private I’M THE PROBLEM // sharpshadow

[FORESTSHADE]

// @SHARPSHADOW

The lack of prey isn’t the only reason Forestshade hates leaf-bare. Aside from her empty stomach, the cold on her paws is horribly unbearable and the snow that surrounds them mostly hides the scents she relies on so much. On top of it all, sounds are subdued when the earth is covered in the absorbent blanket. For a cat without sight, few things make her feel more helpless than snow.

So she trails a little closer to her clanmates than she normally would, and today is practically stepping on the tail of Sharpshadow as she leads the way ahead. Her ears twitch, trying to catch any trace of scuttling paws or flapping wings, and finding nothing. With no hunt to focus on, her mind travels elsewhere, back to the unclaimed lands where she had ventured and been attacked by Siltcloud. Fortunately, she’d gotten away before any major wounds could have been inflicted, but she can’t forget the tingling in her limbs as she fought and ran away. The thrill.

She wants that thrill back. She wants to feel the adrenaline of trying to gain the upper hand, of remaining standing as blows come at her unseen. Impulsively, she presses her ears forwards towards her clanmate, knowing how volatile he can be. Maybe…

“Have you got carrion in your nose? You haven’t led us to a single piece of prey. This patrol is a failure,” She jabs annoyingly, purposeful in the way thorns sound on her tongue as she lays the bait.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharpshadow has not thought deeply enough about it to consider why Forestshade was so close on her heels this time around. She only thinks that vaguely, it's nice. Less keenly does she seem to take off into the unknown, only to return with the marsh's fattest hare dead in her jaws. She can just be a part of the crowd for once. Nothing more. Nothing... better. ( And perhaps Sharpshadow was the only one who saw her this way; a visage attributed since apprenticehood).

It is a bout all that she has to be happy about, whilst prowling about a dead marsh with paws sunken in snow. Hunger gnaws at her. While in the warmer seasons, he might dare to feel... something next to emboldened, all he feels in leaf - bare is thin. Who gives a rat's tail about ShadowClan's bulk when you're thin as an adder? Sootstar's cats never cared, anyways. One look close enough at her would likely give away her difficulty in battle.

Falsely. Because things were different now. Because he... he wouldn't give up so easily, anymore.

It probably annoys him less than it would most, having his tail stepped on. Broken and sad, rather than a shock of pain, he's lucky to feel a shiver.

The real shock comes when Forestshade's mouth suddenly turns on him, metaphorical fangs bared. Sharpshadow stiffens at once, fur turning to quills along her spine. Was she talking to her? Fleetingly, the part of him that might consider Forestshade... okay at times, thinks that cannot be true.

Of course it is, because Forestshade wasn't special. Because nothing about her said she wouldn't think like all the rest did, at the end of the day. A true ShadowClanner. His hackles rise. " I'm sorry, is the marsh's best hunter now incapable of hunting without— without her paw being held? " she bites. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. She's anything but defensive. She doesn't need to defend herself to her, and yet she can say anything but I'm doing fine. I'm perfectly fine at hunting. She's a warrior now because she... She raised her voice.

He shoots his fellow warrior a loon sharpened by claws, as if Forestshade would see it— but maybe it's easier because she can't. Easier to seep every bit of frustration into his gaze. " Shut up, Or... or..." it peters out into a threat that may or may not be empty. Paws scuffle in the snow. Annoying, annoying. She should've known.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

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• ( OF THE THINGS I'VE GOT IN MY BRAIN ) SHARPSHADOW: Formerly mentored by Smogmaw Mentoring Halfpaw
  ♱ he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms
  ♱ currently 19 moons old as of 1.15.24 / ages every 8th
  
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  
  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others. —scraping together some higher purpose— making somewhat of an effort to be " likeable "
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

His biting words, the air that crackles around her in frustration - it eggs Forestshade on further. Because her jabs are working. Towards…what? She hasn’t fully thought about it. She won’t think about it.

Impulsively, annoyingly, she leans forward, her sneer deepening. “Or what?” She can hear Sharpshadow’s paws scuff the snow. Is she about to throw a swing? The patched tabby hopes so. She takes a step forward as if to invite the strike, or the tackle, or however her friend might choose to attack her. Her tail lashes once, twice. “Or what, Sharpshadow. Gonna do something about it?” She pushes more, blind eyes seeming to gleam with the adrenaline of a fight not yet begun. Her pelt fluffs out as if in preparation, her ears pressing forward so she can hear the exact moment the other warrior shifts her weight towards her.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Forestshade would like her to believe that they're friends. But he knows — he's... known that's a lie, because who would ever want to be friends with her? Her mask fools no one. No one is charmed by awkward smiles and ugly laughs. Maybe Forestshade felt glee, thinking she's tricked him like this, but he wouldn't give her that victory, because he's already known. She was fooling no one; no one. Neither of them were. They were even. She thinks that, when she steps forward to met Forestshade's own sneer. Or what? a hiss trills dangerously from her throat. Gonna do something about it?

