private all the fullness of the world is yours {bluefrost}

[Cricketcry]

𓆧 Some tunneling projects are abandoned altogether or rerouted if large stretches of rocks are encountered, rocks unmovable by the paws of the felines. Reasonable sized rocks can be moved aside by the cooperation of the tunnelers. Pebbles though, these are buried beneath paws or simply moved aside, an afterthought when so much can go wrong down below. They’re nothing special, not in any way significant such as the rocks brought back from the Moonstone; but, for somebody unable to go visit what most tunneler's consider to be a kind of sanctuary, it may mean a lot.

A rough piece of quartz had caught Cricketcry's eye going into the tunnels; his mind kept traveling back to the that mineral, trodded on an uncountable amounts of times and peaking out of the substrate beneath their paws. It was an unremarkable thing, easy to miss and dull. When the patrol double-backed, due to a large cavern that allowed them to turn around, excitement buzzed through the tom. He brought up the rear of the patrol and when they returned to where the rock had been spotted, he swooped down and grabbed the object in his maw.

Cricketcry only rinsed the cloudy piece of quartz, he was not the kind to dwell on the intricacies of clearing all the debris from the multifaceted surface. It was straight from the ground, a piece of the earth and more importantly the tunnels. The dirtiness was the reminder Bluefrost may be needing. "B-bluefrost," Cricketcry croaks, limping over to the smoked she-cat, laying in the clearing. He'd only just found out the reason for her absence from the tunnels, a fact he had been embarrassingly unaware of... He really should be more in the loop. If he was barred from the tunnels, surely he would go crazy, it was the only place where he was not so small... he'd want a piece of it, up here. "Bluefrost... for you. From the tunnels." The tom set the dull rock down the in front of the warrior and then backed up a half step. "A reminder, while you're unable... to... uhm, be down there with us. I hope you're p-pregnancy, goes well and I’m your kits will b-be strong and healthy." He offers a broken smile and nods rapidly, stained paws shuffling in the rough sand. Is this appropriate? Offensive, somehow?

WHITE NOISE, WHAT AN AWFUL SOUND

• OOC—@BLUEFROST
  
• CRICKETCRY

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[BLUEFROST]

It hasn't been long, but already her sun-deprived gray pelt misses the oppressive shadows of the tunnels. Her nostrils are used to dust-scent, rabbit-scent, and emptiness — it's been replaced with milk-scent and cloistered warmth. She feels awkward among the other nursing queens, patting her burgeoning belly with white-tipped paws... ultimately, she is more or less alone during her long, thick days in the nursery. The others are busy with their own kin, and she finds it hard to concentrate on much when Cottonsprig is on her mind.

A striped and brindled face pokes its way into her vision today, amber eyes gilded and excited. "B-Bluefrost," Cricketcry rasps, "For you. From the tunnels." The gray she-cat pulls her head to the side, examining the stone itself. It is dull, but sharply-silhouetted, and she finds a smile blossoming onto her pale muzzle.

"Thank you, Cricketcry," she murmurs. The tabby tells her she'll be sure her kits will be strong and healthy, and the fur along her spine bristles involuntarily. She thinks of her sister, alone in the lands beyond the Clans' borders, her gray pelt run red with blood. She thinks of Thriftfeather, standing before an unforgiving council, his teeth deep with rose-colored bites.

She clears her throat, shifting. Her belly is big and unforgiving in the sunlight. "Thank you," she repeats, softly now. "I... I hope they will be, too. I shall have to tell them about..." Her sister's goodbye echoes in her brain ; haunts her. "About Cottonsprig," she finishes, her tail beginning to bristle.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 17 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[Cricketcry]

𓆧"Y-you're welcome. I'll keep... an e-eye out for more, or..." Cricketcry's ears flick uncertainly and then he shrugs. "...I c-can give you updates, a-after patrols." In the back of his mind, he wonders how stupid he appears, speaking to the lead warrior and now queen. His junior by eleven moons and he could not even hold eye contact with the smoked she-cat.

The love shared between siblings is one that Cricketcry does not presume to understand. Pools of green stare down intently at space beside Bluefrost's paws. Cricketcry has no family-- his mother and father perished from yellowcough, himself born to them as a single kit-- and so he could only imagine the kind of pain a sister could feel when her counterpart goes missing. Cottonsprig, missing and gone in the night, her whereabouts murky and uncertain. The tom listens mutely to Bluefrost, settling down on his haunches and sweeping his feathery tail around his hardy paws. He sat reluctantly, unsure if Bluefrost wished for him to leave her alone or keep her company. "Cottonsprig... s-she'll return. She'll... be here for your kits." Cricketcry's brows knit together as Bluefrost's tail bristles, I should've left... He murmurs wistfully,"...there is no doubt that your family is strong... Cottonsprig is n-no different. Wherever she m-may... be, she'll persist."

