serpents in my mind; looking for your crimes [closed]

Suffocating tendrils of translucent white murk lay suspended between the chilly early morning sky and decay-softened riverbank, greedy fingers of gossamer like webbing steadily wreathing their way across the dismal morning landscape. Silence reigned king within the depths of the fog, effectively stifling the comforting sounds of river-life that had become something akin to a second heartbeat to all those who resided close to the ravenous depths of the dark waters. The thick foliage that crept outwards from the repulsive depths of the forest were relegated to nothing more than mere outlines within the pale depths of the early morning mist, once recognizable landmarks deeply engraved against the somber footings of the Sunningrocks suddenly engulfed within the eerily silent amassing of stubbornly lingering vapor.

Shaky fog of his breathing eagerly devoured within the downy cloud of whirling mist, Jaypaw slipped from the dark depths of the leisurely moving river; a steady collection of droplets continually beaded along the angular length of his form, a rapidly drying crown of frost that glistened weakly in the low light of early morning. The heady, chilly dampness exuded by the fog gave rise to an itch within his throat and an ache within his lungs, yet it did little to quell the simmering sense of exuberance at the prospect of the steadily encroaching liberty.

After catching a long-lasting illness that took up residence within his chest, this was the first inkling of freedom and alone time he had managed to glean in moons.

Pale gaze reflective in the wan light of the fog-riddled early hours of dawn, Jaypaw's steps against the soft mud of the riverbank, and ensuing rolling stretch of stones, were surprisingly silent. Long coat nothing more than an ominous dark smudge against the perpetually whirling cloud of greys and whites that decorated the riverside, the young tom was idle in his absent wanderings; content to simply stretch his legs and enjoy a heartbeat or two of absolute silence. Somewhere in the distance, the faint remnants of birdsong hung trembled out softly against the cozy blanket of sleepy contentment.

"You're a Riverclan cat."

As if drifting idly along the tendrils of morning fog, the declaration was hardly audible enough to do little more than make any listener's ears twitch. Kitepaw barely hear the utterance herself, even though it broke from her maw. Against the pale background, the slender shadow of her frame slowly became visible. Delicate pads brushed the earth that separated their lands. The lithe she-cat's chest constricted with equal measures of fear and wonder. But a natural born warrior spirit made her eyes hardened as flint as she sized up the tom. Her belly drew low to the ground, hovering low enough for the soft fur of her underbelly to stir the dirt. As usual, her head tilted to the side in the most unusual manner given the guarded behavior.

Green eyes were a stark contrast to the russet fur and the pastel hues of the morning provided a vapid dappling of light to her coat. The apprentice regarded the foreigner with wide and prying eyes, drinking in every small twitch of his muscles or rustling of his fur. It was impressive the way his pelt gleaned, somehow naturally, and without the aid of water droplets slicking back his pelt. Rumors seemed to hold some truth, in the way that Riverclan cats shed water as easily as the fish they consumed. Kitepaw longed to instinctively flatten her ears and fought the natural motion of such. To do so would further impede her hearing, another natural instinct she'd struggled with since birth and greatly conflicted that impulses passed down through her bloodline.

She studied his features for a moment, steeling away a breath and trying to collect her thoughts. Disdain for those of other clans had riddled her mind after meeting the tom who had attempted to claim paternity of she and her siblings. Kitepaw refused to believe she was anything more than a Thunderclan cat. Whether it was a strong-willed ignorance or the genuine desire to never consider the implications and conflict of such an idea was yet to be decided. Regardless, she was loyal to her clan and possessed the proclivity of self-preservation, which stirred about a following sentiment, "You know, I'm not afraid to fight off enemy cats. No matter their size."

The faint undercurrent of birdsong upon the drowsy early morning air was briefly interspersed with the soft interlude of silky fur catching against porous stone, willowy boughs of silvery fog curling and trembling in indistinct currents as Jaypaw carefully pulled himself atop a low-hanging shelf of stone. Chips of stone and unfortunate pebbles lingering too close to the sharp cleft of the crumbling stone face were sent raining down against the softly muddied earth just a step or two below, a faint echo resonating against the dismal grey of the horizon. Settling into a semblance of resolute silence, the gently moving rivulets of fog seemed to cool and soften around the dark-furred young tom, seeping into the unkempt mane of his coat.

