TW: Sensitive Content Closed I WAS ANGRY WITH MY FOE: I TOLD IT NOT, MY WRATH DID GROW.

[RUSHINGTIDE RUSHINGTIDE]

x

He's not the biggest musclehead in RiverClan, and he doubts he'd ever rise to that status. Normally he'd have turned down the invitation to join the Clan at large to a spar, to show the youth battle moves and to hone his own skills; but this was the perfect time to show off his skills on the battlefield, to prove he was capable of passing on his expertise to an apprentice ( his siblings come to mind, then — had that foolish tom of a leader already chosen their mentors? If he tries hard enough, perhaps one will be bestowed upon him ).

Though he's hardly paying attention to who's sparring who until his own name is called. He lifts his chin as he walks forward, but his steps staggers when he sees who joins him in the ring. The growl that threatens to rumble in his chest at the sight of none other than Pikestar is quickly silenced before Rushingtide draws all the eyes towards himself for such a clear showcase of hostility. He exhales through his nose, golden gaze sharpening as if he were facing an actual enemy rather than his own Clan leader ( albeit, to him, Pikestar is an enemy. . . the one who tore his family apart ). But he should be thankful for this opportunity: to attack the silver tom without repercussions. To hurt him as much as his actions hurt Rushingtide.

A cream-tipped tail lashes as the young warrior arches his back with a threatening hiss. Keep your claws to yourself. His mind reminds him before they slip out on instinct, before he digs his own grave. The tom lunges towards the leader, his golden eyes ablaze as his own body betrays him by baring his teeth. He barrels into the silver tabby without uttering a single word ( there is nothing to be exchanged between them ) pinning the older tom to the ground, a paw pressed too close to his throat. He could do it. If he uses a bit more force, he could suffocate Pikestar in front of everyone. To kill him just like Adder had. And the bastard would rise from the dead again. . . it felt almost mocking.

As he peers down into Pikestar's green gaze, he wonders if the tom will simply give up without a proper fight.

OOC // Title is from this poem. Please wait until the thread is open to replies!

RUSHINGTIDE

WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN
he / him, cismale
17 moons old, ages on the 14th.
adder x wavesong, littermate to crescentmoon
older brother of salmonkit, otterkit, foamkit, piranhakit, troutkit and shellkit
"SPEECH" // THOUGHTS // INTERACTION

penned by nocthymia

 

[PIKESTAR PIKESTAR]

Sparring isn't something he is keen about, but he understands that it is his biggest weakness. Despite being taught how to fight by Adder, he still isn't that much of a fighter. He would lose against a seasoned warrior with little issue, which is why he found himself here. He watches with a smile as two apprentices spar with each other. The progress report given to him by their mentors rings out in his mind. The two before him had two different interests. One desired the role of the weaver, while the other wanted to become one of the strongest warriors. He could see it, as one of the apprentices kept rushing forward. Charging forward no matter the circumstance is admirable, but it could be bad too... Maybe I'll talk to you personally later on? I have a feeling this is just your style. In any case, the spar between the pair is called to an end. Neither rose victorious. Both had held their own. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride, until his own name is called that is.

His sparring partner is Rushingtide, the child of his best friend. As he steps into the ring, he notes the shift in the air. When he turns his attention to the young warrior, he's met with open hostility. Is... Is this how you get into the sparring spirit? A brow raises when Rushingtide hisses at him. Do... Do I hiss back? Before he can even come to a decision the young warrior lunges at him.

Pikestar crouches, intending to spring forward and push Rushingtide aside. However, the shadow that the warrior casts consumes him. It pulls him into the abyss when it's fangs bare at him. It's glowing eyes pierce into his soul with pure malice. A malice that causes the fur on his back to bristle in terror.

Did it even notice? Or was it blinded by venom?

A hiss resounds, as he is swiftly pinned to the ground. His breath hitches when pressure is applied near his throat. The shadow cranes its head forward to force his gaze solely on glowing gold. Adderfang? I-i thought? You s-s-shouldn't be here!

Suddenly, he finds himself back in that time. When not only the council, but the clan questioned his capability. They all hoped for him to step down and allow Frostmoth to lead them to a future better than what he had provided. After all, he had promised them a new home filled with bounty. And what did they get? Their herbs were stolen by ShadowClan. Windclan trespassed into their home with no punishment. SkyClan disrespected them. RiverClan was nothing but a laughing stock of a clan.

