no angst STILL STANDING [one flower]

[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ The fire may have been doused by StarClan's blessing of rain, but even the cool droplets that had saved them could not undo the damage caused by the disaster. The clan's bountiful flowers met their doom within the flames, yet in spite of their territory's devastation, not all is lost. Scorchstreak clings to logic first and foremost, but she is not above having hope. Without eyes trained on a positive future, what good does WindClan's survival do? WindClan needs hope to continue on, to stand tall even in the face of both suspicion and turmoil. Lying down and giving up does not suit them, but with their leader in grave shape, many of their clanmates injured, and a territory razed by fire, it is going to be a feat for the clan to pull themselves out from this hole.

The tunneler is still getting comfortable with her role as deputy, settling into the authority with a sense of mild discomfort. Giving orders has never once been Scorchstreak's style. She is (and has been for as long as she can recall) the attack hound that the other clans call her. Much of her time is spent aboveground, organizing moor runners into patrols and sending her fellow tunnelers to check for lingering smoke or other threats that took shelter in the tunnels. Today, she returns to camp from a patrol of the tunnel to keep an eye on RiverClan, but as she approaches the heather tunnel, something amidst the charred black and brown landscape catches her eye. A flower. Fragile pink petals sway in the breeze, drawing the calico's paws to it. She settles before the flower, golden eyes bright as she peers down at the lone blossom.

"A survivor," she murmurs, tracing a feather-light paw against the flower's petals. They may be wilted, damaged from heat, but still they are bright with color and the bloom is still whole. She could make a metaphor out of this, were she a more thoughtful—or poetic—cat. But for now, the calico merely admires what is left of the blossoms of the past month, perhaps the only remnant from a time of incredible beauty across the moor.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ she’s a growing bed of thorns

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. stoic and shrewd, but clearly cares deeply for her clan.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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[RABBITCLAW]

"You shouldn't try to be such a downer now that you're deputy." Deputy... I think I'll have to get used to it. Strange. The fire had taken so much from them, but as much as it tried, it couldn't smite everything. Windclan is battered in more ways than one, have lost some along the way, but they're still here. Perhaps it is rude of her to intrude on her sister's alone time, but it's been awhile since they could have a moment like this. Personally Rabbitclaw never cared much for the flowers. The only reason why she cared was when her littermates brought them to her or her nieces and nephews wanted to show her how pretty they were. At first, it was quite difficult to scrounge up something pleasant to say. The flowers she had been given were kept. They quickly withered away or were trampled from her lack of care for them. Even now, she struggled to find fondness for them. I'd rather see our moors littered with prey right for the picking than silly old flowers.

"Soon enough, we'll have plenty of them, all we gotta do is wait." Are they talking about flowers? She's not certain, yet she dares not cross such a fragile line. Rabbitclaw wasn't one for vulnerability. It did not help that there was so much that could be exchanged between them.​

 

[sparkspirit]

There had been a few of those in WindClan's past. Survivors, he thinks. Cats that had lasted past the date of their death. Sometimes he thinks he might even count himself among them. Everything that had changed seems to have swept away most of their clan with it. Sunstar had cleansed this place with metaphorical fire, and now twolegs saw fit to chase it with something much more real. They should have died. StarClan would have started over, he thinks. Given some other cat an omen, or a reason. Something that would guide them to the place of ash-rich soil where grass began to sprout and rabbits came slowly back home, and start all over again.

Hopefully the next iteration of them wouldn't carry the weight that this one does. They've trudged their way through too much to ever put this burden down.

"I saw a few of them after the rain," he murmurs quietly, gaze flickering between Scorchstreak and Rabbitclaw in search of acceptance for him to join the conversation. "They had these. . . bags. They sounded happy." Not reveling in the horrors they had brought, he thinks vaguely, but almost hopeful. They were not to be trusted, twolegs, but couldn't he find some measure of comfort in their hope? Couldn't he think, for a moment at least, that Rabbitclaw was right? That they would not only survive this, but thrive once more? He sighs softly. "How long do you think it will take?"

𝘛𝘈𝘕𝘎𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘐  ･｡ﾟ  🗲  ╱╱ 02.13.2023 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘈𝘠 ˊˎ＜

• OOC. —
• 🗲 . ˚ . SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 17 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. ————
  
  
  —— a trim mock tortoiseshell tom with mostly black fur splashed with the occasional patch orange. he has a singular white mark on the back of his neck shaped similarly to a lightning strike, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose. his eyes are a shocking electric blue.
  

