private WAKE UP, YOU'RE DREAMING [†] ICICLEFANG

[SHARPSHADOW]

†Sharppaw had hoped that this whole thing would be a breath of fresh air. It’s not so much better though, not really.

Her feelings are still there, but they’re not the kind that she can rip into shreds and focus into catching a plump toad. They’re the kind that just make her feel sad and just sort of awful. An inflection of voice that’s not quite right – a face that she does not manage correctly. His skin crawls after he does nothing at all, and he figures he must’ve missed someone or something while thinking too hard about someone or something.

Not thinking so hard about things is so much easier. But wouldn’t it be much easier to get him killed that way, too? He doesn’t know what face to make; what to do with his ears. He is staring straight ahead at the setting sun, suddenly – relatively alone with the likes of Iciclefang. It’s easy for him to keep forgetting, because his mind is apparently keen to drift. " Are you ever embarassed? " he suddenly blurts, dipping his head just slightly. His eyes are caught between too many things. The white of Iciclefang’s paws – and then, the sun again. " Of... Fernpaw, " he breathes clarification, trying not to show the frantic twitch of his whiskers.

Sharppaw can't look at her.

Smogmaw managed to be liked, with his dead face and sore throat. Sharppaw ought to do the same if such a thing was charming.

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 09.17.2023

• OOC: @iciclefang ,,, rah
•  

• SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Though recently, she has realized it still has some use, she has wholey believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this. Prone to occassional bouts of impulsive behavior, as it has proved to benefit him, so far.

​

 

[iciclefang]

Had she been surprised to learn that Sharppaw is still a ’paw, a perpetual apprentice? She does not think she could bear the same of coming on this journey without a warrior name at sixteen moons, but they are different creatures, it seems. Shameless ones. She thinks this, at least, until the dark-pelted ShadowClanner lifts his face to the sinking sun and asks her, “Are you ever embarrassed?” Silver-shaded eyes are locked onto the horizon, where fire streaks the sky, smokeless. She prepares to tell him no, why should she be, when Sharppaw adds, “Of Fernpaw.”

The tortoiseshell stares at her for a moment, at the stoicism she desperately tries to wear upon those sharp, cutting features. “I used to be,” she says. “I used to feel like he brought me shame. Me and the rest of our kin.” Iciclefang squints against the scarlet glare of the sky. “That was foolish of me, though. My accomplishments are my own. Blood or not, there’s nothing Fernpaw can do to take that away from me.”

After a heartbeat, the marbled warrior says in a curiously deadpan voice, “If anything, I pity him. I pity him and I fear for him.” She looks pointedly at Sharppaw, though she says nothing more.

✧ INFO.

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

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Sharppaw did not expect any answer in particular – but she did selfishly hope for something. She feels the weight of Iciclefang’s stare upon her, though she still doesn’t have the heart to look. It’s easier to keep stone - faced when no one could watch you do it. Even if Iciclefang could see him, he didn’t need to see her. There are a few moments where the air is still. So is he – inexplicably afraid to let out a breath. As if this question mattered, or something.

His attention is recaptured – it never really left – with Iciclefang’s words. Dark ears are pricked and swiveled to attention. Used to be. that’s good, isn’t it? Not like it mattered to him. My accomplishments are my own. A nod. Sharppaw feels the need to affirm this, even if Iciclefang was probably the last cat that needing affirmation from someone like her. Sharppaw’s gut twists uncomfortably. " Right... " he knows his agreement is worthless when he says it. Sharppaw tries to remember if she’s ever assumed anything of others because of who was around them. Yeah, was the answer. Not all assumptions are completely unwarranted. Iciclefang stood above it all, easily. …For some reason.

" If anything, I pity him. I pity him and I fear for him. " Iciclefang is looking intently at him, and Sharppaw is drawn to meet her gaze. Her tongue is dry when it matters, though. The apprentice swallows a lump in his throat. She does not want to see the intensity in those crystaline eyes. And silently, she asks, do you pity me?

That’s a sign of weakness, she knows.

