pafp sweet child you'll end up dead ──⇌• dual-intro

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He wonders at the power of the Furred-Heads that they should have such sway over beasts of surging muscle. Each bough-limb is a pillar for a trunk-like torso, sturdy and bowing to no manner of wind. Even the creatures whose bellies hang ripe with steady feeding are no less physically intimidating. How are they penned so easily? They could batter down these gaping wood-walls and take their freedom. Do they choose to stay? Wolfsong can't make sense of it. Perhaps it's fear of their masters— or love.

It does not matter what keeps them here, though; only that Wolfsong can make the leap onto one of their broad backs without injury.

"That one," he tells Sunstride from his steady perch on the fence. His head dips to a nearby horse, pelt brassy and neck bent to graze on straw. "That one is yours. Three seconds at least, but if you're thrown off before then you lose." He turns to grin crookedly at his nearby red-coated companion, single eye glittering. "Try not to break anything, beetle turd, least of all your skull. The hot air inside must be rotten by now and I've no desire to choke on it." Even as he insults him, Wolfsong crosses over to lean up and bump his forehead into Sunstride's.

//please wait for @SUNSTRIDE
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

It had seemed a tradition for fathers to raise fearless sons. In a world as their own, how could it be anything but? Yet time wore on, as it is wont to do, and he has realized it is not a father that makes a fearless son– in fact, it has nothing to do with their bloodline at all. Or parents at all. There would be no reason for this, then. For Wolfsong, and all of his endless heart. Neither can it be something bound to their bones– had they learned it from another? From the paths that they had taken? Or perhaps it came from deeper still, past the bones and sinew and beating hearts, and far beyond the blood. A soul. Fate.

It has tied them here. Brought them to this post, where they perch with warm eyes and foolish bravery. He does not balk from Wolfsong’s challenge, and that is not for the teachings of his father. It is trust, and heart-song, and the cracking of ice. He rolls his shoulders and crouches low, though that does little to subdue the bulk of him. "And yours will be the partner that it grazes with," Sunstride commands, his head dipped to the brown back a few lengths off from the other. "I would echo your sentiment, though I’m afraid not even these beasts could get through that lump of stone you call a skull."

It still touches his with softness. One that he echoes, though the adrenaline of a challenge has his heart beginning to race as he presses closer to the golden tom. Laughter is hot on his mouth. "Prepare yourself for your loss." And he leaps from where he is and onto the beast’s back, claws digging to muscled flesh to steady himself.

The count begins.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• 
  ooc: i’ll be rolling for his success before his next post o7
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[Moonshadow]

( ♬ ) Moonshadow did not know what it was exactly in a toms brain that drove them to do such reckless and pointless things such as this. As the shadow of Windclan sits in the tall grasses behind the fence the two perch on, she raises a metaphorical eyebrow at them as they jest and goad each other on.

Her mind flashes back to the days of her youth when Volund and his friends would dare each other to do idiotic and dangerous things in order to impress the maidens of the royal court, and the molly only huffs through her nose when she reluctantly remembers that while she had scolded them, at the time she had also been somewhat charmed by it all.

So here she sat, watching in the very likely event that this would all go horribly wrong and she would need to run and get Dandelionwish to waste herbs on these two. "Sootstar won't be pleased that Dandelionwish will need to waste herbs on you both if you are injured." Her monotone voice calls up to the two toms as she blinks at them with her usual stoicism, "So do not get injured." ​

( TELL ME THE REASONS; FOR ME TO TRUST YOU )

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 Wolfsong doesn't allow the satisfaction footing on his features. To Sunstride, this is a spontaneous challenge, an impulsive recklessness to test them both equally. That would be true if Wolfsong hasn't watched these muscle-hewn creatures for days, committing to memory their habits, their behaviors, their temperaments. His choice for Sunstride's steed is not coincidence or convenience but precision. He has learned these beasts and knows Sunstride's mind after bending to it for so long. Of course he would choose the nearest bark-pawed hay-devourer— and of course Wolfsong wanted to ensure the one he chose would be the most indulgent of them all.

