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​

 

[Frostmoth]

Although his eyes have returned to the river, Frostmoth finds that he's lost his interest in actually fishing anything out of the water. Each time he catches a glimpse of a fin or scale, his concentration is broken only a few moments later by another disconcerting thought about the events a few nights prior. His emotions have roiled out of control, and they are only spurred further as Adderfang begins to speak. He straightens a little when the rough-and-tumble life guard first and foremost agrees with him. Adderfang has always been a sharp tongue, and Frostmoth had half been expecting the tomcat to tell him off in some way too. He nods silently in agreement with his statement about no one being born ready. Wavesong had said the same thing to him not even a few days ago. Something to keep in mind, he thinks.

Still, he feels poise return ever so slightly to his body when Adderfang remarks about his growth as in individual. It feels good to be noticed and regarded by someone with seniority- especially someone as sharp as Adderfang. "I can't help it," he shakes his head "I don't understand my purpose. It feels like I have all of these busy tasks to do, but none of the respect of being the supposed 'right paw' of Pikestar." He brushes one of his white-tipped paws over the muddy shore, fidgeting as he dwells on all the unpleasant feelings that have been stirring in his body.

He shakes his head in disagreement when he mentions sending back Jinglemoon and Rainpaw alone. He'd already said he thought the pair would have been safer with the patrol, and he dreads to think of what the ShadowClanner could have done to the medicine cat if he'd not been part of the interception to send them scattering away from camp. Still, he bristles to think of what happened to his patrol when he hadn't been there to fight with them, too. "It isn't even like I did much either," he confesses with a grimace "I was unable to stop Jinglemoon from getting hurt."

Helpless. He finally puts the paw on the feeling.

"Do you ever think about things that have happened and wish you could have done something different?" He propositions, feeling childish once again.

OH, MY GOD ★ MAKE ME IN YOUR IMAGE

• "SPEECH"
• ★ 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 a slow glance toward the younger tom. The river gurgles beside them, deceptively calm for the storm that simmered beneath his skin. He doesn't answer right away—just watches the light ripple across the surface. The kid was trying hard, that much was obvious. Maybe too hard—fighting against a current that would drag him under regardless.

Still, it was healthy for to thrash against his own weakness—his failure to protect what mattered most. "Frostmoth." He says at last, voice thick like mud drudged over stone. "Anyone can see you've been making the best of the straws you were handed since the day Pikestar made you deputy. You got thrown into the deep end—but instead of floatin' or sinkin', you kept swimming. Give yourself some damn credit."

A heavy sigh drags through his nose. "Another thing you gotta know, is the paws are only as strong as the mind that commands 'em." Frostmoth could that that in whichever way he wanted. It could be about him or Pikestar or somethin' else entirely. The wrinkles around his eyes deepen, weathered lines carved by battles fought and lost. Bitterness clung to him like salt—it was aging him faster than time ever could.

Adderfang shakes his head. "Son, take it from me. You get to doin' that—runnin' circles in your head—you'll drive yourself mad." He had enough experience with regret to know. "You can torture yourself with all the ways it could've gone if you'd just done one thing different… but it won't change what is." With a grunt, he leans into his side, letting his sore limbs rest. If they weren't fishing, he might as well sit a while. He shifts from one bruised rib to the next, gaze cutting sideways toward Frostmoth. "It's in our nature to fault our own flesh and blood, but nothin' in this world perfect. So we shouldn't expect ourselves to be."

"As for what happened to Jinglemoon... He's alive. He's got you in large part to thank for that. Might not be the outcome you wanted, but it's the one you got." The world wasn't fair or kind. It'd been cruel since the day he was born, but everything was a choice. The outcome wouldn't always been what was expected but that didn't mean to stop fighting against it.

Growin up was learning how to deal with the unfairness of it all, and that was something Frostmoth... and even Adderfang himself at times struggled with. "What really matters is you learned somethin' from it." Something Pikestar clearly did not grasp despite being presented with the option again and again since becoming leader.

Adderfang shifts with a wince, tail flicking behind him. "So, you want respect?" He shrugs. "Start by respectin' yourself. Learn from what went wrong and carry that with you for next time."

His gaze returns to the water, but he gives the bicolor a nudge with his foot. A ghost of a smile on his face. "And uh for what it's worth, you've got my respect, deputy."

He sighs, the weight in his shoulders sagging just a little. Truthfully, Pikestar never should've made a cat his age deputy without their say. That shouldn't have been a surprise, it should've been a discussion. Frostmoth should've been worryin' about meeting pretty she-cats—or toms—or whatever the hell he was into. Not this shit.

___________________ 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​