pafp my heads not yours - its mine ◈ spar

[Bearflight]

—————————————————————⊰◈⊱————————————————————
Bearpaw can't say he's exactly thrilled about this, but there is no real reason to outright reject such an offer-or in this case demand. Sootspot wasn't a cat you really wanted to argue with, quick to fight and quicker to hold a vendetta and he couldn't tell if it was self-confidence or his position as one of Sootstar's children that made him so willing to push things but it wasn't as if he was being asked anything obscene. Just to be the other participant in a spar. Against a tunneler apprentice. His brow furrows in thought and his blue gaze darts briefly to Brightshine, though she has little reason to protest either and they might be both stuck dealing with this. He wonders how she felt about her kits being mentored by cats like Sootspot, who would throw them into the fray with little help and watch to see if they could stand on their own.

"...with Downypaw?" He asks, though he's already aware of the answer and knows she is his intended opponent, but he hopes the confusion is evident enough how bothered he is by this. Downypaw was much smaller than him by far, in part to being a tunneler and also just in general. He was big for his age, already filling out into grown proportions more than his siblings were and he was likely to be as big as Sunstride was by the time he hit twelve moons and maybe well before depending. Fighting Downypaw was like asking a badger to face a mouse. With the way WindClan trained with claws out he was likely to actually do serious harm even if he tried to hold back to the best of his abilities. Bearpaw had a suspicion this was meant to punish Downypaw for their disrespect in asking to be a moor runner alongside Pinkpaw, that daft little tortiseshell had gotten her and her siblings into a heap of trouble over it. Not that he could actually feel anger at the desire to choose ones path. He was fortunate he was put on the one he desired, not that he liked this aspect of it. Bearpaw would defend himself and his clan when necessary, but this felt pointless. This felt a touch cruel. Why not find Downypaw an opponent more her size, who they could face on eye level?

"...doesn't seem very fair does it?" He asks the gray and white tom, tone light as if amused, "...well, Downypaw you can have the first move." The quiet implication being he would not be unsheathing his claws or swinging back, but was perfectly alright letting Downypaw take a few swings at him as needed. What could she possibly do to hurt him anyways? Maybe they'd all get bored of this and let them go hunting.

◈ ——— it's easy to explain ◈ ——— 'cause this world's not tame (little fang, little fang)

• PAFP - Please let @downypaw post first!
  Mentor Tags - @BRIGHTSHINE! & @SOOTSPOT
  
• 
  
  
  Bearpaw
  —⊰⋅ Apprentice of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Chocolate Rosette Tabby w/blue eyes.
  

​

 

[downyfur]

Dry Leaf-fall grass crinkles around their pale toes, which they’d crunched into the earth the moment Sootspot announced their opponent. Despite being the same age, they hardly knew the boy aside from being another one of Featherpaw and Rivepaw’s littermates. That unhappy(?) circumstance is attributed by them to having been raised in the medicine cat den, an easy crossroads for Wolfsong’s remaining eye to keep watch over his children and his patients.

They don’t know him personally, but it seems they’re about to very soon. Downypaw swallows a mouthful of trepidation upon their glance towards him, or should they say up towards him? Even at their age, the difference between their heights is stark, like the outline of Bearpaw’s massive head against the high sun.

What do tunnelers even need to fight for anyway? It’s a bitter thought, one they try to quash quickly with reason. Rogues, for one. The other clans, for another. They hadn’t forgotten the bloodied return of the Highstones patrol, nor the presence of ShadowClan kits within the gorse walls. Sootstar had enough moor-runner bodies to throw at them though.

A quiet chime in the deepest, dirt-free recesses of their skull suggests that this isn’t the will of Sootstar at all, but of her son. Her son, whose name they’d kicked dirt all over when their sister had dragged them to bother Sootstar with her inane requests. A bit of dread, a bit of rage, even after the passing of a few sunrises since the event.

They don’t want to hurt Bearpaw—they don’t even think they could, if they wanted to—but they’re indebted to their mentor even more than usual. Their opponent himself doesn't seem the slightest bit threatened, which they don't take offense to. If anything, they're only relieved that he doesn't immediately burst into laughter. The tabby hums a comment to their mentor, and Downypaw almost wants to snap at him to shut up before Sootspot finds a way to punish them for his flippant casualness. "We have to," they murmur, resignedly shuffling a hind paw into a steadier position.

Older apprentices and their warriors had held a few matches before they and Bearpaw had been pushed together; out of the corner of their eye, they spot another pair continuing at it. They close their eyes, trying to conjure to mind something they'd seen them do. Fighting someone seemed intuitive until it wasn't, and then they were standing before a veritable wall of fur and flesh and gentle blue eyes with nothing on their mind. There was someone who... They don't really know what the warrior had done, only that they had a chance of doing it too.