The faintest ghost of a twitch crept down the curved expanse of his spine, the only initial indicator that Kitepaw's soft words were actually received and subsequently processed. Pale gaze illuminated into a reflective gleam of bright ambers and dazzling blues, the young RiverClanner eventually rounded to peer closer at the unwarranted speaker. The stark contrast, verging on wholly antithetical, was immediate and extreme, even upon first glance. Whereas Jaypaw appeared to be nothing more than a willowy outline against the smudged darkness of the wreathing mist, deflecting the weak streams of light that wavered softly upon the humid morning air, Kitepaw seemed to draw in the watery undercurrent of dawn; the short undercut of her fiery coat gently illuminated in a halo streaked with reds, golds, and ambers. Even the pallid curtain of fog around her seemed sparked alight by the residual light that radiated off the graceful slope of her being, a gentle stain of warmth against the lingering threat of damp darkness.

An unfamiliar emotion creased between the delicate arch of Jaypaw's lightly furrowed brows, suspended somewhere between repulsion and intrigue, as his tongue weighed heavily against the narrow confines of his tightly pursed mouth. In the ensuing silence, the frantic flight of his pounding heart felt entirely too loud.

"If your prerogative includes trespassing and deliberately provoking in order to prove such a sentiment," He eventually mews back, low rasp of his voice heavy upon the chilly late autumn air, "then I suppose you're obligated to deliver."

Trespassing.

Such a notion was equal parts terrifyingly foreign and enticing. Her eyes widened slightly at the prospect as she drank in his figure and studied his features. The way the stranger rounded and met her gaze sent a chill down her spine; the apprentice's tail lashed uneasily. How the tom seemed so calm in his approach to another clan cat drew her in. Kitepaw wanted to know what it was to be relaxed in the face of an enemy cat. But there was another sensation, one that drew her claws from their sheathes. It was infuriating, like ants under her pelt that the Riverclan tom seemed unimpressed with her approach to merely whisk it away with one rasp of his tongue.

In the few moons she had lived, Kitepaw had found her life to be rather lackluster in the daily rise and fall of the sun; she had enjoyed it like that for so long, relying on a natural curiosity for the world that had drawn her to learn the territory and spend time studying the skills of a warriors without ceasing. Her Windclan father had fractured that sense of security merely by existing. Even if Cedarheart and her littermate had all sworn off their kinship. There was a reckless abandon writhing in her chest like a snake. It was this feeling that caused her to flash forward, her gaze never leaving the tom's and striking him across the cheek.

This was the first time she had struck another cat and meant it, in a sense. Kitepaw's paw quickly fell back to the earth and she stood tall, once again fighting the urge to flatten her ears. Instead, she forced them higher, straining forward, to catch whatever response would come to her snarky remark, "How can I be the one provoking when you're meandering so close to the border? And on territory rightfully Thunderclan's. I might be some moons younger than you but I'm not daft enough to forget the stories of my elders, nor weak enough to let a brute like yourself talk down to me. I'll strike you again if I have to, Riverclanner."

Kitepaw used front paw strike, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina.

Kitepaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 70/80 (-10)

Jaypaw
HP: 14/20 (-6)
SP: 80/80

Ah, that certainly struck some nerve or another.

Silvery rivulets of leisurely lingering fog curling and wreathing violently under the sudden series of movements initiated on behalf of Kitepaw, the faint chords of merry birdsong continued on as though little was amiss. With a sudden violent jar of the teeth and a fiery pinprick of a likely now strained muscle, Jaypaw's head snapped back under the force of the blow- evidently not anticipating the blow itself, nor the surprising amount of weight behind the quick movement. Several heartbeats of terse silence welcomed Kitepaw's inciteful taunts, tongue carefully probing each thoroughly rattled tooth in search of damage or unanticipated wounds as he gingerly tested his now aching jaw. Carefully pitching his weight forward so that he was more or less fully upright and frontal facing, Jaypaw suddenly reared up in a bristling flourish of smoky dark fur, movements smooth and resembling those of a coiling snake.

Of course, it was difficult to place a name to the cause of his fluttering pulse; fighting was a strange thing, a delicate knotting of excitement and trepidation.

