private A Trillion Trillion Trillion Years || Owlheart || Have Left Me Freezing Cold

[Chickbloom]

Delicate midnight silence had settled over the warriors’ den some time ago. It was that small window of a few hours where everyone in camp seemed in sync. The night-owls had finally drifted off, the early-risers weren’t yet awake. All even the best ears in the forest could hear were soft snores and steady heartbeats; the soul of Skyclan.

The rhythm was broken for a moment by a sharp inhale, and the all-pervading deep blues and blacks were split by a pair of wide amber eyes shooting open. It seemed Chickbloom was awake again. A yolk-splattered paw went to his face, rubbing it in annoyance. His movements were groggy; slurred as his senses came back to him. There was a futile attempt by the boy to drift away again and let the night resume its soft symphony, but after a few minutes cream and yellow rose from a nest of brown and green.

The ball of nerves didn’t dare breathe as he picked his way across the pile of slumbering bodies and into the black, stopping only to glance back and make sure his collar hadn’t fallen from his nest. It was only after emerging into the cool night breeze that the coward greedily gulped down air. A small sigh escaped the baby bird’s beak before he padded to the old treestump, moving much more gracefully than during the day. After all, there wasn’t much to worry him at this hour.

Chickbloom’s mind was on Oakrumble as he waited for yolk-splashed lids to once again grow heavy, at least until a figure appeared in the darkness. The Scottish Fold only managed to suppress a shriek of surprise thanks to thinking about the crotchety warrior and what she’d do if he woke her up. Thankfully, spiked fur lowered slightly as he recognized the form of a much kinder cat: Owlheart.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, did I - y’know - wake you?” And like that, the grace granted by night was gone.

// @Owlheart​

 

[Owlheart]

Being a light sleeper probably had its benefits, if an attack was ever waged during the fragile hours of the night then she'd probably be one of the first to wake up. She also could escape the morning rush and join the influx of early risers since she would already be awake then due to the shuffling. There were often more drawbacks than positives, she found herself awake at odd hours of the night from the smallest of changes. The night being too humid, one of her partners shuffling too much, a particularly loud snore from a den-mate. The list was endless really, as much as she wished it wasn't that way. Tonight was no different, somewhere, someone had shuffled and another had yawned a little too loud for Owlheart's ears.

Once she was awake she found that there was a struggle to fall back asleep, resting in the nest and waiting for her eyelids to grow heavy was proving to be impossible. With a frustrated huff she pulls herself out of her nest, paws aching and joints not yet awake as she walks out of the den. No real goal was in mind, she planned on enacting her own advice by walking until she grew tired again. As the tabby walked out she found herself pausing, realising rather quickly that she wasn't alone out here. From the corner of her periphery to the centre of her attention was Chickbloom. Her newly renamed denmate pulled her attention to him, to that grace that he carried himself with. One that she never says during the hours of the sun, it felt almost invasive to see him not being a tense bundle of nerves.

She opened her maw to say something, maybe to clear her throat? He had noticed her though, at least judging by the jump start, just shy of a heart attack. There's a tired look in her eyes and a sleepy smile, too tired to be her usual fully formal self. “No, no, not at all.” There's a shake to her head before she approaches, her movements sluggish. Had he woken her though? Was it Chickbloom who had yawned a little too loud or maybe bumped into something? She wasn't too sure but even if it was him she wasn't upset about it. Just frustrated over being awake rather than who woke her up.

“So, how come you're awake?” She stares at him as she sits down next to the tree stump that they had spoken to earlier. She tucks her tail and paws under her as she watches him with curiosity, her fur pressed and sticking up in odd places as she nudges against the tree stump. “Do you wake up often? I do, it's… annoying” she confesses with a sigh, eyes shifting from looking at him to instead look to the sky above them.
​

 

[Chickbloom]

As yolk-stained fur settled, burdened gears began to turn in the boy’s mind. Chickbloom assumed Owlheart had spotted him some time ago, in his unicorn-esque state of relaxation. The thought of being seen like that was…embarrassing, for some reason. It was like being caught doing air guitar, a separate side of one’s self best kept private.

