Eating seeds as a pastime activity [ Adderfang ]

[Frostmoth]

Comfortable silence wraps the air between Frostmoth and Adderfang. The deputy had propositioned a small fishing patrol between them, interested in growing closer with the lifeguard. They truthfully did not have much in common other than both being members of the council, and likewise being the youngest to serve. Still, Adderfang has several moons on Frostmoth. He hadn't been shy to mention that he'd already had his own kits and his scars tell many stories of their own. Frostmoth, by and large, feels woefully without experience.

Frostmoth watches quietly as a sunfish swims lazily beneath the surface, its red and green scales glinting under the afternoon sun. Despite his focus, there is something on the young deputy's mind. "You know," he breaks the silence between them awkwardly, throat clearing in the process as if he's swallowing a frog whole "There are times I don't think I am a qualified councilor. And it's not because I don't think I can do it... It's because I lack the experience of everyone else." Even now, it feels childish for him to admit these things and to confide in Adderfang.

"And I was so angry when Pikestar sent me back with Jinglemoon and Rainpaw during the raid," he deflates a little with the confession. He feels sheepish. Frostmoth loses track of the sunfish he had been tracking in the river and curses under his breath. It's probably been scared off by his wavering shadow. He draws in another and tips his head back to focus on the canopy overhead instead. "Maybe it's a reflection of my immaturity. I felt like a useless, petulant child." Frostmoth decides it's best left unsaid that he doesn't mention how upset it had made him to be unable to defend his medicine cat.

OH, MY GOD ★ MAKE ME IN YOUR IMAGE

• "SPEECH"
  @Adderfang
• ★ FROST — he/him, riverclan deputy, 20 moons
  — penned by carat, feel free to ping or dm for plots!
  — longhair black and white bicolor with blue eyes
  — peaceful powerplay ok! all interactions ok!
  
• penned by carat!

 

[Adderfang]

Adderfang casts his heavy gaze across the water, mouth pulled into a thin line. The river shimmers in the light, dappling the depths with flickers of gold—beauty he was unable to admire with the weight pressing down on his chest. He hadn't expected Frostmoth to ask him along. Most cats had been coddling him since the raid, treating him like a cracked eggshell too delicate to touch. As if he hadn't crawled back through blood and river to stand here now.

So the break from tension, from scabbing words and pitying glances, was welcome.

His torn ear flicked toward the younger tom as he spoke. His gaze remains fixed on the slow ripple of a fish in the shallows. Like Frostmoth, there was still heat roiling beneath his skin—anger bubbling just below his ribs, waiting to breach. "You're not wrong." Adderfang says bluntly, gravel rattling in his stripped throat. "You don't have experience, but that's not something to be ashamed of. Ain't a cat alive that's born ready—We're all just fumblin' in the dark hopin' we don't step off a cliff."

He tilted his head just enough to catch Frostmoth in his periphery. "But you've been growin' a lot lately. That isn't hard to see." The tom Pikestar made deputy moons ago wasn't the same one standing beside him now. A little angrier, still unsure, but who wasn't? He would be more concerned if Frostmoth didn't feel that way.

When the younger tom mentions being sent away, Adderfang's expression darkened, lines deepening across his scarred muzzle. "You had every right to be angry." He sighs. "Ain't immaturity to be feelin' that way. I was angry too. Still am." He drew in a long breath through his nose, steadying the storm behind his teeth.

"Maybe I could stomach him sending Jinglemoon and Rainpaw back. They ain't fighters, but his deputy? He left us exposed, and then hardly chipped into the fight at all once you all left." His jaw tensed as his tail struck the sandy ground with a hard thump. "I don't know what that fool was thinkin'." Whatever was going on in Pikestar's head was a mystery to him. He wasn't in the mind to ask either—unless it involved wringing his skinny throat.

But he was certain of one thing, that sort of softness wouldn't help their cause. Took him long enough to wrap his head around the clan stuff. Now that they were settled, RiverClan needed a capable decision maker, not a coward.

There would come a day when a choice needed to be made that Pikestar wouldn't be ready for. That could be today… tomorrow… a year. Adderfang didn't know when, but he could feel it looming on the horizon.

___________________ There wasn't a wrong or a right he could choose 𓆟 He did what he had to do ________________

• "speech" - thoughts
  
  

• 

• Adderfang he/him & riverclan
  𓆟 Chocolate ticked tabby w/ amber eyes. Peppered with scars. Deep gash across the right side of his face exposing one canine slightly. Missing left ear.
  𓆟 Deep gravelly voice that might unsettle others.
  𓆟 Would and will kill a man.
  𓆟 Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted. For other powerplays, DM.
  𓆟 Fur smells faintly of river reeds and damp earth.
  
  
  penned by Scarlet​