Sharppaw does not want to be pitied. She reminds herself that this isn’t about her. But isn’t it, though? Just a little bit? " D-do you think something bad will happen to him? " he breathes. Any semblance of a stony façade has crumbled away like dust.

OOC † IN THE MIRROR 09.17.2023

•  
•  

• SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Though recently, she has realized it still has some use, she has wholey believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw is a creature living in constant fear. Most thoughts are irrational, but consistent in that they are borne from pessimism and generalized anxieties.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this. Prone to occassional bouts of impulsive behavior, as it has proved to benefit him, so far.

​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclefang’s study of Sharppaw proves fruitless; the dark apprentice with his bladed fur is careful not to give anything away, and the tortoiseshell is not equipped at reading a cat from another Clan, especially not one so guarded. She shrugs at her question, a golden-red ear flicking with dismissal. “No.” But that’s not quite true, is it? She pauses, seemingly reflecting on some thought, some memory. “My father is ill. Our sister, too, another littermate. I’m assuming that’s why Fernpaw volunteered for this job.”

She does not sound vulnerable when she reveals this—and the look she gives Sharppaw is devoid of warmth. She likes the ShadowClanner well enough, for what she is… but Iciclefang allows herself no self-pity, and damned if she’s going to allow a cat from another Clan to give her any. Stormywing had clumsily attempted, but the two of them at least had that shared understanding. Iciclefang wonders if she and Sharppaw will, too.

“When Fernpaw volunteered, I knew I had to come, too.” She exhales through her nose, soft. “My brother is brave… but he’s a fool. His face scar, the eye? That’s from him trying to fight a fox alone. He just ended up ruining his vision and delaying his warrior ceremony several more moons.” She realizes how harsh she sounds, and she grits her teeth. Is she angry that Fernpaw has come? She hadn’t realized the extent of her emotions. “I care for Fernpaw. I don’t want anything else to happen to him, but I do not trust him to take care of himself.”

She turns her gaze away, now antsy to change the subject. “So… you know why I’m here, now. Why are you?”

✧ INFO.

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

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

No, she did not. Sharppaw does not think he believes her. Would that make the fear less tangible? Not a thing to happen in the future, but worry for what he was? And that was — a disappointment? A loser? Sharppaw feels a twinge of something. Sharppaw affords her attention that she may not have, if Iciclefang were not her. The both of them, they had good reasons for their coming, Infinitely more so, than Sharppaw who has been dredged along out of obligation.

He nearly offers the warrior his condolences, but the thought is stangnate.. Would he really be sorry for it? He knew nothing of these cats, and he hardly knew Iciclefang, herself. He thinks he may be a traitor, if he did.

“ When Fernpaw volunteered, I knew I had to come, too. “ Pity. Sharppaw is satisfied, and she is disturbed. Fernpaw could not be trusted on his own. Perhaps he was more a burden to this mission than he was a help — and Sharppaw’s stomach twists. How kind of her, not to leave him to die. And Sharppaw is uncomfortable. It is foolishness, that weighs down her brothers success. And Sharppaw is ecstatic. One of then scarred nobly, and the other did not.

Sharppaw might hate a sister like Iciclefang. But— she and Fernpaw are not the same. They are not.

The topic change comes quickly. Sharppaw is struck with a question, and he freezes when it comes. My mentor made me, is not a noble reason. No, she ought to be demoted to kit, in that case. She tries not to click her teeth together. " I... I had to. It's what I'm supposed to do, " sounds less… Less like something to dip her head to. And Sharppaw feels judgement before it ever comes. " I'm being tested. " He’s aimless. He’s here, and he is aimless. " I, I think so... anyways. "

OOC † LOOK SEE, ISN'T IT INTERESTING? NO, YOU'RE NOT EVEN LISTENING

• 
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang’s ear twitches at Sharppaw’s response. “I… I had to. It’s what I’m supposed to do.” She cocks her head, confusion clouding her pale blue eyes. “What do you mean? You’re only an apprentice. Surely it wasn’t Smogmaw’s expectation you come on this journey,” she mews. But then Sharppaw clarifies: I’m being tested. Understanding blooms across her glacial features. “Ah…” She gives her mottled chest fur a few licks, thinking. “Is this your warrior assessment, do you think?”

