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Post by Fawn on Oct 24, 2012 16:45:46 GMT -5
"Grace?!" blurted the reddish brown apprentice, galloping after Razorfang with a total look of bewilderment. "What does Grace have to do with being a good warrior?" he continued, whiskers twitching, tail swishing to convey his confusion; "No one's ever made a warrior because they had a lot of grace." Besides, I don't think the she-cats are fond of toms because they're GRACEFUL, more like because they're tough and rugged and stuff. Though he kept that comment to himself, Russetpaw was still struggling to understand how grace had any affect on anything.
Were Grace and Stealth the same thing? No...not quite. Stealth involved quietness, taking advantage of your surroundings to move along unseen. Did you need grace for stealth? Well, a clumsy cat couldn't be very stealthy, but a cat who didn't have a lot of graceful movements could still be stealthy, they just had to be careful. Not every attempt at fishing had to be a fancy display of paw movements! Sheesh. Maybe the she-cat apprentices would be interested in being more graceful and 'elegant', but Russetpaw sure wasn't.
Skeptical of Razorfang's assessment, but incredibly curious as to where he was taking him, the apprentice plodded close by, inwardly remarking on the uniqueness of his mentor. He's a little bit weird...but, kinda cool, in a really strange way. He doesn't say much, and when he does it's usually kind of cold sounding, but that's fine. If everyone in RainClan was all the same - cats like me and Razorfang wouldn't be very interesting, now would we?
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Post by Insidious on Oct 24, 2012 20:46:18 GMT -5
Razorfang swiveled his large, black ears in Russetpaw's direction as the young apprentice reached the tom's side. He listened bleakly to the words Russetpaw uttered; his constant filter of questions, in a way, exhausting for the towering mentor. “Being a 'good warrior' is not based purely off of strength. All cats, even the most powerful, should be expected to be adequate with their footing. You wouldn't want a clan of strong, but clumsy warriors now, would you? They'd be of no use without some elegance.” Razorfang briefly fixated his cold gaze upon Russetpaw, hoping his explanation was satisfactory for the young tom. Often, those that lacked in grace considered it to be worthless. Thoughts like: why should I be graceful when all it takes is a single smack of my paw to send an opponent running? If only that was true. If it were, back when Razorfang was an apprentice, he wouldn't of given elegance a second thought. Shaking his head to return to reality, Razorfang's attention returned to the path laid out before him. Russetpaw would eventually understand the necessities Razorfang saw in grace, maybe one day even thank him for it.
For the remainder of the journey, Razorfang stayed relatively quiet. Every once in a while, a glance was shot in Russetpaw's direction to assure the reddish brown hued apprentice was still content. But other than that, Razorfang was anxious, if anything, to reach the river grounds he currently sought. Finally, all that was left between Razorfang, Russetpaw and their destination was a thick blanket of shrub. Razorfang's gray-green eyes locked with Russetpaw's own as if sending a silent signal to the young tom and that would be enough for him to know they had arrived; a suspicious grin formed along the outline of the large mentor's lips before his four limbs advanced in a rhythmical motion to enter the foliage, only releasing a mild shake as his muscular figure forced the prickled brush into two separate portions with a direct slice down the middle. His dully shaded eyes seemed to glimmer more than usual as they peered into the clearing over, glancing both left and right before the ebony shaded tom decided it was safe to reveal himself. Gliding forward with stretched strides, a glaze of confidence spilled across Razorfang's hazelnut hued facial features as he analyzed the river scenery.