  ✦ ECHOLIGHT x ELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BY YEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ————————

• "speech"

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[DIMMINGSUN]

Just like Sparkspirit, Dimmingsun is quick to glue himself to hopeful conversation, just without the desire to be 'invited in'. He all but stalks up to them after noticing their figures hanging by the camp entrance.

A survivor, he hears, and he stops himself from thinking of the ones who don't have the luxury to call themselves that. Time and place; they have gone through enough heartache, and now it's time to look at the positives. A flower, small as it may be, is just one they can pour all their remaining hope into.

Dimmingsun dips his head in agreement with Rabbitclaw. "It's just a matter of time." Flowers and other moor greenery have a tendency to sprout from nowhere within just a few days. This should be no different.

"Them?" Green eyes drift towards Sparkspirit, forced to take a moment before Dimmingsun realizes what he means. "Oh, the Twolegs? Of course they'd celebrate after starting this themselves." Not the time to be a downer. "I hope it'll be sooner or later. Like you said, if we just get more rain, maybe greenleaf will give us our old home back."
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[Periwinklebreeze.]

OH, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SOMEONE ━
THAT EVERYBODY HAS TO TALK TO━​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 21 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior ​

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Periwinlebreeze is silent - not all together an unusual thing, but one that had certainly become less common over the past few moons. But everything catches up to him, here and now - weariness settling into fragile frame as blue eyes blink slowly. The flower is a welcome surprise, bringing the faintest hint of a smile to tired mw - but as he sways on his paws, be can't really find it in himself to be as hopeful as the others. Still, if this bloom had survived, surely there will be others. And rabbitclaw is right - the moor will grow back again soon enough - just as it did in leafbare. This would not be the end - of them, or their home. Windclan would survive, and grow, and thrive once more - even if it took a bit of time to get there.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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━H E━H AD━N O━O N E━T H A T━H E━C O U L D━T A L K━T O━

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[SCORCHSTAR]

༄༄ The voice of her sister is jarring, especially as Rabbitclaw tells her that she shouldn't be such a downer. Red and black ears fold backward, pinning themselves flat against her head, and she flashes a scowl at the lilac-furred tortoiseshell. "I'm not a downer," she defends, reminded of petty arguments when she and her siblings were young. But her sister's words do not truly upset her; she flicks her dappled tail as she considers Rabbitclaw's words. The flowers will grow back, and WindClan will grow more resilient in time. All they must do is wait. And wait. And wait.

Sparkspirit approaches and begins speaking nonsense—or at least, his words seem to be entirely nonsensical until he goes on. Them in this conversation seems to mean the twolegs who had almost certainly had a hand in the destruction of the beautiful moorland. The tortoiseshell tom mentions that the twolegs sounded happy, but how would he know such a thing? Is he in tune with the emotions of the cruel upright creatures, in ways that his clanmates are not? Dimmingsun points out that it is obvious that the twolegs would celebrate their razing of WindClan's territory—Scorchstreak grumbles her agreement. "They are still celebrating now, I would imagine." They are sick, cruel beings. They want to see us destroyed.

The question of how long it will take for the flowers to regrow is answered by Dimmingsun; if it continues to rain, they will grow back sooner. Perhaps, as spring continues, the rain will bring back the bountiful beauty of the past month's flowers. She nods, her dark ear flicking, before asking a question of her own. "Which flowers do you think will grow back first? The ones in mine and Bluepool's nest have started to wilt." The petals are less beautiful now than they had been before the fires, but they are still intact, by some grace of StarClan. Once the moors are lush with blooms again, perhaps she and her mate can go out to collect more in private.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ she’s a growing bed of thorns

• ooc: —
• 
  SCORCHSTREAK ❯❯ she/they, deputy (tunneler) of windclan
  ༄ small, slim flame-streaked calico with fiery golden eyes. stoic and shrewd, but clearly cares deeply for her clan.
  ༄ mate to bluepool ; sibling to rattleheart & rabbitclaw
  ༄ mentor to pinkpaw
  ༄ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ༄ penned by foxlore

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