:Loosen Up: [Private Tigerpatch x Briarfoot RP]

((I'll try and be better about replying on the threads sooner, it just tends to slip my mind ^^ thank you for starting! Also, beware Briarfoot's dirty mouth, he's really a 12 year old boy trapped inside the body of a 6 year old cat.))

Briarfoot made quick work of finally clearing the boarder between RiverClan and SkyClan, taking precaution as his large paws tread down the steep incline of the Gorge. Loose rocks made his attempt at returning silently and without notice from his "business" impossible, so he went with it, screwing up his usually calm face and muttering expletives under his ragged breath as he made his way to the floor of the Gorge. Upon feeling his paws hit solid ground, the large tom let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and opened his dull amber eyes to assess the damage that had been done. A straight line of obvious paw marks straight down the side of the incline. Shit, they're bound to see that on the next border patrol. Ah well, suppose I'll just tell them I was hunting and took a tumble. Damnable 'ferals' should believe me, the grouch thought, again reminding himself to quit calling Clan cats that now that he was one, and accidentally letting the term slip could cause even more tension between himself and his Clanmates who didn't quite trust him. But it wasn't like he cared much anyway.

Leaving his trail of embarrassment to head back towards the heart of the SkyClan territory, Briarfoot noticed that the sky had grown gloomy while he'd been adventuring through the territories, and felt an uncomfortable stickiness hang thick on his pelt as he walked. He sent a silent prayer to the sky cats controlling the weather (only recently had he heard of the absurd concept, and frankly it seemed like a load of mousecrap to him) that rain wouldn't hit before he could return to the safety of the warriors' den, knowing how his pelt would cling to his skin in the most grievous manner. His face made a slight twitch as the thought occurred to him, and picked up his pace a bit, now almost out of sight of the summit of the Gorge. The older warrior breathed out an air of mild contempt from his lungs, an air of unapproachableness that gathered about him over time almost intensified as he got closer to those he called his "mates". A noise in the background got in the way of his thinking, but he ignored it for as long as he could. Until it got closer.

The sound nagged his already irritated mind, and was about to verbally lash out at whatever it was, hoping to scare it into eternal silence, but out of the corner of his eye, caught the lithe figure of another cat. Oh, shi-! Briarfoot scattered a few stones as he bolted from his stride and his behind a nearby boulder, simply hoping the cat hadn't seen him, knowing he'd be questioned for wandering off this far away from the territory of camp. He crouched behind the boulder, snaking his tail over his paws as not to be seen at all. However, the noise continued, and he soon came to the realization that the cat he had spotted was in fact making that noise. What in the name of the sky cats are they doing? When the noise hadn't ceased, Briarfoot peeked a wary eye out from behind his rock, and observed as the smaller cat - presumably a female, by the sound of it - laying on their back and making odd tones with their throat, almost like speaking, but without words. Deciding she was no threat, simply a mindless she-cat from his own Clan, the large tom raised himself from his crouching position to confront her, knowing he couldn't miss the opportunity to embarrass the living day lights out of this presumed idiot. "Oi, patches," he called, taking note of the odd coloration on her and applying a witty nickname (a skill he'd mastered quite well), hoping she'd notice him, "what do you think you're doing out here, lazying about while the rest of us are working our fuzzy asses off at camp?"

He also prided himself in being quite the skilled liar.

((Tigerpatch is amazing omg <3 ))

The brute of a tom grew more sour as the younger cat spoke to him, his expression scrunching up a bit as he swallowed a scathing remark that threatened to crawl off the tip of his tongue. Eyes glimmering for a moment, then dulling again, Briarfoot lifted his head with a mock sense of superiority to his Clanmate, scoffing in her direction. "Hilarious," he said, giving a small chuckle, with all mirth drained from the action, "I supposed you'd be a 'clever' one. And like hell I'd tell the likes of you what I spend my time on. If you must know, my prey is safe in the bellies of my Clanmates, while you leave that damned squirrel out here to rot in the rain."

Lowering his head again, Briarfoot made his way closer to the she-cat, prowling with an almost eerie pace, as if he was on a hunt. The tom let out another round of chuckles, dripping with a venomous tone, but dropped it as he realized that this must be the reason his Clanmates were wary of his presence most of the time. Perhaps if I have at least one cat on my side, they may place their trust in me, he thought to himself, placing his flank on the ground as he crouched forward in a slouch sitting position, swiveling his large ears forward to place his attention on the she-cat in front of him. His expression was as interested as he could make it - which wasn't much in all honesty - without seeming too odd in his sudden and awkward change in attitude.

"So patches..." the warrior began, his dull and ragged voice ringing out strong against the now silence of the Gorge, "What brings you down here to the Clans? Maybe you're not as boring as you look. Only reason I'm asking is to compensate for my...intrusion on your odd vocal musings." Briarfoot wrapped his tail around his paws securely again, dull amber eyes piercing against ones of a lively pair of similar ones.