Since the duo had traveled up the river for a decent amount of time, the speed of its rapids had increased quite dramatically. The water source was set between two different portions of landscape, large rocks placed one in front of the other so crossing could be done without the need to force yourself through the tugging rapids. The rocks were quite slippery due to the constant coat of water slapping atop of them, certain areas more pointed and sharp than others; requiring a precise step as to not face injury, or the other alternative which was a face-dive into the cold river. Without glancing backward to see if Russetpaw was near, Razorfang began the task of cautiously crossing to the other side. His large paws delicately impacted the first rock laid in stepping distance, a glint of utter focus held within the depths of his gray-green eyes as he moved from one to the other. For a moment, Razorfang had mis-stepped as his front, right paw was placed atop a more sharp, rugged point of the second last rock. It appeared as if the thin furred male was about to plummet into the river, but he quickly captured his footing with a re-calculation followed by a graceful slide of his paw only for his hind limbs to unleash a powerful spring onto the neck rock over, with which he almost immediately cleared by reaching the grassy surface of land upon the river's other end. Pivoting on his heels, the mentor protruded his neck to scan the area for Russetpaw whom was hopefully still on the other side of the river. Though Razorfang wasn't entirely pleased with his mis-step, at the same time, he was grateful that Russetpaw would have been able to see it and realize grace could perhaps be a requirement of his training; a useful requirement, at that. “There is more to having grace than you may have originally thought, as you can see, there are sometimes harsh obstacles involved that can require this ability from you.”
Razorfang was subtly hinting the point of visiting this area. He wanted Russetpaw to cross. The reddish brown apprentice didn't seem interested in learning the art of elegance, perhaps, this task would fulfill that drive for thrill that he may very well seek. “If you're up for the challenge, Russetpaw, you may attempt to cross. If successful, I won't doubt your grace any longer and there will be no need to continue working with it.” Razorfang paused, but only for a short moment. “And there's no need to fret over danger. I won't let you drown...” Razorfang narrowed his left eye, skeptical as to whether or not Russetpaw would actually try and cross. If Russetpaw wished to deny this command, Razorfang wouldn't protest. There was always different, more easy, tests Razorfang could give Russetpaw to help his grace. In fact, Razorfang would be quite surprised if Russetpaw took immediate initiative. He didn't seem like the most fearful apprentice, but, did he draw a line at some points? Maybe this was just too far out of his comfort zone; Razorfang couldn't help but silently consider this as he waited for Russetpaw's move.
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Post by Fawn on Oct 24, 2012 22:43:58 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-left: 25px solid #ffeb8c; background: #9b4242; width: 450px; padding: 20px 10px 20px 20px, bTable][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 2; -moz-transform:rotate(11deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(11deg); -o-transform:rotate(11deg); width: 100px; height: 100px; float: right][/style][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 1; -moz-transform:rotate(3deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(3deg); -o-transform:rotate(3deg); width: 103px; height: 103px; float: right; background: #fff17f; margin-right: -86px] [/style][STYLE=float: top; font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: #ADFF2F; font-size: 26pt; letter-spacing: -1px; margin: 30px 0px 0px -5px]RUSSETPAW[/style][STYLE=font-family: 04b03; font-size: 7pt; color: #ffeb8c; line-height: 1; float: center; text-align: left; width: 265px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -2px]Apprentice of RainClan, 6 Moons with the heart of a Champion.[/style]
[STYLE=margin-top: -4px; width: 368px; background: #ffeb8c; height: 9px] [/style][STYLE=color: #ffeb8c; width: 368px; text-align: left; margin-top: 7px] Just when he'd been about to open his mouth and ask where they were going, the landscape changed. Pressing on through the bushes in the wake of his mentor, Russetpaw's ears pricked at the sound of rushing water - well, compared to the smaller section of the river they'd just been at, which he now realized flowed at an almost docile pace compared to this upper part. The apprentice's eyes grew rounded with worry and excitement at the slippery walkway that would enable both toms to cross to the other side. "Who's going fi--" Razorfang, apparently. Clamping his mouth shut with a snort, Russetpaw let go his indignation to study the muscular hazel and brown tom's movements, Russetpaw releasing an involuntary gasp. How was he doing that? Though it obviously took a lot of concentration - he could see it in the intensely focused physical behavior of Razorfang's careful, calculated steps - there was no stopping the excitement welling up in Russetpaw like a tidal wave. Silently cheering Razorfang across to the other side, he grinned when the warrior whirled around sharply to address him, acting as though that wasn't just the coolest thing he'd ever seen him do.
