go back in time and provide it to his younger self, that maybe things could have been different. That his siblings would have been saved and he would not be in the mental state he was now.

The towering shadow let a small exhale trickle out of his lips as he pushed past the warrior's den, finishing up hiding the constant claw marks he left around his nest. He had troubled thoughts brewing as always but it seemed his attention was grasped when he noticed Smokethroat with his child, Hazecloud, and...a squirrel? His eyebrows stitched together in brief confusion as the jagged-furred warrior stepped towards them with his half-lidded stare snapping down to the exposed stomach of the prey, wondering what was going on until he noticed the hardness that traced the facial features of the deputy and Rookfang blinked, picking up quickly that expression and attitude. A dissatisfaction rooted in worry, that he knew too well and so, he decided to not say much other than a simple greeting. "Morning everyone." He nodded and glanced slightly over to Hazecloud as she seemed quite intrigued by the idea of using a squirrel to show techniques and training. Rookfang had to admit, his mentor had not shown him in such a way but then again, perhaps it was easier than being harshly trained to learn the hard way. The painful way. ​

 

[BEEFANG]

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳˚❥ Beekit had tried not to think of that day, the one where Cicadastar had referred Pikesplash as kittypet dust and the thought alone makes her ears flick back with the slightest hint of discomfort. Who would she be to question her father when he told her that her brother was learning to defend himself from potential predators or the ones in the stories told in the willow den before she and her littermates settled for the night. She cannot let herself become weak like Pikesplash or even seen that way, Starclan forbid by her own fathers either. Her eyes on the ground momentarily recalling Cicadastar's word when he had approached her seeing that she had been a little uncomfortable at the sight of her brother turning the play fight into something more.

"Bug, my darling..."

She shakes her head as her paws carry her over to where Smokethroat and Cicadakit are, bicolored gaze focusing on the dead squirrel that her papa had laid on it's back exposing its belly and she can't help but stare at it's small button-like eyes glazed with death. That would be her if she decided to be weak, the thought making her hold her breath briefly before greeting her papa with a nod of her head and offering her littermate a smile. Beekit shifting her gaze over to Hazecloud and Rookfang as she utters out a "Good morning," She decides to take Smokethroat's other side to sit down and pay close attention to this lesson.

𓆟. ° .• . THERE MIGHT BE NOTHING LEFT TO SAY

• 
  ❥ 3 moons old
  ❥ riverclan apprentice
  ❥ sexuality unknown; single
  ❥ daughter of smokethroat & cicadastar
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ penned by bosstaurus

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