pafp HE TELLS ME NOT TO PLAY * troublemaking

[BITEFLOWER]

bio ₊˚✧ ﾟ. Fur that is usually pressed slick to his skin, carefully maintained and looked after is in no such state, spiking up. It speaks to the defiance that has his entire being arching in disgust. The life of an apprentice is doesn't agree with the wild child, leaving him more prone to vicoius frustration. Valepaw, his eyes have always roamed after his friend, Valepaw, who is soft-spoken. He doesn't like to think about what might happen in a situation where Bitepaw's not there to snap his jaws, to caterwaul and protest against most things.

As much of a recluse he's resigned himself to being as of recent, hearing of what's happened to Valepaw twists his gut. The sizable apprentice has his head lowered when he finally visits, ducks his head in. "Valepaw..?" Anger seems to loom over him, he's been short tempered as long as he's been alive, but it's never absent anymore. The presence of his friend always has his chest puffing pridefully, inspires him to try and drag the other into schemes that more often than not have him in trouble.

"You're like..." He wrinkles his nose at the herbal fragrance of the den, and the fact Valepaw is in it, it just doesn't seem right. Not a place for his friend. The den should be a friendly place, Silverpelt knows he's been in the medicine cat den with his mother enough, in the past days of kittenhood. He needs to get Valepaw out. "You've been in here so long." A whine is behind the words, without his friend in the apprentice den his jaws are closer to snapping.

"It would really, really be good for you to get out of here." His words aren't especially convincing or inspiring, so he thinks, and vicious spark lights up in his eyes. He drops his front as if he's about to pounce, as if to inspire mischief in Valepaw. "We need to show everyone who's in charge, they've probably forgotten that y'know, you exist." The casual cruelty is usual for him, slips past his lips with no thought, urged onwards by the need for freedom. Coming to the conclusion it would be for his friends own good, he shoots out a: "I'll race you to our den! Unless you think you're too slow?"

/ @valepaw ➶
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[valesight ➶]

⸙͎｡˚⋆ ⍋ ѧѦ ѧ⍋ ⸙͎｡˚⋆

It's not like he has a ton of visitors... making friends with a bunch of rude-tongued blood-police was a lot harder than he'd hoped in his kitten moons. The stories that suggest someone of noble heart and gentle mouth would be flocked to by waves of fluttering hearted allies is not the reality he needs it to be... it forces him to laze away his days in silence... in isolation more or less. It is nice, in some small way, to not hear his name called day in and day out and commanded like he is a puppet to be directed.

The shivering throbbing of his shoulder grows less and less severe with each passing day and he is more and more grateful for the kindness and softness of a pale furred priestess than ever before. It must not be easy.. to tread where her paws may and know that her path is lonely. Without a teacher, she must tumble from her nest ungraciously and hope that her wings catch a breeze strong enough to lift her into heaven-blessed skies. StarClan must be forgiving, he hopes, and patient... she deserves that much.

Guilt gnaws at him despite this, tongue tracing the sharp edges of his teeth and how they had betrayed her. To summon her with a feeble needle-sharp voice when he had crowed so furiously not to be named. It is a justice then... that his recovery has taken so long, a red-roped punishment wrapped tightly around him as a reminder not to do it again. Today however, he does not remain a lonesome prisoner of his decisions.

The relationship he has with Bitepaw is tumultuous... if only because his counterpart is alike gasoline dripping near a fire-lit wick. His temper is short... his words serrated and he lacks the patience his chimera friend shores up within himself like a dam preparing for a storm. Bitepaw is lucky that he chooses patience... His ears flick to dismiss the anger that bubbles up in his chest to hear 'Valepaw' spoken so plainly... Moonbeam and Robinheart are far more considerate.

The other apprentice keens at him that he has been trapped in this den forever and frankly.... he is inclined to agree. Perhaps it is the power of being identified, that lulls him into a need to appease his clan-mate, that encourages him to make a foolish decision. "I know..." he replies softly, a frown tugging gently at his lips, obscuring the little points of his fangs that normally peek from behind them. The suggestion to leave is intoxicating.... the memory of freedom lingering like a fever dream at the outskirts of his thoughts. "Y...yeah," he agrees, easily and stupidly, shifting in his nest to better face his soon-to-be competitor. He is careful in how he rises to sit, not once daring to put weight on his leg out of habit formed through weeks of cautious exercise, cradling it above the ground with unconscious fear for how it might hurt again.

But the gauntlet is thrown at his feet and foolishly, eagerly, he hears his name cheered in the hollows of his ears, demanding he rise to the challenge. Furrowing his brow in mock playfulness, in the spirit of competition, he crouches down, bunches his muscles with an over-eager tail lashing behind him. "I'm... I'm not a coward! I'll win!" With any luck, Otterbite might be outside to witness his speed and earn even more respect from the freckled chimera.

[ Rolled a 5 for flavor ]

The moment the clouds roll over the den's entrance, he knows to move, to charge forward with reckless abandon and as if drug along by a tight string, he lunges forward to pass his den-mate. He makes it further than leaving the den, crashing through the over-hanging leaves with a swell of pride and confidence that his legs do not immediately buckle out from under him... but the mad dash towards the apprentice's den does not see its end for Valepaw- a few more hungry strides carry him across the camp and suddenly, the jolt of his own weight meeting the ground sends a shooting pain ripping through where hardly recovered tendons scream their protest. He trips, startled by the sudden agony, and tumbles unceremoniously to the ground in a pile of sand and bark-dusty fur.

He sits up only to lift his paw to remove the burden of weight on his shoulder, nursing it like a bird with a broken wing and wheezing to keep himself from sniveling. "Hhhhnngggg..." It throbs, does not relent despite his fitful rocking, meadowlark eyes never departing himself to see how far Bitepaw had made it.​

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