if we know we love each other, what's the concern? [C]

Silverhawk
T3 Warrior | ShadowClan | he/him

There hadn't been enough time the night of his ceremony, with making space for nests to move and sitting vigil; and there wasn't much time the next night, either, because Hawkmist of course had to sleep after his long, silent guard throughout the day. By the second day, Silverhawk was getting antsy, but it wasn't long before he settled: Wolfpaw was accounted for on another patrol, and Hawkmist was finally awake at a reasonable hour again. Finally, for the first time in what felt like forever, he and Hawkmist had a moment to themselves. There was, of course, nowhere else to go but the quiet clearing they so often frequented, the scent of pine needles deep in the air.

Silverhawk looked over his shoulder to send Hawkmist an admiring squint as they walked beneath the boughs. This was one of the last places they walked together as apprentices; now, it was the first place they walked together as warriors. The moons with Hawkmist stuck in the apprentice's den had been dreadful, but they were over now. Silverhawk couldn't remember the last time everything in front of him felt... simple. He'd forgotten he could feel content. Now, it was the only word that came to mind.

"So?" Silverhawk hummed quizzically, tail flicking purposefully across Hawkmist's nose as he strode on farther. "How does it feel--being a warrior now? You should have been a season ago, but Leopardstar doesn't know what's in front of her." A beat after his voice trailed away, Silverhawk grinned smugly and spun his attention forward. "Well, at least you're still behind me." Distantly, he wondered what was the point of the constant needling; but then he could nearly hear Hawkmist's bristle, and that was answer enough. "At least she kept that straight. Right, Pigeon?"

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Hawkmist has been riding the high of his ceremony. Simply gaining his name would’ve led to joy, but it wasn’t really just getting his name. It was the fact that he was home, it was him and Silverhawk getting to sleep in the same den again, it was the fact that even Wolfshadow had come up after the ceremony’s conclusion to say he did well. The kittish joy that a simple compliment from his father caused was a little shameful, but Hawkmist couldn’t chase it away.

The intensity of that joy could not be maintained, of course, but rather than returning to his normal, Hawkmist found himself experiencing something like contentment. He felt light and warm. It was a change of pace, to be sure. He wasn’t sure how much of the change was showing to anyone else, or how long it would last, but he could feel it right now, and that was enough for him.

He looked towards Silverhawk in front of him, feeling a surge of what could only be described as affection. The moonlight filtered through the pine tree branches and danced on Silverhawk’s fur, and Hawkmist traced the patterns with his eyes, watching the muscles under Silverhawk’s fur move with each of his pawsteps and feeling a bubbling warmth in his stomach. They’d walked here together before they left, and it was the same place, but the ground felt different beneath their feet as they walked it together as warriors.

Hawkmist’s floaty thoughts were interrupted by a tail rudely flicking across his nose, and he scrunched his face up in response, familiar glare settling onto his face, though it lacked it’s usual heat. Silverhawk’s ramblings were as good of a reminder as any just how annoying his best friend is, but although Hawkmist bristled, he didn’t feel the normal level of genuine irritation.

He flicked his tail behind him once, then leapt forward onto Silverhawk’s back, pressing on top of him just enough to be able to nip at his ear. “Come on, you were saying my name so loud at the ceremony, and you still can’t get it right?” He growls, the sound edged with a teasing playfulness. He hopped off again and trotted in front of Silverhawk, tail flicking back at him and returning the gesture of tickling his nose. He looked over his shoulder, golden eyes squinted. “The only thing I’m behind on is catching up to your massive ego.”

He paused, then looked forward and finally answered Silverhawk’s question. “...It feels good.”

Silverhawk
T3 Warrior | ShadowClan | he/him

Hawkmist was quiet for just a twitched whisker too long. Suspicious--no irritated snarling? Silverhawk nearly looked over his shoulder to confirm the other tom was still there when Hawkmist's weight promptly hit his back. The collision earned a sound of affront and an accompanying stumble, then: there it was, that delicious growl, deep and low and right in his ear. Heat rose to meet the sound and flood the soft imprint left by Hawkmist's teeth. Having the forelegs thrown haphazardly around his shoulders still, hearing the edge of a tease in Hawkmist's voice---it was too much. The warmth pooling in Silverhawk's ears quickly burned through every single strand of fur. He hoped he might conveniently, spontaneously, go up in smoke.

