private starless skies // periwinklebreeze

[nightingalecry]

It's odd, she thinks. Weeks have passed and yet she's still growing used to Periwinklebreeze sleeping amongst the warriors. Nightingalecry wonders if she had been asked about it, moons prior, if she would've figured that it'd be a weird shift in their routines. Much more, she wonders how life would be if it hadn't changed. If whatever compelled Periwinklebreeze to join her and the rest of them hadn't willed him so (he never did tell her.)

Does she prefer it this way?

Her mind rambles in silence as they hike up a slope together, tail twitching low. With Hyacinthbreath in RiverClan, Moonshadow just out of view, and Wisteriapaw dead.... it's just them left, in this treacherous Clan that does little to soothe her anxieties. Could she get by without his companionship? No, she doesn't think so. But she doesn't think she would prefer a more smothering version of her brother, either.

"I've heard some warriors talk about shapes in the stars," she remarks, tilting her gaze upwards. Wisteriapaw must be watching them from up there, she thinks. She neglects to add his name to the conversation, a bit unsure of how her brother feels about their lost sibling, even after all this time. Instead, she eases into a seated position, ears folding to her head, "Do you see any?"

@Periwinklebreeze.​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

❀​❀ I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES ❀❀​

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periwinklebreeze & 12 moons & demi-boy & he/they & windclan moor runner​

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Sometimes, periwinklebreeze thinks, it feels as though his world has shattered like ice, as though each breath he takes is pained and every heartbeat forced. And sometimes - sometimes, it is all to quite, peaceful even, and suddenly he feels okay, even when he thinks he really shouldn't. Perhaps something is broken, he is broken, or perhaps it's just a product of being born into windclan, where ever face is a fair-weather friend, where sentiment can switch on a dime, where tainted blood matters more than the effort one puts in.

He follows lastly, a graceful shadow, blackened paws near-silent upon the moorland ground as they walk. It is a familiar routine, a well trod path, the only difference the company he keeps. a stilted relationship despite best efforts, trust placed in another instead. But vulturemask is gone, just like hyacinth, and snailstride is... avoiding him, he thinks. Or perhaps they'd simply drifted apart, fallen apart, like everything else. He's not sure which is worse.

"Sometimes," he starts, words a slow drawl as he crouches, his own paws carefully tucking beneath down-pale coat into a perfect ball, making himself smaller. "... like over th-there, that sort-of l-looks like a rabbit," it takes more than a bit of squinting to see it, blurry and hazy and abstract as it is, but if he stares hard enough its there, he thinks.

he lets the silence linger for a moment, head tipped bac as he watches the skies overhead, but he can't remain quite for long - not with the thoughts that linger hauntingly in his mind. "do... do y-you ever wonder, what it must b-be like up there? in st-starclan," he thinks about such things a lot, far more than he'll ever admit. how can he not, as friend after friend leaves him, to join them instead.

— the wind blows loudest when you've got your eyes closed ❀

• Actions && "Speech," && ' Thoughts/Quotes '
  
  ooc: —
  tw/cw: —
  
• 
  — a lithe figured black and white tom with a false-pointed pattern and clear blue eyes that gleam periwinkle in the right lighting. he seems perpetually worn and exhausted, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and a slouched figure. he has a speech impediment which leaves him with a stutter and sometimes even completely non-verbal, and his fluffy tail is adorned with daisies.
  
  — physically medium && mentally easy && pacifist
  — non-violent powerplay allowed && healing powerplay allowed && minor injury powerplay allowed
  — please attack using [b][color=#ccccff]action here[/color][/b] and tag account