- Oct 17, 2022
- 454
- 78
- 28
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————
As recent events have shown, Snakeblink wants for social grace. The back of his head still stings faintly, the phantom sensation of Cindershade’s paw striking against his skull so stark he absently wonders if she left an imprint there, a black spot in the middle of his brown fur. The molly exercised impressive self-restraint and he is endlessly thankful for it, but he’s aware he will not always be so lucky.
Self-actualization is usually a long and troubled road, fraught with introspection and personal changes. He, personally, is sick to death of pondering the mechanisms of his own psyche, so he’s decided to take a bit of a shortcut: in the absence of an innate sense of social boundaries, he shall simply go and learn some. Fortunately for him, Riverclan recently gained one particularly observant cat who might be able to impart some of that knowledge.
He’s spent much of the past few moons watching Wasprattle, half out of well-worn paranoia towards newcomers and half because ‘watching others’ is pretty much all Snakeblink does. In this admittedly short span of time, he’s noticed that Wasprattle… does not give away much of himself. He has that same straight-backed, contemplative bearing as Cicadastar, poised and slightly remote. Snakeblink notices it less in Cicadastar, as he has known the tom for long enough that any idiosyncrasy has simply become a fact of life in his eyes, but he was struck by his brother’s containance, his way of speaking as if he is weighing every single word before allowing it to pass his lips. It seems as if, whatever the sentence that he ends up voicing, it always communicates precisely what he meant it to, no more and no less. To a cat like Snakeblink, whose tongue and mind are in a constant competition for the prize of who would embarrass him the fastest, this is nothing short of impressive.
Hence he is skulking his way closer to the cinnamon tabby, holding the nebulous steps of a plan in his mind. He has been lurking around the tom for some time, in-between patrols and other duties, reflecting on what he might have to offer him in exchange for knowledge that most cats learn well into kithood. He did not come up with anything promising: although he has much to offer, mostly in terms of gossip, he doesn’t know whether Wasprattle is interested in it and, more importantly, wouldn’t know how to broach the subject of such a trade in the first place. One simply does not ask for this kind of thing. But seeing as he does need help nonetheless, he thought he might… get a little closer to the tom. Learn from imitation, if nothing else.
If nothing else, his thoughtfulness might rub off on Snakeblink. One can only hope.
”Ah, Wasprattle. I hope I am not catching you at an inopportune time.”
Sitting without waiting for a response, Snakeblink glances at the other tom from the corner of his eye, keeping his head turned towards the rest of the camp. He allows a moment of silence before he continues. ”I am aware that you have been with us for some time now, but I wished to ask you how you were acclimating. It cannot be easy to come into a clan as an outsider, so if there is anything you would like to know, any questions you might have…” He trails off, the tip of his tail flicking before wrapping around his paws. ”I, and the rest of the clan, would be only too happy to answer.”
Self-actualization is usually a long and troubled road, fraught with introspection and personal changes. He, personally, is sick to death of pondering the mechanisms of his own psyche, so he’s decided to take a bit of a shortcut: in the absence of an innate sense of social boundaries, he shall simply go and learn some. Fortunately for him, Riverclan recently gained one particularly observant cat who might be able to impart some of that knowledge.
He’s spent much of the past few moons watching Wasprattle, half out of well-worn paranoia towards newcomers and half because ‘watching others’ is pretty much all Snakeblink does. In this admittedly short span of time, he’s noticed that Wasprattle… does not give away much of himself. He has that same straight-backed, contemplative bearing as Cicadastar, poised and slightly remote. Snakeblink notices it less in Cicadastar, as he has known the tom for long enough that any idiosyncrasy has simply become a fact of life in his eyes, but he was struck by his brother’s containance, his way of speaking as if he is weighing every single word before allowing it to pass his lips. It seems as if, whatever the sentence that he ends up voicing, it always communicates precisely what he meant it to, no more and no less. To a cat like Snakeblink, whose tongue and mind are in a constant competition for the prize of who would embarrass him the fastest, this is nothing short of impressive.
Hence he is skulking his way closer to the cinnamon tabby, holding the nebulous steps of a plan in his mind. He has been lurking around the tom for some time, in-between patrols and other duties, reflecting on what he might have to offer him in exchange for knowledge that most cats learn well into kithood. He did not come up with anything promising: although he has much to offer, mostly in terms of gossip, he doesn’t know whether Wasprattle is interested in it and, more importantly, wouldn’t know how to broach the subject of such a trade in the first place. One simply does not ask for this kind of thing. But seeing as he does need help nonetheless, he thought he might… get a little closer to the tom. Learn from imitation, if nothing else.
If nothing else, his thoughtfulness might rub off on Snakeblink. One can only hope.
”Ah, Wasprattle. I hope I am not catching you at an inopportune time.”
Sitting without waiting for a response, Snakeblink glances at the other tom from the corner of his eye, keeping his head turned towards the rest of the camp. He allows a moment of silence before he continues. ”I am aware that you have been with us for some time now, but I wished to ask you how you were acclimating. It cannot be easy to come into a clan as an outsider, so if there is anything you would like to know, any questions you might have…” He trails off, the tip of his tail flicking before wrapping around his paws. ”I, and the rest of the clan, would be only too happy to answer.”
——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
-
ooc: @WASPRATTLE.
-
— Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
— a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
— gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