"Oh please," Jaypaw seethed, lashing out with both front forepaws, hooking sharply around the delicate ridge of Kitepaw's nape and dragging her unwilling shape closer. Lurching his weight backwards with a surprising abandon for a cat teetering on the ridge of a stony cleft, the young tom sent the pair rolling off the short drop of the half-crumbling stone, letting out a soft oof at the surprising weight of the ThunderClanner sprawled out atop him. Dark pupils expanding against the honeyed dark surface of his accusatory stare, his fiery streak of mutually incited reckless indulgence easily dismissed the muted halo of gold and red that hazed the silky edges of the fog around Kitepaw. Upturned nose unwilling to inhale on the off-chance of catching wind of the strangely enticing scent of crushed foliage and remnants of wildflower, Jaypaw's austere features remained drawn in a dark mask of irritation as he promptly kicked Kitepaw's exposed belly with a powerful hindleg.

"I can meander all I'd like; this is RiverClan's territory, as it always will be. It's not my fault you waltzed right into some inciteful tauntings like a kit chasing a pretty minnow!"

-

Jaypaw used Belly Rake, Dealing -7 in Damage & Costing -10 in Stamina.

Jaypaw
14/20 [HP]
70/80 [SP]

Kitepaw
13/20 [HP]
70/80 [SP]

One moment she was standing with her head held high, face stretching into the larger tom's face in the most accusatory way. With another breath, the pair toppled, rolling together until she landed with a soft oof. Shock and surprise had crossed her maw and briefly dashed away any sharp retorts. Furthermore, an unpleasant sensation crashed into her stomach with the stinging of his hindclaws. Kitepaw jumped up with a furious hiss. This Riverclan mousebrain wouldn't get away with such a thing.

As she landed, the russet apprentice strategically pinned him down. One paw, his throat, the other forepaw on his chest. Hindpaws pressed into the soft inside point within his own rear limbs. The sticklike frame of Kitepaw was lean with surprising amounts of natural muscle. She grinned down at him with satisfaction behind her gaze, "How's that, pretty minnow? You were a surprisingly underwhelming catch." The apprentice tilted her head as she teased the self-righteous oaf. How great would it be to tell uncle Pinefrost that she had bested a Riverclan cat in battle. While their skirmish had yet to end, she was confident in her skill and relentless in her newfound pursuit of besting the tom.

"Prove to me that you know how to fight since you're such a tough cat!" Kitepaw didn't even know his name, and it hardly mattered anyways. This would merely be a border fight, one of many she would have as a warrior, right?

Kitepaw used leap and hold on Jaypaw, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina. Jaypaw is held for 2 turns.

Kitepaw
HP: 13/20
SP: 60/80

Jaypaw
HP: 8/20 (-6)
SP: 70/80

The member 'Ripped' has done the following action : Dices roll

---

'Effect Dice' : 6

The weighted arch of his nape deepened further under the careful placement of Kitepaw's forepaws, the rhythmic flutter of Jaypaw's pulse rising to an erratic wildfire, an alluring movement concealed only by unkempt dark fur and delicate flesh. Something dark lingered within the molten depths of his golden gaze, a taunting undercurrent of overly smug satisfaction at the ability to so easily work his way beneath her skin; odd confidence lingering in the bold choice to do nothing but remain within her grasp, muscles soft and sated in the decision. Baring his chin upwards, and further exposing the delicate line of his vulnerable throat to her awaiting forepaw, he offered only a crooked grin, tilting his head softly as he peered up at Kitepaw.

"Underwhelming, yet pretty enough to catch your interest- perhaps that speaks to your taste." Jaypaw hummed out, smoky rasp of his voice sending gentle undercurrents of vibrations ricocheting up his opponent's purposefully placed forepaws. Pale pink tongue flashing against the stark outline of pristine teeth, currently exposed in a lopsided simper, the dark-furred tom's nose twisted up as though Kitepaw had said something amusing- though in all fairness, everything spoken by the molly in question seemed to have such an effect. "And what if I were to refuse your obvious attempts at inciting a fight on my behalf?" He eventually inquired back, voice even and slow, before reaching up with a forepaw to idly ruffle Kitepaw's whiskers, muscles jumping at the unwarranted stimulus.

"What would you do then? I've heard that ThunderClan adores kicking a cat when they're down, so I wouldn't be shocked if that was your course of action."

-

Jaypaw is pinned for ONE MORE TURN.

Jaypaw
8/20 [HP]
70/80 [SP]

Kitepaw
13/20 [HP]
60/80 [SP]

While it was her claws that pierced his flesh, the infuriating rasp of his tongue proved to have a similar effect on her pelt. Russet coat itched with agitation and she leaned forward in an attempt to press him further into the ground below. Perhaps a moment more and it would become possible to press that smug maw into the earth. However, her opponent had more than a sharp tongue in his favor - the mess of fur and mass that comprised this Riverclanner proved to be a challenge.

