[ti]Private[/ti]Pagodas and Palaces

[bits]

Rookshade was not, by any stretch of the term, 'good'. 

He had given his mentor trouble, given his father trouble, given his clan trouble... and what did he get out of it? A couple scars he'd never lose and a bitter edge to every word, every action he had. He wasn't kind, he wasn't patient, and he was hardly hardworking. The only reason he wasn't completely out of shape was a mystery to most - not to himself though. Oh no, he had plenty of sleepless nights and restless days spent running the same drills his father had stitched into his very bones. He knew, and he refused to acknowledge it with anyone else. What was the point? Clan meant nothing, family meant nothing - he was content to stick around, waiting for this all to wrap up.

Post-haste, he thought, watching one of his clanmates attempting valiantly to be a contributing member of the clan. 

"How's that going for you?"

Oops, hopefully he wasn't interrupting anything. Too bad that Dustfur was about to be on the receiving end of his too-sharp boredom, borne of idle paws and an idle mind. Maybe one day he'd have something better to do, but for now he found himself stuck in the same old patterns of cruelty. He wouldn't call himself a bully, but he would readily acknowledge his sharp tongue and willingness to bother others. That wasn't bullying, it was just... riling others up. 


LupTacco

[LupTacco]

"Hm..." the nearly-tailless black tom wrinkled his nose at his task, looking with annoyance at the mound of moss between his paws, full of twigs and beetles and other things that made it unfit for use as it was. He was untangling it as gently as he could, removing the tough debris so that it could be used in bedding, or at the very least to carry water to the queens and the elders that weren't up to making the walk. But, it wasn't really going that well; it kept getting caught in his claws, tangled in his long fur, or wrapped around all funny in his teeth and whiskers. Who would have thought this would be such an annoying task? Focused so intently on his work, he didn't even notice he was being approached until a rather dry voice caught in his ears: "How's that going for you?"

Flicking his view back in surprise, he blinked as his jaw parted, trying to formulate a response that wasn't a disaster. "I, eh- it's great going-- um, actually, it's not going so great, is what I meant," Dustfur cursed himself mentally as his words tumbled out in a seemingly random order before he corrected himself but tried not to show it, instead moving on a little too quickly, "Are you up to anything today, Rookshade?" He wasn't too familiar with the dark-furred tom, but he was aware that he had something of a snide attitude and hardly seemed to be bothered to do normal clan activities- though, he never judged the warrior for this. Dustfur wasn't confident enough in himself to start saying anyone else wasn't being a good warrior.

[bits]

Rookshade, for all his faults, was rather willing to let others speak. It was partially because he was a fan of letting others get tongue-tied; if you were comfortable with silence, you could observe others try desperately to fill it. In this case, he was treated to a bird's nest of words, jumbled up and difficult. A perfect metaphor, given Dustfur's current task of trying to sort a mess of a pile.

A noncommittal hum was the only response to Dustfur's initial response, Rookshade coming closer to sit down and place his crooked tail primly over his paws, curled around his scarred flank.

"Nah, I've done my daily nonsense. Had a nap, ate some food, you know how it is."

He knew his reputation - it was a lovingly crafted one, after all. He napped in full view of others, tended not to go on patrols with others, and lazed about when the rest of the clan worked. Most figured he kept his lean figure by not eating often. It wasn't true, just a comfortable lie. The truth was... messier. An inability to sleep, running familiar drills until his pawpads cracked and his eyes started to blur. It was the voice of an overbearing father, phantom pain in his scars and his muscles.

But he had no desire to discuss it, no desire to whine and complain and admit to the treatment he'd received. Why bother? His old mentor may have had an inkling as to what his apprenticehood was like, but he didn't confide in others. He didn't want to - why would he? So let them see him as lazy and irresponsible; less work for him.

As for Dustfur, the poor guy seemed a little nervous, if the jumbled words were anything to go by. Without further ado, he grabbed a piece of the moss and began to pick through it as though he were a part of the task as well.

"You know, most cats would assign these menial tasks to apprentices. Any reason you haven't passed it on?"

[LupTacco]

If he'd had a tail, it would have flicked in a gesture of acknowledgement, but as it was he just inclined his head slightly with a small noise indicating he was listening. It was true, he'd caught glimpses of the scarred tom lounging around camp today as he often was, but he seemed to be breaking up his routine if he was bothering to talk to him of all cats in the clan. His paws had been idly sifting through some of the fringes of the moss as Rookshade let a long pause develop, but his eyes went round with surprise at his question before looking away. "Oh, um. Well."

