camp this is not our time | failure

[dovethroat.]

A confluence of factors closing in on him had made the last few days pass by him in a flash. One of those days had been the day he turned twelve moons old—twelve moons. The age at which you were supposed to become a warrior. The age at which you were someone who was a proper member of clan life, and a functioning part of society. All of that began with the successful clearing of the assessment that every (that's right—Dovepaw would tell himself with a strained, twitching smile—every) apprentice had to go through to get their honored introduction into warrior life.

Except he had not had that happen. He had failed. His mentor had told him it with the most nonplussed and displeased look on his face that Dovepaw could possibly imagine an older cat having. He had been mostly promising, after all. In the two battles RiverClan had suffered through, he had sustained practically no injuries. His only real weakness was hunting—not even swimming, just the hunting part—and even that was seeing improvement.

But somehow, as of late, everything had fallen apart. He had performed dismally on the assessment. His mentor had even insinuated he had half a mind to lie and say he did fine, but that Dovepaw had simply done so bad that doing that would be unthinkable.

He knew the main reason, he thought with a pulsing pain behind his eyes. The reason was staring him in the face and it was not as if he was looking away—he just was not voicing it. Defiantly staring back at the black, cat-shaped problem in the forefront of his mind. It was the littlest bit of his pride he could still maintain—if it was even that. Really, it was embarrassing to even admit the tiniest bit of ego existed in his mind.

His already degraded sociability had been all but destroyed, and Dovepaw had spent every day since his unannounced failure staring at the sky and doing nothing. Not even nothing of note: it might as well have been nothing, unless you counted breathing and the eventual movement.

Dovepaw was miserable.

[⋆]​

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[DogTeeth]

Small legs swivel in tune, webbed toes pulling him across the ground quickly in short little stuttering steps. His eyes halflidded and tired, and his coat dripping from a swim. He spots Dovepaw looking a bit distant, staring at the sky and Dogteeth does a doubletake. Nearly walking past-

" hey~…." he skids to a halt, and walks backwards until he’s facing the youth again, cocking his skull to the side. " what’s with the face ? " he murmurs to the other softly, a faint smile offered to the boy. " you okay?… I mean… you don’t look okay…" he whispers, ears folding back and taking a seat on his thick furred tail. " you don’t have to- tell me nothing… but if you are going through something… " he pauses, eyes dancing around the willows and the ground, to the reeds and back.

" you will get through it…" he offers, nodding with his words.

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⛦ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛦

• —
  
  
• — Dogteeth PINTEREST
  — twenty-eight moons
  — VOICE & ACCENT
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle voice and laugh
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[lichenstar]

Dogteeth was practically creating a new river with the amount of water that came off of his thick pelt... It was like a snail trail, wandering through the dirt in a muddy path of soggy mud. Hurrying after the other warrior, she had been content to watch him swim around like it was sort of enjoyable entertainment (she loathed the feeling of her paws being wet even if she could swim well enough) and wanted to pester him about being part fish.

The opportunity was lost quickly as the other caught sight of a rather abysmal stare into the sky. Twitching an ear in her confusion, Lichentail couldn't think of a reason Dovepaw might possibly be so dismayed with life. Sure, Ashpaw was missing but steps were being taken to try to find or recover her... Ravenpaw was still around and they got along right? Was it friendship drama or-

"Went that badly, huh?" A blistering call out that she didn't mean to be so cruel but directness was as great a strength as it was a weakness. Cicadastar hadn't announced the young boy's promotion.... The clues were right there. Plodding over to stand on the side opposite of Dogteeth (he was still so wet... how could one cat hold so much water?), she offered a small shrug, "We all have bad days."

It wasn't going to be forever. No need to mope about it.​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Dovepaw had hit the age of warrior now. Ravenpaw's had passed, but it would take several more moons of training for him to finish medicine cat training and earn his full name. Being called a 'paw and treated like an apprentice when he was nearly as big as any warrior was a source of shame toward the black cat. He tried to shrug it off. He knew he was on the right path.

