private UNADULTERATED LOATHING // icicle

[STORMYWING]

// @ICICLEFANG >:)

It isn't common that a greenleaf day is so dang windy. Stormywing walks through the forest with her claws unsheathed, helping her to grip the earth to keep from being blown right over. The forest floor is littered with fallen branches, disrupting her usual hunting routes. But worse than all of that, she can't keep downwind! Any prey within several fox-lengths has already had her scent blown to them, and they're gone, up trees or down burrows. She is growing frustrated, claws beginning to tear out mossy dirt with each step. So she decides to try a different tactic - she'll go to the RiverClan border, where the forest thins out, in hopes of catching prey by sight instead of scent.

The small tabby and white she-cat pads along the shore, hazel eyes narrowed against the harsh gales as she makes her way upstream. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. She's made it so far that the twoleg bride is now in sight, marking the end of their territory. She's about to groan, turn on her heels and head back to camp empty-pawed, but movement along the gray stone catches her eye. A water vole! Ears pinning against her head in determination, she darts forward, zigzagging onto the bridge and slapping the prey down with a swift paw. And just as a tortoiseshell appears from the reeds, she delivers a killing bite to the neck, striped tail waving proudly.​

 

[iciclefang]

Solo hunting had been a luxury when she’d first received her warrior name; there’d been no Smokethroat breathing over her shoulder, critical flame-colored eye searing her pelt, no incompetent warrior giving her orders when she knew ten times better than them. Now it’s a way to give herself some solitude. The RiverClan camp is full of gossipy, nosy cats, and though she cares deeply for most of her Clanmates, their aimless chatter serves to drive her mad some days. She wants to listen to the river’s murmur against the shore. She wants to hear birdsong, to feel reeds slap wetly against her slicked-back flanks.

Her concentration zeroes in on a fat brown body squeezing itself from a stony gap in the earth. A pink tongue makes its way ‘round pearly teeth. Her paws are quiet, but there’s little to no cover here where the ground is rockier, and it spots her bright tortoiseshell fur instantly. “Damn,” she curses lowly, breaking into a mad sprint as it races for the Twoleg Bridge. She might just be close enough to snatch it before it makes its way onto ThunderClan land—

And before she can make her final leap, a gray tabby bearing a scarred chest bursts over the bridge’s surface, paws clattering against the stone. ThunderClan! Iciclefang’s blue eyes shine with frustration as she skids to a stop just on the other side of the bridge. “That’s a RiverClan vole, minnowbrain!” She huffs, forcing the fur to keep flat on her shoulders. She knows there’s nothing she can do to get the vole back now—and technically, the Twoleg Bridge belongs to neither of them. She certainly isn’t going to fight another warrior over a vole… not during greenleaf, and not when she has no grounds to do so. Cicadastar doesn’t suffer fools lightly, after all.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[STORMYWING]

Stormywing’s head snaps up at the sound of another voice. Flaming hazel meets icy blue, belonging to a RiverClanner with sleek, well-groomed tortoiseshell fur, not a single hair out of place. Get a load of this princess, She thinks to herself, brow quirking as a challenging smirk stretches across her muzzle. “Really? Because it seems an awful lot like a ThunderClan vole, now.” Her mew is more playful than cruel, but it’s evident she does not intend on handing the fresh-kill over.

She swipes a tongue across her fangs, cleaning them of the blood from her kill. “But if you’re that certain, you can come and get it.” Her grin stretches wider, as if she knows the hoity-toity she-cat wouldn’t dare step foot closer. To display just how casual she means to be, she leans into a stretch only to fall back on her rump. A hind leg is lifted to her ear to give it a lazy scratch, all the while a watchful hazel eye remains on the RiverClanner, grin still on her face.​

 

[iciclefang]

The ThunderClan cat’s insolence makes Iciclefang’s cheeks burn with rage. She lifts her lip, just enough to reveal the curve of her upper canines. “ThunderClan is so used to thieving at this point, it’s no wonder you can’t tell the difference,” she says, her voice layered with frost despite the anger searing her flesh. “Does prey taste better when it’s stolen?” She stalks a few paces forward, her tail beginning to unfurl and lash behind her in an intimidating show.

Despite her threatening posture, Iciclefang still makes no move to act on the other she-cat’s offer. She can see the reaction is what she wants. The tortoiseshell warrior spits, frustrated. “Childish. Where’s your mentor at, hmm? Do they know you’re here taunting another Clan’s warriors instead of being useful?” She narrows her eyes, and the smile that stretches thinly across her muzzle is small and cold.

✧ INFO.

•  
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[STORMYWING]

Stormywing is having fun, as it's obvious she's getting a rise out of the other she-cat. That is, until she brings up a reputation of thieving. "Hey, we claimed that territory honorably, and won it fairly," She retorts, gravelly voice cracking as her voice rises higher in pitch. It's her usual reaction when someone's able to get her angry. She now glowers, her own tail mimicking the tortoiseshell's in its lashing. Her next words insult her and she snorts, lifting her chin defiantly. "I've been a warrior for moons, fish-breath!" Her pelt bristles, the tips of her fangs beginning to show, before she forces herself to calm down with a purposely-haughty smirk. "I may be here taunting, but you're still here listening! Who's the real winner, huh?" If she can get the last laugh, that's all she wants.​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang’s smirk grows marginally wider at the ThunderClan she-cat’s bristling reaction to her tease. She’d hit a sore spot, it seems—and then, like the skilled combatant she is, she hits another. “You won it, alright, but don’t get too comfortable.” The tortoiseshell’s eyes glint. “RiverClan will have Sunningrocks back. We’re just letting ThunderClan keep it warm for us until we need it again.” She insolently licks a white-tipped paw and pulls it through the immaculate silver web of her whiskers. “Fish-breath? Try something more original next time.”

She stretches, letting the sun warm the golden patches on her pelt. Now she knows she’s wasting time, and her vole is gone, most of it eaten. Iciclefang knows she has nothing more to gain besides some childish fish-related insults if she is to stay. “Hope you enjoyed your vole, but if I catch you with our prey in your mouth again, I’m going to take it back by force.” She scraps her claws threateningly against the stone-cobbled bridge—a grating message—before tossing her head and spinning about on her heel. She has better things to do, after all.

✧ INFO.

• out!
• 
  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white markings and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Stormywing snorts as the tortoiseshell gives a long, casual stretch. She eyes her suspiciously, smirk twisting into more of a snarly sneer. Her ears angle backwards as the other she-cat spins around and pads away. "I'd like to see you try! Everyone knows a RiverClanner would rather sit on their rump all day!" She calls tauntingly after her, sneering. Immature, she knows, but she can't help it. The other had been successful in ruffling her feathers. The tabby sticks her nose in the air and huffs, holding her tail high. At least she's the last one standing on the border. In her mind, it's a victory. "But if ya decide to show, I'll be here waiting!" She watches as the other's sleek tail disappears into the reeds. With an annoyed roll of her eyes, she leans down to pick up the vole and head back to camp.

SHE WEARS HER LONELINESS JUST LIKE A CROWN ☁︎​

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