SHADOWS OF VALENTIA | training

[SILVERSMOKE]

His first SkyClan apprentice. Silversmoke was sure Blazestar had given him the trickiest one, either out of trust that he'd do well or out of revenge for the anti-kittypet agenda he subscribed to. He bore no ill will towards the chimera, but they were a vexing thing, with a tongue even sharper than his own and opinions that sounded just as privileged as the house cats he loathed. Silver had served the pines almost as long as the brat had been alive, but that longitude didn't seem to matter when he was still eyed with suspicion. He could only imagine how much worse off he'd be if he told the group he was a former kittypet, cast out of a home without love for being 'the wrong sort of cat'. The tabby would do his best with Chrys, there was no sense in taming the wildfire that burned within their heart, but he would attempt to redirect its flames to at least be beneficial to SkyClan. His own wounds fully healed from the raid, Silversmoke gave the odd-eyed apprentice a once over, assessing their injuries with an air of indifference to him. They still didn't look good, but enough time had been wasted already.

His claws wormed their way into the sand below, gripping it tightly. "Before we start, allow me to make it perfectly clear that I will not accept any backchat from you. Whatever you think 'you know already' or 'is booooring' doesn't matter. Everything I teach will help you serve your Clan with pride, no matter how mundane it is on the surface, you need to know it." His tail lashed as he spoke, syncing with the steady beat of his heart. "We will start with battle first. Whatever your previous mentor taught you clearly wasn't enough, but I wasn't there to witness it." Strong hind legs kicked at the sand behind him, creating a messy line deep enough to be differentiated from the usual lumps and bumps of SkyClan's training ground. Moving forwards a few steps, Silversmoke tilted his head left and right until a satisfying click was heard, the large cat's gaze falling onto his younger clanmate's. "I want you to try and get me over the line I just made. If even a whisker of mine gets over it, you win." Silversmoke reminded himself not to go too hard on someone still in training.

In a battle of strength, it would be no contest, but a battle was seldom about the force of one's strikes - if a WindClanner had managed to tear at Chrys' neck like crowfood, he was certain that they were aware of that too. "Go whenever you're ready."

[ retro to tree climbing incidoot ; @CHRYSALISPAW ]
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[CHRYSALISWING]

Everything about his mentor annoyed the hell out of Chrysalispaw, as many of his fellow clanmates elicited the same response - as though merely being in their presences lodged thorns beneath brittle skin. Prickles of irriation coursed through hot blood, from wounds and warts alike. From his curt words to his whipping tail, Chrys could tell that this was a tough barrier to break through, that the warrior would not crumble at few venom-laced words spat out without grace. Well, he could deal with that rather than a feline who collapsed at dainty breezes that only whispered of implications and truth. He could never handle the sensitive type. Despite their differences, Silversmoke was much like a mirror of his own projection, though perhaps more phlegmatic in the way he composed himself, with his poison more of an undercurrent than the rushing river itself. It was quiet, yet apposite in peaks at times, like lone mountains jutting from smoothed hills.

The chimaera-coated feline met his mentor's gaze with his own cut jewels of mismatched rhinestone, bright against the leaf-bare light, as if the brilliance held no warmth to it and thus, reflected well upon his stare. Even as the sun lie upon the drapes of blue, it was not the same as the summer he remembered. And, as though carried by the wintry winds, so too did the hearts of the clans harden. Whatever brazen insult the tabby hurled at Chrys left him nothing but blasé, since he had certainly heard it all before. Lazy, apathetic, and discourteous were but a share of the choice verses that the adults in his life had attributed to him. Only after Silversmoke stopped talking did lithe limbs curl backwards and whiskers quiver in anticipation, as balance held itself upon thin bristles of strings, ready to be drawn into the chaos that yawned below. In silent moments such as these, Chrys only hoped that the noise would soon pluck upon taut threads, for the quiet proved to only incense deeper thoughts (of which he hated to be caught upon).

Then, deft feet carried the feline forwards as he sprung from his position, quick and almost erratic like a jolt rather than a force. He wasn't the best at fighting or coordination, though he certainly was better than the rest of the kittypets that hung around Skyclan. His path swerved to the right as his gait blazed upon trodden sand and he aimed to lunge straight for Silversmoke's flank with his claws still hidden behind his paws. He wouldn't draw blood, not here and not now. Especially because he knew he would get a smack to the head and an earful of nagging for such insubordinance.​