private π€ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐑 β•± π…πˆπ‘π„π…π€ππ†

He spends no more time here than necessary. It does little for him, he knows. To bask in sickness and loss, and all that he no longer has. What was once a place of healing has been ruined for him, and smoke drowns out the comfort of bitter herbs. He will limp his way back to his den in a few moments, with more on his shoulders than before, but for now he cannot muster the fight. A bitter failure, he knows– to stand defeated by such a wound. But it is more than his leg. It is more than their moors. Tired eyes are partially closed. He listens only to his heartbeat, and the breathing of those that remain near him. He murmurs only briefly, "I remember your attempt." Tired eyes stare at the far wall rather than Firefang, but he can hear her movement.

"I had just enough life remaining to feel you try to move me." A shuddering inhale, and a grimace as he shifts the stump of his leg. Scabs part some, but only far enough to ooze and ache into the cobwebs. "And Scorchstreak's command to run." Here, Sunstar finally shifts enough to turn entirely. To look upon the blistered sections of the warrior's fur. While his gaze holds no pity for her, there is enough to call it sympathy twinging in his chest. "Did you follow?"
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  • OOC. β€”
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    SUNSTAR. WINDCLAN LEADER.  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
    ——– AMAB HE - HIM - HIS β•±β•± 4+ YEARS OLD.
    NPC x NPC,. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO ONE LITTER WITH HIM. MENTORING RIVEPAW.

    TH β•±β•± A LARGE, SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS EYES
 

Even in her half delirious state she knew eventually he'd bring it up, the dead man walking (or well hopping now) wouldn't be kept away. She ponders so heavily on her actions that day, she remembers it so clearly remembers how she'd hardly hesitated to save Soostar's executioner; Windclan's leader. Would it have been retribution if she'd pushed him further into the flames, or if she hadn't tried at all and turned her back on him but she couldn't have just left him couldn't watch him bleed and burn -couldn't stomach that their war had been for nothing and they'd be without the leader her clan had chosen. All that blood spilled would be wasted, Icebreath's death and countless others would've been for nothing just pointless losses of life (weren't they already? She was ready to die for him for the leader she'd fought so viciously against and couldn't "accept" all the way, she would've stood in her namesake until her fur and flesh melted but she wouldn't have given up if she hadn't been called out - would she have done the same for Sootstar in her worse moments? She hates thinking about it, it makes shame creep over her like a shadow she can't be rid of.

Her head turns to him a frown pulling on her muzzle, she'd hoped he wasn't conscious then not for her sake but for his she wonders if he remembers his pain or if he'd been saved from it through his shock as she'd been saved by the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Even if he hadn't remembered he would've been told, there was no avoiding it the whole clan must've known - Pinkpaw and Scorchstreak had made sure of it and she'd tried but she doesn't remember clearly what happened when she'd crashed outside of the camps entrance. She wouldn't call it heroic, it was what every warrior should've done but it'd only been her who'd jumped into the embers. She listens to him, his voice lacks his usual bravado, lacks the bounciness of his humor he's as hurt as she is - vulnerable and it's first time since they were both since warriors she's seen him as anything but Windclans leader anything but a usurper. He's just a cat, a clanmate she'd once respected without question or guilt.

Scorchstreaks order bothered her, her being rewarded even more. "I'm sorry. I should've stayed" she grimaces "I didn't think I could pull you through by myself. But maybe I could've" and saved whatever lives you lost. She looks away from him, her tail twitching uncomfortably.

 
There are times that he too looks upon the cat he had been. Superimposing the image of himself now to the cat that he had once been. Younger, brasher, and certain. Age has made him wearied. His steps come slower now, as do his decision, for he knows what lies at their end. It does not matter which direction he takes. At the end of every path lies death, and every death was his to carry. Once death had seemed a glorious thing. To earn his place in battle was a gift. Yet here in this moorland, it seemed to inspire only grief. Slowly yet surely, it poisoned him. Now every decision he makes comes with the knowledge that there would be suffering. This time it is not just his own, but the entirety of his clan's. Even if none had been claimed in the flames the way that himself and his son had been β€” that did not matter. Their home was still smoldering.

"I am glad that you did not," he interrupts firmly. For a brief moment, leadership reenters Sunstar's voice. It is the soothing sort. Yanking a thorn from a wound to feel its immediate relief. "It was brave of you to try, though where it's left you–" He hesitates, looking over her. A clear acknowledgement of her current state. "StarClan has given me those lives in the service of my clan. Even if the fire had taken all of them, it is better to die keeping that beast behind the flames than of peaceful age." A smile quirks tiredly at his maw. Once, that had been his only dream. To die a young, valiant death. He still doubts he will make it to a greyed muzzle.

"It sounds as if I have prepared that a thousand times now," he chuckles tiredly.
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  • ooc: β€”
  • β†Ÿ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.  ╱  AMAB  HE - HIM - HIS.  LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆  ⋆̢̬́̀
    ————  a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has a lot to prove.

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    a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or un-windclan build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.
 

Age is a burdensome thing; she'd been more sure of herself as an apprentice, everything had been laid out for her she knew what she wanted to be and somewhat who she was. Now whenever she catches her reflection she doesn't recognize the warrior she'd once been, she'd been lost and merely clinging to threads that reminded her of the past. Those threads were burning under her claws turning to ash, she'd helped set them alight regardless if they'd been a lifeline - for him and his future, the future of the clan. She lived in ashes that smoldered and smelled of past times, but beyond them she was a unsteady future, one she didn't want to walk into in fear it'd destroy the last remnants of who she used to be.

The only piece that remained felt like the burdens of countless sins she carried; her own and those of the ones she swore by and promised to follow into the flames of war. Guilt plagued her, maybe it always would no matter how much things changed, no matter how much she changed. When she looks at him and his mutilations it's all she can feel, his words do little to soothe her. To die for your leader was the greatest honor. For Windclan for the Moors, and for the very stars above. She was nothing, just a warrior who'd denied herself from a glorious death not once but twice. Her ears press against her head,her muzzle crinkles and it looks like she wants to speak but all that comes out is something between a growl and a whimper.

I didn't choose you as my leader. I never wanted this. she feels his gaze loosely cross over her leg but you're the leader Windclan wanted. That they needed.. Her eyes look glazed, finally words choke softly from her throat, it's as if they're barbed trailing out painfully. "I should have died. I should've died for Sootstar, I should've died for you." why was he so willing to throw everything away when she couldn't. "I..." her tail curls around her, a semblance of comfort. She didn't mean for this, for any of this. Her vulnerability disgusts her.

"I don't understand. You should live until your old and withered, warriors should die for their leaders. My life means nothing but you - your lives can't be wasted. Windclan needs you!" they don't need me, so many deaths, so much blood it all was for him to rise to power. What was the worth of all of that if he died so easily, all of it would be wasted. She looks at him, eyes bright and passionate again but her head hangs low. Was it in submission? Respect? Or was she just tired.