As quickly as they can, Downypaw leaps towards Bearpaw and attempts to strike the underside of his jaw, tiny kitten claws unsheathed. Downypaw scrunches their eyes tight as their paw swings out, the slightest brace against the monumental blow soon to come.​

 

[BRIGHTSHINE!]

When she heard the instruction come from Sootspot, the calico had looked to him in surprise before quickly looking between her daughter and apprentice. Aren't they a bit young? Is the first though to enter her head, but she'd never dare say it aloud to Sootstar's son. Instead, she shifts her position to look down at Bearpaw, a small frown pulling at her lips but she gives him a nod of encouragement. "We haven't touched much on fighting yet," She tells the other mentor, as if to warn for Bearpaw's lack of training that will quickly become apparent as soon as the spar begins. "But, um - go for it, guys! Just remember to have fun!" Her chirp is strained, nervous, but for all it's worth she's doing a good job of bringing her usual optimism to the scene.

She steps away to give them space as Downypaw pounces and aims a strike at Bearpaw's face. She catches the sun's glint off of unsheathed claws and her stomach worms with discomfort, already wanting this to be done.​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

Betrayal and WindClan were denmates, too often it was easier to guess that everyone had their own agenda than put one's faith in someone who would climb over his family's legacy for a chance at glory. It shouldn't have been surprising when Downypaw acted similar to all those before them, but there was a nagging pain in their heart all the same - as if a gap had been created that couldn't be filled. When other projects didn't work out, they could be scrapped, thrown aside, changed into something completely different. Sootspot didn't know how to adapt a living being once it had proven its value was overcompensated, once it had made a mockery of him before the whole clan, once it undermined him in front of his own mother. It seemed that there was no penance for such crimes but death, alas, the physical kind was not one he found himself capable of. Emotional? Mental? They were easier things to kill, especially when Downypaw figured out that they would never be big enough to be a Moor Runner. His own realisation of the fact had been heartbreaking when faced with the mockery Tunnelers received, he could only hope Downypaw's clarity was even more agonising.

That was a punishment he could live with, that was why he had asked Bearpaw to spar with his apprentice, that was why he stood tall, purpose filling his chartreuse eyes. All he could hope was that Sunstride's son could take it seriously enough to fulfill his wishes. "My apprentice wishes to be you," he smiled towards Bearpaw, though his stare never met the apprentice's own, as if any further acknowledgment would somehow lower Sootspot to the young one's level. "Fairness is not a concept in your world, a RiverClan Warrior would kill you whether you were a mouse-length or the size of the dog." Tufted ears flicked at Brightshine's intervention, declaring that they hadn't addressed fighting much at all. 'Isn't that all you moor-runners do?' All he'd ever seen his younger siblings do was spar, all he'd seen the older warriors do was spill their own blood in the camp to practice. He pretended to ignore the other mentor as the battle begun, Downypaw asked to make the first move by her opponent, the only 'fairness' that they would likely see in the spar to come. The Tunneler apprentice's closed eyes seemed to all but resign their fate - they did not have the instinct to be a Moor-Runner, either.


​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── There is a disparity in ferocity among his kits which has grown more apparent as they have aged. Bearpaw and Sunlitpaw are...gentle, especially compared to Rivepaw and Featherpaw. Singedpaw falls somewhere in between. Wolfsong is not foolish; he knows children are not born as warriors, but there are traits which smooth the way to becoming a feared opponent. Offering Downypaw the first move is not one such trait, and Wolfsong exhales quietly through his nose as his son attempts to level the field between them.

"I doubt any RiverClanner could fell a dog alone," he remarks evenly on the tail-end of Sootspot's lecture. "Why did you request a spar between them?" Judging from Brightshine's comment, Wolfsong finds it unlikely she was responsible for pairing them, and Wolfsong cannot say he is particularly impressed by the tunneler's decision. "The untested should not begin by sparring each other. They merely reinforce each other's mistakes and poor battle habits." He shakes his head. "A mentor would know when to avoid critical injury; a fledgling does not." ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[Azaleafrost]

Azaleafrost watches from a distance as the two wildly different in size apprentices are made to spar. She would think nothing of it, usually, but she had heard the ruckus caused by Pinkpaw and her sibling, and seeing how Sootspot held himself, she could sense there was something more to this fight than meets the eye. She too was familiar with the need to CRUSH someone's hopes and dreams, to crush them beneath her paws. She wasn't going to get involved until she saw Wolfsong head over, and wherever Wolfsong goes, Azaleafrost is happy to join him.