A boy king. That's what Pineheart called him. In other words, unfit to rule.

That was why he was killed. The act was not done out of hatred. No, it was something far worse. Adderfang had killed him out of love. A love so ferocious that he was unable to fight back in any capacity. His death was so brutal it continued to haunt this clan. Even StarClan couldn't erase all the wounds that Adderfang had given him. The silver tabby had a constant reminder on his face and around his throat.

It was devastating sure, but not as devastating as never knowing if he was ever seen as a friend. The frustration and the rage he'd locked away begins to rattle against its cage. The green eyes that once widened in fear now narrowed with ferocity of his own. Teeth are bared, and all bitterness residing within him hisses.

The silver tabby attempts to kick against the soft flesh of Rushingtide's belly with all the force he can muster. "ADDERFANG!" If he was not successful, he would try and swing his front paw against the side of Rushingtide's head. "Didn't I tell you I wanted us to rise together?!"

 

[RUSHINGTIDE RUSHINGTIDE]

x

For someone who wants to avoid fighting as much as Pikestar does, he strikes back without much hesitation. It would be more shocking if Rushingtide's mind wasn't clouded by other emotions, each stronger and more conflicted than the prior. The chocolate tabby is pushed back with surprising force, his breath catching in his throat; gilded eyes are narrowed as he staggers, and then all the voices in his head quiet as Pikestar calls him by his father's name. It's not his imagination, it's not someone from the crowd: it's Pikestar himself, the cause of all his sorrow, who utters the name of Adderfang. Who calls him by someone he is not. "You — " There is a moment, as brief as it is, that Rushingtide is left speechless, paralyzed, an expression of distress etched on his features.

And then comes the outrage.

"You have the gall to call me by his name?!" The tom yowls, caring little for what the Clan sees. In the end, his suspicions were confirmed: he is nothing more than a mimicry of an exiled warrior to Pikestar, not his own person. He would always be a copy, an unfaithful imitation ( he would never be like his father in the way he wants to be ). He barks out a laugh that is nothing but dry. "You call for him like he's your savior when it's because of you he's gone?" Rushingtide arches his back as he leaps forward, claws unsheathed as he lashes out. He doesn't notice they're out, far too frenzied in his actions to think clearly.

"Rise together? All you're doing is leaving us to drown!" Teeth bared, the warrior attempts to send Pikestar tumbling down once again. "You sentenced my sister to death by failing to act. The other Clans don't respect us because of you!" He spits on the ground, muzzle contorting into a snarl. "When WindClan walked into our territory, what did you do? When ShadowClan stole our herbs, what did you do? NOTHING!" He wails, trying to strike at Pikestar's face with his paws.

OOC //

RUSHINGTIDE

WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN
he / him, cismale
17 moons old, ages on the 14th.
adder x wavesong, littermate to crescentmoon
older brother of salmonkit, otterkit, foamkit, piranhakit, troutkit and shellkit
"SPEECH" // THOUGHTS // INTERACTION

penned by nocthymia

 

[PIKESTAR PIKESTAR]

Immediately the leader twists and rises to his feet. A long black tipped tail lashes behind him, lips curled into a snarl. He does not attack, even though he was successful in his attempt to push Adder off of him, he knew better. The chocolate ticked tabby was the one who taught him how to fight. One who had plenty more moons of battle experience. It was unwise to even leap at the warrior who he once called friend. It was better to wait and react to whatever it was that Adder decided to go for. He wouldn't allow himself to die as pitifully as he did back then. This time he will prove his progress. He is not the same boy king from all those moons ago. However...

What are you waiting for? This isn't like you. For a moment narrow green eyes soften at the distressed face in front of him. NO! Don't forget what he did. The silver leader shakes his head. His kindness was something that was taken advantaged of. That's what Adder said to him. It was that kindness that lead him to forgiving the actions of the former lead warrior more than he should. It also did not help that he listened to the wishes of his dear friend Wavesong, who was mates with his murderer. He wanted to believe that Adder was the tom she made him out to be. That he could control his fire, but he was wrong.

It was only now, when he sees the familiar rage that he bitterly accepts that he was nothing but a coward. Running from the truth that was laid before him so clearly because he refused to send Adder away long ago. Maybe things would have been much better if I did, or would you have killed me faster? What the exiled warrior says makes little sense. Or was that the point? To confuse the leader with the mention of him? Did the exiled warrior see Adderfang and Adder as two different cats? Was that it? Either way each word frustrated him further. The laughter from his maw only seals it.

