pafp THE POWER | mud fight

[FERNDANCE]

When Ferndance promised something, it was a coin flip on whether it would be delivered sincerely or with an air of whimsy. It had been an unspoken vow to Batchaser that she would make the next patrol she was on with him one worth remembering, but to make that possible, the aforementioned coin flip would seemingly have to land on its side. Things were quiet on the walk back towards camp, quiet enough for the frog's tales and fly's gossip to be prominent noises within the tabby's ears. ShadowClan's air had once again grown heavy, but the cinnamon tabby couldn't let it bother her, not with her own battles taking priority. Left and right her head bobbed, scarcely paying attention to the little attempts at small-talk her patrol - she was on the lookout for something that would blow their minds beyond what any of her recreational theories could do. All the while, she stuck by her friend's side, matching his pace a little too well to be an accident.

Suddenly, she eyed something in the distance that would make the excursion worthwhile, her tail aiming to wrap around Batchaser like a shepherd's crook to guide him toward where she wanted to go. "Look at this," she mewed to the other, dipping both forelimbs into the marshy earth presented to her. Kneading deeper and deeper into it, Ferndance only stopped when her dewclaws had disappeared past the barrier of visibility, tail lashing in anticipation. After a few moments, a once-white forepaw was pulled out, slathered mud dripping down into the viscous puddles below. Wordlessly, she aimed to press the pad onto Batchaser's shoulder, staring meanwhile at the heterochromatic eyes of her friend. If the other didn't budge, she would leave a runny pawprint at the scene of the crime, likely hidden by dark fur. It did not stop the smile from creeping upon Ferndance's muzzle, mischief glinted in eyes scarcely concealed by the encroaching dusk. "A pretty pattern..." She whispered her justification, and, if Batchaser seemed content with the result, she would then try and push the lanky tom into the mire, hoping he would fall to his side or, at the very least, be covered in some more of the 'pretty patterns'.

@BATCHASER

​

 

[BATCHASER]

Following after his patrol, things where quiet except for the occasional frog gossip and the flies buzzing much too close to his ears. Flicking away a few with a large ear, and a grumble in annoyance at the pests. The air has grown heavy in Shadowclan's marshlands, it doesn't really bother him. The dark lanky tom, barely listens to the small talk his patrol mates were chattering on about. He hums, glimpses at his cinnamon hued friend beside him that was matching his long strides.

He lets out a confused noise escape him, as he gets dragged away by Ferndance. Hm? Batchaser was very… confused, but he paid attention to what his friend was doing anyway. Tilting his head down, he stares as the cinnamon molly dips her forelimbs into the earth in front of her. Odd - colored eyes blinks from behind his curly fringe, as he watches the ordeal play out. "Woah…" He stares as Ferndance takes her paw out of the muck, the once white paw was slathered with mud dripping down below. He cocks his head to the side like a bird, when he felt a mud - covered paw press on his shoulder. Eh? He turns his head, then down at his now dirty shoulder. A runny pawprint clung to his dark curly coat, flicking an ear he turned towards Ferndance. Seeing the mischievous smile on his friends face, he couldn't help but crack a grin. "Pretty pattern? Hmmm, More of a very runny pattern… Won't stick." He replies in a whisper, as he shakes his head to the side. He was quite content with the result of being a muddy art piece for Ferndance.

He lets out a surprised yelp, as he gets pushed into the muck. Falling onto his front, making his white splattered neck not so white anymore. He just lays there in the mire for a moment, just letting the mud do its thing– soaking his curly fur in muck. He is now… messy, not a surprise at the very least. He twists himself onto his side, getting mud on his side before raising on his paws. His whip - like tail lashes behind him, letting a cackle slip between his lips. Whipping his head towards Ferndance, with a playful grin placed on his face. "Sticky, runny mud… Need pretty patterns too." He shakes his body, letting some mud fly off of him. He raises a mud-covered paw flicking his paw forward, aiming to hit Ferndance with some of the ruddy muck.

THE DARLING MOON ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ HIDDEN EYES AND SHARP GRINS

•  

• 

• ( THAT'S ONE ENEMY DOWN! ) ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ BATCHASER. ╱ shadowclan warrior.
  ✦ cismale ; HE / HIM, fine with gendered terms. ; 32 MOONS & AGES EVERY 10TH.
  ✦ pansexual / not actively looking / open to crushes & romance
  ✦ a tall, shorthaired curly black smoke mix with gold/green heterochromatic eyes.
  ✦ battle notes — thoughts ; "Speech, 7077A1" ; attacks only
  ✦ may powerplay minor harm ╱ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ✦ smells like rain-soaked pavement, mist & sweet leaf rot
  — all opinions are ic
  
  — biography / @ on discord for plots
  — penned by calzone
  

​