having a good time | intro

[TIGERHEAT]

With ease a large body slips up from the water. A behemoth in his own right dripping water from a flaming pelt. His eyes are half open as he clutches a large fish in his jaws. A meal for himself of course. After all with all the prey in the pile and his own somewhat meager contribution he is sure that they will be fine. Well fed or whatever it is that they want. But for him he feels like eating what he catches fresh. Not what has been sitting out in a pile of carcasses. Shaking himself the water slips off his pelt with ease and he drops the fish on the ground. Large teeth flash as he allows a yawn to pull from his muzzle before he leans over the fish. Things have been slightly bothersome as of late, especially when it comes to Cold. He doesn't care for the molly anymore and what he did during their short relationship is his business and somewhat her's now. The reason they are not together anymore. Such a scandal. He snorts as he flips the fish over and uses his claws to slice into the fish.

His thick and hellish weapons easily slice down the gut of the fish. The tom watches as the guts spill out and he makes sure to get them all out. He hates the way it tastes anyway and he kicks much of it back into the river. His muzzle twitches as he glances up before he settled down to chew on the back of the fish, stripping scales off and spitting them out to get to the meat that he wants.​

 

[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

disgust washes over her as she watches the scene. watching the waste be discarded back into the river. thankfully, the scaled beasts never seem to be too picky with food. she's sure they'll consume the innards within a few heartbeats. a fish should be eaten down to the bone, she thinks. perhaps it's due to the taste, or the fact buck grew with an innate hunger. never satiated. but she's heard of this tom, gossip spreads fast within the reeds, and buck is a shameless consumer. she thinks of the act as important for the continuation of safety. it's why she finds herself to have little to say to him.

she simply nods her head to acknowledge his existence but doesn't bother with much else. she's done her share and is ready for a private meal. she stays across the bank from tigerheat, eyes upon the waters, perhaps for a bigger fish than his.
​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

The shadow appeared leaning down almost ominiously behind the other warrior, his voice a gravelling purr.
"Do you hate its guts~?" There is an almost meanspirited amusement in his tone as he comments, moving past Tigerheat to the river's side to perch on the pebble outcrop and await his own fish to appear. That sort of picky and squeamish behavior was going to cause the tom problems come the cold, but for now he'd ignore it becuse the entrails were reintroduced back into the river; it fed their fish and let them grow. Prey was fine for now, like Buckgait he ignored it for the time being. Speaking of their new deputy he glanced her at a distance and raised a tail in greeting but otherwise said nothing to her directly. It was strange. One on paw he was pleased there was another to carry the burdens of clan life and structure, to ease the weight from Cicadastar's brow, but he also wasn't sure where his trust should lie in conflict. The she-cat spoke exclusively for the river, the territory, the blood of the land; where the mottled tom the people. A good balance, but he suspected their did not share an equal footing just yet; in time perhaps the two would work well together but he expected a few bumps in the road until then.
But for now he was going to catch a fish and eat it whole in front of Tigerheat for amusements sake.


​

 

[TIGERHEAT]

The massice tom can feel the eyes of someone watching him. And rather it's in good faith or not he doesn't much care about. The tom knows he has done nothing wrong and has been eating this way since before Riverclan showed up. So he continues his meal and nibbles on the flesh, minding the bones before Smokethroat arrives. His gaze looks easily amused as he looks to the tom, tail swaying a bit before he chuckles warmly to what he says. "I don't particularly hate it. I just don't have a fondness for the taste of a fishes' shit." He muses as if he finds the situation hilarious as well. Still if they like it so much then by all means they can get the guts as much as they want to. Just don't get upset when he decides to call them shit mouths for the things they decide to put in it.

The hefty tom shifts himself then and pulls the fish closer to his body. He tears into the face of the meal, easily shredding it and tearing off chunks. He can say it is a nice day decide company present and so he enjoys that for the moment.​

 

[BEESONG]

beesong was raised to be grateful for every meal. whether it was the rotting corpse of a rat or twoleg scraps wrapped in silver foil, whatever could fill his belly that day was good enough for him. of course, after his twolegs took him in, meals became easier, more predictable. they always ensured that beesong was well-fed, with the dry pellets and the wet chunks masquerading as meat. even still, beesong would never forget his street-taught lessons; storing food away underneath his impossibly soft nest, stealing scraps of his twolegs' meals when they weren't watching...

and now, moons after the fire had taken their home and second family away, beesong holds onto old habits. eating whatever is available to them, no matter if the slimy texture of a frog disgusted them or if the strong taste of a fish assaulted their taste buds. food is food, and to waste it is foolish. especially when the cold season is settling in.

so, when beesong notices tigerheat discarding of the guts of a fish, his snout wrinkles with displeasure. if his father had caught him being so wasteful as a kit... he wouldn't have eaten for a quarter-moon. "you should enjoy every bite while you can," the healer warns as he pads closer to the profligate tom, scooping what little of the guts he could away from the river where they'd been kicked. (someone else would appreciate the meal, he's sure.) soon, tigerheat might be wishing he'd savored the entirety of the fish rather than picking and choosing.​