private NO SHAME IN LETTING GO [ ♱ ] HONEYJAW

[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharppaw has never quite recovered. That is— from the awkward show he had put on for Honeyjaw not long ago, sliding into the midst of his conversation with the adeptness of a newborn kit hunting prey. He's wondered what he should do about it, if anything. If his perception in Honeyjaw's eyes had been tarnished beyond belief, by that action— but perhaps for that, he would have to have a good reputation to begin with. Ignore it. Apologize. Ignore it. Say something...

A new mindset has acutely taken over. That being— who cares? Who cares what he thought of her? Who cares about what she did? Out here, where the prey ran better than it ever would in ShadowClan, she didn't have to care. She didn't have to waste her time on this. All she cares about is her bundle of Lungwort. That was the show of loyalty, wasn't it? That she has trekked here with cats she despised for a few measly flowers, ones that would save no one she cared about. No one could judge her— could look at her in disdain, when she has done something so undeniably loyal. Who cares were her heart is? She is more loyal than most.

She cares so little, that she would tell Honeyjaw so. " I– I've figured it out, " he tells him. And it's hard to sound haughty when she still stumbles over her words like a kit ( Like an apprentice. ) " It's all easier when– when I don't care. " Is it because he knows him? Because he's a clanmate, that he still stumbles? A narrowed gaze fixed on him is meant to be like ice, but is instead frantic and burning. Sharppaw assesses him like he has wronged him, somehow. " I can speak to you just fine. "

ooc ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ look, see, isn't it interesting? no, you're not even listening...

• ooc: @HONEYJAW !!
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[HONEYJAW]

Luckily enough for Sharppaw, reputation isn't something that Honeyjaw puts much stock into. Maybe because his own is a little bit terrible. Or...it had been, back in the day. He likes to think that his time in ShadowClan has proved him reliable enough, if a little bit fumbling, and maybe far too talkative. He knows he's not the most skilled warrior. Like Sharppaw, he had learned to stop paying attention to it. But his reasons were quite unlike hers. Maybe it's just what happens when you pick up a little bundle of fur in your mouth and run away, panting, panicked breaths making their scruff hot and a little bit wet. When you try to convince a kitten to eat food they never have before, and lose your breath when they still start out so scrawny. The Honey that lived all those moons ago did not get to care about anything but her. His little Dragonfly, fluttering about.

It's intoxicating, in a way. Being able to say fuck it.

When Sharppaw first approaches him, that's not what he expects. His brow lifts to widen one eye, expectant and perhaps already slightly offended by their tone. "Oh?" he answers when he says that he's figured it out. What, precisely, he almost asks, but that's made apparent before he can. And instead of allowing himself to feel frustrated with her tone — Honeyjaw laughs. Not a mean one, mind you, but warm and maybe a little bit proud of the attitude. "Good for you." He keeps his pace even with the apprentice's (it felt wrong to call her that, even now), lingering shoulder to shoulder. "There are more important things to care about than how other people look at you. It's that sort of stuff that makes someone worth talking to, anyway."

𝘈 𝘗𝘖𝘌𝘔 𝘉𝘌𝘎𝘐𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘚 𝘈 𝘓𝘜𝘔𝘗 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘛  ╱╱ 9.16.2023 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘚𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚

• OOC. —
• ✦　　. 　 ˚　.  HONEYJAW. HE - HIM. WARRIOR OF SHADOWCLAN. ADOPTIVE FATHER TO DRAGONFLYPAW. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. —————————————
  ——  a short-furred dark chocolate point tom with the smallest splashes of white on his forehead, front paws, and tail tip. well-built, but overall average in size and unremarkable aside from his lightly curled ears and the magnetism of his smile. seems to show signs of aging earlier than expected with a salt-and-pepper dusting.
  

  ✦ NOTICE honeyjaw is currently on the journey and will not be active outside of retro threads, or finishing those he had previously posted in! please message me on discord for plots or interactions between journey cats.

• "speech"

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

She has spoken— said her peace, and she blinks at him as if he had not expected him to reply at all; like he'd just been a rock for her to talk at, and in some ways, maybe that was still true. Her eyes widen just a fraction, before they resume their odd-stare; slight slant, twitch of the lip. He did not sound mocking, but perhaps he was just that adept at hiding it— unlike the rest of ShadowClan, crystal clear with the extent of their distaste. Sharppaw huffs through her nose, gaze held wavering. " ...It is good for me. " A twinge.

Were they clanmates, or was Sharppaw a sad, weepy apprentice that Honeyjaw felt obligated to speak to? Sharppaw watches him more warily than one should watch a clanmate. Her hardened look fends off a challenge that did not exist to begin with. She would be a warrior soon, didn't he know? In but a few sunrises, even. Is suspicion unbecoming of a warrior, or just the opposite? Sharppaw tries to settle for something in between. Of course, that doesn't really exist.

" Yeah? " he licks his lips, trying to will his fur flat. " I... like what? What makes someone worth talking to? " He tries to sound more like a warrior probing the mind, rather than a skittish apprentice begging for advice— which he certainly was not. For once, he thinks he does an okay job at this.

Sharppaw found him worth talking to. Kind of... Sort of. (Certainly) What was it about him? " The less you care. Does that make you... it more appealing? " A furrowed brow and deep frown angled in his direction. Uncaring... effortless. He is effortlessly him, and Sharppaw finds it a little bit unfair. At least he wasn't very remarkable in any other category, to make up for that.

ooc ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ look, see, isn't it interesting? no, you're not even listening...

• 
  
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​