WHISKEY BENT, HELL-BOUND —— intro

[RockyRidge]

Rocky Ridge - Southern gentleman - scarred piebald w/ amber eyes
“ well if it ain’t late and limpin’ it sure ain’t Rocky ” Ambergale, his ex-mate grouches from the prey-pile. Scornful brown eyes rolling as she stalks away with a mole toward the nursery. Rockyridge pauses in his aching irregular walk from the warrior’s den toward the exit of camp with his eyes shut and a long sigh rolling from his jaws.

" woman, I jus’ woke up- every damn day makes you meaner than hell " he rasps back toward the brown tabby who lashed her tail. “ sleepin’ in like an ol’ tunnel rat ” she barks out once more. " I’m just… tired an hurtin’ " he grunts with a thick southern drawl and pads on.

It wasn’t no surprise no more, why they’d broken up- Sparrowkit was just about all they had in common anymore. Their relationship started like most did, sparks flew- young love. Then it fizzled out- and for Ambergale and Rockyridge? that was an understatement. When they lost Sparrowkit, Ambergale only grew cold, and Rockyridge distant.

" weren’t like I slept in on purpose " he mutters to himself and slowly settles himself on his side to bask in the sun before setting out on a hunting trip.
​

 

[Flycatcher]

Flycatcher had not meant to listen in to their little spat, but it was hard not to hear things when Ambergale insisted on speaking to Rocky Ridge in such a terse manner in front of the fresh-kill pile. Rather than get involved, Flycatcher lowered his head and quietly ate his meal, deciding against wading into the conversation and offering his opinion.

When things had gotten quiet and Flycatcher's meal had settled in his stomach, he padded over to the piebald tom who had been warming himself in the sun, and invited him on a hunt. The fresh-kill pile would need to be restocked soon enough anyway, plus Flycatcher thought it might do the older tom some good to stretch his paws and get a blow of breath air. Certainly anywhere might have been better than camp for him right now. As they walked, Flycatcher fell in alongside him. "Figured you could do with the little escape from camp," He mewed in a friendly tone.​

 

[RockyRidge]

Rocky Ridge - Southern gentleman - scarred piebald w/ amber eyes
" Reckon’ I should- before she comes back and takes an ear with her " Rockyridge settles for light humor as he accepts the hunting offer.

The blue tabby was a young’un but he had enough moons over his ears to understand a situation that needed a fixen’ for that Rockyridge gave the kind warrior a grateful nod of his horridly scarred skull.

" if you ever think about settlin’ down- better off just feed’n yourself to a pack of coyotes... love ain't like the river- it's sittin' water.... just rots and stinks " he adds with another exasperated breath. " mighty kind of you, Flycatcher … how’s yer day been goin’? " he limps with a subtly wince, it twinges above the black patch of his eye.

​

 

[Flycatcher]

Flycatcher nodded his head quietly to Rockyridge's words, not knowing what else to say to his comments. He didn't really agree with the older tom's outlook on love and settling down, but he reflected that Rockyridge's opinions had been formed from personal experience of loss, going through a whole range of relationship highs and lows in such a short period of time.

"Think nothing of it, friend," Flycatcher said dismissively. "It's good to get out and clear your mind rather than do nothing but wallow in your feelings." He was a fine one to talk, Flycatcher reflected, as soon as he said that. How often had he often gotten lost in his own thoughts and feelings, lingering too long on the what ifs and the things that were often out of his control. "I am doing well," Flycatcher answered to the older tom's following question. "Still trying to wrap my brain around this apprenticeship scheme Emberstar set up but other than that I'm fine. What about you? Discounting, of course, the little incident with Ambergale earlier."​

 

[GRAYSTORM]

When Graystorm thinks of love, it is a beautiful thing. Longing looks, gentle touches, complete devotion to one another. A flame that grows brighter with each moment spent in their embrace. It is what his mother and Gray Wolf had. It is what Graystorm wants.

It is not... this.

Two old fucks arguing until their lungs give out. He snorts, making a show of examining his claws as he eavesdrops from nearby. Insults fly, and Graystorm thinks that claws might soon. But as quickly as it started, it ends, with Rockyridge ambling off onto a hunting patrol. Graystorm follows, tailing the two with a twitching tail tip. "She's gotta tongue on her, huh?" The dark-furred warrior eyes Rockyridge, gauging for his reaction as he prods... "What'd you do to piss her off, dude?" Rumor has it that he and Ambergale had been close, at one point. Even had a kid together. Graystorm couldn't imagine the relationship went up in flames without a spark to light the fire.

Like Flycatcher, Graystorm doesn't agree with Rockyridge's outlook on love... He thinks, maybe, that Rockyridge is just bad at romance. "How many she-cats you been with?" He quirks a brow, as if that holds any weight to his argument. But if Rockyridge has only ever loved Ambergale, maybe he needs a wake up call that things don't always go as fuckin' planned. That's why, he has to get back up after being kicked down and try harder. It must be no different in relationships. When one fails, find another until you find the one.​