"I'll do it!" He boasted, already committing to the task even before he'd approached the rocks, and when the young wannabe warrior did advance to the rushing river with those slick rocks jutting up from the riverbed like the teeth of some long-dead animal, Russetpaw felt his confidence go running back through the bushes the way they came. Casting nervous green eyes upon Razorfang, that cold stare glittering back at him, Russetpaw could imagine the older tom judging him, calling him a coward - telling him he couldn't do it.
I won't go back on my word. I-I said I'd do it! I just have to be careful. Graceful. Grasping the necessity of grace with Razorfang's example still fresh in his mind, the apprentice's mind had already understood the concept the brown warrior was trying to get through to him. There's no room in RainClan for clumsy warriors, but no fools either. Just cautious, graceful, epically cool cats. Russetpaw took a step onto the first rock, gripping the smooth, slippery texture with his claws for extra reassurance, the water stampeding around him starting to mess with his psyche a little. If I fall will I be carried downstream where no one will ever find me? For some reason, Russetpaw couldn't really picture Razorfang chasing after him wailing pitifully for him to grab onto something...
The internal struggle was obvious. It was as though there were two cats there on that rock, not one. The sensible cat wanted to double back before he made a fool of himself and got himself hurt, but the daring young cat, desperate to prove himself and become the mighty warrior who prowled through his daydreams, took a few more tentative steps forward. It was about halfway that the inevitable happened: feeling as though even a feather would've knocked him into the water, Russetpaw stopped to rest wearily at the middle of the river - but that sudden lowering of his guard resulted in an instant of blinding pain. Front paws slipping sideways in an awkward manner, Russetpaw smacked his chin off the slick river rock, yowling in agony as his fangs tore into his tongue. Shaken by the intensity of such a small injury and the feeling as though he'd dislocated his jaw, Russetpaw whimpered, eyes squeezed shut upon the rocks, his reflexes having saved him at the last possible second, but the river never let up for a moment. Angry, hurt, scared and most of all disappointed in himself for the second time that day, Russetpaw spat blood into the water, limbs trembling at he looked, ashamed, to Razorfang. His shoulders slumped and blood dribbled down his chin. He was a mess, but if the brown warrior could take a look on the inside, he'd see that Russetpaw's pride was looking worse.
"I...I'm stuck."
words: meep tags: merp credits: made by gimmick/echo of BtN[/style]
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Post by Insidious on Oct 25, 2012 17:34:56 GMT -5
So, it appeared Russetpaw was more than willing to accept Razorfang's daring challenge, this apparent to the large tom as his apprentice quickly glided to the river's edge in preparation to begin his task. Razorfang narrowed his cold eyes, taking a gracious step closer to the river just in case Russetpaw was setting himself up for disaster. The intensity of Razorfang's gaze increased dramatically, if that was even possible. The tom wouldn't necessarily label his current emotion as fear, more so as worry. If Russetpaw faced serious enough injury, that was entirely on Razorfang's shoulders. Bringing a severely wounded cat back to camp, or even worse, a dead cat to camp would permanently apply the same wounds to the warrior's reputation in RainClan. But, as quickly as the idea of calling off Russetpaw's task came to mind... was apparently equivalent to how quickly Russetpaw could get himself upon the first slippery rock. Razorfang swallowed, in a matter of seconds having his towering body directly on the last scrap of land in preparation to dive to Russetpaw's rescue if called necessary.