Black fur along his spine bristles. "It's his own fault that he is gone!" He takes a step forward, tail lashing wildly behind him. "He was given so many chances, I gave him so many chances when I shouldn't have! And what did he do?!" No answer is given. Instead he notices glimmer claws too late, hissing as claws rake a shoulder, unable to fully evade the warrior's attack. He can only berate himself over his foolishness in thinking this battle would go on without any blood shed. His own claws unsheathe, the scratch on his shoulder begins to burn. A feeling he can remember all too well.

"Rise together? All you're doing is leaving us to drown!"

Adder always knew how to get him riled up. "DROWN?! How would you know?! You don't even care about the rest of us! Since when did you start caring about anyone else?! You're the one who would leave us to drown!" With a hiss, he leaps forward, trying to foolishly wrestle the more experienced warrior. Unfortunately, due to the difference in their size (was Adder always this big?), he is sent tumbling down with a grunt. He misses the first part of Adder's words. In time it would be a horrible mistake, but the rage clouded their actions. As such, he barks out a laugh. "You never cared about the other clans respecting us. Don't bother lying to me."

Once again the topic of his actions regarding WindClan and ShadowClan were brought up. It was laughable really. To think that Adder wouldn't bring up that conversation again. No matter how many times they discussed it, they never saw eye to eye. Pikestar saw little reason going over it again if they were never going to agree on anything. However, the wail from Adder is unexpected. The warrior hated weakness more than anything. Are you serio- his head jerks back with a hiss. A clawed paw swings wildly in front of him, trying to fend off another attack from Adder.

Fire burns from his cheek. He looks up at the towering warrior and smirks. "This again?" His head droops, harsh breaths filling the silence between them. Don't you get tired of it? "I showed kindness, the thing you loathe so much. No matter how many times we go over it, you're never satisfied." The rage that once sustained him is now replaced with bitterness. The bitterness of defeat, of a a bond forever shattered, and of fires forever burning. He raises his head, green meeting gold.

"Are you going to kill me again?"

 

[RUSHINGTIDE RUSHINGTIDE]

x

"His own fault?" Rushingtide sneers, "All he ever did was for us!" His family. He'd only ever wanted what was best for them. He'd only ever wanted for his children to grow up. Something Shellkit will never experience. The warrior clenches his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he wrestles Pikestar. The Leader is sent tumbling down onto the ground, and a grin of satisfaction appears on Rushingtide's face.

His own amusement doesn't last very long, as the silver tabby hits him with his paw. It stings as it connects, claws raking his cheek. The chocolate-colored tom hisses as his blood drips down onto his paws, onto the ground, onto Pikestar.

Somewhere deep in Rushingtide's mind there is a memory of a father. Perhaps that idea of Adderfang exists only in his head; and RiverClan as a whole sees him as nothing but a killer. It's certainly what Pikestar thinks, what Frostmoth thinks. He laughs, hanging his head as he shakes it.

"Your kindness cost us everything." He rasps. "What do you have to show for it? What has your kindness given us? It doesn't bring us food. It doesn't stop the other Clans from taking from us." The bitter truth that Pikestar's actions had done nothing for them. "Your kindness took my sister and my father from my family— from me." His breath catches in his throat as his voice cracks, the anger in his heart giving place to grief. Rushingtide stares down at Pikestar, seeing himself reflected in the leader's green eyes.

He does look just like Adder, laughably so.

"Are you going to kill me again?" . . . He could. The words are enough to feed the fire that burns inside of him, the flames growing with every beat of silence that lasts. Rushingtide raises his foreleg, readying to strike at Pikestar. His claws glint as sunlight hits them, and his paw stills. Is this how his father felt before he struck him down? Or did his instinct drown out any rational thought? The warrior bites his lips until he draws blood, finally sheathing his paws and slowly lowering the one that was too close to smacking the gray tom. ". . . It would be far too kind of me to kill you," Rushingtide mutters under his breath, only for Pikestar to hear.

OOC //

RUSHINGTIDE

WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN
he / him, cismale
17 moons old, ages on the 14th.
adder x wavesong, littermate to crescentmoon
older brother of salmonkit, otterkit, foamkit, piranhakit, troutkit and shellkit
"SPEECH" // THOUGHTS // INTERACTION

penned by nocthymia