THE MYRMECOLEON | silversmoke

[CHRYSALISWING]

Combative ways had not waned since a turbulent youth. True to his orange-blazed pelt, such flame refused to extinguish itself, as though its life had been drawn from the firewood of his own hatred. A cycle of kindle, tended to by the callous hands that built his stature of wire and whisker. Agonistic was the best word to describe Chrysaliswing's apprenticeship under Silversmoke - a perpetual struggle for a jaded warrior to reach an equally jaded apprentice. Their training sessions seemed more akin to petty spats than disciplined practice. Envenomed words only served to stoke the wildfire as the poker did to its controlled bout of red. And when the chrysalis had sprouted from its cage, it was no less pugnacious than it was as the earth-chained caterpillar.

"Watch it." Chrysaliswing's words rolled out in a grumble, pushing past a familiar grey-spotted pelt. The two had been together (trapped, more like) on a hunting patrol, when the afternoon sun just slightly began to quench into the bitter seawaters of cloud-speckled sky. The snow had also begun to melt, with the mixture of slush and mud like the primordial ooze and foam of an ocean had somehow washed up inland. Chrys made sure to avoid as much of the snowmelt as possible, as his long hairs would surely get caught in the dirty muck, though that proved unsuccessful. Despite the bloom of newleaf's ardor, though genteel as the newborn season was, Chrys' face and posture and everything still carried that baleful look about him, the kind that had only soured as moons shuffled by.​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

It had been a long time since apprentice and mentor had worked together, if such a thing had ever been witnessed to begin with. The air between them was silent and heavy as they left for their hunt, just as the chimera had little to say to him, the spotted tabby found himself with little to say to the chimera. He knew he was partly to blame for the way things were between them, else he wouldn't have tried so hard to be there for his new apprentice - but there was only so much one cat could do when tasked with turning a hateful little hurricane into a tempered gust of wind. He walked in front of the other for some time, mind wandering to the best places in the territory to hunt, trying his best to let sleeping dogs lie. Newleaf gave them more options, not necessarily the bounty of greenleaf yet still more than what they had previously. There were the outskirts of the territory, the rockpile might be decent, though he was mindful of the adders that may be sleeping there. Tallpine seemed like the best option to hunt birds, so, the tom quietly decided to lead Chrysaliswing there. He stopped momentarily to taste the air, hearing the slosh of pawsteps behind him all too late.

Shoulder bounced against shoulder and the minute the chimera opened his mouth, Silversmoke saw crimson. Claws unsheathed and tore at the sludge below, the snow squelching beneath the weight of his gait. He breathed quietly, finding the inhale rattle his lungs like the shimmy of a snake's tail. The Lead Warrior did his best to call the worst of his emotions to heel, the ones that told him to lash out like a caged beast, the ones that told him to finally put an end to the belief that he could be disrespected. It was becoming too common a trend, one that he would not permit a former apprentice to follow. Moons had passed but the power dynamic still remained in the Lead Warrior's head: watching Chrysaliswing move as if he hadn't stuck his paw in a wasp's nest did little to deter Silversmoke from the memory of how frustrating it had been to be his mentor. He sprinted past the chimera, and whirled his body around, face caught in a roguish sneer. Bristling fur and narrowed eyes did little to heat up the spotted tabby's voice, which stayed frigid from his warning. "Push me again and see what happens."

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[CHRYSALISWING]

Tension lie heavy in the winds around Chrysaliswing and Silversmoke, stressing against the breathed air as though a stone of mercury lodged between their throats, brushing up against song and scream alike. Such impurity poisoned their verses, left those within the fire to their own vices, giving unto the terrible nature of savagery through word. Leaden was the heart that bore the burden of grudges, and Chrysalis had surely been weighed down by it long ago. He certainly held a ponderous grudge against Silver, the cat who had mentored him for so many moons and yet could not even be bothered to show up for his ceremony. You're not proud of me. I'm not proud of me, either. Sinking into a mire of his own undoing, he had little interest in saving himself - simply kicking and fighting until he drowned. Perhaps he would drag Silver in with him, so he would not go under alone.

