YOU DO IT TO YOURSELF | cleaning up

[BEAR]

Shockingly cold water flows around him as he submerges himself, watches the dirt cloud the water. He bitterly wonders if it will wash away the heaviness that possesses him since his venture has screeched to an abrupt halt. Forestry around him seems to creep to life when he's uncomfortably somewhere concrete, he knows it's not going to last, he's never had the luxury of a home. Strange sounds of the tweeting above, the scurried sounds of the forestry around him, no whooshing of passing monsters, no caterwauling and no deafening pinging of rain against metal against where he has once sought shelter under.

Water sloshes under his belly the further he trudges, like the grief dragging at his paws, tugging at his legs. An empty stomach is what he's familiar with, so the food he's able to rip into after arriving has been a shock, the pile of prey has been a shock. The filthy, tangled pelt he's been lugging around has barely ever been clean, he's never made an effort with it, never had the facilities, long fur only seeing dirty puddles and rain. Bear remains mostly out of the icy cold water, not wanting to put be dragged into anymore dangerous situations, swimming not a skill he's advanced at beyond paddling when the water rises in the alleyways when the rain is overwhelming.

Body protesting the tension he's keeping contained, he swings his shaggy head to look at the land, he doesn't want to be in the water long if he can't help it, the way it sways unpleasantly, tugs and pulls at his coat has his shoulders pulled close to his body. Moving bodies in camp cause him to shift uncomfortably until he's hauling himself through the territory to the riverbank. He must have seen it at some point with Applefrost showing him around. He's suspicious, can't seem to grasp her intentions, similarly regarding the concept of the clan. He's sure he's going to wake up stripped of what has seemed like everything he's wanted. He's ready to ruin all the opportunities handed gracefully to him, poised to disappear when it suits him. When ripping into food in camp he's snapped his jaws at a warrior approaching, knows it hadn't been what he should have done right after the click of his teeth. It's making it clearer and clearer why he doesn't stay, why he has always carefully, and sometime clumsily detangled himself from everything that has ever been any kind of constant.

He's sure he hears something, head snapping to the noise, instinct takes over, his claws dragging deep into the soft dirt, scrabbling for the ground. It's likely a SkyClan cat, it's the territory, but he's expectant of something hissing and feral launching at him, or a rasped taunt - he's heard so many they've long since lost their impact. "Who's there?" The growl creeps into his tone, a warning to back off. His jaws snap shut at the reminder of Dogbite's words: drop the aggressive act. He tries again. "I don't have any fish for you." it's stilted, gruffed out like all his words. He doesn't want the assumptions of being a feral rogue, although, is that not what he is? While harboring, again that tenseness, his sad eyes bore around him, saying something else. Trying to dissuade himself from doing anything rash, he relaxes minutely enough to sheathe his claws. Thick coat heavy with water, he twists and shakes, ridding himself of the worst of the worst of what's weighing him down, needing to be as fast as he can be on his paws. Tries to find comfort in the idea that it's another cat, but is unable to find it.


//tldr: washing in riverbank, dooming about being involved in a clan and being around other cats.
ment tag - @APPLEFROST
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[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather pushes past the reeds to present herself at the riverbank. A wad of green moss hangs from her jaws until she drops it into the water with a light plunk. ”Thank StarClan for that, I’d prefer to stick to birds and squirrels.” She muses, sitting down so that she could extend a paw out to fully submerge the moss. The cold water bites at her paws, she feels her pads going numb as she brings the soaked moss back to her paws. At least it would be nice and refreshing for the cats who needed it back at camp.

”Never heard of a SkyClanner who likes to swim.” She acknowledges the tom wading in the river now with a weary glance at the reeds. ”Might want to be careful, RiverClan may not be too pleased that you’re soaking yourself in their hunting grounds.”

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » Mate to Fantastream
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid to her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

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[FOGBELLY]

It wasn't often he hunted alone, much less willingly, but after a lonesome day of goofing off, he needed a distraction. Wandering through the thick underbrush, Fogbelly's keen senses picked up on the sound of splashing water, the scent of damp fur, and the telltale rustle of someone making their way through the terrain. The low growl reached his ears, and his instincts told him that someone was on edge, perhaps even expecting a confrontation. He could pick out Figfeather, but not the other. Dropping the previous task, he decided to investigate the commotion.

Upon arrival, the odd-scent in question was in fact one of the newest joiners. Fogbelly approached the two, mindful of the other tom's unease. Stepping into the clearing, he made sure to keep a reasonable distance, casting a disinterested grimace at Bear's wariness. "Easy there." He responded with a bemused expression as he watched the tabby on the bank fiddle with mosses. The burly feline couldn't help but concur with the she-cat.

