TRIPOLI — cloverjaw

[SLATE]

The brothers are out hunting today. Newleaf is finally beginning to nip at leafbare's heels, thus signaling a return of flourishing prey to the pines. Slate was looking forward to there being more food to go around; he was a large tom who needed to eat much more in order to fully quell his appetite. However, it seems that he is off to a rather rough start.

Maybe Slate had stepped upon a twig or let his tail brush too close to the ground, or perhaps he had not landed correctly, but either way the mouse he'd been tracking had scurried out of sight. "Damn." The lead warrior hisses at the lost opportunity, rising to his paws and rolling his shoulders. Weeks of being cooped up in the medicine den had made him awfully stiff, apparently so much so that he couldn't even manage to properly hunt anymore. Maybe he just had poor luck that time; surely Slate couldn't have been too rusty.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

• @CLOVERJAW

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​

 

[CLOVERJAW]

❪ TAGS ❫ — .Laughter bubbled in the tom's throat, only kept at bay by his tight not-so-hidden smile. Unlike his brother Cloverjaw had been up and about, nothing notable but nothing worth putting him in the medicine cat den either. As much as the boring events of the past moons erked the honorable and slightly power hungry silver tabby, it was nice to not smell of cobwebs and spices. Plus, it was much nicer to see his dusk-colored brother out and about. The days felt shorter and empty without Cloverjaw's grumpier counterpart; and he could swear on the stars the sun felt just a touch warmer when he saw the old tomcat's face again.
It'd been so long, surely Slate could use some brotherly love after all his fustrating hardship.
"That sucked, dude." He announced, barley keeping back a smirk. "I think Orangestar might want to rename you after that one. Dustypelt has a ring to it," he paused a bright smile parting his maw. In a blink, the silver tabby croached down and pounced, attempting to land on the other tom without hurting him.
"Dustyclaw does too!" ​

 

[SLATE]

Slate's pride was a rather touchy thing; not easily budged but easily dampened, especially by embarrassing instances such as a lost catch. The short-tempered male did not allow just anybody to tease him outright, at least not without a sharp quip, but Cloverjaw was his brother. The other Maine Coon was one of the very few SkyClanners who were "allowed" to make fun of him and get away with it.

Well, almost get away with it.

Slate is not allowed much time to react to Cloverjaw's playful verbal jabs as the silver tabby heaves himself on top of him. Stars, why did they both have to be built so heavily? This must be how his opponents felt in battle, being crushed underneath his mass. "Watch it, mousebrain!" The lead warrior grunted toward his littermate, though no true anger accompanied his tone.

Maneuvering his weight, Slate would flop onto the ground in an attempt to trap Cloverjaw under his side. "I'll crush you, just like when we were kits...!" He grunts, determined to make his brother tap out and let him "win".

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐞

•  

• 

• 

  ₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾

  slate
  

  — he/him; lead warrior of skyclan
  — a hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  — "speech", thoughts, attack
  — link to full tags; @ on discord or dm @beaaats for plots!​

  ​

​

 

[CLOVERJAW]

❪ TAGS ❫ — .A snort shot out of the silver tom, "That's really not how I remember it -" the mass of charcoal shifted beneath Cloverjaw's feet, bringing him down the left. Now, he could dig into his brother with his claws in an attempt to use the momentum to flip Slate over, but that felt cheap and not in the spirit of the fight. Besides, he didn't want to send ol' grandpa back to the elder-in-training den. Instead, Cloverjaw decided to experiment. He allowed himself to fall pulling his paws up so they wouldn't be caught beneath his hulking form of a brother. As soon as he hit the ground, Cloverjaw would attempt to grab Slate's scruff and pull upwards while simultaneously dragging his paws, claws still sheathed, down Slate's back in a move that would've left large red marks down the canvas of his opponent's back provided this move worked as expected, and he had his claws out.
"Might want to go back to Fireflypaw, I think he missed something. Or maybe your old age is messing with your head," Cloverjaw purred, a mouthful of dusty fur. "Or maybe.. maybe say a molly is? Huh?"

ooc// if this starts a bro on bro fight that would be funny.... Clover is just teasing Slate here tho, weither his move works or not ​