A few moments that seemed to be an eternity ticked by and, thankfully, Russetpaw had managed decently. Razorfang's stiff muscles began to relax, the usual glaze of bleak interest returning to his gray-green eyes. But it seemed Razorfang had allowed himself to begin lacking worry only a moment too soon... with the sound of a brutal smack came to Razorfang's vision the sight of his apprentice impacting the rock's surface and just barely managing to find his footing. The mentor froze, eyes widening out of pure shock as the red liquid was spat from Russetpaw's mouth to be carried down the rapids. The words Russetpaw managed to utter were barely acknowledged, because Razorfang was already attempting to cross the rocks between Russetpaw and himself before the apprentice's footing could no longer be held. Currently, utmost focus wasn't on Razorfang's list of top priorities. He payed a minimum amount of attention to the sharp points he wasn't to place his paws upon, avoiding their pain inflicting edges with a dangerously swift touch until he was upon the rock directly in front of Russetpaw. The tom's neck protruded to its highest extent, his thin furred tail lashing violently behind his muscular figure as his water-stung eyes fixated upon the bundle of reddish brown fur huddled upon one of the more difficult rocks. For a moment, Razorfang had to consider placing Russetpaw on his back. After all, it would be foolish to clamp his jaws around the scruff of Russetpaw's neck with their current condition. But, at the same time, Russetpaw wouldn't have a steady grip while crossing a lapping river if he was on Razorfang's back. His decision clicked with little time spent carefully choosing, his razor-like teeth ever so lightly being placed around the back of Russetpaw's neck until the point the young apprentice's paws were no longer upon the rock's rugged surface. This time, Razorfang was dependent for crossing the river with two lives within his paws, not just one. And although this factor did result in his steps being a tad more careful... Razorfang still ultimately wanted nothing more than to no longer be in the river's center.
With one final spring from Razorfang's haunches, his limbs harshly slapped upon the surface of dry terrain that greeted his wet paws with the soothing touch of soft blades of grass. Immediately, Razorfang released his jaws from Russetpaw's neck and whirled the young tom around so he could be facing the wide-eyed mentor. Razorfang examined Russetpaw's jaw, but he was far from being a skilled medicine cat. It was injured, that much was predictable for the soaked tom. But, only Russetpaw could determine whether or not he needed to visit the RainClan medicine cat, or simply required a break to soothe the pain. “Are you hurt? How does your jaw feel?” The words slid of Razorfang's light pink tongue so quickly it was likely Russetpaw failed to even detect them. The large tom knelt to be eye-level with his apprentice, his strict gaze seeming as if it'd burn straight through Russetpaw's green eyes upon meeting Razorfang's overall shocked expression.
He never intended Russetpaw to get harmed in any way or form. The tom couldn't help but realize this was entirely his fault. Russetpaw's grace could have been worked on through more easy, doable tasks. It was Razorfang's harsh teaching methods that ultimately resulted in Russetpaw standing before him with a red stained jaw.
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Post by Fawn on Oct 25, 2012 21:36:15 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-left: 25px solid #ffeb8c; background: #9b4242; width: 450px; padding: 20px 10px 20px 20px, bTable][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 2; -moz-transform:rotate(11deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(11deg); -o-transform:rotate(11deg); width: 100px; height: 100px; float: right][/style][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 1; -moz-transform:rotate(3deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(3deg); -o-transform:rotate(3deg); width: 103px; height: 103px; float: right; background: #fff17f; margin-right: -86px] [/style][STYLE=float: top; font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: #ADFF2F; font-size: 26pt; letter-spacing: -1px; margin: 30px 0px 0px -5px]RUSSETPAW[/style][STYLE=font-family: 04b03; font-size: 7pt; color: #ffeb8c; line-height: 1; float: center; text-align: left; width: 265px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -2px]Apprentice of RainClan, 6 Moons with the heart of a Champion.[/style]
[STYLE=margin-top: -4px; width: 368px; background: #ffeb8c; height: 9px] [/style][STYLE=color: #ffeb8c; width: 368px; text-align: left; margin-top: 7px]
If Russetpaw had thought his pride had been ruined earlier, it was practically obliterated when he felt Razorfang grasp him by the scruff of his neck - despite the gentility the tom exhibited in hauling the apprentice to dry land, Russetpaw was sorry to say he could understand why his mother had named him Razorfang. Mouth throbbing as though StarClan themselves had struck him with a bolt of lightning, the apprentice winced, his tongue bloody and searing with the after effects of having bitten into it by accident. One of his back teeth was chipped now.
