VULTURE CULTURE [ sunstride ]

[SNAILSTRIDE]

Snailpaw had gotten painfully used to plucking the ticks off of elders. It seemed to be the favoured chore offered to apprentice when they'd done something wrong, Snailpaw had done a lot of things wrong. Age helped them hide the worst of their idleness, they were beginning to learn when to pull their weight and when they could take it easy, but one wrong move meant that the marbled tabby was back to doing what he dreaded most. That day, it had been Snailpaw's own running mouth that had gotten them into hot water as apparently, apprentices that were out hunting shouldn't have known about the types of horses out in the Horseplace that particular morning. They kept their eyes on the hunched-over clanmate, a permanent glare fixed on the elder's silver maw. They'd heard her complaints all afternoon about how 'she didn't need the help' and how 'the clan could have sent someone less chatty', sadly, Snailpaw agreed with the brown tabby. Every drop of mouse bile he placed upon her fur was met with a bitter comment about how it was in the wrong place, every apology was met with a simple phrase: don't be sorry, just do better.

The battle against the elder was exhausting, as they nudged their nose through another patch of matted fur, Snailpaw felt their eyes begin to drift. "You know~" He started off, and though a set of amber eyes shot at the apprentice in warning, they continued all the same. Drowsiness was beginning to affect their judgment, in a situation where it would have been better to keep quiet and get the job done with, Snailpaw couldn't help themselves from making a pointless, but well-intended comment. It carried the snark any WindClanner would know, but Snailpaw's authenticity, the marble tabby himself was not sure quite how sarcastic he wanted his meow to be. "If you don't want apprentices scouring your pelt for ticks, have you ever tried not getting ticks? It works a treat for me!". There was a pause, and just as Snailpaw thought they saw another tick on the elder's leg, all hell broke lose. She shifted and began to snap at the tabby, her croaky mews growing louder and louder as she admonished the audacity of the cheerful feline. They took a step back, eyes widened at the sudden outburst, but this time, they made no move to apologise.

Even if they wanted to, they weren't sure if they'd be able to get a word in. Instead, Snailpaw stood there helplessly, waiting for either the elder's tirade to end or for someone to swoop in and save him from his own hubris.

@SUNSTRIDE

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

More often than not, Snailpaw's advice was not easily swallowed. At times it made little sense, or brushed achingly against a nerve that he seldom recognized. It could make him laugh, or it could make him feel nothing more than an urge to bare his teeth. But there were some things that not even these irritations might deserve, and the ire of such a tireless elder was among those. He hears first the shouting that echoes from the elder's den, of words such as respect and gratefulness and the uselessness of youth. Audacity and cruelty and a great many other things, each one louder than the last. (The few apprentices that bustle about camp seem to move quicker at the voice, moving away from the den at comical speeds.) That is another clue for his investigation.

Called by curiosity and some small desire to save whichever poor creature is pinned beneath this anger, he pushes himself into the elder's den, great paws and ducked head preceding the full enormity of his fluff.

He immediately takes up a great deal of space within, and the elder's words no longer have the room to echo. Her words fade again, though her rage does not. She begins to tear into Snailpaw once more, though the words are directed at Sunstride in the cowering apprentice's stead, until he lifts one snow-kissed paw. "Pay no mind to this one's words, take your rest and catch your wind. Another will care for your ticks later, and I will take Snailpaw to where he is not so offensive to your ears." It is good that the she-cat's eyesight has faded so severely, for beneath the serious tone of his words is a sparkling of amusement in pale eyes, and a glance that tells the apprentice to worry for what he says. Oh, but there had been a great many times in his own youth that he found himself needing such an intervention. Particularly when Wolfsong was as involved.

"Come then, Snailpaw. Perhaps we may find another task for you today."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[SNAILSTRIDE]

His gaze immediately flittered to the entrance to the elder's den as a new creature pushed its way into it, the tabby's sapphire eyes widening in confusion as they locked with Sunstride. No way, their senior warrior had retired!? Snailpaw thought them to be in the prime of their life, full of potential and opportunities and- oh, he was talking to the moody she-cat? They blinked rapidly, and let out a silent 'oh' when it became clear that the senior warrior was rescuing them from their elder-induced misery instead of retiring. Their shoulders slumped in relief, it took the willpower of StarClan to not thank Sunstride right then and there. Removing ticks wasn't a nice job, it'd be alright if not for the smell of mouse bile burning in one's nostrils for hours later, but usually, they preferred it to learning new battle techniques. With how critical the elder's judgment had been of him, Snailpaw wasn't sure what he'd prefer that day. Watching as the elder grumbled something under her breath, the marbled tabby wordlessly escaped the elder's den with their knight in shining armour. If they could've cried tears of relief at breathing in fresh air again, they would've.

"Thank you so much! I dunno why she got so mad, all I said was that if she didn't want apprentices around she should stop getting ticks! I thought that was a sensible solution but... I guess it's not that easy when you're holed up in a stinky den all the time. Still..." Words could sting like any wound, it was water off of a duck's back in Snailpaw's case... for the most part. Some knew how to make their insults scorch into the apprentice's psyche, the elder had been relentless but she did not hiss anything new or scathing enough to make them reconsider themselves (though it did not mean they could've tolerated it for much longer). Leaning down, Snailpaw lapped at the snow, hoping that it would rid their tongue of the taste of mouse bile and if not, at least numb it long enough for the agonising stench to be gone. Glancing nervously at Sunstride, their long tail inevitably swayed, one simple question entering their mind - now what? What unspeakable horror would they be forced to perform for the sake of their Clan? Would they have to hunt on the moors? Train with a much more qualified apprentice?

Hoping Sunstride would forget that they'd offered to find them a new task, Snailpaw offered him a grin. "I guess you're pretty busy, huh? Well I won't keep you, thanks again for the help!"


​