private MORE THAN LIFE // stryker

[FORESTSHADE]

It’s been hard for Forestshade to be able to focus on much of anything as of late. Without Sweetpaw at her side, she feels…empty. Like a chunk of her has been torn out and buried with him. Rib bones feel missing from her torso, leaving nothing but aching nothing. The only thing that gets her out of her nest anymore is the tom she has brought here, his success entirely on her shoulders. It’s nice, she supposes, to have something to distract her. Still, distraction doesn’t heal.

“Okay, recite the Warrior Code,” She decides to quiz him as they pad out into the territory. She plans on bringing him far out into the marsh today to work on his hunting some more - because she can face it, he needs work. He’d proven to her well enough he’s more than capable on the battlefield, but his tracking and pouncing leaves much to be desired. While they head out, she figures she might as well poke his brain to make sure he’s picked up on the set of laws she’s bound to teach him.

// @STRYKER ​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ He knows that Forestshade is grieving, though he can’t share the feeling himself. The lead warrior’s son had been a stranger, someone Stryker wouldn’t know if asked to point him out in a crowd. But that doesn’t make his death not a tragedy. Still, the tom isn’t sure how to broach the subject with Forestshade—or if he even should—so he remains silent. If she wants to talk about anything, she’ll do so on her own terms, and she probably won’t do it to a near-stranger like Stryker.

The two head out of camp, but as they do the she-cat asks him a sudden question. "The warrior code?" Stryker flicks an ear, squinting as he tries to remember the set of rules that the clans live by. "First one: you can be pals, but you can’t be part of two clans, or however they said it. Second one: stay on your own turf." The third one… he can remember the gist of it, because it’s the one that keeps him hungry when he fails to catch anything for the day. "Third rule is that you don’t eat until you feed the old folks, and fourth is thanking StarClan for food or somethin’."

'There’s only five laws, how hard could it be to remember them all?' Stryker had thought a few days ago when he’d been given a rundown of the code. Well, that Stryker was an idiot, because five rules is too many to remember. Especially when they’re worded all fancy. He can’t think of what the last rule is so he lifts a paw to his chest, his dramatics surely lost on Forestshade, and says, "The fifth one is… never give up." His voice is full of faux conviction, but a self-amused grin plays at the corner of his muzzle.

➴ i think i found a home

• ooc: —
• 
  STRYKER ❯❯ he/him, former carrionplace loner
  ➼ thin black and white tom with mismatched blue and yellow eyes. calm and nonchalant, difficult to anger.
  ➼ currently on a probationary period; shadowing forestshade.
  ➼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ➼ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

// I'm the worst omg so sorry

Her ears flick towards him as he prattles off the codes. He sort of gets the first one. The one code she has ever broken, bearing a WindClanner's kits. She shoves the thought aside and continues to listen. He's got the gist at least, even if the wording ain't all there. Eh, details, details. And when he recites the fifth 'code' the lead warrior cracks the first grin she's had since...well, her son's burial. "Close enough!" She chortles, tail whisking left and right in amusement. "You forgot one though. There are six codes - the last one means you'll have to sit vigil after you get your warrior name. If you make it that long, that is," She jests, jeering over her shoulder in his general direction.

When they reach the Burnt Sycamore, she stops and turns to face him. "Alright, show me that hunting crouch you've been working on. Not that sloppy one you came here with."​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ The tom’s expression falls flat when Forestshade laughs at him, ear flicking with faux annoyance. He tried, alright? But she says that he’s close enough, and then corrects him to add on a sixth code. Six? Geez, nobody told him clans had so many rules… but he’s in too deep to quit now, so Stryker nods along as the lead warrior explains the sixth code to him. "If I make it…" he echoes her teasing, a gentle scoff following his own words. Despite his tone, a grin is spread across his muzzle, and he shakes his head with amusement. "Have some faith in me, yeah?" Sitting a silent vigil sounds positively awful—what a boring way to celebrate becoming a warrior—but still he’s determined to make it that far. Chilledstar did threaten to murder him with their own claws if he fails, after all. And he’d very much like to keep his skin right where it belongs, attached to his body.

