YOUR GOOD THING (is about to end) | apprentice chores / rta

[BITEFLOWER]

bio ₊˚✧ ﾟ. He's a walking exposed nerve, his frustration directed towards the nest he's making. Punishment. Paws bunch together and pull apart. Easily it is stretched and pulled, but moss tugs apart from the embrace of the rest of the nest. Demeanor wretched, the apprentice is hunched over, his spine arched. For the third time Bitepaw is remaking the nest his fixated, poison green stare boring holes into the moss he's using. He's burning under his carefully maintained coat, gaining a hidden red flush.

He should be graduating to warrior soon enough, but his attitude has him relegated to punishment more-often than not. Doing mousebrained things such as actively defying Hollyheart is repeatedly landing him with jobs on jobs. Prone to sparking he hooks his claws into the moss, muttering obscenities under his breath. Churning his insides, he feels eyes burning into his back. Crams the nest together before pushing it away from himself.

"Think you can do better?" Bitepaw fumes at whoever is staring, flexing his claws into the soft dirt.​

 

[EVENINGPAW]

"Uh, yeah," comes the unceremonious answer to Bitepaw's challenge; because that's what it is, if you ask Eveningpaw, judging by the flash of rage in those green eyes. It only serves to egg her on instead of intimidating her into fleeing. Bitepaw is notorious for his bad temper — his name is certainly a nod to that —, but then, Eveningpaw is known for her recklessness.

She meets his gaze head-on. Bitepaw might think she has appeared out of thin air just to annoy him further, but the reality couldn't be further from the truth- okay, maybe she does want to look at his handiwork with scrutinizing eyes... but that only lasts a mere second.

Eveningpaw reaches for the nest, the one that Bitepaw has thrown to the side so carelessly. "If you keep shredding it to pieces, Hollyheart will keep giving this job to you. Save all that gloom and doom for your prey!" She does not miss the opportunity for a bit of smart-talk, but her actions in the meantime are more caring than her words; dexterous paws fix the frayed edges of the nest, tucks stray bits of moss under its sides, ultimately prettying it up to look more... presentable. "There. Maybe now you can join us on a patrol!"
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