private A HEARTBEAT AT MY FEET 🌾 sootstar

[PRAIRIECRY]

twilight streaks the sky, dusky pink clouds draining downwards towards a dying sun. it feathers the grass with careful paws, gilding them purple and gold, turning the moors into a rippling sea of gilt and ruby. prairiecry finds new appreciation for his namesake dwelling in the harsh light of recent events—the stark realization that not every resident held their moorland home with the velvet paws he did. he waits with bated breath for his next turn in guarding their freshly marked highstones border. prairiecry has a habit of taking the evening shifts, not surprising given the way his deep crow-feather pelt blended with the silken night, leaving him only a white face and ice-chip eyes hovering in the gloom.

he sees the strange creature first, wandering aimlessly near their border with fourtrees and not so many fox-lengths from the traitorous glades of thunderclan. it stands tall and regal in the darkness, pelt brushed in careful streaks of brown and gold, head tipped in an arched crown of bone-bleached spires. when it turns, its large soulful eyes reflect the sunset's smoldering red. prairiecry sees her second, and he nearly forgets the regal beast—nearly forgets himself as his heart jumps like a rabbit.

it's her. it's sootstar, god to his worshipper, queen to his knight, jewel of windclan. she glows under the bloody death of the sun, and he reflects, approaching on hushed and reverent paws. no doubt some infuriating patrol or one of her regrettable children lurks nearby, but for now he will snatch this gossamer moment to his chest and hold it close, until it melts like dewy spiderwebs under the harsh burn of his paws. "co—sootstar."

he'd nearly said her other name, the one only he knows. prairiecry suspects sootstar doesn't know whose spirit lives on within her, but he knows. and that's what matters. he finds himself and finds his words, caught on the hooks of his pearled fangs. "it reminds me of you." a jerk of the head indicates the royal creature, no doubt having wandered here from thunderclan—it's surely not a creature of the moors, with its heavy crown and doleful brown eyes. "very....regal."

"sorry to see so many clanmates regrettably doubting that," prairiecry adds, thinking of the unfortunate poison living in the hearts of his clanmates. "but i trust they'll see the truth eventually—or suffer without it."

a blessed heart is safe 🌾 ( you cannot take the chance )

• 

• 

  prairiecry ; warrior of windclan
  x. he/him ; 48 moons ; tags
  x. gaunt piebald black-and-brown tom with pale blue eyes and extra toes ; has a distinctive star-shaped scar on the bridge of his nose, and two throat scars
  x. played by dejavu

​