Hawkmist didn't keep roosting for long, at least. Silverhawk exaggerated a grunt of effort, equally dramatic in shaking out his coat. "Stupid Pigeon," he muttered under his breath, "you messed up my fur." Pointedly, he swiped his tongue across his ruffled chest. The action left his head at the perfect angle to receive the whisk of Hawkmist's tail, which earned a stifled sneeze and a sharp tongue stuck out at the back of his head.

He was so beautiful, surrounded by snow, pale fur drunk on moonlight. And so cocky, now that he had his name! Silverhawk wanted to rip all that pretty white fur right off him and use it as the lining of his nest. But then, if anything happened to the remains of Hawkmist's pelt, he'd never come down from the fury... so it was, unfortunately, inactionable. "I don't remember cheering," he corrected blithely. The curl was steadily returning to his maw. "You must be thinking of someone else. Hedge, maybe?" She had beat him to cheering, at least. Silverhawk swallowed down the sour feeling that arose at the memory and shrugged. "But it wasn't me!" But Hawkmist felt so good about it. He didn't have to perform this dance-- he could cheer again, just for the two of them, tell Hawkmist how proud he really is. Stoke the pride in those brilliant yellow eyes, make him feel full with something other than anger for once, hear him speak soft again...

Silverhawk gathered his weight and shot forward. As was done to him moments ago, he landed on Hawkmist's back; his assault, however, came with the weight to roll Hawkmist tail-over-ears and pin him in place by the shoulders. Silverhawk couldn't tell him how pretty he was, or keep his pelt as a trophy, or offer any of the praise burning on his tongue. But he could dirty Hawkmist's pelt, rough him up and bruise him. He'd still be pretty, then--prettier--but at least he'd be dirty. Not so perfect-looking. "You can't feel that good," he snickered, pressing a little more weight down on Hawkmist. "because you could certainly use the ego. And some focus-- not paying attention to me, Pidge?"

Night Finesse is active for this fight!
Silverhawk used Jumping Strike, dealing 12 (8+3+1) damage and costing 7 SP.

Silverhawk
40/40 HP
93/100 (-7) SP

Hawkmist
18/30 (-12) HP
80/80 SP

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"Stupid Pigeon, you messed up my fur.”

Hawkmist hated him so much sometimes. Hawkmist rolled his eyes. What did he think some ruffled fur would do? It’s not like Silverhawk could ever be anything other than ethereal. He was more beautiful than anything in the sky above or the earth below. Hawkmist would argue that he was twice as beautiful when he was ruffled, when silver fur was bloodstained and when that calm, smarmy veneer shattered and pine green eyes were burning with that fire Silverhawk couldn’t hide from him. If he messed up Silverhawk’s fur enough to complain, then he felt pleased for the action. He liked it that way.

“Your voice does resemble that of a barely-named kit sometimes, that’s true.” Hawkmist taunted. It was a lie, Silverhawk's voice was as intoxicating as the rest of him, but Hawkmist could feel himself prickling. It didn’t quite hurt, Silverhawk’s denial of his excitement, because Hawkmist knew what the truth was. But it did make something in him ruffle, feel the urge to prove, to push and prod until Silverhawk had no choice but to be genuine with him once more. Rip through those walls and through Silverhawk’s chest with his claws until he reached the steady beating heart that lay within. He wanted to examine it and expose every secret but for only his eyes and ears alone. What Silverhawk kept secret was something Hawkmist wanted to bite down on and consume; so that only he and Silverhawk could know the truth of him.

Then, before Hawkmist could turn his head again and act or ignore his heady thoughts, a heavy, warm weight was crashing into him, the sensation familiar and addicting (as all things with Silverhawk were.) Dirt caught in Hawkmist’s fur as he’s rolled, his body coming alive with adrenaline as he braced himself against Silverhawk’s weight. Silverhawk’s paws pressed down on his shoulders and- oh, there’s that fire. Looking up into those eyes and seeing that infuriating grin split his face as he snickered; Hawkmist felt as though Silverhawk had reached straight into his chest to crush his heart beneath his beautiful paws.