Silversmoke whipped around to meet him, almost quicker than the young tom had expected his former mentor to. The two faced each other, a moment of silence tripping by indelicately. Chrysaliswing simply stood in front of the lead warrior, right forearm lifted in passant stance as though he expected Silver to attack him, though he figured that he was so much of a stickler that he would never attack a fellow warrior. Whiskers twitched as another second passed. Conceit coated Chrys' face like veneer upon polished wood, the sort of paint that had become caked upon his countenance at this point, a familiar grace and a well-known dance. "Hmph. You wouldn't dare attack me, not in front of everyone in our patrol. Don't get in my way." A low growl escaped the orange-and-black warrior's mouth.​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

Eyes gleamed as Chrysalising lifted a dappled paw in defence, then, within the same breath, Silversmoke watched his former apprentice grow arrogant. Mentor and apprentice often spent more time together than father and son, one often learned of strengths.... and weaknesses. Chrysaliswing postured as if he stood just out of reach of a tight-chained hound, sneering at the spotted tabby's obedience, pleading to his good sense that he wouldn't misbehave with witnesses about. Silversmoke shifted his weight, there were worse things he could do then physically hurt the chimera - a moon under the tutelage of a Daylight Warrior would be enough for Chrysaliswing wish he had been attacked, the tabby was certain. But, the adrenaline made his blood feel like fire beneath his skin, a dragon writhing in his veins seeking to be set free by the jailor of order. He took a step closer, voice lowering into a dangerous hiss - if Chrys wanted to call his bluff, he'd have to sweat a little first.

"I choose to follow the rules because it is the right thing to do, but I'm still just a cat. Disrespect me again, and I'll attack you not because I choose to, but to fulfill an instinct to see you bleed." Silversmoke did not have many friends in SkyClan, but Chrysaliswing had less, his only ally was bound to the medicine den. It was a cruel thought... that he could likely sink his teeth into the chimera and none would come to his aid. Even as threats scorched the whisker-thin bonds that tied them together, the Lead Warrior found that his stomach twisted at the idea - not for Chrysaliswing's sake, but at the idea that his clanmates amoral enough for him to attack someone without consequence. He doubted it in one breath, then, remembered how Thistleback had mauled a prisoner to death, remembered how Dawnglare had been permitted to stay despite his treachery. Sometimes... the rules were overlooked. Ears flattened against the new wave of emotions, teeth bared against it. "Now watch where you're going!"

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[CHRYSALISWING]

Hot breath puffed out in a bluster, though it came as more of a gasp of surprise than a huff of haste. Hot-tempered and hotter on his heels, his former mentor was Chrysalis' mirror in that regard. Their anger sprouted from different places - Silver's from the sanguine heart and Chrysalis' from the silver-stained tongue. And yet, it manifested just the same; a brush of wildfire in words and a blade of nettle in needle-claw. Silversmoke and him had never had the most stable relationship - their ties had always been sweltering, blistering, almost rotting to the touch. One could question whoever thought it was a good idea to pair the two together once upon a moon. Fervid words and bristled hackles defined Chrysaliswing's adolescence, though the littler spitfire had always bared his snake-fangs first. It was true as ever now.

"Tough words for a cat of the law. I might be an asshole, but I'd never threaten to draw another clanmate's blood." A low growl, though upon the undertones of a hoar-lined snarl, ripped through his maw. Countenance curdled in chalky anger, a familiar face that he donned. No longer a mask, but rather part of angled features and sketched splatters of orange. "You might be a lead warrior, but you talk like an outsider. But go ahead and keep saying the warrior code is the only thing stopping you from hurting me. What a good mentor you are. Crowpaw must be so lucky to have you constantly harp on him." Rumbles of a conflict buzzed through the air between them, the croon of the catenary against the dusky horizon. But he did not move, for the chimaeric tomcat was just as ignoble as he claimed his former mentor to be. Claws slowly unsheathed, just barely visible against the glint of newleaf's light.

𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 ⚠︎ 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦

• OOC:
  
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• 

  —— CHRYSALISWING / He/They / 22 Moons
  —— Warrior of Skyclan / Mentoring n/a
  —— A long-haired tomcat with chimaeric patterning. His left side is fully black and his right side is black splotched with sunset-orange. He has complete heterochromia, with his right eye being a bright green and his left eye being a glowering yellow.
  —— Abrasive, temperamental, and critical. Approach at your own risk and engage at your own cost. Despite this, he is a hard worker and quick to call out what he finds wrong.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

​

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

The Lead Warrior's spine arched, his tail puffing out to twice its size. A cat of the law he was by choice, they were the best way to live, the best way to remain disciplined and dedicated to one's home. As his claws writhed in the mud below, it became easy to believe that there were other ways to show loyalty - like knocking sense into someone. Anger remained tethered for now though the leash holding it back grew more and more frayed by the moment. "You don't need your claws to make them bleed, your words cut them deep enough," he pointed out plainly. It was a skill the spotted tabby lacked, the means to make someone hurt with words alone. The silver upon his fur did not translate to a tongue of the same caliber, but to call the chimera before him a good talker would be an insult to the clan's diplomats. Chrysaliswing could poison anything with ears, his only regret as his mentor was that he had let so many behaviours remain unchecked in favour of battle progress. He only hoped he could stop doing the same with Crowpaw before it was too late.

An unhappy warble escaped him as Chrys continued, lips parted back in a permanent sneer. They had no right to bring Crowpaw into this, mention of apprentice that he actually liked sent a cold lick of anger down his spine. "And where is your apprentice? Ten moons since your ceremony and you could barely keep one for a fraction of that." He didn't stop, the pace of his words grew quicker with each pulse of adrenaline begging him to move, begging him to fight. When teeth were forbidden from finding orange and black fur to sink into, he'd use words instead, not as clever as Chrysaliswing's, but true to what he thought. "Everyone in the clan knows you're vile, you're only here because it is your birthright, not because anyone wants you around. The warrior code isn't just stopping me, it's stopping everyone who's ever had the displeasure of getting to know you." Only Honeysplash gave him time, she'd spoken of him as if he were a mischievous creature instead of a toxic one. "You're not a warrior, you're just a kitten that thinks he's a lion. To think I ever thought you were ready to earn your name." He shook his head in disgust.


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[CHRYSALISWING]

"Hmph. Zappaw was hardly ready for apprenticehood. In any cat's paws, she would've been just the same." Chrysaliswing growled, voice sparkling with the burning coals of stoked anger, gnarls of twisting brimstone apparent in flame-fanned face. In a way, Zappaw reminded him of himself in his youth - a troubled and troublesome thing, with claws prime to scratch and draw the blood of whoever committed the grave sin of wandering whisker-close. He could not save her from herself, though, just as none could do the same for him. He acknowledged such a mirror, and yet did not reflect, but rather stare upon his being, taking it in as itself rather than what made it up. His ire was his fiery blade, tongue of polished steel and sharpened ends, too hot to handle and too formidable to bay. It was like his fangs, for he was born with the adder's weapon, and only knew to bear them. Choler flowed from his former mentor's verses, and he would only parlay them back in some terrible game of conversation. The other patrol-goers surely had stopped, and their tensely-strung whispers strummed along deaf ears. He did not care for them, for his wrath blinded him from the world at hand.

At Silversmoke's next words, a thunderous snarl escaped his maw, closer to a roar than a hiss. As though the ominous crackle of the bolt, his hackles shot upwards, thistled further than they had been already. Everything that Silver said was wholly and plainly true, as diatribes only pried and tore open what ugliness lie underneath formalities and niceties. Chrys would be a fool to deny such plain candor, though coated in the corroding poison of indignation as it was. He was aware of it, deep down, but to talk of it was to grant it power over him. "And who ever said they wanted you around here, either? I'm not taking anything from a so-called mentor who couldn't even be there for his apprentice at his ceremony. You did such a bad job with me that you couldn't even sit down during that damn meeting for five seconds!" He yelled, as though the fulminations of the rainstorm rushed through his veins, leaving his wiring naught but naked frame and broken bone. He was just that, a creature of exposed nerve and sanguine blister, a cornered beast at the end of his wit.

𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 ⚠︎ 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘷𝘦

• Ignore how late this is
  
• 
• 

  —— CHRYSALISWING / He/They / 22 Moons
  —— Warrior of Skyclan / Mentoring n/a
  —— A long-haired tomcat with chimaeric patterning. His left side is fully black and his right side is black splotched with sunset-orange. He has complete heterochromia, with his right eye being a bright green and his left eye being a glowering yellow.
  —— Abrasive, temperamental, and critical. Approach at your own risk and engage at your own cost. Despite this, he is a hard worker and quick to call out what he finds wrong.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

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