Once he was set down, Russetpaw let the tiny fragment roll off his tongue into the grass, exposing the bloody puncture marks sitting perpendicular to the fangs that had done it. Face the picture of controlled agony, as though Russetpaw was doing his absolute best to recover from the shock to his system, already showing signs of bouncing back. "Mahbe dey shood cahl mmee Rathorfang," replied Russetpaw in an unpleasant butchering of his mentor's name, the swollen appendage wrecking the tom's usually crystal clear ennunciation. He was obviously referring to the damage he'd done to his own tongue, the tom wincing when he ever so slowly began to wriggle his jaw, trying to assess the extent of the devastation.
So this river isn't a total jerk to me, musing over this bitterly, Russetpaw stepped back towards the edge of the river, shoulder blades digging into the sky as he crouched with his head low enough that he could dip his muzzle into the cooling waters. At first it stung enough to make the red and brown tom's tail fluff with indignation and pain, but he dug deep and shouldered the discomfort in favor of washing the blood from his mouth and soothing the aggrevated, swollen flesh. Thank StarClan for Leaf-fall. Though his mouth hurt him enough to wish that it was cold enough the river would be half frozen, but those thoughts gradually faded with the worst of the pain, Russetpaw coming up for air, going back in, coming up for air, and going back in for a third and final time. Whiskers dripping with moisture, Russetpaw sat back on his haunches, his jaws parting slightly to show Razorfang his tongue. "Better?" It was still swollen, obviously, but at least he'd washed a way most of the blood.
words: meep tags: merp credits: made by gimmick/echo of BtN[/style]
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Post by Insidious on Oct 25, 2012 22:08:10 GMT -5
As Russetpaw uttered what was literally, nearly impossible, for Razorfang to understand, a large gulp of very well nothing other than thin air caused his throat to expand and then return to normal shortly afterward. The black furred tom's shoulders stiffened uncomfortably; clearly Russetpaw was more okay with the current situation than Razorfang was. Even in a matter all the most serious, Russetpaw lacked anger. In fact, it didn't seem any grudge was being held against the large warrior. If anything, it would appear as though the only thing on Russetpaw's bad side was the river itself. A sigh of relief silently departed from Razorfang's mouth, forcing a light smile at the words Russetpaw spoke that he had allowed to linger without response for such a lengthy amount of time.
As Russetpaw trotted passed Razorfang, he slowly twisted his body in the same direction to observe what the reddish brown hued apprentice was up to. Time, and time again, Russetpaw urged his mouth below the freezing water's surface to expel of any excess blood, each time seeming to cause him lesser amounts of pain. Razorfang stayed on full alert, more so than probably necessary. After what had taken place just moments earlier, the large cat wasn't particularly fond of Russetpaw being in such close proximity to the river. Only once the apprentice's jaw dove under for a third time did Razorfang rise upon all fours' and take it upon himself to approach and assure Russetpaw wasn't having problems. He reached the small tom's flank, tilting his head to one side as he kept a careful eye on what his apprentice was doing. Surfacing once more, Razorfang immediately met Russetpaw's bright green gaze as he turned toward Razorfang, opened his mouth and asking the ebony tom if his mouth looked to be in better condition without all of the blood.
It certainly looked better without the blood, but, nevertheless, Russetpaw had been injured while under Razorfang's supervision. He had to take responsibility for any damage done. And, although Russetpaw was back to speaking normally, it was apparent his jaw wasn't completely fixed. The tom's dully-shaded eyes narrowed, holding an emotion completely opposite to what was burning inside of his body. From Russetpaw's perspective, Razorfang probably seemed as normal as could be with a harsh glaze in his ghostly eyes. It was quite sad, actually, that even when the times called for a touch of softness, his expression failed to alter. “Better.” He managed to offer quietly, almost choking on the word as he forced it out from its hiding place in his throat. “Do you wish to return to camp and be seen by a medicine cat?” Normally, Razorfang wouldn't ask but instead do without inquiring the apprentice's say on the matter. But, this was all very new to the RainClan warrior. He had never been held responsible for another cat's wounds, what else could he say?