Well, indeed. He couldn't help but try not to think about why he had been given such a low-level task when there were so many apprentices in the clan. He had a whole list of reasons why he'd be doing this instead- Daisypetals was surely busy now that Frostfall had disappeared, he didn't have time to sort the moss. And those apprentices, most of them were going to be warriors soon and probably had a lot of final training and assessment to do- oh, and Bearstar's kids, she's probably favoring them a bit. Like any parent would, really. And- and... Dustfur knew in the back of his mind that really, he was doing this because he wasn't a good warrior. He tried his best, but it wasn't as good as many others' casual attempts. His old friends Daisysun and Prickleberry, before they disappeared too, had been so good at everything. But himself? He didn't stand out in anything- he wasn't fast, his balance was still mediocre thanks to that blunt stump of a tail he was born into, he wasn't strong, and he wasn't any braver or smarter than anyone else. He had some scars, sure, but where others kept fighting he was sent away to get herbs on his wounds when he could still stand in the tribe battle.

Realizing he'd been quiet for a bit, he cleared his throat and blinked, re-establishing eye contact. "I'm, uh, they're all pretty busy I think. I guess I didn't think to ask. It's no trouble, really," Dustfur's ears turned back slightly in discomfort, his sentence trailing off into a mumble.

[bits]

Rookshade waited, more patiently than he tended to be. He entertained himself by meticulously picking through the moss, picking out a twig here or a burr there. This time of year, there was plenty of debris in the moss, a leftover effect from leafbare. Maybe it was due to the drills he'd run this morning, or maybe it was his newest whim, but he seemed to be actually listening to Dustfur. Eventually, he hummed as the warrior mumbled uncomfortably about his current task, eyes finally looking up from his greenery task.

"You're a warrior, Dustfur. You can have more say in what you do. If you can look at me and honestly say that you prefer this to border patrols or hunting, then kudos to you. You're where you need to be."

A yawn stretched the black tom's jaw, his tone leisurely as with all things. It was slow, and he didn't tend to act impulsively. Say what you will about his motivations, Rookshade was purposeful in his actions and his words. Cruel? Sometimes. Rude? Of course. But purposeful.

"Don't be a pushover. If you could be doing anything right now, what would it be?"

[LupTacco]

"I-," Dustfur paused, furrowing his brow. Well, Rookshade had a point. There were dozens of things he'd rather be doing. Enjoying the easy hunting of early spring, patrolling his favorite spots, making his peace with the new border against RootClan- he could even try to find someone special again. He'd spent long enough dwelling on his childhood crushes who weren't around anymore. "This... sucks," he sighed, an unusual sharp edge to his usually mellow voice, pushing the moss away from himself and staring at it discontentedly. "I do want to do something else. Um, hunt in the barn, maybe. It was my favorite when I was an ap-" he stopped himself with a glance at Rookshade, shaking his head, "er, you, probably don't care. Anyway, you're right, I guess. Thanks."

It did feel good to say he was done with this task, free of the compulsion to just do whatever it was he told by just about anyone. Though, there was something else to be done before he went out- it wasn't the fault of the cats who needed the moss that he had been cleaning it up. "Oh, but- someone does need to do it. Snowstorm's kits aren't all quite fitting in her nest right now, and there's gotta be more warrior nests soon," he hummed as he looked behind himself towards the apprentice den. He had an idea- a pretty mundane one, really- but he was hesitant to do it. "I should... ask someone in there to do it instead, right?" he nodded towards the apprentices' den, falling back on his usual habit of deferring to someone else.

[bits]

Rookshade took a weird sort of interest in changing other's behaviours or convincing them to do what they wanted to do. He'd never say it was altruistic - because he was an incredibly selfish individual - but he enjoyed seeing others do what they wanted. He couldn't engage too often though; neither his reputation nor his personal wellbeing could afford the commitment. But he didn't cut Dustfur off, letting the warrior divulge some of what he wanted to do. It wasn't until the warrior cut himself off that Rookshade nodded sagely.

"Don't thank me for pointing out the obvious."

As always, Rookshade was an expert in shrugging off any sort of gratitude or accountability. It was better to not take credit for anything - that's how you avoided being giving more to do. Still, he watched with mild amusement as the warrior stood and hesitated, unsure of how to delegate the task.

"Eh, don't worry about it, I'll handle the moss thing. Next time, don't be spineless; now get outta here, you're burning daylight."

Besides, anything to distract himself from the itch in his paws.

He