private 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 ╱ 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓

[SUNNVAR]

He had kept himself from getting too close with Sootspot since the meeting. It was not fear, or hatred — in truth, he hardly knows what to name it but trepidation. To see Sootstar's ghost in everything he did was a burden that no cat should bear. Certainly not one that had already lost so much. But his acerbic tongue and distinct impression of pain remind him of his mother's final moments, and Sunstar does not enjoy seeing such a thing day in and day out. However many of his clan heralded him as a savior, there were still those that he had hurt in the same sweep of his claws.

Coming to him now is not a search for forgiveness, or an attempt to force it. It is a quiet spot, near his own den; an offering of privacy for them both, though still within earshot of camp. Not quite as quiet as he would have hoped, but he has no desire to get the young cat truly alone. "Sootspot," he murmurs, so that the faint beckoning tilt of his head could not be missed (or ignored). "Sit with me for a moment." A beat, and he asks, "How goes your recovery?" The wounds that he had worn to the barn as he fled his mother's reign; the wounds that he must carry now, from seeing her killed. Or the bruise to his pride, at having Downypaw moved from his tutelage. He does not specify which he's asking after.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

Never before had he felt a prisoner to determinism as when he had lost everything piece by piece. To know that everything needed to happen the way it happened and to still feel as strongly as he did was a torture he thought he could endure - but the tom always had been sensitive to pain. Distance had been kept from the clan since his outburst at Badgermoon, more than usual, his flimsy shield shattered at the sight of the traitor reborn. It still felt like a slight, as did every business he had with WindClan's new council. They had stolen his family, stolen his rank, stolen his apprentice, his safety was but another thing to be pinched... and he lacked the bite he once had to do anything but accept the treatment. For the one who could do no wrong, who crafted himself as the golden child when his mother's attention was too absent to say otherwise, it was difficult not to hate the rebels despite their mercy. Tufted ears pricked at one such insurgent voice, his eyes falling onto Sunstar after the other muttered his name.

Eyes twitched at his request, a weasel's smile stretching across his maw as he moved to join the tabby. He relaxed on his haunches politely, tail wrapped around his legs like a well-fed snake. He tilted his head toward the leader, blinks furious, drifting between focusing on what was in front of him and focusing on the memories that had kept him company this past moon. It was dangerous to drift here, as he would happily do with creatures unworthy of his time. A question about his well-being was asked, and Sootspot stared for too long trying to decipher its meaning. "I have not been forced into the medicine cat's den, that is enough to be grateful." Sunstar seemed to be playing a duplicitous game, for what reason, the chimera could not decipher - he would decide as he matched the leader, his non-committal words suggesting it would take more than questions for Sootspot to reveal his truths. "I admit, I am surprised a nine-lived creature walks among us." By all accounts, Sunstar had not been Deputy of WindClan when he went to the Moonstone. He did not know when StarClan had forsaken their pact with his mother, when her words had become flies on the rears of horses; somewhere between the time of Badgermoon's treason and Sunstride's, StarClan had turned its back on WindClan.

Perhaps StarClan had broken tradition in favour of a puppet, it would not surprise him if the virtuous shed their morals for the sake of convenience. "Your ascension is a first of its kind. To be the first at something... I wonder how that must make one feel."


​

 

[SUNNVAR]

He raises his brow at the young warrior, his head tilted in question. "I did not think it a first." He supposes it were true. He had killed Sootstar. Her final life (the last two, in truth) were blood on his own claws. None other could claim that they overthrew their leader, much less that they had followed in their stride so soon after. His gaze becomes distant, flittering away from Sootspot and to the distant horizon. His brow is furrowed, his eyes drawn yet vacant. Somewhere else, on a not-so-distant battlefield, his claws are carving through giving flesh; his mind wanders the tunnels to the moonstone. It is no surprise to him that this cat is the one to make him question it all. So starkly different are they that he wonders if their skies share the same hues, or their grass the same sensation tickling between their paw pads.

How much of it is truly a matter of perception? How much of it is sheer determination that he is right? That his version of the truth was the only one that others might see? (This lesson is one he could point towards himself, he knows.)

There is weakness in this admission: "It only serves to make me feel small." He returns his gaze to venom-green, a terrible mirror of his mother, and searches for revulsion, or delight. Surprise, if nothing else. Whatever he sees is enough to spur him into continuing. "I had spent many moons wondering if I would have a place among StarClan. As one who was not born among this clan," like you, he does not say, "and had not been among this forest for its founding, who was to say that your ancestors would find me worthy?" The tom huffs a laugh that shakes broad shoulders, but does not bring mirth dancing into his eyes. "I had thought that following her was my way into their graces. That I could make this place my home, as desperately as I wanted this." Had he followed her much longer, perhaps he would be in Sootspot's position. Or perhaps she would still rule this forest from her moorland throne.

It matters little. This is the path that fate had placed before them. "Things did not turn out how I had hoped."

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

Sootspot's smile turned crooked, bitter almost, had it not been for the fact that servitude under Sunstar was more appealing than starvation under Snakestar, or plague under Granitestar. It would not have been difficult to convince other potential leaders to grant him strength, but it would've been meaningless - a king of ashes was hardly a king at all. But... Stars was it ever tempting, when each new decision sunk his mood lower and lower, when he felt himself writhing through quicksand, paws too stuck to drag anyone else down with him. He licked his lips, contemplative. "Your thoughts do not alter the reality we see before us: you were not named Deputy before she died, yet StarClan treated you as though you were." There was a hope that the weight would choke him, but Sunstar seemed remarkably resilient to pressure. To guilt though? Evidently not, and the leader's next words bring a quiet to the tom.

