MAGIC IN MY BONES ☣︎ gracklestep

[Mintshade]

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Call it boredom perhaps, but she wandered restless through the tall grass to the sunwarmed pool without much purpose in her gait but confidence ever present in her looming and wiry frame. Mintshade was frustrated, to put it simply, the sense of longing she had sought to soothe still settled like an ache in her chest and it left her irate and quick to snap at apprentice and kit alike for getting in her way. Maybe it was why her mischievous nature reared its ugly head once more, she had for a time stopped picking fights and prodding at her clanmates - a combination of the tenson prior to the war and the aftermath of open wounds still healing but the moment she spotted the equally dark figure of another cat by the water she was moving. Purpose flooded her once more, at least, green eyes narrowed in focus as she slid swiftly through the brush like a shadow cast from a tall spire - in seconds she reached the cattail ringed water and slammed her shoulder into the back of the bent over tom there with as much force as she should muster.

Mintshade's laugh rose high, a hyena cackle of delight, "Gyeh heh heh! Gracklestep! Didn't see you there!" She only realized who it was once she had struck him and his sopping wet head resurfaced to look her way - for a moment she had expected Snakehiss but frankly it was a good thing it wasn't him. She'd have drowned him without hesitation.
"Looking to join RiverClan are you? You look more like something they'd fish up and eat!"

☣︎ All my friends are heathens, take it slow ☣︎ — Wait for them to ask you who you know

• - @gracklestep
• 
  
  
  Mintshade
  —⊰⋅ Warrior (Moor Runner) of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Solid black cat w/ acid green eyes.
  

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

Halcyon pierces tempestuous ripples with enough focus to easily mistake his intentions. While he leans forward with a barely parted maw, keeled over as if prepared to steal a bounty from the river, Gracklestep makes no move to swipe at the slippery, glistening prey that lingers below the surface. It would be a wasted effort.. and would disturb the startling reflection of shadow and gilt that stares back in jagged bone structure and healthy, pearly teeth. Dust of the pollen-heavy moors sticks to his coat alike pollen to a bee's delicate, fuzzy body. If not for the less than desirable taste, he'd just lick it off but it is so dry and dusty... it irritates his nose, the corners of his eyes.

The resolution is made quick in the deft shove that forces his face past just a point of awed staring, a spluttering of bubbles and a small, surprised gasp being his initial, startled reaction. The voice that admits itself the villain of this prank is one he can hardly find reason to be furious with- when hadn't Mintshade been a bit of an oddball? His face hovers above the disturbed river where water dribbles down his face, pulling his thin fur into an awkward, spiky chinned, gaunt-looking thing.

"Could've fooled me," he drones in long, drawn out syllables while lemon-sour eyes drag to meet her gaze. "A touch so firm as that seems a bit more than accidental." Drawing a paw up to wipe some of the excess dampness away, he flicks it with a practiced level of disdain even if it had offered some mild relief to stinging eyes. "I don't imagine I'd taste very good... Though I suppose they do eat eels... Maybe it wouldn't be a half bad idea. Then I'd have an excuse to grab you and throw you into the river with me."

A good-natured grin spreads across gangly features, that same paw from before now leans precariously close to her instead- an idle, playful threat that this should not be entertained lest she wanted a cool, moist taste of revenge.​

 

[Mintshade]

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"What can I say-I'm pretty strong, don't know my own strength you know!" A paw raised to her mouth, muffling a snickering serious of wheezing laughs as she took in his dripping wet visage. At the very least Gracklestep had a sense of humor and she didn't need to worry about someone whining and crying to the nearest authority figure to tattle on her for her mischief; sometimes it was funny how the clan had been so restrictive before under her sister yet all the more willing to complain about such ridiculous things as being pushed in a pool - now things seemed lighter. She wasn't sure how much she liked it or not.
The lean black molly lifts her head up with a crooked grin at the threat, a paw curled in preparation to slap down and douse her in revenge; but he was a fool if he didn't think she was more than willing to get a little damp in exchange for having the last laugh.
Lowering herself to the ground Mintshade gave a little wiggle in place, tail raised, before she sprang forward with all four limbs spread out to get as much surface coverage as she could before slamming down into the water and sending a rising torrential wave of it spilling out around her in every direction. Water lapped the edges of the dirt shore, swept over grass and rocked cattails and her head burst from the rippling center with a shrill cackle, "Don't threaten me with a good time!"
Mintshade knew how to swim a little bit, but by no means was she a RiverClan cat - the marsh colony had lived along the waters and in damp, soggy places that it made sense to at least know the basics of flailing your limbs to remain afloat. With long legged kicks she paddled about in a circle, circling the tom as a hawk in the air might a wounded rabbit, "You know, Gracklestep, you don't have a stick lodged up your tail end like some cats. It's welcome to see."