He spared a glance toward his apprentice, quickly drawing it in a completely different direction upon meeting Russetpaw's eyes for a second. Even if Russetpaw didn't desire a visit to the medicine cat... it was more than likely Razorfang wouldn't continue today's training any longer. Razorfang expected a lot of things, but certainly not for an injured cat to continue under the strict methods of a cat such as himself. Russetpaw's health came before any training schedule Razorfang had; whether or not he agreed or disagreed, Razorfang wouldn't be satisfied until Russetpaw's jaw no longer offered even the slightest amount of pain.
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Post by Fawn on Oct 25, 2012 22:25:57 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-left: 25px solid #ffeb8c; background: #9b4242; width: 450px; padding: 20px 10px 20px 20px, bTable][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 2; -moz-transform:rotate(11deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(11deg); -o-transform:rotate(11deg); width: 100px; height: 100px; float: right][/style][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 1; -moz-transform:rotate(3deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(3deg); -o-transform:rotate(3deg); width: 103px; height: 103px; float: right; background: #fff17f; margin-right: -86px] [/style][STYLE=float: top; font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: #ADFF2F; font-size: 26pt; letter-spacing: -1px; margin: 30px 0px 0px -5px]RUSSETPAW[/style][STYLE=font-family: 04b03; font-size: 7pt; color: #ffeb8c; line-height: 1; float: center; text-align: left; width: 265px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -2px]Apprentice of RainClan, 6 Moons with the heart of a Champion.[/style]
[STYLE=margin-top: -4px; width: 368px; background: #ffeb8c; height: 9px] [/style][STYLE=color: #ffeb8c; width: 368px; text-align: left; margin-top: 7px]
It wasn't that he took Razorfang's almost statuesque lack of facial movement for what it was, in actuality, Russetpaw just assumed there was a maelstrom of emotion behind that wall of stone with two burning stones in it for eyes. Not really able to sense Razorfang's concern and worry and conflicting emotions, Russetpaw more or less guessed that his mentor was anxious to have him checked out - but despite this, the red apprentice was not ready to throw in the towel.
Tail obviously drooping at the suggestion, his eyes widened as though Razorfang had just announced he go back across the river again. "Huh?" blurted the tom, a wince evident in the sudden flicker of his fiery green gaze. "I can't goh bahk to camp with nuffing but a tihny fish," he protested readily, hoping his mentor wouldn't make him suffer that sort of humiliation. It was obvious that Russetpaw had set some pretty high standards for himself, goals he'd intended to fulfill today on his first outing with his mentor before fate had slapped his teeth together so hard his brain probably rattled. It didn't dislodge his stubbornness or his pride, of course.
"Let's keep fishing. I want to catch somefing for my parents." The red tom declared this with such conviction it was likely that even if Razorfang escorted him to the Medicine Cat's den himself, he was still gonna sneak out later and try to fish until his paws ached. At least this time he'd have some adult supervision. It was going to hurt to carry back whatever he caught, but that was his pride on the line here, even if his mouth ached even worse later and both he and Razorfang got scolded by Swanfeather for not seeing her straight away, Russetpaw would carry back his catch with his head held high.
Though pleading had never been a card Russetpaw had ever played before, the concrete expression of his mentor was intimidating and forever unmovable, enough for the fiery tom with the fiery spirit to dip his head once before locking onto Razorfang's frostbitten gaze. "Please."
words: meep tags: merp credits: made by gimmick/echo of BtN[/style]
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Post by Insidious on Oct 27, 2012 12:37:17 GMT -5
At Russetpaw's obvious displeasure routed from Razorfang's suggestion of returning to camp, he narrowed his cold eyes a fraction before his ebony furred tail gave a single slice through the air out of clear agitation. Russetpaw had been injured rather harshly. No matter how little a supply of fish he had caught that day had no toll on Razorfang's decision, if anything, the way Russetpaw stated it with such slurred words only furthered Razorfang's need to return to camp and have Russetpaw seen by Swanfeather. In fact, it was only the moment Russetpaw glanced up into Razorfang's rock-hard expression with rounded, green eyes and actually pleaded that they continue... Razorfang had to process a confused blink. Somewhat taken aback, the mentor remained relatively silent for a few lengthy moments, just staring blankly down at his reddish brown apprentice. It was as if Razorfang expected Russetpaw would quit and decide for himself that returning to camp was the better option, but sadly, that seemed out of the question as Russetpaw continued to peer toward the black furred RainClan warrior with such innocence in his bright green eyes.
