that's the way we get by ✧ rta

[DogTeeth]

In every way he is as gentle as the fine feathers of a yellowed gosling. Small in stature, his paws would not reach the toes of a mighty Maine Coon’s. His curls are wild and untamable, but give him beauty rather than intimidation. His lashes, long and dark to keep the sand from his eyes, bat like the wings of a butterfly over crystalline eyes that could never withhold the purest truths of emotion. His voice was not cold nor rough as one worn by the world should be, it’s soft and his words never know cruelty.

The muscles he had dance with his sprinting limbs, spine arching with his choppy run. His toes weren’t made for the land, webbed and clumsy as they were- but he wasn’t chasing a rabbit.

The rounded brown sodden body of a large vole half hidden by the underbrush is thrashing in some ferns as it makes for the bank, Dogteeth lips peel back but this time it’s not one of his kind smiles. A cage of pearly daggers slice down into warm flesh, then grip with the clamp of his jaws. The weight of himself times three was in his bite, his namesake- an intruding, unbearable, unyielding force. So unfitting to the beautiful blue eyes behind this wrinkled savage maw, blonde staining red and tugged with the vole’s panicked attempts to free itself.

Dogteeth’s bite loosens, his front paw slams into the creature’s blunt shaped head, but it rounds on him. This was no vole- but a young otter. An apprentice aged one of sorts, and it knocked Dogteeth backwards with a twist of its spine. Fear spills in his gut, of the error made in loose time. Snapping fangs reach for his face, he hisses, the long torso of the otter hoisted up above him by the blonde warrior’s paws as he’s pinned down on his back. He doesn't call for help, he's too stunned in the fight.

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OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth | twenty-five moons | cis-male
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with dazzling blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite | physically medium / mentally easy
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

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[coldstorm]

FROZEN HEARTBEAT UNDER THE SNOW ・ﾟ✧
Coldstorm has spent her morning searching for the puffy purple flower spheres of the watermint for her aching belly but it's taking so long that she might just should have gone to the healer's den to see if Beesong had a stock. But that would have been too easy, see, and she's looking to be kept busy. She just wasn't expecting to be this busy for this long. Maybe she's looking over patches or searching areas already picked but she's wading back to shore with an empty maw.

At the very least, she could have been lucky enough to walk it off but she supposes these aren't like her old pains. You don't walk off pregnancy, it's a bit more permanent at this late of a stage. If anything, it hurts worse. As Storm eases back onto the grassy knoll, the water drizzling from her pelt drags her gut even farther to the ground in a display that makes her scowl twice as hard. It's a good thing that her condition slows her down however, just in time to hear a cry from nearby.

It doesn't sound like a cat but also not like any prey she's ever sunken her own teeth into. When she presses through a grouping of cattails, the shecat hisses in shock before suddenly laughing at the misfortune of such a catch though it's quick to stop when she realizes the little river rat is trying to give her clanmate an unwelcome facelift. It's probably not medicine cat recommended that heavy queens go grabbing up otters but Coldstorm isn't one to turn back from danger. Lurching forward, the towering woman aims to shirk her teeth into the back if the creature's neck and pull the writhing thing backwards (with an uncharacteristic grunt of exertion) so that Dogteeth can escape.​

 

[CICADASTAR]

GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM : dogteeth was a face familiar to him now ; laden in shades of gold and blond, the gentle slope of his maw upon a sunbeam smile. he could see it behind closed eyes, for all his darkness the small tomcat bathes him in radiant light, stepping into the shine of honey curls whenever he's near. they're similar, if only in that way. if dogteeth were the sun, cicada was the moon ; bright against a haze of silver - black cloud, shadowy and looming. he thinks of the night sky in his own curls, thinks of a certain white - splotched fur tangling with his own, thinks of the stars above. his paw nearly miss a step in his slow, slinking gait, his maw semi - parted to scent along borders to thunderclan closing nearly fast enough to snip the end of a bristled tongue. old fool. there is little else he thinks of these days ; even when nighttime thoughts turn to cinderfrost, her whereabouts unknown, a threat to his borders, he is eased by the image of him. smoke fills his veins, leaves him dizzy, leaves him light.

the man shakes his head, nearly laughing aloud at the ridiculousness of it.

it's the sound that first catches his attention. the sound of a fight, the sound of a creature's violent snarling, and he's running before he knows where his paws are carrying him. pleasant feelings dissipate quick enough to leave him dizzy, pulsing with a sudden adrenaline and soon he is bursting through river reed towards the back of dogteeth. the tom lie sprawled, stunned, and above him, coldstorm -- a pregnant molly -- wrangling back a young otter. panic surges through him, sparks like wildfire on wind and he hisses aloud, viper - like amongst the billowing cattail. he aims to step over dogteeth, attempting to shield him. as coldstorm lifts the otter back, he lurches, aiming for the jugular exposed by it's craned neck. dogteeth was a familiar face, a friend . . while small, the thing was vicious, and he refused -- refused to watch it rip into someone he cared for. not now, not again.

