private WILD WEST ; asphodelpaw

Hadn't Asphodelpaw just been released from his imprisonment to camp by Lichentail? Cicadapaw can't exactly say he's pleased to be heading out with the troublesome lynx point today, as opposed to Beepaw or perhaps one of Ravensong and Moonpaw's herb-gathering errands. He knows his sister has some issue with the other apprentice—she'd been complaining during one of their apprentice-den chats—but Cicadapaw likes to think himself something like his mentor. Cool, collected, not bothered by petty apprentice fights.

This does not, however, change the fact that Asphodelpaw is still really damn annoying.

The tom's over-dramatic 'cool' attitude, his penchant for whining about this, that, and the other, his proclamations of loyalty to the clan, are all very irritating. Cicadapaw had, in a rare show of self-control, watched the apprentice fight from afar instead of getting himself mixed up in yet another argument and earning another cuff on the ear. He'd thought he was the apprentice den's biggest troublemaker until Asphodelpaw came along, starting fight after fight with the ex-Colony cats. Cicadapaw wrinkles his muzzle—he has no taste for the non-Clanners, for the rot infesting their clan through those paws, but he knows better than to start fights with them.

"Iciclefang and Crashingtide said they'd be in earshot, if not closer," he mews flatly into the icy air, glancing over at Asphodelpaw. "We're supposed to 'stick together' while we hunt." He blinks over at the other apprentice. Cicadapaw's fishing style tended to be counterintuitive to teamwork, but then again, Asphodelpaw also seemed rather opposite to teamwork. Dual-toned eyes jitter towards the thin screen of ice over the lapping shore, halfway cracked by the motion of the waves, and he mutters, "Hold on."

In a smooth motion that contrasts his bulging eyes and bony joints, he darts low across the sand and into the water with a spun-glass crack of breaking ice. When he opens his eyes again, the world is dark and cold, marked by silvery shadows of fish. His dark pelt, dappled with white, blends into the low light of the river, and he takes his time in choosing his target. A sudden launch forward with a weaving of stretched limbs and a long lamprey is his, dragged up to the surface and slammed onto a shoreline rock to kill it. Its tooth-filled, sucking mouth is off-putting, but its size is reasonably impressive for leaf-bare, if not the meatiest of prey.

"There's one," he says plainly, as though he hadn't torn off from their little duo to dive into the freezing river. The tom gives himself a shake to rid his damp black curls of any excess water, appreciative of the inherited waterproof quality of his pelt. He swore he'd be calm and collected, but he can't resist a quick remark. "You gonna catch the fish or start a fight with 'em?"

// @Asphodelpaw !!


"speech"

 
*+:。.。 It burned every nerve ending in Asphodelpaw's body that his reputation had crumbled to dust so quickly. And so unfairly, he might add!
He'd never been the type to concern himself with the opinions of others. His goal was always to do his job and do it right. Even better than right, he wanted to set the the president! Plus, most of those opinions were criticisms about him being too bossy, too strict, too whatever scapegoat word took the fault out of the accuser for the laziness Asphodelpaw called them out on.
But for all his hard work, all his efforts to go by the books and honor his clan, it wasn't his loyalty that got the cat's attention but the "audacity" of calling out threats within their clan that finally had cats looking his way. He didn't realize how much he missed being a shadow in the apprentice's den until he could no longer disappear into the crowd.
Passing by Beepaw or Claypaw on his way to his nest in the apprentice's den still made his fur fluff up with rage.

Perhaps it was more than a little biased of him to turn that anger so quickly onto Cicadapaw and Starlightpaw, but he didn't doubt the mob mentality siblings would have with one another. Perhaps it was a good thing he was born as an only child. But for all his judgments, Cicadapaw hadn't treated him any differently since his little "talk" with Beepaw. He waited for the remarks, or the spits, but the younger tom simply dismissed him and did his job, which was not a little appreciated by the ivory-toned apprentice.
Perhaps he needn't fear the nepotism in this silent war.

But his luck when it came to one-on-one interactions with his fellow youths wasn't going to get any better anytime soon, and today would be no different.

Asphodelpaw huffs at his comment about their mentors being close by, his prickly skin screaming that it's a warning against him but his ability to see reason and understanding the tom is just stating facts. Still, Asp can't help but look over his shoulder, wishing the older cats would hang around closer still. He needs to ensure his elders see that he's "improving" (though he was never given a proper reason on what exactly he's done *wrong*), and maybe even ensure *he's* not the one starting fights...

Then, quick as a bat, Cicadapaw is here one second and gone the next, leaving Asphodelpaw jumping. When he spots the apprentice again, he's throwing up a large fish, impressively sized for something that's possibly been hibernating these last few moons. Starclan, he's missed being able to hunt like that. "Nice catch" he begins, only to click his jaws shut when Cicadapaw speaks again.

It's not so much the implied insult as it is a combination of that and the challenge Asphodel knows he won't be able to even attempt to compete in.
"If it were a threat to my clan" Asphodelpaw would snarl, the first words he's said to Cicadapaw for...Stars, were these two first words he's said to the younger boy, like, ever? And it was the lamest sentence he's ever spoken aloud too -
Ear tips practically steaming with the heat of rushing blood, Asphodelapw would turn his back immediately to the black tom, "You keep to the river, I'm hunting on land," he spits, then, scrambling for any form of justification on why he can't rise to the challenge, he adds, "I'm not going to risk you trying to drown me in defense of your punk sister" For how badly his image in his clanmate's eyes has gotten, Asphodelpaw doesn't actually enjoy starting fights. He's a people pleaser at heart, unable to help to cringe every time he sees his clanmates - even his denmates - shoot him their disappointed looks. He hadn't wanted any of this to happen and considers even now shutting his trap finally if it means getting back into his clanmates good graces. But his desperation to avoid fights is weak to the fear of getting called out as a dry-paw, and since his reputation is already deep in the gutter, he can just add this to his list of apologies later - but anything is better than risking Cicadapaw making a mockery of this patriotic riverclan apprentice who can't even fucking touch the water.





  • GENERAL:
    Asphodelpaw
    DMAB— He/Him — Unsure
    8 moons — Ages 1 moon every month real-time
    Mentored by Crashingtide
    Riverclan — Apprentice




    COMBAT:
    Physically easy | mentally medium
    Attack in bold #9fc3fc
    injuries: None currently