Finally, it got to a point where Razorfang was in a way, uncomfortable, with Russetpaw's awkward pleading. “Fine,” he stated gruffly, whirling around quickly to begin walking to their earlier fishing grounds where the rapids were far less dangerous. It was a rare occasion for Razorfang to simply go ahead and change his mind, but in all honesty, he wanted Russetpaw to stop with the pleading eyes. It burned. Never once had another cat sat before him and actually pleaded for something. Razorfang truly hoped the apprentice would never go to such actions again.
Not once did Razorfang glance over his shoulders and see if Russetpaw was following. He assumed he would be, after all, he had gotten his way and the two were going to continue fishing. This thought all on its own sparked a fleck of anger in the large tom. Did an apprentice just influence a warrior? Razorfang rolled his eyes, knowing the apprentice was still behind him and therefore, he could get away with this subtle action of frustration toward what had just happened moments earlier.
Arriving, Razorfang remained frozen and stared at the more calmly flowing river before him. His muscles stiffened slightly, but it was barely noticeable as he stifled the urge to return to camp and instead, advanced closer to the river until he towered over the water source from the terrain's edge. The tom finally took it upon himself to search for Russetpaw, more willing to meet his gaze than he had been at first. He wasn't sure if Russetpaw would be able to catch all the fish he desired by himself, especially with his injury. But the more he thought about, the more he began thinking, no, knowing this was a bad idea. So, the warrior attempted to clear his mind with a soothing inhale of oxygen while he waited for his apprentice.
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Post by Fawn on Oct 27, 2012 21:48:58 GMT -5
[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-left: 25px solid #ffeb8c; background: #9b4242; width: 450px; padding: 20px 10px 20px 20px, bTable][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 2; -moz-transform:rotate(11deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(11deg); -o-transform:rotate(11deg); width: 100px; height: 100px; float: right][/style][STYLE=position: relative; z-index: 1; -moz-transform:rotate(3deg); -webkit-transform:rotate(3deg); -o-transform:rotate(3deg); width: 103px; height: 103px; float: right; background: #fff17f; margin-right: -86px] [/style][STYLE=float: top; font-family: arial; font-weight: bold; color: #ADFF2F; font-size: 26pt; letter-spacing: -1px; margin: 30px 0px 0px -5px]RUSSETPAW[/style][STYLE=font-family: 04b03; font-size: 7pt; color: #ffeb8c; line-height: 1; float: center; text-align: left; width: 265px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -2px]Apprentice of RainClan, 6 Moons with the heart of a Champion.[/style]
[STYLE=margin-top: -4px; width: 368px; background: #ffeb8c; height: 9px] [/style][STYLE=color: #ffeb8c; width: 368px; text-align: left; margin-top: 7px]
"Fine."
Yes! Even if he was in an awful amount of pain, this agony was momentarily tempered by the joy that came with getting a second chance. Even if all he could catch was another minnow, so long as it was bigger than the first, he could walk away with some satisfication. The experience at the bigger, scarier part of the river had quite an effect on the young tom - but perhaps not in the way Razorfang would have expected. When they reached the smaller part of the river that no longer sounded like a thousand angry bees buzzing in their ears and no longer sprayed their legs and faces with water when they got too close, Russetpaw showed his delight with his body language. Tail up in the air, the ruddy tom padded past Razorfang to the water's edge, calling over his shoulder in short sentences so as not to strain his jaw. His tongue was still puffy, but the freezing cold water he'd soothed it with earlier had certainly helped.