XXXXXAfter a few heartbeats, she says, “If so, it’s a hell of an assessment.” Her eyes gleam with faint amusement. “Even mine was easier, and it was a public battle assessment with Smokethroat. My punishment would have been the shame I’d get from losing in front of Cicadastar, my kin, and my Clanmates.” She peers at Sharppaw for a moment, smirking. “But your punishment could be far worse. Death, for one.”

─────────​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Only an apprentice. Of course she's only an apprentice. She knows that. But suddenly she wishes she could burn Iciclefang with only her eyes. Maybe she should feel blessed that Smogmaw has brought her along for this extended death trap, if it meant he saw her as more than only an apprentice. " It was, " she grits, voice something between sadness and frustration, though just ending up... lame in the end. Lame and tired.

Is this your warrior assessment, do you think?

No. he... hadn't really. The test in his mind had been something for less straightforward. Something to spite him or rub something else in his face. Something that ShadowClan's warriors were laughing about behind his back. The slouch in his form abruptly straightens, and he watches Iciclefang's idle grooming with unfitting intensity. Him, a warrior. Maybe even soon.

" ...Uhuh, " she finds herself agreeing with dry lips. His ears are pricked, as he hears out the tale of Iciclefang's warrior assessment. Sharppaw thinks she would rather die, than be put on her back for everyone to see. Maybe she was only free of that embarrassment because everyone knew who would win that battle, anyways. Smokethroat was the deputy too, wasn't he?

And Iciclefang had won. Sharppaw blinks at her.

The apprentice suddenly bites a laugh– and it probably sounded awkward to more people than him. " I– I think i'd rather die, " he titters, and he isn't sure just how much of that statement was a joke. He pictures Iciclefang, triumphant, standing before the defeated form of RiverClan's deputy for all her clanmates to see. Sharppaw thinks he would like that to be him. Just for a second. His smile was weak, and it strains against his jealousy, just a bit. " ...I don't really know what I'll do when I'm a warrior, " he admits.

OOC † LOOK SEE, ISN'T IT INTERESTING? NO, YOU'RE NOT EVEN LISTENING

• 
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang has to emit a chuckle like crumbling sand at Sharppaw’s assertion that he’d rather die than have a public assessment. “What, you don’t think you could take Smogmaw?” Her tone cools, serious for a moment as she studies the ShadowClan cat. “It’s nerve-wracking, I’ll admit it. I never would have lived down that loss.” She shrugs, liquid motion. “But now everyone knows just how capable I am. They got to witness it with their own eyes. This journey hopefully is doing the same for you. Chilledstar will see that, when you get home.” She doesn’t know the icy-eyed feline who leads ShadowClan, but she knows if she were Clan leader, she would see it.

XXXXX“I don’t really know what I’ll do when I’m a warrior,” Sharppaw says, her voice hushed and her smile strained. Iciclefang flicks an ear. “Well, you’ll hunt, and patrol, and build dens. Just like you do now.” She gives a raspy, rusty purr of amusement that is short-lived. “But you’ll do it without being scrutinized, for the most part. And no one will look out for you the same way they did when you had a -paw attached to your name.” She stretches, enjoying the burn beneath her sleek pelt. “But that’s a good thing if you’re anything like me. I hated being treated like a weak little kit. My mentor never coddled me, but plenty of warriors tried.” Her smirk plays about her lips again.

─────────​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

Sharppaw blinks, the answer obvious to her— of course not. She thinks they're similar, at least in this respect. The shame is something she cannot picture, were she to be bowled over like a kit in front of all her peers. Nerve - wracking seems a great understatement. All Sharppaw would be able to picture is the potential of a loss; how her life would spiral. If is shame she would live with, not run away from like the worse of ShadowClan had.

But now everyone knows just how capable I am. A wondering blink. Iciclefang did not think about all of that, because she did not need to. Sharppaw wonders if they could be similar in that way, too. Would she lift her jaws to the sky, if she could achieve such a feat? Capable, he thinks, is one of the many things he has never been. It sounds like a joke, Chilledstar seeing in him. It sounds like a joke, that Iciclefang think there is something for them to see.