− ♱ information visual reference out of character translations ♱ −

• − CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly fourty months old, riverclan leader
  − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and ice blue eyes
  − gay. speaks with a german accent, ages on the seventh, penned by antlers
  
  
• 
• none.

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[HOUNDSTRIDE.]

❝  The cost of home is the inevitable loss of it. Anything good will go, eventually, and maybe that's the same thing that makes a memory taste bittersweet once it's gone. Whether it makes you smile or cry, it'll always have the reminder of the other sittin' on the edge of your tongue. RiverClan was like that, most'f the time. Bittersweet. Home. It'll make him think of all the months that came before. Bringing Cicada here after the battle, hoping to wash away some of his guilt. Watching Dogteeth, even before that, tryin' to put his aching heart to rest whenever he smiled at him. He'll think of Flint, and his teeth set deep into his leg, or of Bonejaw, that day in the carrionplace. Azalea and Fox and a life lived and gone. A chapter closed, with the next always a few pages from snapping shut too. That's the fear, isn't it? Not of losing the past, but of making it. This moment here, gone to dust.

The breeze teasing his fur, the fish full in his belly. He rests some distance from the bank, watching Dog hunt with a smile curling like smoke at his maw. This moment, here– he'd like to bottle it up or swallow it whole. Keep it like a caged bird in his chest.

But already the peace is shattered. He hears the others before he sees it. A hunt gone wrong wouldn't pull noises like that, wouldn't have two sets of paws coming to join the scene. Time slows and sways as Houndsnarl jerks to his paws, sour apple eyes gone wide and viciously pointed on the small bit of tan fur he can still see. Cicada steps over him, a full-bodied shield, and Coldstorm offers him an escape. Not enough, not good enough. He is not so kind, or careful of the small warrior's fur. Where Cicada shields him from above, Hound instead aims to set his teeth into Dogteeth's fur and pull, hoping to drag him from the otter as the other two set to finishing the fight.

†  ooc notes information †

• 
  ooc: —
• ──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
  ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
  ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
• "speech"

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[DogTeeth]

His legs quivered with the effort to keep the blunt-headed river rat monster from his face. Weakening further, his feet finally slip- Dogteeth’s eyes shut as he awaits teeth to the muzzle, but it never comes. If anything, the weight lifts and haloing the brown creature is the large blue queen as she drives her fangs into its neck. It wiggled violently like a worm in the pregnant molly’s grip. He fears for her now, what if the kits are hurt!- Dogteeth would rot and die with guilt for such a foolish mistake’s consequence. " C-COLDSTORM…" he is about to plead with her.

Before he could move, a shadow casts him, looms over him like an eclipse. Long white socked legs stand over each side of his pinned form. Looking up, all he could see was the bottom of Cicadastar’s jaw as it wraps around the otter’s neck. Like an angel of protection and death had the leader swooped from out of nowhere, once again reminding the reeds and river why he stood as their king.

Blood splatters over the stones and splutters across the blonde’s brow and eyes, the skin of his scruff stings with a sudden yank, his jaws gape with a yelp of alarm but the strength of the jaws heaving him backward did so with an ease that suggested he was no more than a feather in weight to the beast. The scent of Houndsnarl smothers over him like a chimney under thick dark brown fur. Dogteeth is freed from the brutal spray of claws and crimson alike.

The creature is no match for the two, and it wouldn’t be leaving this fight alive. " I can’t believe… I can’t… " Dogteeth’s eyes glisten with the threat of tears. " Such a … stupid mistake… " he gasps, shivering but not of the cold.

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OOC INFO REF

• — I'm dying over all this beautiful writing you guys :'O such talented people yall are
  
  
• — Dogteeth | twenty-five moons | cis-male
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with dazzling blue eyes.
  — very gentle soul / easily upset and sensitive
  — deals a nasty bite | physically medium / mentally easy
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

​