sparking tensions [closed]

Amber eyes peeked out from behind a tree, silver claws dragging across the mud below. His pupils narrowed into slits, no longer dilated as usual, expressing... not fury, but annoyance. They were locked onto his target: Smokepaw. Small gusts of wind ruffled his fur, and his eyes unlatched for a moment, flicking up to the sky, judging how much time he'd have. Recently, he'd been taking note of the patrol schedules, and had made a point to know which ones Smokepaw would be on, so he could catch the tom alone. It was almost sundown, and most patrols would be returning soon with fresh-kill, but Smokepaw was already back, and Emberpaw made his move. He slid away from the pine tree he was leaning against, relieving his tensions with a lash of claws against bark. His amber eyes darkened and he wove his way into the apprentice's den, sitting next to Smokepaw (despite the fact that their nests were at opposite edges of the den). He wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to talk about - maybe Ebonysong, maybe just general insults. Or both. Yep, that sounded good. He spoke in a cheerful tone, knowing that sometime could tick Smokepaw off.


The words were uttered cheerfully, with underlying malice. It was intentional. Now, either Smokepaw would deny liking her, which probably would make a bad impression on Ebonysong, or he would agree, which was almost impossible considering how hard Emberpaw and Smokepaw tried to disagree. Emberpaw's eyes held a small smirk as they looked at Smokepaw, pupils rounding as if it was a friendly tease. And to anyone who was listening, it would seem to be that way. In reality, it was a message: I like her. Stay out of my way.

Not exerting any effort into suppressing his eyeroll (what a waste of energy that'd be!), he stubbornly refused to grant any further acknowledgement other than a irked huff. Dismissing the tom's presence, contending with the challenge of maintaining a nonchalant demeanor, Smokepaw merely scooted in the other direction. The tom's lip curled into a barely-discernable snarl as words as smooth as silk sifted from his maw. They seemed deliberately chosen. Smokepaw would despise ever admitting it, but that deceivingly jaunty undertone vexed him. Perhaps, the realisation was reserved for only his perception, but he was able to observe that it held no genuinity. If Emberpaw was going to go ahead and taunt him, it could be done without such a poor facade.


Smokepaw's gruff response didn't sound like a question. The utterance tumbled out as a curt, half-stifled cough, faintly choked as a lump rose in his throat. It felt like bleak ice protruding against his vocal cords, rendering speaking a difficult task. At the plainly insincere glint in Emberpaw's gaze, Smokepaw's expression hardened into severe coldness – dangerously foreboding. How annoying! If this loathesome tom wanted to keep up with these irritating endeavors, he swore that someone would be limping into Mothglow's den with a slashed-out face quite soon.