"It's a hooking mothion, not a scooping one?" Not waiting for confirmation, Russetpaw drew his eyes back to the river, whole body turning to stone with the intensity of his concentration - the tom almost seemed to be borrowing Razorfang's statuesque behavior for this brief moment. Here fishy fishy fishy... The pain had sharpened his senses. It was impossible to not focus on the throbbing, bone-deep ache in his jaw or the way his tongue still stung, but the flashbulb memory that was smacking his jaw off the river stones made him sensitive to every slight movement or rustle of the wind. Staring fixedly into the water, Razorfang's apprentice zeroed in on what appeared to be a trout making it's way rapidly down stream. Considering Russetpaw was still very much a kitten, that his paws wouldn't be big enough to haul in such a big fish - but Russetpaw's self confidence was, for all the world to see, much much bigger than his body.
Striking like lightning, Russetpaw this time hit the fish with his claws unsheathed, his needle like claws catching onto the trout's body. Unfortunately for Russetpaw, he ended up hooking the large fish by the gills, and it flailed and fought with all it's strength as Russetpaw brought it out of the water, fur on end. My claws are stuck! The fish was writhing and gulping for air, and he brought his paw down to stun it and try to shake his paws free, but fish's tail whipped around for one last show of bravado, and smacked the young tom right on the chin.
"OWWWWWWW!" Yowling as blinding white pain seared through his face, Russetpaw nearly passed out next to the still-writhing fish, body a mass of trembles. Okay, they could go to the medicine cat now! Whimpering, it took the kitten all the self control he had not to go home yowling to his mother and father with declarations of never fishing again. They would've been childish and born out of immense pain, but declarations nonetheless.
The apprentice, blinking back agonized stars, pressed his body down onto the fish's head until it stopped moving, unable to bring himself to part his jaws to bite it. Not out of remorse for the fish's death, but because it would hurt too much to try.
words: meep tags: merp credits: made by gimmick/echo of BtN[/style]
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Post by Insidious on Oct 27, 2012 22:45:48 GMT -5
Razorfang's gray-green eyes glanced downward toward Russetpaw's positioning before the river as the young tom repeated an earlier statement the black furred warrior had said. The tom parted his lethal jaws in preparation to offer his response, but was cut short by Russetpaw immediately beginning to test out the tactic for himself, so... apparently that was rhetorical. Razorfang scoffed silently in his mind, reassuring his trail of thought with a quick shake of his head. Instead, the large-sized RainClan warrior relaxed the negative thoughts that would normally be pounding in his brain, mustering up all his attentive focus upon Russetpaw and how he delivered a swipe at the trout now mindlessly swimming passed the reach of his claws.
It was a success! Or so Razorfang had originally thought. It seemed Russetpaw was having one of those 'bad days', for his claws had unluckily hooked into the trout's gills and the average-sized fish was now squirming every which way in hopes of saving its life. The ebony furred tom was about to offer his assistance to his apprentice, but quickly stifled his actions and returned to his former position to simply observe with a careful eye. After all, Russetpaw insisted they continue fishing for the time being. Razorfang preferred the option of returning to camp and having Russetpaw's jaw looked at by Swanfeather, but no, Russetpaw desired to continue with the fishing lesson. And because of that, Razorfang now watched with clear amusement laced across his expression. Not from Russetpaw's pain as the trout performed one last slap upon the young tom's chin, simply due to the fact he was right from the beginning. Yes, it appeared the mentor's personality had restored itself. No more sympathy.
As the trout's life finally reached its end, Razorfang rose upon all fours' with a swift notion and walked the tail-length of space between Russetpaw and himself to be towering over the reddish brown hued apprentice as he addressed him. A stern glaze formed in the tom's cold eyes, large black ears atop the warrior's head pulling forward as he spoke. “It seems a lesson has been learnt today,” Razorfang offered, lowering his neck in order to pick up the captured trout to save Russetpaw some trouble. “Your mentor is always correct.” It was a clear reference to how Razorfang had originally sought to visit Swanfeather, where as Russetpaw did not. His tail gestured with a final slice through the air, mirroring that of a dangerous sword bringing a forceful end to the life of its target. And with that notion done and complete, the tom's razor sharp teeth punctured into the trout's body, followed by the pivot of his heels and eventually, the entirety of his large figure being swallowed whole by the surrounding brush upon the trail back to RainClan camp.
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