Folded ears quickly shook side to side, trying to dispel any lingering shame as the she-cat opened her maw. Stained shoulders slumped with relief at her assertion, thankful that he wasn’t responsible. Chickbloom didn’t know Owlheart especially well, but he remembered the advice she’d given Oakrumble. Yes, perhaps it was just a coincidence.

“I - uh - I d-don’t really know” The whelp answered sheepishly, stiffening with anxiety as she sat down. “I think - I think I h-had a dream, I don’t remember.” A forced snort left the baby bird. “If I did dream, I g-guess it wasn’t good.” Amber eyes flick to Owlheart, searching for approval only to find her looking elsewhere. Chickbloom followed her gaze, softening at the sight of the stars. “Y-Yeah, I do, but it’s not that bad, I think. I mean - I d-don’t like being tired during the day, but nights like this are p-pretty peaceful, so…” The skittish Scottish Fold trailed off, not sure where he was going with this. “S-So, why’re you up? Did you have a dream?”​

 

[Owlheart]

“A dream?” She questions curiously as she curls her tail around her. The snort sounded harsh, she worked her jaw as she shifted the bones of her maw from one side to the other in contemplation. She wasn’t sure why he would want to hide a more relaxed side to him, nor why he would be rendered on the defensive right now. Owlheart was never one to rock her social standing though, hyper aware of her place she refused to pry too deeply or upset him in any manner. The mentality of respecting her elders ruled over her with iron will, a cage that she sought no desire to escape from.

She found it easier to look at the stars then meet his gaze, avoiding whatever expectations there were for her in this moment. “That’s okay, I’m sure it’s been hard for anyone to have good dreams lately” Did Chickbloom worry about the murders happening around and near Twolegplace? He was once a kittypet so she can’t help but wonder if there were left over concerns for it, she wouldn’t blame him if so. She herself has residual concerns that follow her throughout the days over these recent events and she was clan born. “Do you find that you fall back asleep pretty easily then?” She vaguely recalled his advice to Oakrumble but she wouldn’t mind hearing it again.

Her maw opens then closes as she tries to form an answer to his question. Did she dream? As she considered his words she realised that she also couldn’t remember. Most likely the answer was a yes, these concerns she carried throughout the day did seem to follow her even into the comfort of the night. “I think someone was just a little too loud in enjoying their sleep, snores and yawns” she shrugs as she speaks, ears flicking as eyes flicks across constellations. “Have you heard many stories about Silverpelt? I’m guessing you have” she falls into idle conversation easily enough, hoping that a peaceful conversation may bring her back to sleeps embrace.
​

 

[Chickbloom]

// omg i’m so sorry this is so late! It totally slipped my mind.

//Chickbloom shouldn’t have been nervous, but that was nothing new. There were an uncountable number of situations where the whelp should’ve been perfectly relaxed but shook like a leaf in the wind. Owlheart had no special malicious quality or nefarious intent that made the coward’s soul quake; the simple fact that she was another person was enough to set him on edge.

With each question and comment, there was a brief scramble within the baby bird’s brain to find the ‘correct’ response - whatever that may be. “S-Sometimes I fall back asleep easy, but - y’know - s-sometimes not. I woke up really fast tonight - h-heart racing and all - I guess I must’ve scared myself in my sleep, or s-something” Chickbloom realized he was rambling and pivoted, not wanting to waste Owlheart’s time. “I u-usually count t-twolegs in my head when I can’t sleep, but I was - y’know - t-too high energy for that tonight, I think.”