Ravenpaw loafed outside of the medicine cat den, his scent sharp and tinged herbal. His eyes were half-closed but he was far from sleepy. He had noted Dovepaw going out with his mentor for his assessment, and while nothing official would happen until Cicadastar said the words, one could always tell what the outcome was from the way they returned.

From Dovepaw's unhappy stagger, he guessed nothing good. As Lichentail and Dogteeth swarmed and offered their acknowledgement, Ravenpaw simply stared in his former friend's direction.

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[dovethroat.]

At the sudden sound of speaking barraging his ears, Dovepaw immediately seized up. In all of his brooding and displeasure, he clearly had not been anticipating anyone to actually come up to him with anything to say. Perhaps it was a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy—he thought the whole world was against him, and so he seemed more standoffish when someone came to him with the opposite intention.

Staring over at the sopping warrior for a few, blinking moments, Dovepaw opened his mouth and let out a hoarse and awkward-sounding "nothing," which was evidently a lie. The probes for him to open up any further did not hurt as much as Lichentail outright saying to the world that he was a failure. His shoulders seized up, his bitter face turned further toward the ground.

"Yeah. T-Terribly," Dovepaw mumbled. "I... I g-guess I'm just having a lot, now, then. I d-don't know." His words were clammy and abrupt, his voice sounding foreign in his throat.

[⋆]​

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[iciclefang]

Before Ashpaw's disappearance, Iciclefang had only faced the bitterness of failure once. During the WindClan raid, she had challenged who she now recognizes as one of Sootstar's lead warriors. He of the single icy eye and blonde pelt, he who had put her in her place, scruffed like a mewling kit, helpless. He who had ultimately shown her mercy when he could have delivered a killing bite to the back of her neck.

But Smokethroat had lost his battle with Weaselclaw, and there is no greater warrior in all five Clans, in her eyes. His words of reassurance, though gruff as always, had given her closure. Resolution to improve. Her warrior assessment had been a raging success; she'd beaten her mentor after a grueling, body-bruising public spar, and Cicadastar had named her early in honor of her skills.

But the look on Dovepaw's face -- his admission that his assessment had gone terribly -- it's an expression she mirrors. The victorious assessment and early warrior ceremony had meant nothing, in the end; she hadn't been able to save her best friend's life. She hadn't been able to save the cat she loved.

Perhaps before Wolfsong and the Twoleg had humbled her, Iciclefang would have made a harsh remark about Dovepaw's failure. But today, she limps behind Ravenpaw and stares in silent solidarity as he admits his defeat to Dogteeth and Lichentail.

She murmurs, "Is it a bad omen to fail your assessment?" She does not know; she thought she'd heard an elder say that once. That even one failed assessment meant bad tidings for a cat's warriorhood.

After a moment, she follows up her aimless question with, "I suppose it doesn't matter. A successful one certainly doesn't bring good tidings, does it?" She shakes her head, tail drooping behind her.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[DogTeeth]

He had heard pawsteps behind him, but only realizes it was Lichentail when she spoke. The blue point definitely having a tougher point to her words, which- was often necessary. Hard blows made tougher skin, Dogteeth knew that well but he ended up gentle because he knew there was enough pain in the world. Enough, tough.

He offered the kink-tailed warrior a soft smile despite the flinch he had in tune with their words, trying to leash the urge to shake out his pelt. Knowing it would probably drown someone in proximity. we all have bad days, " we do…but… what’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly " he offers in gentle debate. We all handle it, differently.

The kid speaks, obviously a bit brushed the wrong way with being happened upon so suddenly. Dogteeth always felt the ‘I’m probably intruding’ thing a bit late at times. He needed to work on that.