She doesn't like any of Sootstar's brood. They all needed to be brought down. Humbled. Humiliated. She longs for the day she can do it herself. She hopes when or if that time comes, Weaselclaw is watching from wherever he is. She hopes Sootstar is watching too.

Sitting neatly beside Wolfsong, she gives Sootspot a quick once over and then nods in agreement with Wolfsong.

"I wouldn't take combat advice from Sootspot anyways." She says, her expression ever void of emotion. She wouldn't take any kind of advice from the tom, actually. Even more actually, there are few cats she DOES listen to in terms of advice. She can.... Probably count them on one paw.

But for now, she's here to be an annoying presence to Sootstars ilk, simply because she enjoys being under their skin. Petty? Probably. Thats exactly what it is, actually.​

 

[Bearflight]

—————————————————————⊰◈⊱————————————————————
Punishment then, so he figured. Sootspot was not subtle, both a blessed trait and a rather infuriating one. He didn't like Pinkpaw much and found her to be obnoxious but there was no reason to be so cruel about her place or Downypaw's place in the clan. Did they not deserve to choose? Did they not deserve a proper discussion on it? A sit down explaining how they would fit better and that it would benefit the clan more, rather than this demand otherwise that they meekly dip their heads and agree without question. He worries over these thoughts often, how he feels himself feeling too self-righteous at the worst times, but his blue gaze drifts back to Brightshine's strained smile and he thinks he understands a little better that strength lies more in knowing when to hold your tongue than lashing out with it. Bearpaw says none of what he is thinking, tightens his jaw as the smaller apprentice scurries forward with a deft swing and he tilts his head back far enough to avoid the brunt of it but not enough that claws do not score under his chin and leave bright red slices in their wake.
It stung, but the same way being tangled in a bramble might - he could grit his teeth and tolerate it.

His ðir is there and his tousled rosette pelt trembles with restrained uncertainty. An apology would be in order later and he steps to the side and away from the front of Downypaw to force them to turn in order to keep him in her sights but again he made no move to retaliate, no attempt to unsheath or sling his own claws out though the white fur of his throat had been dappled lightly with tiny red pinpricks forming from the small cuts on his chin; Bearpaw didn't seem particularly phased or invested. A fledgling might hurt more than a hawk would, he ponders Wolfsong's remark and dismisses it.
Downypaw was not a fledgling, Downypaw was an egg - unhatched, a plover's egg; potential not yet revealed to the world but whirring inside a shell meant to protect. Just like him.

"...almost hurt." He goads, tone playful and light; not indulging in the dire tone that persisted.

◈ ——— it's easy to explain ◈ ——— 'cause this world's not tame (little fang, little fang)

•  
• 
  
  
  Bearpaw
  —⊰⋅ Apprentice of WindClan
  —⊰⋅ He/Him
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ SH Chocolate Rosette Tabby w/blue eyes.
  

​

 

[downyfur]

Sootspot doesn't look at them. It makes them feel like a bug, somehow, like some many-legged thing inching a muzzle-length beneath his pristine paw. Downypaw looks at her mother instead. She doesn't know what she's looking for in her scrunched-up smile—encouragement? Pity? Comfort? Anger, even?—and she's disappointed when she can't find it, whatever it is. Remember to have fun. They can't, not with Sootspot at one moment staring them down and another pretending they don't exist. Wolfsong and Azaleafrost's comments go unnoticed in the whoosh of her lunge.

They feel their paw sweep through the air and catch just slightly upon Bearpaw's cheek, so light they don't know whether they've got him or only his cheek fur until they land. Oceanic eyes flash towards their opponent, still bracing for the hit with tightened legs and spine. Bearpaw has shuffled a few pawsteps away, a placid morning sky unperturbed in his youth-wide eyes. Red, startling in its intensity, leaks from the smallest line on his pale chin. It's so thin, Downypaw could've drawn it on him themself with berry juice like his sister does. They feel the snake in their limbs uncoil a little bit.

Confusion still darkens her brow. "What's going on?" Bearpaw's suddenly sick, that's why he's so calm; or maybe they actually really hurt him, and he's dazed; or the present father of his had told him something, so now he's thinking about that and not attacking. But his eyes remain a crystalline blue, pupils unconstricted and resting squarely upon them. The smaller apprentice glances towards her mentor, willing him to look at them to at least give them an order. This doesn't feel quite right, going in for another attack on someone who hasn't done anything to them.

ooc: sorry that this is so late, i just wanted to get another post in!​