"What kind of cat won't even defend their own pelt?" Kitepaw finally ground out through clenched teeth. Either he was overwhelmingly confident or his mind was comprised of rotting fish. While she was determined to believed the latter, the manner in which he presented himself suggested otherwise. It only made her all the more determined to defeat him. Fire burned behind her gaze and her tiny, thorn-sharp claws knotted themselves into Jaypaw's fur. Further and further until... he ruffled her whisker.

The apprentice's head shot up in an instant, pulling back. She blinked once, twice, and then flexed her claws before jumping away. Indignation crossed her maw, twisting the shock that had crossed her features. It was impossible to find speech at such an action. Not once had she ever considered an enemy so casually brushing her whiskers in the heat of combat. It was so foreign, so agitating. Kitepaw's tail lashed as glared at him, "What was that for? Some stupid Riverclan tactic? Well, it didn't work. Another step and I'll send you running back into your river, minnow."

Such attempts at pride and defiance masked the uncertainty that now writhed in her chest. Without realizing it, she'd taken a step back, distancing herself further from the tom. She watched him with a careful golden gaze, tracing every inch of his frame, prying for his next movement. The thought of such an intimate thing from any cat other than her kin, especially any enemy cat, sent ants crawling through her pelt. An overwhelming peculiar and disconcerting tom this black-pelted Riverclanner was.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was truth to his words - she wanted to run, but in every sense of the word, Kitepaw was entranced by him.

Kitepaw continued to use Leap and Hold, dealing 6 damage. Jaypaw is no longer pinned.

Kitepaw
HP: 13/20
SP: 60/80

Jaypaw
HP: 2/20 (-6)
SP: 70/80

Blatant shock dusted Kitepaw's fiery features, confusion and uncertainty delicately interwoven in the wide-eyed glare that promptly fixed in his direction; the faint, muted undercurrent of wry amusement twisting upon Jaypaw's smug features a stark contrast from the opponent literally seated atop his chest. It was intended to have an affect, an undeniable truth, but it was a little shocking that the simple gesture seemed to throw off the ThunderClanner to such a violent degree. Head tilting, changing the soft pressure of Kitepaw's stubbornly lingering forepaw to something a bit more firm and awkward, to make the soft simper wreathing cross his dark features all the more prominent, he couldn't help but snort softly in response to Kitepaw's probing demands.

However, at the mention of the river, something caught in the dark depths of his prying gaze. For a lingering heartbeat, Jaypaw did little more than thoughtfully stare at the faintly haloed she-cat perched atop him, metaphorical wheels continuously churning somewhere deep and unseen. "The river..." He eventually echoed softly, vocal chords trembling faintly against the persisting weight of Kitepaw's hold, nape arching further as he twisted awkwardly to peer at the steadily moving river just a few tail-lengths away. Gradually twisting back to both alleviate the strain of such an awkward position and to return his gaze to the evidently irritated Kitepaw, a dark emotion akin to mischief roiled purposefully within the depths of his molten stare.

"You could send me running to the river," He eventually conceded, low voice suddenly pitching with the strain of a violent twist in Kitepaw's hold, ducking his chin and lurching upwards to grapple at the red-furred molly once again. Inhaling sharply and purposely throwing all of his weight to the side, Jaypaw sent the pair tumbling for the second time- an unpleasant tangle of clashing limbs and teeth that easily went sprawling down the slippery slope of the riverbank. The initial collision with the chilly water was a slight stun, but did little to slow Jaypaw's next few movements. Flipping the pair so that Kitepaw hung suspended in waters that just barely grazed the drenched tips of his extended elbow joints, the red-furred molly was left with only two options; clinging to him or getting dropped into the somewhat deep waters once again. "But whose to say that I wouldn't just drag you with me? You seem like the type to chase a pretty minnow out into waters deep enough to drown you."

-

Jaypaw used Underwater Clinch, Dealing -6 in Damage & Costing -10 in Stamina.
Kitepaw is stunned for ONE TURN.