((Augh, short, I'm sorry ;n; ))

Looking ahead at the cheerful she-cat, the older tom realized that he hadn't even asked her of her name. He figured he'd do so later, as her face lit up in almost stupid looking manner, an undeniably happier smile lifting her cheeks. His amber eyes flashed for a moment in interest as she talked, almost ignoring his comeback entirely. He continued to listen to her little story, only listening to the parts he deemed important, stashing away the thought in the back of his mind that she was a rambler. He knew himself to be quite the opposite, only speaking when necessary and with as few words as possible. He found quite a contrast in most areas between himself and his eccentric Clanmate, and the thought alone that he'd be here at this moment having an actual conversation with someone such as herself nearly brought a grin to his face.

It was until she got to the end of her story when his face soured yet again, curling his lips in distaste as she mentioned fate, a concept that both intrigued and frightened Briarfoot, the notion that something greater than himself was controlling the events happening in his life less than appealing to the solitary tom. "Tsh, don't tell me you believe in that StarClan horseshit too. Doesn't the thought of dead cats walking around on some big starry otherworld seem a bit...far-fetched to you?" he said, his voice fluctuating a bit as it did only when he was trying to make some sort of point. He shook his head, realizing this wasn't the time to talk about such things, and said, "Anyway, that sounds like quite the adventure...got a name out of all this?"

Something odd and strong tugged at Briarfoot's brain when the female finally spoke her name. Tigerpatch. It was as though an old memory was attempting to resurface. One he didn't like. So he swallowed the thought to be pondered on his own, and instead nodded as she gave him the name with a bit of satisfaction. He wasn't quite sure how she knew his name, but he simply figured she was an observant one, and looked to the side with a scowl on his face as she asked for his own backstory. He should have known it was coming, but wasn't prepared in the least to share with a cat he'd barely known for five minutes. Instead, he decided on giving her what he considered the "short version".

He looked at Tigerpatch again in the eyes, and began with a grumbling voice, "I don't remember much before I called myself Jones, but knew I had a name while I lived with a 'Clan' of Two-Legs. I was hardly fed, and their dog was nice to me often...hell, he's the one who got me out here in the Clan's territory. After he kicked it, I'd decided to go out on my own for a bit, y'know, see the sights of the world or some romantic shit like that. I ended up living in this very Gorge on my own for awhile, but the forming Clan didn't really notice me. I fought plenty of cats here...only the assholes, though," he added with an amused chuckle, then continued, "Then I met a pretty girl named...." he trailed off, his eyes clouding with sudden emotion and his features softening for a moment as memories more painful than any grief seeped through his barricade - happiness. He scoffed at himself, then shook his head, dismissing the subject and continuing anyways, "Nevermind that. After she...departed, I met up with a group of rogues who called themselves 'The Cause'. Their objectives seemed a bit over the top to me, so I left them a bit later. I suppose that brings me here, now. I got this whopper of a broken tail after some damned boulder crushed me, and a SkyClan patrol found me...that's how I'm here now," he said, finally finished. He was now as devoid of emotion as usual, and reprimanded himself for even considering the memories of his happier times attempting to come out, especially in front of a stranger. "Happy?"

Throughout his short ramble, Briarfoot could tell that the eccentric female he was talking to was only half-listeing, picking out only the important parts, and he didn't blame her. He tended to become long-winded when recalling stories off the top of his head. Plus, he would often do the same thing when others told their stories. Her facial expressions, though they didn't change much throughout his story, were amusing to him in that they did change on occasion, from confused to bemused to even slightly disgusted. Her eyes brightened at the topic of a certain female, but they clouded with confusion yet again when he left the topic alone, and figured then that he wouldn't bring it up again with anyone. Let an old dog rest, as it were.

..."Tell me a fighting story!" He heard Tigerpatch's cheery cry, dragging him from his thoughts and back to the she-cat in front of him. At the prospect of something actually exciting in Briarfoot's eyes, his demeanor became a bit more lively, his back straightening a bit and a slight, almost unnatural grin crept onto his face. Fighting held a special place in the large tom's heart, as he'd done it for sport most of his life against other cats in the Gorge, and the story about his ear had been his particular favorite. "Ahh, a fight! Now there's something I can get behind," Briarfoot stated, with a bit more gusto, and the small grin still on his lips.

"I love this story," he muttered, almost viciously, as he began to recite from memory the events of the night, "I was walking alone in this very Gorge, dead of night. Mind you, the Clans hadn't taken shape quite yet, so I wasn't intruding on Clan territory...only on the grounds of another mindless youth, no older than an apprentice. I wasn't planing on killing any prey that night, simply lay down for a quick snooze before moving on, but I guess he wasn't having none of that. The little bastard confronted me before I even got a wink of sleep," he continued, his voice growing as he got to the good part, "so I had to get up and fight back, naturally! He wasn't much of a match, but I went easy on him since I had been in his territory. He wouldn't give up though, and decided to tear my ear up. So you know what I did to him?" the warrior asked, his eyes flashing and his grin widening to a full-blown smile, absolutely entertained by himself. So entertained, words escaped his tongue faster than thoughts escaped his mind, and told her the exciting ending after a moment of dramatic suspense, "I KILLED THE BASTARD!"

