YOU DON'T SPIT INTO THE WIND ✦ SPAR

[SLATESNARL]

Weeks spent in the medicine den hadn't done any good for his muscles. Slatesnarl had always been strong—even when he'd been a hungry rogue living under a dumpster, he'd been a force to be reckoned with. Now, he feels the strain upon his limbs when he rises out of his nest in the morning. His legs tremble when he's been using them for too long, a fact that is strange and horrifying for the Maine Coon. He has never felt like this before.

Immersed in denial about his physical state and determined to prove himself wrong, Slatesnarl had made his way toward the Sandy Ravine where some warriors and their apprentices were training. Once a break occurs in the session, the former lead warrior steps forth and rumbles, "Someone spar with me." It doesn't matter who. He wants to win this. For the sake of his pride, he needs to.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

• open to anyone! preferably an opponent that's on the stronger and/or larger side ( he will be losing )

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  — slatesnarl / 43 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to tbn & tbn
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

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[QUILLSTRIKE]

IF THE POINT'S TO NEVER DISAPOINT YOU, SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO​

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The newly named ‘Slatesnarl’ had done a good job at making themselves scarce outside of patrols, but he supposed that was normal for a cat that was not only recently recovered, but a parent as well– at least they were being attentive to their mate and kits. But to see them at the ravine demanding a sparring partner had Quillstrike lifting a brow in doubt. Were they even fit for it right now, between the injury and the clear exhaustion painted on their face? ”I will.” he offered, mismatched eyes giving nothing away as far as hisopinons went-- if he even had any to begin with. Who was he to tell a grown as tom what he could and couldn't do?

It was easier to just show them, or be proven wrong. Either way, he was hoping to get a good run out of the other.

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skyclan - male - 31 months (Feb 17th) - Twitchbolts mate - a very tall, muscular chimera with mismatched eyes and several scars. has bluejay feathers woven like spikes along his spine and neck.

 

[SILVERSMOKE]

There was uncertainty in the tabby's eyes as Slatesnarl asked the population for a spar, his head tilting towards the other, looking them up and down as he rocked upon antsy heels. Silversmoke, who would tussle with anything or anyone, hesitated. As he outweighed the pros and cons, Quillstrike stepped forwards instead, shoulders relaxing as he had an important decision taken away from him.

A frown appeared on his maw. He'd wanted to fight the black tom in his prime. Watching the way he moved, past the remorse that settled uncomfortably in his chest, Silversmoke felt regret that he had never properly sparred Slatesnarl when he'd had the chance. Forgiveness for stolen sight had seldom arrived, but it was easy enough to forget - to win a spar would mean the world to him, but would it mean the world if Slatesnarl's injuries hollowed the victory? It was a mousebrained thing, so mousebrained that he dared not say it aloud, yet it kept him close to the Sandy Ravine to see if his dream would be shattered or if he was exaggerating.

Silversmoke reclined on his haunches, waiting for the match to start.

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[SLATESNARL]

The Maine Coon hadn't known who to expect to step up at that moment, but Quillstrike seemed like a decent match. He's grown in size and in skill since he first met him as an apprentice — he had always reminded Slatesnarl of Chrysaliswing, bad-mouthed with a hair-trigger temper, though the other was far more irksome in his opinion. Quillstrike had found a moral tether in Twitchbolt, something that Chrys does not ( nor will he probably ever ) have.

Slatesnarl's confidence flickers like a flame, though he wills it to burn brightly. He had always been one of the best fighters that SkyClan had to offer, but Quillstrike was young and healthier than he was. Would he win this match?

He side-eyes Silversmoke, momentarily imagining a scenario where he would have offered instead, but Slatesnarl quickly focuses back on his opponent. The charcoal-pelted tom now had even more reason to prove himself; although he was no longer at odds with the other former lead warrior, he still desired to appear strong, a force to be reckoned with.

Slatesnarl, breaking his typical order of letting the other go first, dashed from his squared stance and aimed to barrel into Quillstrike head-on.

𝟒𝟐𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐉𝐈𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 ✹ . + ˚ · 𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐆𝐔𝐍

• 

• 

  — slatesnarl / 43 moons / he/him
  — skyclan warrior & former lead warrior
  — mate to orangestar / father to tbn & tbn
  — lh solid black maine coon w/ rusting, amber eyes. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
  — click for tags

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