He doesn’t think he’d mind if he did.

Rather than give voice to that thought, Hawkmist lifted his chin, hissed out a, “Never,” and launched forward, throwing Silverhawk’s weight off of him and diving right after him, barreling into him and pinning him down right back. This was just as overwhelming as the previous position. He was pressed completely against Silverhawk, feeling every breath he took as both of their breathing was picked up with the fight. He used his heavy weight against him, claws prickling at soft fur as he shoved Silverhawk into the ground and leaned in to growl, “You’re the one always looking away.”

Hawkmist used Leap and Hold! He dealt -8 (7+1) damage, costing -15 SP. Silverhawk is pinned for 2 turns.

Silverhawk [PINNED 1/2 ]
32/40 HP (-8)
93/100 SP

Hawkmist
18/30 HP
65/80 SP

Silverhawk
T3 Warrior | ShadowClan | he/him

Oh, how perfect Hawkmist was. He looked so beautiful, pressed down to the ground. Silverhawk's grin only ticked wider over having his hunch renewed: Hawkmist was prettier when his clean fur got scuffed. He knew Hawkmist would get up soon and throw him somewhere else in the dirt, but in the moments before that happened, Silverhawk could fantasize about having the strength to keep Hawkmist pinned forever. With relentless jaws and the strength of StarClan, Silverhawk could just grab him by the scruff and drag him across the ground until he was an unrecognizable mess; sully him utterly. It'd be embarrassing and a bit cruel, but stars how he wanted to see Hawkmist properly bedraggled after a fight.

While he was distracted, Hawkmist's paws surged up. Silverhawk felt his own be forced off the broad shoulders they stood on and he was, as he predicted, pitched back. His back landed on the ground and big, strong paws swiftly followed. His lungs strained against the weight of them. Silverhawk quickly felt dizzy, though it came from the usual intoxicating thrill, not his rapid breaths. "You wound me," he whined and tried to writhe out from under Hawkmist's paws. But the hold was strong and-- well. Silverhawk didn't really want to leave anyway. As much as he wanted to rip Hawkmist to ribbons, Silverhawk wanted to let him do the same in equal measure--almost more.

"What was that? Sorry--pigeons are just such boring birds. Did you hear one cooing just now?" Even trying to press his hindpaws into Hawkmist's belly would not get him to budge. Silverhawk tossed his head to the side with a dramatic groan. "Stars, I'd listen if they'd just give me something to pay attention to. Don't you agree, Pidge?"

Silverhawk is pinned for this turn!

Silverhawk
32/40 HP
93/100 SP

Hawkmist
18/30 HP
65/80 SP

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Hawkmist’s muscles strained with the effort to keep Silverhawk pinned down despite his squirming, and the tension was a balm to some undefinable need inside of him. Silverhawk trapped beneath his claws made a shiver of power run up Hawkmist’s spine, intoxicating and dizzying in its potency. He wanted to draw Silverhawk’s blood, keep him perfectly still and trapped, rip him apart, protect him at all costs and ensure that nobody ever got to see him like this besides Hawkmist himself. Even the thought of someone else getting to interact with Silverhawk like this made Hawkmist want to tear the theoretical cat to shreds, possessiveness tasting like iron on his tongue.

Mine, He wanted to growl as he watched Silverhawk with narrowed eyes. The words got stuck in his throat, and he expressed it only with the digging of his claws into silver fur as Silverhawk sneered and preened.

His words caused a fresh wave of heat to flood Hawkmist, the type that made a growl rise up in the back of his throat and his fur stand on end with anger. Here Silverhawk was beneath him, trapped beneath his paws, beautiful and infuriating and claiming he wasn’t worth his attention. He hated, hated the implication, the threat, really, that he was falling out of Silverhawk’s favor, that Silverhawk had every reason to turn his head away and forget Hawkmist existed.

“I'm not forgetting anything, Dove. You haven't given me anything to remember.”

Hawkmist wanted to give Silverhawk every reason to never turn away again. He wanted to make sure Silverhawk never, ever forgot him. It was that feeling that drove him forward.

