camp YOU COULD DROWN IN THOSE EYES ☆ "SPAR"

[CICADAFLIGHT]

Anyone who's familiar with Cicadaflight knows he likes to fight. For some unknowable reason, he's been honoring his and Sandpelt's grim tradition of their occasional spars for moons now, despite his barely - disguised distaste for the tan - hued warrior. Any time there's a spar—especially during his recent, extended tenure in the confines of camp, banned from raising his own claws—he can often be found on the sidelines, watching the brawlers' every swing and pounce, sitting silently as he analyzes their form and makes notes for himself.

Anyone who's familiar with Cicadaflight also knows he's pretty good at fighting. All that time he's spent studying form and motion, sparring with his mentor and Sandpelt and anyone who'd take him up on it as an apprentice—it had been startling to see him so battered by the rogue that had stolen away part of his face, though not without the expense of nearly losing their life. The spars he so regularly hosts against his enemy always, invariably, end with his victory.

So, naturally, there are two things startling today—one, that when the warrior had finally been cleared for duty, he had made a beeline for a spar. That, in itself, was not exactly surprising; what is, however, is his choice of partner. Sandpelt is disregarded, a time - honored tradition ( of hatred ) forgotten for the time being. Two, that he's losing—for there's no other way to frame it, as the warrior's impromptu spar has ended with him flat on his back on the sand, pinned by his opponent. For those familiar with the tom, or with his fighting style at least, there might be more than a hint that he's obviously letting himself be beaten, havng made no effort to use his powerful hind limbs to kick his opponent off.

" I yield, I yield, " he mrrows good - naturedly, poking @Driftwood gently in the chest with one snowy forepaw. This is also uncommon; both the tom choosing to yield, which is damn near unheard of for him, and his voice being a meow rather than angry silence or a snarling hiss. White lashes coast low over two - toned eyes, moon - round pupils, his heterochromatic gaze flicking upwards towards Driftwood's face. Off - hued eyes practically shine as they meet clear daybreak - yellow then snap away, the tom's ears flicking backwards as he feels flame - warmth lick their tufted tips. A raspy chuckle breaks out of his chest and he jokingly protests without much genuine annoyance, " I yield, get off me already! "

OOC : No need to wait for Driftwood to post!

☆

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[Driftwood]

Being challenged to a spar was exciting, not to mention from a friend. Winning was Driftwood's last thought, they knew the reputation Cicadaflight held; how he was a strong and an ambitious fighter. Sure, they knew their strength and they had served a scar from getting too rough within one as an older apprentice.. learning their own strength and capabilities. Although, they didn't believe they'd win this easy. This had peeked their interest, being socially wise.. this was different, but.. they'd play dumb for now.

Oh but still, the same glimmer of glee sparked in their sunny eyes with a playful grin, "Ha!" They chirped at the successful pin, grin forming into a smirk as he admitted a surrender, "Oh really? Daww.. I was having fun! C'mon...!" Driftwood teased with a playful scrunch to their nose, meeting the gaze of two toned eyes, pricking their ears at the brief shine of the earthly gaze and watching it be snatched away from them in the same. They'd internally blame the sudden heat radiating their pelt from the exercise and beaming sun, leaping over Cicadaflight with a humored snort as he pressed them to get off. "Sorry, sorry..!" Driftwood giggled, giving a teasing flick of their tail under his chin.

"Whew! I could go for a dip in the river after that.." A shift of their gaze fell back upon the Tom, a playful invitation and silent question. They wondered if he'd chime in on his own.

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[SANDPELT]

ꕀꕀ From a distance, Sandpelt observes. He doesn’t dare interrupt the duo’s sparring session, not when they both look to be having so much fun. Besides, the strange feeling in his stomach has only grown worse as he’s been watching, and he isn’t sure whether he’d be able to say anything without the sinking-stone feeling getting any worse. What is there to say, anyway? “Hey, Driftwood, you’re nice and all, but that’s my sparring partner”? Or, even better, “Why do you get everything that I can’t have, just handed to you like it’s nothing?” There’s an aching in his chest and he can’t get it out, and every second he spends watching the two spar makes it worse.

Driftwood pins the other warrior to the ground, but it doesn’t look as violent an action as it is when Sandpelt has found himself pinned beneath unmoving monochrome paws. It looks almost… playful, actually. But whatever the two are doing, he’s content to let them continue. Finally, he isn’t the subject of his worst enemy’s attention. Finally, Cicadaflight has someone else to spar with—ignoring the fact that the spar is as halfhearted as they come—and at last he can leave Sandpelt alone. So… why does it feel like he’s lost something?

Driftwood suggests that the two go for a swim together, and their intentions are clear. This isn’t just a spar anymore. It’s… oddly romantic, now. It makes sense, really—just looking at the two, anyone can tell that they’re meant to be. They clearly like each other a lot, so it’s only natural.

"Well," he announces to the cat beside him, a bit too loudly given their proximity. "I’ve got huntin’ to do. Can’t waste any more time." Without waiting for a response from his clanmate, Sandpelt ducks off into the camp, passing by dens one by one as he trots casually in the opposite direction. Sure, the only cat he cares to beat in a spar has chosen to half-fight against another warrior, one who can probably give him a real challenge. Sandpelt is weak, he knows that, but he’d thought that it would at least take a little longer to be replaced.

