- Oct 17, 2022
- 458
- 78
- 28
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————
Snakeblink is many things, most of them unflattering, but one thing he isn’t is delusional. He has enough clarity towards himself to know when he is beat, or unqualified, or unprepared; he likes to take steps to remedy that fact when he can.
(Or rather: when it becomes unavoidable, as the need to train Carppaw properly has made today’s issue unavoidable. He doesn’t have so much ‘clarity’ that he cannot misdirect himself, every so often.)
It’s harder when that fact has come to define him; he wouldn’t know how to go about fixing his inability to express himself properly, per example, firstly because others have come to know him by his indiscretions so much that he doubts they would take him seriously if and when he did manage to communicate exactly what he has in mind with the right, non-insulting words. But stars, that’s in no way a reason not to try.
So. One thing is known: Snakeblink is a terrible warrior, in the literal sense of the word. The river wins most of his battles for him, much like his mother used to.
But another widely-held truth is that Mudpelt is amazing in a fight — and gentle enough in his teachings he probably won’t tear Snakeblink’s ears off in the process. Hence his approaching him today for pointers.
”Anything you can teach me would be welcome,” he tells the larger cat, pacing up and down the beech copse. The constant movement is less a betrayal of nerves than it is of the cold digging into his bones — to tell the truth, there is a fatigue deep in his limbs that makes them too heavy for anxiety to shake them. Shivers, on the other paw, do it easily enough. ”I know I will never have your bulk or natural skill to throw around, but I would enjoy not needing our esteemed leader’s brood to swoop in to my rescue,” he adds wryly, picturing Cicadapaw and Beepaw tag-teaming a rogue in his mind’s eye. Embarrassing as that was, he cannot help but feel a little fond at the memory. What a pair — they will be terrors as grown warriors.
(Or rather: when it becomes unavoidable, as the need to train Carppaw properly has made today’s issue unavoidable. He doesn’t have so much ‘clarity’ that he cannot misdirect himself, every so often.)
It’s harder when that fact has come to define him; he wouldn’t know how to go about fixing his inability to express himself properly, per example, firstly because others have come to know him by his indiscretions so much that he doubts they would take him seriously if and when he did manage to communicate exactly what he has in mind with the right, non-insulting words. But stars, that’s in no way a reason not to try.
So. One thing is known: Snakeblink is a terrible warrior, in the literal sense of the word. The river wins most of his battles for him, much like his mother used to.
But another widely-held truth is that Mudpelt is amazing in a fight — and gentle enough in his teachings he probably won’t tear Snakeblink’s ears off in the process. Hence his approaching him today for pointers.
”Anything you can teach me would be welcome,” he tells the larger cat, pacing up and down the beech copse. The constant movement is less a betrayal of nerves than it is of the cold digging into his bones — to tell the truth, there is a fatigue deep in his limbs that makes them too heavy for anxiety to shake them. Shivers, on the other paw, do it easily enough. ”I know I will never have your bulk or natural skill to throw around, but I would enjoy not needing our esteemed leader’s brood to swoop in to my rescue,” he adds wryly, picturing Cicadapaw and Beepaw tag-teaming a rogue in his mind’s eye. Embarrassing as that was, he cannot help but feel a little fond at the memory. What a pair — they will be terrors as grown warriors.
——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