They eventually come to a stop beside a big, tall tree that’s been burned to a crisp, and Stryker takes a moment to tip his head back, craning his neck to see up to the very top. Is she going to ask him to climb it? Please do, he thinks, because he’s got a suspicion of what she’s going to ask him to do, and he’d rather do anything but that.

He rolls his eyes when Forestshade says exactly what he’s expecting. "What’cha mean, show you?" He mutters—as if she can even see him! He’s tired of being corrected, and corrected, and corrected, and… Can’t he just admit that hunting isn’t his thing, and move on to the things he’s actually good at, like fighting? But after a moment, Stryker concedes, ducking into an approximation of a hunting crouch—it feels horribly unnatural, but he attempts to keep his haunches perfectly aligned where they should be. His tail flickers behind him, and he turns to glance at the she-cat. "How’s this? Think the frogs’ll hear me coming?"

➴ i think i found a home

• ooc: —
• 
  STRYKER ❯❯ he/him, former carrionplace loner
  ➼ thin black and white tom with mismatched blue and yellow eyes. calm and nonchalant, difficult to anger.
  ➼ currently on a probationary period; shadowing forestshade.
  ➼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ➼ penned by foxlore

​

​

 

[FORESTSHADE]

Forestshade huffs but says nothing to his muttered complaint, chin lifting. She doesn’t need eyes to judge her apprentices’ crouches. She waits as he gets into position before standing and beginning to circle him. A fluffy tail sweeps across his back to ensure it’s straight. A rough-padded paw reaches out to jab at his flank, feeling where his haunches should sit right above his squared hind feet. Unable to be fully impressed, she comes go stand in front of him and angles her ears back. “Not perfect, but better,” She concedes, sitting back down. “But keep that tail still. I could feel it knocking against my ankles and a frog or snipe will surely hear you if that thing rustles any pine needles.”

With a jerk of her head, she signals for him to begin stalking. “Feet light. Tail still, Stryker. Don’t make me cuff ya again.” Her lips quirk up in an amused smile, fangs poking out. It’s fun having a guy to beat up. She almost doesn’t want him to become a warrior - who will she hang out with all the time once he’s free to go do whatever he wants?! ​

 

[BLACKSTRIKE]

➼➼ His wavering stance is carefully examined by the lead warrior, and the tom attempts to keep himself as still as possible. Her most harsh criticism falls upon his tail, the unruly thing—and how does he keep forgetting about it? "Control the tail. Got it." His tail shifts to sweep across the ground once more before rising to hover carefully over fallen pine needles and damp earth. It feels like an odd position to hold, so much different from traipsing carelessly through the normally-bustling place he’d haunted before. The mindsets of hunting and battling haven’t yet cemented themselves in the same space—they’re close enough to be transferable skills, but they certainly aren’t doing any transferring here. He’ll need to fix that if he’s to be a ShadowClan warrior.

At Forestshade’s command, he takes a cautious step forward. His paw settles into place with its usual grace, and he pictures a path of future pawsteps as he takes a second step. He can do this, he just needs to think of something… something still. Gentle, featherlight footsteps. Frozen in time. A fresh dewdrop poised at the edge of a leaf. His next few steps are taken with an emphasis on keeping his tail still, his ready-to-pounce stance as close to perfect as he can. Tipping his head to glance at the she-cat, he asks in her direction, "Any better now? You can still cuff me if you want. Just not too hard, or I’ll start bawling… really cause a scene." His threat flies far astray, mirth filling his voice before he’s even finished his sentence.

➴ i think i found a home

• ooc: —
• 
  BLACKSTRIKE ❯❯ he/him, shadowclan warrior
  ➼ thin black and white tom with mismatched blue and yellow eyes. calm and nonchalant, difficult to anger.
  ➼ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ➼ penned by foxlore

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