With his leverage over Silverhawk, it was easy enough to lean down and sink his teeth into the fur and muscle of Silverhawk’s shoulder. Blood, hot and sweet, flooded his mouth as he dug in, and he made sure it hurt. He relished in the way Silverhawk squirmed while he was still trapped in his hold. He could swear Silverhawk’s blood tasted better than anything he’d tasted before.

He pressed down on Silverhawk’s shoulders as he pulled back, meeting his gaze with golden eyes glinting dangerously in the dark shadows. Blood trickled from the newly made wound into his own fur, and the heat of it filled him with fresh adrenaline. Nothing in the world existed except for this, except for the two of them in the moonlight in the mud, turning red with spilled blood. Licking Silverhawk’s blood off his teeth with almost deliberate slowness, Hawkmist leaned in close again as he snarled directly in Silverhawk’s face. “There. Now you’re actually wounded. Paying attention yet?”

Hawkmist continues to keep Silverhawk pinned down! He deals -8 damage (7+1) and this costs -15 SP.

Silverhawk
24/40 HP (-8)
93/100 SP

Hawkmist
18/30 HP
50/80 HP (-15)

Silverhawk
T3 Warrior | ShadowClan | he/him

At some point, Silverhawk gave up entirely with his thrashing. The struggle to free himself only invited Hawkmist's claws to sink deeper, past fur and flesh, drawing hot blood to further stain his pelts. Both of their pelts. As intoxicating as it was, Silverhawk wouldn't let himself wince for Hawkmist. He would have to work harder than just claws to earn any contortion of pain. Besides... Hawkmist was stronger than him. Silverhawk had no issue admitting it--privately, at least. The heavy paws pressed firmly against his shoulders were everything; they held their own gravity. The weight, the feeling of Hawkmist's muscles work against his, the claws gripping him with desperation... it was electrifying, as it always was.

The dramatics of tossing his aside were abandoned. Silverhawk's eyes slyly angled up again in time to watch Hawkmist's narrow. His whiskers twitched with coy curiosity, as if he wasn't the one to cause the scowl. Then Hawkmist's claws dug in deeper, leaving aching, beautiful scores. Silverhawk's expression drew into a line, though he bit his tongue to keep from letting the show of pain reach too far. "Whaaat?" He drawled, and he was eager to keep going-- eager to pull every display of frustration and bloodlust he could --but then Hawkmist leaned down.

Silverhawk squirmed again, one singular wriggling motion. He almost curled into the maw opening beside his head rather than away from it. Hawkmist's teeth closed deep in the meat of his shoulder. When the stunning pressure subsided, pain rushed to fill the emptiness just occupied by teeth; and finally, Hawkmist won a tense hiss. Silverhawk could feel the blood matting in his fur immediately and his vision whirled from the heat of the sting.

The moment he could see straight, Silverhawk looked up. His own blood stained Hawkmist's pristine white maw and dribbled through the fur of his fur and chest. He was so beautiful. How could Silverhawk ever think to look away? If only he could lie there for the rest of time, staring up at blood and dirt-stained Hawkmist; beautiful, ethereal Hawkmist. He wanted to drift in this dizzying ache forever. He wanted Hawkmist's teeth back in him, tearing pieces out until there was nothing left. Silverhawk wanted him to clean the blood from his fur after Hawkmist cleaned his teeth.

Only a second passed before he blinked and his expression twisted into a sneer. Silverhawk shoved back all the helpless feelings that wanted to surface and began to writhe again. "You're such a brute," he whined. This time, when he wedged his hindpaws into the soft dip of Hawkmist's belly, there was just enough leverage to jostle him. When he felt the balance slide, Silverhawk instantly wiggled free, slippery as a leech. He reached up with both forepaws, hooking Hawkmist's shoulders with his claws and using his frame as a post to lift himself up by. Silverhawk wobbled a little when he was upright, truly feeling the soreness that radiated all the way through his bitten leg, but he didn't shy from placing his full weight on the paw no matter how badly it hurt. "Pigeon is so desperate to get my attention." Despite his mocking tone, Silverhawk's eyes were blown wide with a look close to rapture. "Alright," he finally conceded, and his voice dropped a register between huffs, "you have it now. What are you going to do with it?"

