private I go buy the hard sell ⸙ Deerpaw

[Brackenpaw]

Sometimes Brackenpaw wondered that if they carried a nicer demeanour that would mean maybe she would need to do less apprentice chores. Though she’s unsure how realistic it is she’s certain that there’s some kind of spite to motivate her mentor to make her march to the elders den to pick off ticks. Their pawpads itch at the thought of it and yet here they were, waiting until StarClan could grace them with a tickless pelt. It felt like hours had passed, maybe they did but she wasn’t sure how much of that is true and how much is her brain throwing a tantrum. They try to not show an outward displeasure, despite the fact that their scowl seems deeper than usual, ears fighting to keep upright even if they wish to pin against her skull.

It could be worse she reasoned, at least there was another apprentice stuck here with her in this task. Eyes narrow at the brown and white tom, a distraction enough from the monotony of the task in attempts to decipher his motives for being here. Had he upset his mentor, was this just a run of the mill occurrence or was this something he maybe volunteered to do. The thought of the latter was laughable, who would actually find enjoyment from being tasked with things like this?

Eventually freedom is obtained, coincidentally it is also when Deerpaw leaves the elders' den. With a flick of their tail they decide against walking in the opposite direction to the apprentice, instead taking this opportunity for an interrogation. Walking in tandem with him in relative silence until she decides it’s an appropriate time to talk. “So what do you think of your chores?” they whisper conspiratorially, cocking their head to the side to wait for some kind of answer.

There’s a noise of acknowledgement, never one to let her own opinions be unknown; she decides that it’s only fair for them to weigh in. “I hate them, I get why we have to do it but that doesn’t mean I have to like it” they shudder, as much as they enjoy insects if they had to see another one right now they just might scream.

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‎‎ ‎┌── Im just a dog ⸙ with no bite ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  ooc. @deerpaw
  
•  
• Brackenpaw
  ✩ they/she, tunneler apprentice of Windclan, 11 moons (ages on the 22nd)
  ⭃ a lithe and fragile looking calico that looks like they still need to grow into her ears
  ⭃ Speech, thoughts, attacking
  ⭃ NPC x NPC, mentored by Scorchstreak | Formally mentored by Bluefrost
  ⭃ easy to befriend other kits, gradually harder to befriend every rank after that
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Juice ↛ @/ouijeejuice on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  ⭃ All opinions are IC!! Bracken is a little hater
  

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[deerpaw]

Usually, he prefers to be stuck doing chores by himself. Especially in the elders' den; they're chatty, and don't expect him to reply with much more than polite smiles. Their gossip breaks up the monotony, and makes him feel a little more in the know about his Clanmates, though sometimes something unkind will be brought up and he'll have to bite his tongue to keep any distressed noises from escaping. Today, though, he has another apprentice with him. It's Brackenpaw, one of the rudest cats in the apprentices' den, though he does have a nicer memory of her complimenting Vulturepaw's flower decorations. Maybe... maybe he can find and dig up that side of her again? He doesn't want to be a target of her ire, so what would make her like him? Or at least tolerate him.

But she doesn't seem interested in conversation, not until they're both leaving the den. Instead of going off on their own, Brackenpaw follows him. They don't speak for a moment, leaving him side-eyeing them warily. “So what do you think of your chores?” they finally whisper. "O-Oh, um. They're, fine, I guess? N-Necessary?" No, idiot, he berates himself. Aren't normal apprentices supposed to hate chores?

His words are acknowledged before he can try to fix his blunder, and he desperately grasps at their response for a way out of his mess. "Um, yes, I, they're kind of. B-Boring, actually! There's -" Deerpaw tries to summon a truly disdainful grimace to his face. It only sort of works. He looks more sympathetic than disgusted. "There's so much more, um, fun things we could be doing."

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── my biggest enemy is me ⋆⋅🥀⋅⋆ ever since day one ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• 
  
  "speech"
  

• 

• DEERPAW ❀ he/him, apprentice of windclan, eleven moons
  ⭃ a tall, lanky chocolate ticked tabby tuxedo with big copper eyes. quiet and sensitive, he keeps to the fringes of windclan out of a deep sense of insecurity. without his father to guide him, he's lost sight of where his life is supposed to go. he thinks he has to be useful in order to be liked.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by solaire ↛ @funeralscythe on discord, feel free to ping for plots.
  

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