He'd spied the barn-dwellers sitting upon its back more than once. It paid them no mind. It is in my nature to be prepared. You should have expected nothing less from me, Duskless.

"Be sure to speak what you must now, friend," he tells the nearby she-cat, his gaze fixed on the horse's haunches. "You will soon be speechless. On my mark." Eyes narrowing slightly and paws braced against the fence, Wolfsong waits, and then, "Mark!" With ease, he makes as a bird and glides onto the beast's back with nary a sound. As expected, the horse stirs but does not throw him off, pelt twitching below his paws before settling.

He cannot say the same for Sunstride's target. Wolfsong sits, three seconds easing by, watching with unhurried patience as his dearest friend's grip wars against a tempest wearing thin fur.
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

"Ah, but you worry too much!" he had laughed Moonshadow, joy on his tongue and in his eyes. It was the helpless mirth of a reckless child– much Wolfsong's doing, he should think. "What could possibly go wrong?" It was only a foolish man that would tempt fate in this way. He looks it in the eyes and dares it to take him. This is not the day that he would die, but if by some machination of the stars that is how it would be, let them find a challenge in taking him. Let them be defied to the last.

What could possibly go wrong, he had laughed, and oh indeed he was a fool. The beast comes alive beneath him, its lazy feasting turned to panic. It throws its stone paws about as if caught in the throes of a terrible storm; the wispy fur that adorns its spine whips towards the face that he ducks down low. Moorland greys bleed to a background of nothingness as his claws dig in deeper– blood must bead beneath his unyielding grip, yet he can focus on nothing but the ticking of time. Heartbeats have failed him as a useful measure. With the way that they race, the world would end before he reaches three. Instead, the metronome of older challenges sings in his blood.

One. Those droplets of blood, painting his claws. Two. His grip slips and he overcorrects, sliding forward to the mess of fur that bites to delicate ears. Three. It seems to have settled some, but not enough. Sunstride's breath is knocked from his lungs with one final toss of its broad back.

As the metronome strikes its fourth beat, he is swaddled by a delicate layer of snow. Over his own adrenaline, he can hear the horse running off, deeper into its haven-prison. The pale gleam of a frost-season's sun blinds him for a long moment. Even then, his head turns to seek out Wolfsong. Perhaps he had fallen as well– there is no panic at the thought, not when anything could take such a sturdy soul from this world without a battle grand enough to wake him from this adrenaline haze, but he looks for him tirelessly nonetheless. Until he finds him, haloed by the sun, on a creature that seems to echo Wolfsong's patient mirth. And he laughs.

Even breathless, the sound does not stop. He finds his paws, the world swaying and his lungs aching, and he laughs. "Wolfsong, the grandest of deceivers!" The laughter fades, but the smile does not. It is fonder than it should be, calling to it a seizing pain that he cannot fully swallow. "I should have expected nothing less from one so clever as you." So he tears himself from the sight, and towards their audience. "So, Moonshadow? Did we live up to my dear friend's hope? Are you speechless? At least I can say for certain your healer will waste no knowledge on us today."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• 
  ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[Moonshadow]

( ♬ ) Moonshadow would be a liar if she said she had not tensed up when the toms made their jumps. Wolfsong landed perfectly, the beast he had chosen seeming ignorant of the feline that now perched upon him like a Skyclanner in a tree.

Sunstride, it would seem, was not as favored by the fates. His chosen beast quickly reared and bucked in frantic attempts to rid its hide of whatever had landed on it. She grits her teeth, worry bubbling under the surface though her expression remained stoic and monotone as always.

A silent and slow exhale of relief would leave her frame as Sunstride rose from where he had landed and he turned to her with a warm smile and glittering gaze from adrenaline and glory. A snort would pass from her nostrils at his query and she would give a soft smile in return, warming her monotone expression up at least a few degrees,

"Utterly." She responds to their question as she makes her way over to the flame-colored tom, "Dandelionwish will be most grateful when he hears the tale, I'm sure." ​

( TELL ME THE REASONS; FOR ME TO TRUST YOU )