Sharppaw wouldn't have. Sharppaw would've stood still and scuffed claws against the cold ground. She would ruminate in not being able to lash her tail and gaze wide, frightened daggers into her attacker, but inaction did not let her become a warrior. Inaction has never, ever made her feel better. Even if its for a second — only a second, tearing her claws into something would make her feel better than standing still ever did.

His answering yowl is unflattering when he launches himself at his friend — clanmate with little thought, perhaps searching for a quick pin, but it's not something that Forestshade would give him easily.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

• 
  
  

• 

• 
  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 19 moons old as of 2.2.24
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

She hears the yowl first and her ears flatten to her skull in response, her muscles tensing when she hears his paws leave the ground. Sharpshadow’s body collides with hers, her heavier frame saving her from being taken to the ground immediately, but it is enough to send her stumbling backwards with a grunt.

The torbie rights herself as quickly as she can and tries to swing her paws where she imagines the smoke’s head to be; whether she’s right or not is a mystery until the blows land (or don’t land). Her claws are sheathed, of course - she doesn’t actually want to hurt the she-cat. But she tries her best to keep swinging blindly, snout wrinkled and the tips of her fangs bared. She waits for the adrenaline to hit; maybe a few more swipes should do the trick.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

In her fit of rage, Sharpshadow hardly sees any better than Forestshade does. A paw connects with her face, the other whizzes narrowly past. It hardly hurt, of course, because Forestshade had the gall to pretend she didn't want to hurt her after saying all that she had. With a hiss, Sharpshadow would rise on his hind legs, trying to escape the press of his clanmates sheathed paw to his face. His retreat is brief before he's instead seizing the opportunity to aim blows aimed at at Forestshade's ears and her own damned face. It'd mean much less to her, to potentially risk an enemy on her eyes in battle, but it'd still hurt

A brief moment of mental clarity tells Sharpshadow not to rip; not to tear, but he'd like to see Forestshade on the ground either way. He wants her to take it back. He wants her to never talk to him that way again. Pick your ruse and stick to it, inwardly, he thinks. Outwardly, he growls, teeth glinting.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

• 
  
  

• 

• 
  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 20 moons old as of 2.13.24 ; ages every 8th
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

She feels her paws connect and expects to feel that surge of excitement. It doesn't come. If Sharpshadow were to look closely, perhaps she'd even see the disappointed frown pulling at her lips. It's not working. She feels her clanmate's paws pummel her ears and head and she falls backwards, disoriented. Even as she hits the frozen ground, it still does nothing. There is no threat here. It's just her and her friend, two cats who know each other well and wouldn't dare to actually harm each other. It's a lost cause.

Huffing to catch her breath after the wind got knocked out of her, she sits up and gives her thick pelt a shake. "Nice swing," She mutters, raising a paw to rub it against her jaw. It's as if all desire to fight has left her in a flash, like she didn't care all that much about the fight to begin with.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharpshadow is spitting, midnight hackles raised past the usual idle bristle of her coat. She thinks Forestshade must be the same, angered to the point of needing to raise her claws in retaliation. But she falls — and that's it. The thud as she hits the frozen ground is more satisfying than anything she does thereafter. Sharpshadow remains poised, teeth set in an agonizing grind. When Forestshade heaves herself upward, she expects a counterattack.

Nothing. She just gets up like she slipped on a puddle. Shakes her pelt in the way she always does when its time to stop lounging. Blasé. Is that what it is? Sharpshadow is left blinking in disbelief, as she rubs at her pale jaw. " Thanks, " comes out, bitter as bile; but at once he feels like a fool. Forestshade clearly didn't care as much as he did.

There is a moment of silence, as he sits and wonders. Silver eyes gaze aimlessly out into nothing, and then he's turning his head. " Are you done? " comes out, increadelous; and it's a genuine thing, not sarcasm nor cynisism... though a hint of it was there. His own ear flicks again and again, trying to shake off the phantom touch of Forestshade's strike.

with myself i must play in this game of charades ( ♱ ) cause there's no one to speak to

• 
  
  

• 

• 
  SHARPSHADOW: he / she , no pref , dislikes gender neutral language ; fine with gendered terms ; 21 moons old as of 3.11.24 ; ages every 8th
  

  dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between chimera halves. Burdened with a broken tail, often lying dead behind her in the dirt.

  Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharpshadow has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  heavy ic opinions! he's irrational and mean </3

​