If that question was enough to scare him, Owlheart’s next could have killed him. Chickbloom wasn’t particularly spiritual or religious, but he knew some in skyclan were. The hatched chick decided it best to trod on eggshells. “I’ve h-heard that Starclan lives up there, but I don’t really know what to think. Being a g-ghost sounds - I dunno - s-scary, I guess…” Amber eyes rounded on the warrior as Chickbloom realized how little he really knew. A more genuine huff of amusement left the whelp. “I g-guess I haven’t. Would you…tell me some? I-If you don’t mind, I mean.” ​

 

[Owlheart]

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that” she utters, frowning at the thought of a fitful sleep. Much less some form of night terror upsetting him, she’s had nightmares before. Terrible things, already ruining previously fragile rest. “You count twolegs? Hm. I should try that next time” she could agree to this, sharing the sentiment over being too high energy. There was a certain restlessness to her tonight, while she’s certain that actively talking isn’t helping with that she found herself wanting to keep the pleasant company.

A quiet laugh emanates from her at the mention of ghosts. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It does sound rather scary to be a ghost huh” fortunately she was safe in the knowledge that the chances of her personally encountering anyone from StarClan while she was alive was slim. Hopefully she would be alive for many more moons to come, though if she was also a ghost then it wouldn’t be so bad seeing others. “I’m not much of a story teller so this will be a second hand account from the elders, if you want a good story then I’d talk to them” she had always been rather grounded, her imagination only taking flight when anxious. "Well StarClan is there, that's where warriors go when they die. I'm assuming you know the basics on that so I can just skip to stories I've heard about some of the warriors there" she pauses to consider one that an elder had told her when she was just a kit. “I was once told a story about a warrior named Moonshadow, I was told they joined StarClan through a courageous act over learning what berries weren’t good for us to eat. I’m not sure how true that is though” she smiles at the thought, not that it was outrageous to think but she didn’t know who would eat a random berry they found.

Disregarding her thoughts on the validity of stories told moons ago she presses onwards with a shrug “most stories go that way, some more exciting than others but obviously to end up in StarClan you have to die” she speaks factually, without much thought. “Do you have many stories about Twolegplace? I don’t really know much about it” she thought it may be more interesting to the former daylight warrior to talk about something familiar to him.
​

 

[Chickbloom]

A buttery tail waved in the night sky, as if he was trying to blow Owlheart’s sympathies into the breeze. “I-It’s fine. I’m - I’m used to it, I guess.” An anxious mind had been wracked with bad dreams since before he joined Skyclan, so Chickbloom considered it a good night when he couldn’t remember them. The whelp could probably piece together what it was that woke him up if given enough tine, but he would much rather focus on other things.

Maybe that was why amber eyes watched with such rapt attention as the more experienced warrior began her story. Chickbloom never paid much attention to the history of the clans, so an invisible brow furrowed at the less-than-climactic nature of Moonshadow’s death. “That’s…important” The milksop muttered after a long moment. It was important, but it was also one of those things the coward had never considered. How to hunt, where the best spots were, the location of the borders…it was all stuff that Chickbloom had been taught by other cats, but someone must’ve had to figure it out the first time.

A sudden shiver ran through the Scottish Fold. “I’m g-glad we don’t live back then. It’s better now…” If ‘better’ was simply a measure of safety and security, then it was a wonder Chickbloom ever left the twolegplace. Speaking of, folded ears flicked up when Owlheart asked for a story from him, and instantly the air felt thick.

Chickbloom was a shut-in before joining Skyclan. A hermit, a recluse. The coward had no exciting stories to call his own. The ball of nerves quickly cast his brain back to those lonely days, pressing an ear against the fence to listen to the cats he was too scared to talk to. If he didn’t have a story to tell, he could at least share one of theirs.

“Um - there was a cat on our street - he came out one day really panicked. He - He said that the previous night, another twoleg invaded his housefolks’ den. the w-window broke, and - y’know - another u-upwalker climbed in. His housefolks didn’t like that, and soon a - a p-patrol of other twolegs showed up and t-took the invader into a weird monster.” Chickbloom shrugged, trying to make sense of the weird story. “at least - That’s what the cat said, anyway. T-Twolegs are strange.” The warrior conveniently left out the part where the overheard conversation kept him up for days in terror, but Owlheart didn’t need to know that. “B-But it’s usually never that exciting. The most that happens is someone - someone h-having to go to the twoleg medicine cat, or something.”​