In all his moons of living as a Skyclanner, he'd never seen any of his own wade in the depths. Thinking of the waves dragging him beneath their unforgiving currents was enough to have him steer clear of it. Flicking his short tail, the curious warrior mewled with intrigue. "Ya know. I gotta say I haven't heard of that before, either." Had he been in a fouler mood, an insult might have been peppered in for fun, but he chose the safer option. Bear didn't seem the type to take things lightly anyhow. Idly, he sauntered over to the fellow warrior by the bank.

Not offering any sort of assistance, but happy to sit and watch as he rumbled on. "Another thing - I ain't ever known the river to only be Riverclan's hunting grounds. Can they even lay claim to that?" Logically, they couldn't figure out how a cat could maintain a moving thing. Much less keep fresh markers that weren't consistently washed away.

OOC. EXT.

•  
• 
  ∙ Large and muscular
  ∙ Slow when running/jumping
  ∙ Fast when kicking/hitting
  ∙ Hind legs are his most powerful asset
  ∙ Impressive and nimble climber
  ∙ Egocentric and snarky
  ∙ Love's a good joke or prank
  ∙ Dislike's any cat that talks for too long
  ∙ Hate's being mistaken for a riverclanner
  ∙ Enjoy's the taste of squirrel legs
  ∙ Chaotic neutral

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[APPLEFROST]

As a culture guide for the slowly adapting tom, Applefrost wasn't ever too far from Bear when they were outside of camp. It would be her faithful duty until the day Blazestar decided Bear was ready to receive a warrior name that she chaperone him when out in the pines. She was careful not to hover, though. Bear may be new to the forest but she was aware he was not new to the worldly concept of borders and respect. Rough and prickly around the edges with a touch of distrust, she didn't believe he had the stupidity to blatantly disregard their most basic of rules when his own brother was there.

While Bear had sunken himself into the river Applefrost had excused herself to give him a moment alone. She ended up stretched along the length of a branch, still able to keep Bear in sight but far enough that she could only distantly hear the murmur of the tide. The water was much too cold for her to bare, preferring to keep herself clean without involving much water at all if she could help it.

She must have dozed off at some point as she opened her eyes and saw the appearance of two cats who were not there before. The pointed molly hummed as she gave a restful stretch and jumped down from her perch to join beside the other two. "He won't hurt'ya." She promised with an unassuming smile. I would make sure of it Her expression seemed to say. Applefrost and Bear had never clashed heads before but she was not blind to his wariness of her- and he would be right. Until he proved himself ready as a warrior, the moment the tom was an enemy was the same moment she would brandish her claws to drive him away. No matter his relations to her friend.

"It's only trespassing if we're on their shore. The river itself is neutral grounds, unless they're fishing. Might get slapped for scaring their food away." Her voice is firm and matter-of-fact as her gaze rest on Bear once more. A lesson she wanted to make sure he had heard. "Do you know how to fish at all? Can't say there's many here that would actually eat it if you did."​

 

[BEAR]

A deep breath lowers Bears shoulders, they are from the clan after all. He entirely emerges from the water to tersely stand near the bank. Seems Figfeather is on a mission with the bundle of moss. He eyes her task with puzzlement. "It's not something I like to eat either." He can't, or rather couldn't afford to be picky, crowfood a viable and often utilized resource. Fish he's eaten in the past has often tasted foul, nothing, except the rare rat was ever fresh. "When there's nothing, food is food. Not much tastes good out there." His eyes flit between the warriors. At Figfeathers words, he takes a few paces further away from the water. Conflict to him now is regarded with a weary frustration, he doesn't want to stir up anything that he can't have a fair fight with. Fogbelly's approach is received with a similarly wary gaze. It takes effort not to wrinkle his nose in distaste at the placating words.

"Don't have much of a choice." He grunts, "I don't want to haul this mangy coat around any longer than I have to." He acknowledges it like he isn't the one often letting it fall into disarray from lack of care, busy wallowing in thoughts of survival. While not dislodging all the grime caked into his fur, the water seems to have captured the worst of it, the most visible dirt disappearing in the cold water.

Applefrost reappears, and he can't help but register her now familiar presence with relief that has him untensing. Being famillar, it's a bit of a terrifying prospect, after all, he's made the decision to become solitary, and it doesn't seem like he's keeping his word. He won't hurt'ya. "Yet." It's intended as teasing, he's not sure if it carries the meaning he's intending, said flatly. "I don't fish - most of only water out there-" He jerks his head where he thinks twolegplace is, quickly becoming familiar with the locations but still an uncertainty lingering. "are puddles. But we always want the food." Aside from quick, orange fish that he could never quite fish up in small bodies of water. For rogues like him, food is always the number one priority. He can't bring himself to be ashamed of what he's done as a rogue, thieving and snapping his jaws, fighting over the saddest morsels. Perhaphs the closest thing to embarrassment is during a particularly hard leaf-bare when he was forced to linger around the residences of kittypets, to snatch jawfuls of dry, dusty food.
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