Tame the Tuft (closed)

Laying on his side near the edge of camp, Alfalfatuft gave his front paws a stretch and let out a yawn, showing off his sharp, pearly whites. Per usually, the plump, lazy warrior spent most of his time laying around camp when he wasn't being dragged off on patrols or other menial tasks, and today was no different. Most cats knew not to mess with him unless they wanted their ear bitten off, and he was perfectly fine with that. After his mother's untimely demise, the tom hadn't really known how to react, but it wasn't as if his mood could've gotten any worse then it'd already been since he'd been born. If anything, no cat could even tell if Firestar's death had any effect on him, but it wasn't like he cared... she hadn't truly loved him anyway, so it wasn't like he was really missing anything in his life... right?

On the contrary, Vetiverwing was rather nimble and active. Always going out on patrols or hunting, the warrior felt herself needing to prove to the Clan that she had been worthy of being Firestar's apprentice. But finally, the day was lulling down, and she could rest her now-aching paws. Her gaze was quick to survey the camp and those around her, and with a decisive nod, she found herself carrying two toads in her maw. One was for Alfalfatuft, and one for herself. She knew much like the rest of the Clan that he was quite the grump. Naturally, the warrior couldn't blame him. The death of Firestar had hit her rather hard too. But at the same time, she had no fear of him because of that connection.

"Hey," she purred. Dropping the plumper toad in front of him, she stretched and settled down rather close by. Much, much closer than just about the rest of the entire Clan dared to get near the large warrior. With her silver, ashen coat speckled with blood and dirt from all of the hunting she had been doing, Vetiverwing took a moment to clean her paws before she would dig into her own meal.

Not paying much attention the return of the day patrols, Alfalfatuft laid still, the only indication that he was even alive being his big belly rising and falling with each breath. No cat ever dared to sit or lay near him, which he enjoyed; seeing as though he despised small-talk or any sort of "talk" for that matter, but this evening wasn't any regular evening.

Vetiverwing, one of the clan's newer warriors had taken the liberty of resting beside him, which he would've protested, except she'd brought an offering. His ears twitching at her simple greeting, the fluffy warrior sighed as he pushed himself up. Casting a side glance at the white and silver warrior, he said nothing more than a simple "hmph" before biting down into the frog, not even giving a second thought at saying any form of "thank you."

Vetiverwing... he hadn't interacted with her too much beside the usual patrols, which in essence was normal for him and every other cat in ShadowClan. Sure, she had a nice tail-end, but that was besides the point. Right now, she was just another cat looking to ruin his perfectly serine evening of doing nothing.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Alfalfatuft descended from the late Firestar, Vetiverwing would have surely made sure that the lazy tom had gotten up to do something productive with his life. But of course, she was being friendly, taking a moment to clean her paws before chowing down into her own meal.

Of course, even if Alfalfatuft hadn't given a proper thank you, the grunt that rumbled out of the tom was sufficeth enough to the she-cat. With her tail bouncing playfully along the ground in a skittering swish, the warrior quickly finished the rest of her meal. "Do you think you'll be put on dawn patrol tomorrow~?" She inquired innocently.

Having closed his eyes in hopes of sending a silent signal that said "go away," the plump, russet pelted tom let out an exasperated sigh when the molly began to speak. Why was she so adamant on being friendly towards him? Even he knew that he had nothing to offer and not many cats bothered to even attempt at conducting conversation with him, so what was her deal?

Licking his fuzzy, blood covered lips, he casted Vetiverwing a side glance. "I sure hope not, I hate morning patrols," he grunted. He technically despised all patrols, but that was too many words to speak on such a lazy day.

While most would've seen the she-cat as an idiot for constantly pestering the tom, or perhaps even a bit dense, Vetiverwing knew what she was doing. Having been the apprentice of the late Firestar, his mother, she had known a little bit about the stubborn tom. "Yeah, I much prefer the mid-day patrols." The warrior concluded.

Casting a glance over towards the tom to study the lazy floof a bit, she noticed the signature tuft that never seemed to ever rest. "You have a thing... mm, can I get it?" Vetiverwing asked.

Casting a side glance as Vetiverwing questioned the tuft that sat atop his head, Alfalfatuft ever so slightly moved his head away from her.

"Don't touch the 'do. It's a sacred artifact," he grumbled, meeting her gaze. Of course, the darn tuft of fur hadn't always been something so... important to him, for it'd been the reason his mother gave him the unfortunate name he held. No matter how hard his mother had tried or he'd tried, he couldn't get it to go away or even tear it off, and deep down he continued to despise it, but over the moons the lazy lump of a warrior had learned to accept the fate that came with the tuft, to some degree. That being said, if anything happened to it... he wasn't sure if he'd rejoice or miss it... Either way, he wasn't in any mood to find out.