Cricketcry's tail lashes uneasily, surely he has overstepped again. "B-Bluefrost... I k-k-know... the clan believes me incapable, b-but I'll be sure to be an ear out f-for... any clues to where she could be... I'll be y-your eyes and ears, o-outside of camp, if you'd like." His posture straightens and his permanent frown softens slightly, as surprisingly he directs his eyes upwards to make eye contact.​

[/justify][/box]

 

[BLUEFROST]

Cricketcry is demure. "You're welcome," he stutters, promising to keep his eye out for more gifts, to bring her updates from the tunnels. Bluefrost's tattered ear flicks dismissively; she already receives this from Pinkshine and Brackenpaw, but the blue-furred she-cat has to admit that more company wouldn't be unwelcome. "Very well. I would appreciate that. Thank you." Her tone is clipped; she lets her grief over Cottonsprig spill down, drain away, even as the warrior crouches closer to comfort her.

"She'll return. She'll be here for you kits," he murmurs. Bluefrost meets his gaze sharply. "They found blood. I do not believe she will be returning." Blood, indeed, inflicted by her friend's reluctant claws, spilled onto earth their parents had conquered and defended to their final breaths. Bluefrost's pelt ripples. She forces the sharpness to leave her expression, knowing otherwise she will scare Cricketcry away — and can she afford to lose a friendly face, really?

"She is gone, but I still have my Clan." She exhales, low and slow, as if to dispel the image of her missing sister from her mind. Cricketcry does not leave immediately; the striped tom seems as though he has something else to say.

"I know the Clan believes me incapable, but I'll be sure to be an ear out for any clues to where she could be... I'll be your eyes and ears out of camp, if you'd like." Bluefrost's ears flick forward; her eyes narrow, shrewdly. She can't help the ghost of a smile that flickers over her pale muzzle. He's offering much. Am I that convincing?

"I would like that, Cricketcry." She meets his uncertain gaze. Hers is strident, confident despite the grief she fights inwardly. "I do not expect to see my sister again, but I will return to the tunnels someday, and I will take my place on Sunstar's council again." Her tail curls inward. "Perhaps you could tell me what all has been going on in camp. Has anyone else fallen ill?" A tremor of nervousness creases her features, though she remains mostly stoic.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 17 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[Cricketcry]

𓆧 They found blood. A sharp, knife-like gaze is immediately shot at him at his suggestion that Cottonsprig will return. It causes him to merely divert his gaze, focusing instead on Bluefrost's nicked ear. Cricketcry's never the optimist when he approaches his own problems and was unsure why he had been so persistent towards a future where Cottonsprig reappears and by the stars... hopefully alive. He shrugs stiffly and nods in agreement that Bluefrost has her clan for support. It is as though he is perilously walking a tightrope to remain on the she-cat's good side. The ever-familiar ache in his chest screams for him to remove himself from this conversation but the urge to remain wills him to not flee. He must remain and cement himself as a fixture in this she-cat's life, albeit with some difficulty and reluctance, on his part.

"Mhmm, t-there's no doubt you'll... r-return to the council." Cricketcry nervously twists his tail around a foreleg, brow cocking inquisitively when nervousness is betrayed in Bluefrost's question. He wonders if this is fabricated. There's no doubt his methodology of finding a trinket for Bluefrost was a farce, he knew no other way of approaching. He's sure of his motives, what of Bluefrosts... "Bilberrypaw h-h-has been escorted to the badgerset, as was Gorseburn," He rasps and tenses, thinking of his own apprentice becoming ill, just from being in vicinity with the apprentice... "Scorchstorm... during the gathering I heard her cough--" Cricketcry does not wish to spread rumors but Bluefrost has asked, so she will receive. "--I'd be careful, around her."

He lifts a paw and licks it, sliding it over an itch behind his tufted ear. This talk of sickness reminds him of his parents who had perished in the last outbreak-- admittedly, he'd not be close to them and feels more upset about those who are becoming ill now. Nonchalantly, he asks, "S-surely... y-you have been careful? N-not to w-worry... I have been wary... been 'round none who's symptomatic... really only b-b-been around Honeysucklepaw."

WHITE NOISE, WHAT AN AWFUL SOUND

• OOC—using some liquid timing here.
  
• CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
  𓆧 [color=766153]he/him/ 28 ☾ [/color]
  𓆧 [color=766153]petite, reclusive, & wistful [/color]
  𓆧 [color=766153]has a slight limp [/color]
  𓆧 [color=766153]lh chocolate tabby/fawn chimera [/color]

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[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost studies Cricketcry's expression, but he gives little away besides a diversion of his emerald gaze, letting his eyes flit to the queen's tattered ear. "Mmhmm, t-there's no doubt you'll return to the council," the tabby stutters, and she nods graciously. She will; whatever Sootspot says, whatever vile things come from her brother's mouth and mind, she has proven herself to be a warrior worthy of Sunstar's trust...

Mostly.

Her question about illness brings new light to the other tunneler's gaze. He twitches his tail around one foreleg. "Bilberrypaw and Gorseburn," he tells her. "The abandoned badger set." Bluefrost recoils as though he's burned her. "We are quarantining more and more cats," she murmurs; she cannot suppress the ripple of fear that tears through her smoke-colored pelt.

"Scorchstorm... during the gathering I heard her cough... I'd be careful, around her."

Bluefrost's muzzle tilts forward, shock stamped across her features. "What?" Only recently, she'd asked the dappled warrior to accompany her into the moorland; only recently, she'd yearned to press a silver-flecked flank to a mottled one; only recently, she'd shared prey, breath, dreams, fears, and now — "How long ago? Is she..." Her voice trembles. Are her kits in danger? Is Scorchstorm going the way of Weaselclaw?

She stares at the paleness of her forepaws, her heart beginning to thump madly behind her ribcage. All traces of stoicism are lost in the wake of Cricketcry's news. "Surely you have been careful?" "Not as careful as I should have been," she says, and she tightens her tail around her midsection, her green eyes stretching wide with fear. "I... is it even safe to leave the nursery any longer?"

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[Cricketcry]

Cricketcry finds his head tilting in shock as he realizes Bluefrost has shown... some fear about the pandemic occurring in Windclan. It would be stupid to not be scared about the Windclan's precarious situation, but did not expect to actually see and be privy to such the molly's fear. He quietly acknowledges the fact more of their clanmates are being sent to badger set day by day.

Eyes squint when Bluefrost's voice trembles, but this is hidden by the way he keeps his gaze locked upon upon a forepaw. Not as careful as I should have been. Cricketcry's ears prick and he looks upwards, observing the way her plumed tail protects herself, her future legacies. He bites his lower lip, mirroring some of the concern she showed but to a lesser degree. Admittedly, his heart did skip a beat when he saw the amount of fear in her green eyes, he's unable to move his stare away as he usually does. Green eyes staring into green. He mews- in a hopefully reassuring tone-, "The...there's no way... to know how this this sickness... works. We can... unfortunately only hope for the best. Starclan... only knows."

He flexes his paws uncomfortably in the sand beneath and rolls his shoulders. Cricketcry reaches forward with a forepaw, tapping the ground between them. "W-well. I cannot make any promises, Bluefrost... my word-d-d does not mean much-" A halfhearted, twisted smile is casted towards Bluefrost. He knows this to be the truth. "-but I swear I'll t-t-try my best to... help you, however you need me. Or however much you don't." He retracts his paw, curls his tail around it again and nods. If he can get in... good with Bluefrost, sow the seeds of being reliable to such a respected and undoubtedly well known member of the clan, surely he'd be able to begin to gain some sort of respect too. "It's up to you... of c-c-course." The ever-present frown returns and he nods stiffly. At this moment, Cricketcry does not care if Bluefrost turns him away, at least he found some sort of courage to speak to the she-cat.

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[BLUEFROST]

Cricketcry's trepidation at seeing her fear is not lost on her. Bluefrost has never been the type to expose her nerves so readily, so easily, but the silken-pelted queen has felt herself fray into sparking wires. She places her dark-socked paws before her swollen abdomen and closes her eyes. "There's no way to know how this sickness works," Cricketcry murmurs. Green eyes snap open, find him where he lingers.

"That is not so. I have seen how it works." Her lower jaw trembles before cementing into place with a fierce stubbornness. "It rots you from the inside. It steals your mind. My father went into the badger set battle-scarred and fierce." The strength of her gaze wavers; she adjusts it, flicks it away from her tabby companion.

Perhaps he does not remember the cruelty of yellowcough. "He did not return from there at all." Her voice blurs, softens into melted grief and reflection. "I cannot lose my kits to this illness. I refuse. If... if you hear of another becoming ill, please tell me." She thinks of crimson-splashed tortoiseshell flanks heaving, of lungs gasping for breath, of fevered golden eyes finding her retreating form.

Scorchstorm. Her ears flick, then lower. "I appreciate your help."

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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