Sharppaw wants it to be true, she really, truly does.

Of course, he knew all that. He is frustrated, for a moment. " I mean... " He wasn't even sure himself. But you’ll do it without being scrutinized He feels like that can't possible be true. And no one will look out for you the same way they did when you had a -paw attached to your name So— the same. Things were different in RiverClan, he supposes. But that’s a good thing if you’re anything like me. He wishes that he was. Sharppaw tries to match her smile, for more reasons than one. " I'm sure they feel stupid, now. " And would he like for cats to feel the same toward him? He thinks he would.

" I guess I just wonder if that's all there is... forever. " To hunt, patrol, and build dens. is paws buzz in excitement, at the prospect of a new name, but would that be the only thing he'd ever hope for?

ooc ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ look, see, isn't it interesting? no, you're not even listening...

• 
  
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​

 

[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang lets out a raspy purr of amusement, her lids slipping over piercing blue eyes. “They should feel stupid. Apprentices shouldn’t be fawned over and coddled.” There’s a hard note in her voice, despite the diminishing rumblings of that purr. A crystalline heart beats at the core of her words, shines in her eyes. “I don’t intend to coddle Cicadapaw. Cicadastar wouldn’t want it that way. And Smokethroat certainly wouldn't.” She smooths her whiskers against her cheeks with the flat side of one ivory paw, her ears flicking forward at Sharppaw’s musing.

XXXXX“I guess I just wonder if that’s all there is… forever.” She studies her companion. “So—do you want more?” Iciclefang ponders. “What more is there?” There’s nothing more to being a Clan cat, really—learning to defend and protect what belongs to your Clan, teaching future warriors to follow in your paw prints, to continue a legacy started in blood—it’s what calls her home now, what makes her heart beat for the riverlands she’d left behind.

─────────​

​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

They should feel stupid. Apprentices shouldn’t be fawned over and coddled. Iciclefang reminds him of someone he knows. The certainty in her voice has his eyes going slightly wide— but she agrees, all the same. Could she loath and resent her presence here— dragged by the claws of her mentor, if it was the final push to what she has been wanting? (Oh, she certainly could), but right now, she thinks that ought not to be so.

Another wondering blink. An apprentice— one that carried the leader's name, under her. To think, had she not been delayed, she could've had an apprentice by now, already. He wants to grimace, at the thought. It seems a burden, really. But, an honor, Iciclefang painted it as. An honor, Chilledstar would paint it as ( or would they really, with eyes half - mast and posture half - asleep atop their rock? ) Iciclefang is trusted, amongst RiverClan's elite. Sharppaw's jaw is held tight; gnawing jealousy to be ignored.

And... So—do you want more? Had Smogmaw asked her something similar in the past, Sharppaw would say not really. Did he really want to traipse across that muddy wasteland, to begin with? To bargain with his life over a territory that could not feed him, and clanmates that did not like him? He reaches for a name— because that is what he's supposed to want; and because he did not want to be coddled. To be coddled was to be mocked. To be useless.

" I do, " she still ends up saying though, to her own surprise. What more is there? She doesn't really know. She listens to Iciclefang...

And she wants. Wants to do more than pass by, doing what she's supposed to. If things had been different, she could've been like Iciclefang. Respected. His claws curl. " I want... " But how to say that, without sounding like a daydreaming kit? Without sounding like an apprentice who thought they were worth more than they really were? Who thought they could change the world just because someone told them to? Without sounding like someone... envious? " I... I want to be better. "

Her own bile is thick in her throat. She wanted to do what Smogmaw does. Be looked atl ike he was something... even if he was him. Obtuse, abrasive, horrible Smogmaw. He wanted to do it better. He would never leave, like the others have. Not act a fool, like the others did.

Of course, he could never do all of that. ...But he'd like to. A breath in, because leaving it there... probably did not make sense. " Better than the rest of ShadowClan. "

ooc ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ look, see, isn't it interesting? no, you're not even listening...

• 
  
  

• 

• ( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
  —— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
  —— currently 17 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
  
  a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
  — Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
  heavy ic opinions! he sucks.

​