" you know… hun " Dogteeth takes his own tail between his paws and twists, half the river pouring from his efforts onto the mud. " my momma-dearest used to say. If all you did was survive today, that’s enough. Don’t trust everything your mind tells you. and … every good life has some bad days " he smiles into his words, eyeing a nearby resting Ravenpaw and Iciclefang thoughtfully before turning back to the despondent apprentice.

Failing a warrior’s assessment though, Dogteeth’s maw falters a bit. You can hardly speak on what you don’t know, that’s another thing mama said. With another soft smile, he lifts back onto his wet webbed paws, and makes his way over to a nice spot to dry- and give the poor kid some space.

​

⛦ OOC INFORMATION REFERENCE ⛦

• — out !! <3
  
  
• — Dogteeth PINTEREST
  — twenty-eight moons
  — VOICE & ACCENT
  — warrior of Riverclan
  — gay | crushing on n/a
  — small curly-furred blonde and tan tom with blue eyes.
  — very gentle voice and laugh
  — deals a nasty bite
  BIOGRAPHY——— ✧
  
• 
  
  

​

 

[lichenstar]

It was a soft admission, one hardly heard.... one shared almost unwillingly. Lichentail wondered, for a moment, if the small smile was one of tension and polite disagreement for her directness. It was a common enough issue, she supposed; most cats did not prefer her direct nature and the harshness of reality could be unforgiving. Folding her ears back, Dovepaw's hauntingly empty voice made her more and more nervous she'd done something wrong by asking for the truth.

Iciclefang's poor shambling form came over to offer support... or... at least empathize? The somber attitude surrounding them only proved to dismay her further, "It'll be totally fine." She was insistent, despite the superstition of some old geezers, that Dovepaw would make a fine warrior soon enough. It was just one bad day.

We all have one bad day sometimes.

All of us.

"You are a capable young cat... Life isn't a race anyways."

Looking towards the sullen young warrior nearby, a tight smile was offered... Iciclefang needed to hear that too. Being 'faster' at getting to milestones didn't mean anything... didn't make you immortal, keep you safe. It just meant more responsibility much sooner. A double edged sword that promised elusive freedom.​

 

[RAVENSONG]

The warriors were kind—almost too kind. Ravenpaw frowned as a storm of conflicted feelings welled up in his chest. He had not spoken to Dovepaw personally since their fight. To do so now would be quite awkward. Ravenpaw did not know either if Dovepaw was down enough in the dumps to pick a fight again. He had no reservations making a public scene earlier.

"Always next moon, isn't there?" Ravenpaw rasped, his green-blue eyes unblinking as he turned his head to Dovepaw. In the back of his mind, he thanked whatever was up there that he had been spared an assessment. He did not know how well he would fare as a cat who was scared of water. Dovepaw loved the water—and if he could not do it, then could Ravenpaw really do it too?

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Though the words from Lichentail are soothing, Dovepaw internally can't help but think of them as nothing more than platitudes; empty words to soothe a bruised ego. He makes a soft sound of agreement, not wanting to delve any further than that. In all honestly, Iciclefang's presence is undesired by the apprentice. Having someone who had become a warrior early, and one who was interested in speaking about themselves first and foremost—it made the hair on the back of his neck threaten to rise.

"P-Probably not a g-good omen," he mumbles, trying to get each interaction over with as soon as he can. Eyes back to Lichentail, he lets out a disappointed low sound, something approximating a laugh but probably not worthy of actually being counted as one. "C-Clearly, um. N-Not that capable."

Ravenpaw's intrusion feels like a rock just hit Dovepaw squarely in the face. The audacity of the medicine cat apprentice strikes him considerably, not replying for a long few moments. "I," he's getting hot with shame, or anger, or something in the back of his head and he does not know how to react to it.

"I h-hope that m-made you f-feel better." He spits out, hardly thinking of the words he is saying before he gets onto his achy joints as fast as he can and stalks away to the apprentice den.

[⋆]​

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