Jaypaw
2/20 [HP]
60/80 [SP]

Kitepaw
7/20 [HP]
60/80 [SP]

As ill-prepared as she had been for his last move, the molly found herself with shock written across her maw with the next. It was foolish to have not considered the skills or advantage her opponent had. Lack of experience with Riverclan proved to be a fatal error. Once more they were rolling together in the most jarring manner. There was a flicker of a thought as she contemplated if battles were always like this. The abilities that Robinloft had passed onto her hadn't called for such confined quarters. An involuntary hiss broke from her chest but it proved to be preemptive. Something more unpleasant was to meet her at the river's edge.

Ice cold water nipped at her pelt and soaked her spine. At once it sent to motion the natural instinct to attempt to wriggle away. It proved to be fruitless. Between the foreign, slippery terrain and the grip of her opponent, Kitepaw was truly at a loss. As Jaypaw had intended, she was left with the choice of flailing against the currents or drawing closer to the other apprentice. Neither was an appealing option. Acceptance washed over the russet apprentice. She stretched her limbs to knot her paws into his coat and snarled up at the tom with pure frustration. Kitepaw pulled herself closer and attempted to crane her head back just enough to continue glaring up at him.

"Hardly chasing if you're snatching me like an adder, hm?" Her face screwed up in disgust as her senses drew in the overwhelming fish stench that radiated from his fur. That coupled with the smell of the river threatened to permanently damage her nostrils. As her grip loosened ever so slightly, the unending torrent seemed to snatch at her pelt once again. It sent her drawing even closer to the Riverclan tom. A strange mixture of feelings caused her whiskers to flicker with discomfort. The desire to race from battle was something that she thought would never happen, especially when so few wounds marred her pelt. It was purely the opponent she face, increasingly maddening with every passing moment, "Let me go, you mousebrain. Drowning cats in the river is hardly an honorable warrior's tactic."

Kitepaw is no longer stunned.

Dark riverwater continuously wept forward in snaking and curling undercurrents, small tidal waves only disrupted by the awkwardly thrashing and swaying pair currently stranded out just a tail-length or so from the safety of the riverbank. The careful pitch of Jaypaw's deliberately distributed weight staggered in a purposeful mirror of Kitepaw's frantic and noticeably uncomfortable movements; dark shape occasionally tipping forward with the disjointed, wriggling cat currently clinging to his nape. Chilly rivulets of riverwater beaded heavily against the dark crown of his ruffled and unkempt coat, curling and wavering tendrils of pallid steam suddenly wreathing after such unexpected and violent movement, showering Kitepaw in a half-hearted mimicry of a thunderstorm.

The awkward positioning of the admittedly unusual grappling attempt left Jaypaw's chin practically resting atop the crown of the ThunderClanner's head, sharp jut weighing heavily against the thin skin between her wet ears, whenever she managed to hold still for more than a heartbeat or two at a time. The pointed hollows of their chests were faintly brushing as well; their respective thundering pulses a shared rhythm of flighty adrenaline left coursing from such a strange encounter. Exhales puffing softly in the hollow of Kitepaw's ears, before she eventually craned her neck back in an attempt to shoot a surely scathing glare, the dark-furred tom couldn't help but scowl as the newest round of movements sent them tipping and swaying once again.

"Drowning my opponent?" Jaypaw huffed out in response, the faint vibrations of his low drawl especially loud in such close quarters, "we're hardly a tail-length from the riverbank- even a kit could save themselves from an apparent drowning." The drag and nip of Kitepaw's purposefully knotted claws was beginning to weigh heavily upon the straining muscles of his shoulders, attempting to hold both of their respective weights above the water starting to become less than desirable. Awkwardly swinging back around and sloshing forward a pace or two, so that they were only a few paces away from the steep incline of the muddied riverbank, Jaypaw gave himself a rigorous shake- effectively dislodging the clinging molly with a few well-meaning kicks to the belly that lacked the purposeful intent of causing serious harm.

A great splash roared up against the drowsy currents as Jaypaw and Kitepaw went floundering apart, the ThunderClanner sent sprawling closer to the shore as he collapsed back onto his haunches. Both young cats were left thoroughly soaked and decorated in a barrage of odd little wouds and scrapes, fiery pale lines prominent against the drenched darkness of their ruffled coats. Peering over at Kitepaw through wet eyelashes, Jaypaw used a big forepaw to flick a half-hearted splash in the direction of the red-furred molly, "careful, you might drown."

-

Jaypaw used Belly Rake, Dealing -7 in Damage & Costing -10 in Stamina.

Jaypaw
2/20 [HP]
50/80 [SP]

Kitepaw
K.O.