He doesn’t care, not really. He knows what it’s like to be tossed aside. This is nothing new.

𓇢𓆸 you get on my nerves

• ooc: —
• 
  SANDPELT ❯❯ he/him, warrior of riverclan
  ❀ pretty, silky-furred tan tortoiseshell with one yellow eye. calm and hardworking, but can become snappy if angered.
  ❀ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ❀ penned by foxlore

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[Pinepaw ⭒]

-ˋˏ ༻ ❆༺ ˎˊ-
It was rare that Pinekit got to watch a spar going on in camp, the last the girl had seen had been Shellpaw’s attempt against Midnightpaw, and that had ended with a bitter reminder of the fact her friend shared the delicacy of a flower. As the brawny tortiouseshell sat with a straightened spine, pupils expanding and contracting with every abrupt jab, she finds herself replaying the memory of lilac brushing with brindled for the sake of support. Perhaps Shellpaw’s frailty wasn’t as big a deal as Pinekit had worried about, honeyed hues stretch wide as she watches Driftwood pin Cicadaflight, and the kitten realizes that if she could fight like that.. well, she could be enough a warrior for the both of them, couldn’t she? The pair could still be great one day, a distorted reflection of Hazecloud and Iciclefang, she could make that a reality.
Pinekit’s train of thought is broken when Cicadaflight finally hollers a yield, and as the girl watches her clanmate gives his opponent a poke, her brows scrunch. From the few matches she had seen, she can’t recall any of them ending with tail flicks to the face and prods to the chest. Oh.. the realization clicks, this must be who Hazecloud was talking about, Pinekit would need to confirm. Sandpelt’s announcement means little to Pinekit as she ponders what to say.
“I’ve never seen a spar li’that before.” The girl finally announces. “Thought you were ‘posed to be good.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── AND I BEG TO BE TESTED ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ BY GODDESSES RESTING ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  PINEKIT ✩ she/her, kit of riverclan, 5 moons.
  ⭃ plush-furred tortoiseshell she-kit with white dipped forepaws, tail tip, and muzzle and round, honey hued optics.
  ⭃ daughter of Iciclefang && Stormywing ࿏ sister to Cragkit && Crabkit
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[eveningpaw]

It is rarely a pleasant feeling when Eveningpaw's attention decides to cling to you. Curious eyes like to bore into backs of skulls, not bothered enough to at least pretend to look away when her gaze is caught. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in on the loop with her Clanmates' daily lives — and Hazecloud's latest gossip session has alerted Eveningpaw to the possibility of not knowing enough.

Romance is a grown-up thing for grown-ups. She sees lovey-dovey couples with their tails intertwined, with their mouths curling into pleased smiles when they eat together, with their heads involuntarily turning towards whoever caught their heart. Or perhaps half of that is her imagination... she's guilty of making up dialogue within her head whenever Lichenstar and Hazecloud lock eyes, their voices comically acted out in the safety of her own thoughts.

So, it's safe to say she just doesn't get it... and nor does she really care.

There is a strong but here; when mama had brought up vague suggestions about love, Eveningpaw had been lost. The unspoken question of who she was talking about had hung heavy in the air, and ever since then, Eveningpaw has been on a mission to figure it out for herself.

Cicadaflight switching out his sparring partner is already unusual — something Sandpelt seems to agree with, given how quick he is to exit the scene —, but he decides to easily answer all of Eveningpaw's questions with the way he acts. Even Pinekit seems to notice how there is an abundance of careful touches instead of paws slashing through fur.

"So there's no round two? Shame," Eveningpaw comments, eager to see how the pair would react.
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[robinheart]

Spars within camp are easy entertainment for the camp bound queen, who just recently lost her medicine den buddy. Not that her and Cicadaflight were all that close - but he had made for well enough company. StarClan knows Robinheart has been without companionship for way too long.

Reclining in a nearby patch of shade, the tortoiseshell watches with intrigue as the freed warrior chooses Driftwood to spar with as opposed to Sandpelt. She wonders if the replaced tom feels betrayed by such an act (stars know Robinheart would have felt betrayed if Brookstorm sparred with someone else when they were young) but does not feel compelled to ask. She really shouldn’t stick her muzzle where it doesn’t belong. Besides he seems just as focused on the spar as she is.

Though it’s not so much a spar as… something else.

Grossly romantic in nature and the tortoiseshell ignores the squeeze of her chest and ache in her heart. Cicadaflight deserves to have his form of fun with a friend, and Driftwood appears equally enamored in the thrown spar. Robinheart won’t let someone else’s joy bitter her thoughts and grow into grief - she has engaged in spars before, tangoed with unnameable emotions and allowed them to blossom into romance. She lived and loved with reckless abandon; she won’t let herself become disenchanted because it is someone else’s turn to follow a similar path.

“That was quite an entertaining spar!” She purrs as thoughts and emotions are tamped down and genuine happiness for the duo takes its place. Citrine eyes glance towards Pinekit and Eveningpaw and she shrugs her shoulders a bit. “Cada just got out of the medicine den, it’s probably wise that he yields so he doesn’t wind up with me as a den mate again,” Robinheart teases, her gaze briefly following Sandpelt as he takes his leave. Hope he’s feeling okay.​

[ penned by kerms ]​