Silverhawk attempted Duck and Twist... Dealt 7 damage and cost 5 SP.

Silverhawk
24/40 HP
88/100 (-5) SP

Hawkmist
11/30 (-7) HP
50/80 HP

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The few heartbeats of eye contact before Silverhawk started to move again felt like a lifetime. Time stretched out until the background din of cicadas and the wind in the trees faded away to absolute silence. There was only the joint sound of Hawkmist and Silverhawk’s labored breathing, the heartbeat pounding in Hawkmist’s chest. He could swear he heard Silverhawk’s too, could swear that in that moment their twisted hearts were beating as one.

And, oh, the way Silverhawk was looking at him. Pupils wide, jaw parted, eyes shining with something Hawkmist dared not put a name to, completely and intoxicatingly focused on Hawkmist alone. Hawkmist could live off a look like that; in the moment, it felt like he needed it more than he needed to breathe or to eat or to sleep.

The mark left on Silverhawk’s shoulder was dribbling blood and Hawkmist was torn between wanting to lick it clean and soothe the hurt he caused; and the desire to rip and tear until there was nothing left.

Then, the spell was broken with Silverhawk screwing his face up into a scowl and squirming anew beneath Hawkmist, an annoyingly high-pitched whine leaving him that set Hawkmist’s teeth on edge. Hawkmist would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t instantly occupied with attempting to maintain his hold, but Silverhawk matched Hawkmist’s strength in his dexterity, and he felt the loss the moment Silverhawk was no longer in his grasp.

Silverhawk’s claws stung as he used Hawkmist to right himself, a delicious pain that prompted only a snap of his teeth; chasing after Silverhawk and only uselessly clamping his teeth down on air as Silverhawk twisted away from him. Hawkmist panted, shaking out his fur and settling back into a crouched, defensive position. Every muscle is bunched, like he’s in the middle of a hunt and is primed for a killing blow, and every strand of his fur felt like it was standing on edge. The distance between them ached, Hawkmist immediately wanted to rectify it, but Silverhawk was still looking at him, and his voice dropping lower made a shiver pass over Hawkmist’s spine.

Hawkmist’s grin was a fleeting thing, a flash of sharp, bloodied teeth, combined with a huff of air that could’ve been amusement, irritation, or anything in between; and not even Hawkmist could provide the answer as to which. “Keep it,” He growled low under his breath. Hawkmist felt hot, despite the late leafbare chill. Every nerve was standing to attention. It was then that he realized he never felt more alive than he did in these moments; he could find something like contentment elsewhere, but nothing could compare to what Silverhawk made him feel.

I need him.

Hawkmist ignored the traitorous internal voice, because he did not need anyone. Releasing the tension in his muscles with a rapid dart forward, Hawkmist swiped his claws, feeling a rush of satisfaction when he cut through flesh and fur both on Silverhawk’s chest. It was far more shallow than the bite, closer to their usual, but the clumps of fur caught on Hawkmist’s claws felt like victory. His claws curled inward as he pulled his paw back again, possessively clinging to the stolen strands.

“And I’m not desperate,” He snarled, lifting his chin and glaring down at Silverhawk. “You’re just infuriating.” Hawkmist tilted his head, letting his golden gaze rake over Silverhawk and the way he has so perfectly ruffled Silverhawk’s elegant image, the bloody scratches and that bite leaving his presence visible on Silverhawk’s fur. Dirty, bloody, and still so frustratingly perfect. Hawkmist knew he must look ridiculous right now. He can’t feel much of the sting through his haze, but he still feels the marks Silverhawk left on him too, feeling where his fur is matted from mud and blood with each ragged inhale. Still, Hawkmist let his lips curl up in a rare show of smugness, sickening pride flourishing amidst the heady adrenaline and anger. “And a mess.”

Hawkmist used Front Paw Strike! This dealt -7 damage and cost -7 SP.

Silverhawk
17/40 HP (-7)
88/100 SP

Hawkmist
11/30 HP
43/80 SP (-7)