☣︎ All my friends are heathens, take it slow ☣︎ — Wait for them to ask you who you know

•  
• 
  
  
  Mintshade
  —⊰⋅ Warrior (Moor Runner) of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Solid black cat w/ acid green eyes.
  

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

It is a miscalculation to not expect Mintshade to take that one step further for the sake of entertainment- her quirky nature shouldn't be a surprise after so many moons living within the confines of the same rat race. It is in this moment that Gracklestep is particularly appreciative of a wiry coat so thin that moisture dare not linger much longer than to dribble alike speeding bullets down his frame. The puddle that forms under him grows more quickly with every sopping second, shared in its intensity only by the amused heheheh under his breath.

The spring's sun is not yet a malevolent force of fire but its unexpected warmth compared to the frigid moon-song of the winter is enough to allow him to fool himself into thinking this a nice, comforting dampness rather than one that might secure a speedy death to hypothermia.

"You may win the battle, but I might just win the war..." He'd have to be more conscious of his surroundings if he were to make good on that... find tiny moments to tease and prod back at her when she would least expect it. Hopefully with the slow, ebbing of the tide of tension that had such a firm grasp on WindClan, others wouldn't mind being dragged into his antics from time to time.

He wades into the shallows, a little further still until the rippling surface brushes at thin belly-fur, watching as his piscine captor treads careful circles around him. "I imagine it'd be terribly painful- and boring- to have a stick lodged up there..." Teeth glint across shadowed features, impressed with his own sarcastic joke before lifting a paw to flick some water at her passing face. "About time you noticed that I can be fun." They'd only been clan-mates for many seasons' cycles...

She is as air-headed as her laugh is airy.​

 

[Mintshade]

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The dark molly paddles, circling predator-like still and with her tail raised; the fin of a sea seperent cutting throught the waves, parting the sea.
"I didn't say FUN, I just said you didn't have nothing lodged up there." She scoffed, teeth wideset in a smile that would send the fear of StarClan's wrath done on any cat younger than 6 moons. Maybe its why she hadn't gotten a new apprentice since Moorblossom, or maybe its cause she only trained traitors it seemed. Mintshade chuckled at that, amused at how significant that was when she herself had been so devoted at one point.
"Why didn't you?" She asked suddenly, Mintshade's acid green eyes wide in thought, "Why didn't you leave? Why didn't I?" She couldn't recall, had Gracklestep gone to the barn or stayed here? The entire period was a blur of infection and rot in her head and she couldn't remember much due to her injuries then; the same injuries that prevented her from fighting in the end against Sootstar's final stand. She was only there to watch the clan shred her to pieces, a battle she had not participated in. For once her claws did not ache for bloodshed, she only felt empty. She only felt pity.

☣︎ All my friends are heathens, take it slow ☣︎ — Wait for them to ask you who you know

•  
• 
  
  
  Mintshade
  —⊰⋅ Warrior (Moor Runner) of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ She/Her
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Solid black cat w/ acid green eyes.
  

​

 

[gracklestep]

˚₊⋅───────── /ᐠ - ˕ -マ ─────────⋅ ˚₊

With a careful, drawn out roll of his eyes, the inky collection of urchin-like spindles doesn't feel the semantics worth arguing over, especially not when his point was to remain calm, collected and untouchable. Her nagging, however intent it was on unseating his unbothered facade, was harmless and shouldn't be held as more than a mild irritant at best.

He'd have to find a more creative way to convince her he was fun... the main problem being that Mintshade's concept of fun was very convoluted and defied the traditional sense of the word in almost every circumstance. The change in topic is as alarming and disarming as her wicked grin, moss-green orbs so round with her self-contained thoughts that she almost didn't remember to provide any context.

It's a wild departure from the playful harassment of a moment before- his maw hangs open in a silent search for his words and for a moment he wonders if she asks more so in hopes he might be able to explain her choice to her. Might yet rationalize her decision where a confusion of grief and relief make it blurry. "It's always been about survival," it comes out far more callous than intended.

But it's the truth. Gracklestep had only ever had his best interests at heart. Sootstar's success or Sunstride's felt inconsequential... He just wanted the security of a home to return to. Of prey to fill his belly. Companionship that swelled the odds of leading a long life. "I only get to do this thing once... As long as I don't stand out much, I can coast by and enjoy it."

What else was there to care about? Except self enjoyment in the nebulous amount of time you had?​