His dusty nose twitched at a change in tone from the tabby, the memories that sought to distract him pushed so quickly away that he had to blink furiously to ensure this was not one of their fabrications. Limbs tensed beneath the Tunneler in anticipation of the lie and his smile strained against the weight of his silence. Was it common ground the other hoped to find, or vulnerability? 'They are one and the same...' he decided, his head cocked upwards. "To be loved enough to be the exception to their rules... well, one might say that is proof of your place among them. Only those admired by the law can be above the law." It was not malice that drove his words, as tempting as it may be, but experience. Playmates had been unkeen to tell on him for rough behaviour, and sharp words shared with apprentices had been met with amusement instead of claws; as he had been Sootstar's son, Sunstar was StarClans'. If the scarred tom sought similarities, he doubted this was one had wanted to be reminded of - the ancestors he sought the approval of were not so different to the mortals he had forsaken with his claws.

"Things rarely do turn out as we had hoped." He had hoped for Deputyship, to let the rebels fester in that barn until the Twolegs dealt with them, to let Cottonpaw become a full medic and teach someone malleable how to heal, to have the Tunneler's undying thanks to Downypaw. Dreams of a dynasty had died thanks to the creature before him, but it did not feel gone forever, merely.... postponed. He reminded himself of this as he opened his heart just a smidge. "Forever will I be marked by my servitude to her council... but I look down at pink skin and feel nothing. I would not dislike it if it became a memory of what was and what could be, but its purpose is already fulfilled. Just as it was inevitable she would find me worthy to serve, it was inevitable I would find her unworthy to serve."
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

He considers one long moment, and then says: "There was a moment that StarClan ceased seeing those that remained under her rule as WindClan, I believe. Perhaps it was the day that Weaselclaw died. I was not her deputy at the moment that she died, no. But I must have been, the day that WindClan died." That Sootspot thinks him above StarClan's rule is enough to turn his head into a tilt. This, too, was not something he had considered. Each decision that he had made since embarking upon the path they laid before him had been made for their sake. With their wisdom to guide him. Nine voices. Nine cats who wished him success, and saw greatness in what he had done. They remind him of the necessity of it all. There is one great difference between those in the stars and the mortals down below: StarClan had died in the path of fate, while they dragged ever on.

Seeing the truth was easier when you were not blinded by it. Now he wonders which of them is still in the light. Sootspot seems certain of all that he says. He is beyond doubt; he knows and says what must be true. When he considers the look upon his face and the life that he had led to make such acuity a necessity, Sunstar can almost begin to believe in it. "Or perhaps they were looking for any that would have taken our shattered clan beneath their care, and I was the one that had done so, in going to the moonstone. In another life it may have been you." That hangs, a pointed icicle, above both of their throats. In quiet expectation, he awaits Sootspot's reaction.

Did the thought of it entice? Once upon a time, it had for him. He left his home and the love of a parent for power, much the same way that Sootspot had, in the end. They are far more alike than either would admit. The Sunnvar of so many moons ago was, at the very least, not quite as prickly as the younger tom. "It is strange to hear you call her unworthy," he murmurs. "I wonder how short a list it would be, of those you would consider to be."

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.   ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

'WindClan never died, it was merely choked under weeds.' It was too easy to believe that, even now, the potential his home had was suffocated by those that sucked the life out of it. Sootspot did not know if he wanted to clear such pests, or if he wanted to be the only one that grew past their barrier - all he knew was that Sunstar's ascension had not stopped the biggest parasite of all. "That was a long while ago," he mewed in regards to Weaselclaw's death, a grimness to his wry smile. "How sad it was, that we were left directionless for so long." Sunstar's rebuttal sent a jolt through the Tunneler's body, a wide gaze meeting the taller tom's, his silence the gap between rumbles of thunder. The anticipation of a counter seemed to come from both of them, the idea was claws pressed into soft skin, teeth sunken onto a sensitive tail - it was pain incarnate, demanding an answer that Sootspot knew could not be given. He laughed instead, humourless, uncomfortable even. "My blood ruins me. It is what drives the other clans to glare at me and my clanmates to distrust me. This other life... well, best not to dwell on it, is it? It was never a possibility."

There was danger in Sunstar's next words, the tom's ears flicked at the thought. It was amusing to think that Sunstar worried about his opinions, but the truth was likely far more whimsical - he was sniffing for an excuse to justify Downypaw's removal from him. "It is an unfair consideration - the mind is a fickle one, what was worthy once may not be worthy the next moon. I do not differ much from my clanmates in that regard... Many among them have done unspeakable things for the love of another, only to forget that love due to certain... moral conflict." In common terms, his loyalty was earned and easily broken, followed by a polite reminder he was not the only one who acted as such. Sootspot still could not believe it was morals that had motivated such dissension towards Sootstar, not when those he lived with shared the same brutality as those he'd betrayed. Something darker had caused them to overthrow Sootstar, some attempt at appeasing the afterlife, or some attempt at gaining power where his mother would not grant it. It was a warning Sunstar did not deserve had he been unaware of it, but the distrustful tom was feeling merciful - an appeasement, perhaps, for any misgivings about where his faith lay.

"Moral conflicts that are easy to ignore when united under a common goal. One can only hope their adoration of you will not be mercurial now that their common goal lays dead, unmarked and unmourned." Blood turned on blood once, it could do so again, chartreuse eyes bore into the leader, wondering if he'd considered it before.

​