(OCC: Sorry this response is so, so, SO late!)

((I am also sorry for the late reply just omg high school is very STRESSFUL. No more excuses though, only roleplay now.))

By the end of his story, Briarfoot realized his proximity to the younger she-cat, and could almost feel the last words of his exposition ringing throughout the Gorge, a sick reminder of his true past. His expression sobered up immediately, and almost cringed as he thought about how much he just fucked it all up. He thought a cat could be on his side, for once, but the moments he lets even a small crack form in his walls, he tells the girl he murdered a cat the age of an apprentice. Guilt built in his chest for betraying her trust, but he didn't let it break through to his expression, knowing anything he might do to give away emotion could be used against him now. He sat with a cautious but bored expression, waiting for Tigerpatch to run or act mortified, even fight him. But he didn't expect laughter. Never expected raucous goddamn laughter from this crazy cat.

It was about this point, while she was on the ground in hysterics, that Briarfoot realized Tigerpatch was much, much, more complex than a slightly quirky she-cat with an attitude. His amber eyes gazed at her for a long moment, and was almost frightened himself. This was not a normal reaction. She was not a normal cat. Perhaps something to do with her history? The cat Dudley she mentioned earlier was the cause of this, or her Two-Leg owners? He couldn't decide why she was like this, but he shook his head at her anyway, listening to her rambling something while running circles around him. Returning to his true nature, Briarfoot caught her tail under his paw to get her to stop running, and said, "I'm crazy? Girl, have you taken a moment to look at yourself right now?"

Briarfoot was almost taken aback by Tigerpatch's words. She's not scared of me...? Shouldn't that be a good thing? the tom thought, looking at her as she took a drink from the stream nearby. It was quite unusual, but by the sounds of it, this girl had seen some shit. He almost let out a breathy laugh as she told stories of the city cats killing each other just as he had done to the tom, but for the most ridiculous reasons. I probably could've taken any one of those cats... he thought, but turned his attention back to the she-cat in front of him, now looking at him expectantly.

"Lets talk about me. I'm really hungry." Briarfoot managed out a small chuckle at that, but returned completely to his dull demeanor from before. He followed her motion as she tapped the ground next to her with her tail, and complied with feigned reluctance, allowing his sore bones to rest as he slumped to the ground next to Tigerpatch. He grunted at her, then said, "Shouldn't you do something about it then? Where's the supposed squirrel you caught?"

The elder tom let out a sigh of exasperation at Tigerpatch's singsong voice, watching as she thought for a moment about his comment. His eye caught a spark of amusement at her blatant lie, but allowed the emotion to quell as she began a what would surely be a lengthy ramble. Briarfoot breathed out a heavy, staged sigh, loud enough to obnoxiously block out her beginning sentence of whatever "story" she was so excited about telling now.

He allowed his head to rest on the paws that lay in front of him, rough and scarred from many years of fighting with them, relying on them for his life. He drowned out the voice of Tigerpatch, something he seemed to be naturally gifted at doing. Why, out of all cats birthed on this planet, did I have to run into this particular one? She acts just like a kitten, with the body of a senior warrior....unattractive, to say the least, the tom thought to himself with a silent purr of amusement, but then feeling a twinge of guilt at his harshness towards the she-cat. Well, I suppose she has been the only one that has acted this...friendly towards me since I joined with the Clans. Her childish but clever mind could be moldable enough anyway, should the need arise for me to defend myself... he was broken out of his thoughts, however, as Tigerpatch appeared to be finishing her oral novel.

"...because I didn't even have to fight to get him away." Briarfoot slid his amber gaze over the patchy-pelted warrior, looking at her with the most uninterested expression he could muster, to get under her fur if nothing else, and to keep up his careless facade. "Incredible." That was his deadpan, tail twitching in mock hostility. "You are a truly inspiring warrior," he muttered boredly, before yawning and pretending sleep on his paws.

Briarfoot let out a breath of annoyance through his mouth as the she-cat beside him continued to prod, even though he attempted to make it abundantly clear that he was finished with the conversation. He glared into her amber eyes with as much intensity as he could muster as she blathered on about the seasons or something. Maybe if I concentrate real hard, her head will just crumple in on itself enough to block off her voice. Don't wanna kill her, just make sure she ain't breathing... he thought, glaring even further into her eyes, with a renewed vigor. After a few moments of realizing it was pointless, he remembered she had asked him about his favorite season.

"The opposite, actually. Me and cold things don't mix well, contrary to popular belief. Greenleaf. That's what the Clans call it, yeah? Greenleaf is..." Briarfoot responded finally, but realized too late that he shouldn't have responded to her if he wanted Tigerpatch to leave him alone. Think of something before she starts talking again... he raced through his brain for ideas, and with a sudden spark of fake energy, he popped up. "Say, what do you think about a game of hide and seek? You know how to play?" he mewed, almost looking just like a kitten. Every fiber in this being was against what he was trying to do, and forced a toothy grin onto his maw, almost creepily smiling at his companion.