private ALWAYS FOREVER — cottonpaw

[SNAKEHISS]

That had been too close, far too close for Snakehiss' comfort. Cottonpaw had no issue cozying up to Mouseflight; he had seen it with his own eyes! They two had been practically inseparable since the journeying party had returned from the mountains, perhaps innocently sharing stories of whatever occurred in the other's absence. Still, Snakehiss could not allow this to go on... at least not without executing his plan first. His head swarmed like a hive of bees — Am I really doing this? What if something goes wrong? How do I even go about this? If Cottonpaw had said anything on the way over, it barely registered in his ears.

The two finally crested atop a sizable hill, perhaps one of the tallest looming over the moors. A sea of wild grass and heather await their eyes, setting the scene for quite a picturesque sunset. A golden hue bathes the land, all while streaks of vibrant orange and pink nestle against a backdrop of pale blue. "Pretty view, isn't it?" The moor runner breathes, casting a side glance toward Cottonpaw in order to gauge a reaction. Was she upset over him interrupting her time with Mouseflight, or was this outing enough to pacify her?

His heart pounds in his chest, blood straining against his veins so hard that he nearly feels lightheaded. StarClan, Snakehiss feels like a fool for being this nervous. His "feelings" for Cottonpaw were all for show and nothing of genuity, but he still felt the surmounting pressure of wanting to not mess anything up. She was Sootstar's daughter—a princess—and the only cat in the clan who seemed to wholeheartedly enjoy his company. She supplied him with the attention and validation he so desperately craved; if Cottonpaw would not have him, then who would?

The sun is on its way to retire for the night, and Snakehiss knows that he must act now. "Cottonpaw, there's somethin' that I've been meanin' to discuss with you." He meows, ducking his gaze and eventually melting against a pair of blues. "We're both fond of each other, yeah?" It would be outright silly to deny it. Snakehiss was no expert on romance and anything of the sort, but with a cat like Cottonpaw, she made her interest in him glaringly obvious ( or... at least it seemed like it ). Maybe she just adored the compliments and attention that he gave her on the regular. Maybe they were both the same; the authenticity of her "feelings" for him was no matter. Snakehiss was not in this for love.

Now, for the most important question. "When the time comes, when you become a full medicine cat... would you be my mate?" It wasn't as if Cottonpaw was too much younger than him, but she would not receive her full name for a few seasons at least. Being mated to someone with a -paw in their name would be odd, even if she would eventually be the eldest apprentice in the clan.

₊ ⋆ * ⊹ ₊ ☾ —— 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

• @cottonpaw

• 

• 

  ✰ SNAKEHISS
  —— he/him; moor runner of windclan
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— long-limbed black tom with green eyes, a small white chest patch, and a notable bite mark on his right foreleg
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonpaw follows Snakehiss obediently. His silence is met with her quiet; murmurs about the cold air, the new season, an herb she's trying to memorize. Nothing she wants responses to, everything to fill the air with something other than static and discomfort. Her fur tingles (itches?) and stands on end with anticipation. She feels like she knows what will happen - any romantic at heart would be able to see the clichés and still feel excitement regardless - but she acts ignorant. She wants the bliss, the warmth, the awkwardness and silly mess ups. She wants all of it.

So why... why does she feel like this is wrong?

He leads her to the crest of the hill and she stares in awe at the painted sky. The breeze ruffles her fur and she makes her instinctive step inwards towards him, pressing her shoulder to his just as she was to Mouseflight minutes prior. Thinking of the interruption upsets her, but when she feels his body shift, his green eyes on her, she scrubs away the disappointment. She lets her eyes glitter and her smile become as joyous as it is genuine. "It is! It's lovely," she agrees quickly, too quick maybe, her nervousness creeping up her throat as if in tiny rows of army ants. "You must come here often to know just the right time to show it off," she jests, bumping him slightly, should his frame give.

She cannot think of when her infatuation with the tom began. In truth Cottonpaw feels as if it was always there, though she knows for a fact that is not true. It's to cover something, an old lie that she cannot reach in the moment. Perhaps force and reciprocation made it real. Maybe she looks at him and doesn't wish to see any other face anymore. She sees Snakehiss, with his smarmy grin and sharp tongue. She sees him, and thinks... This is enough.

He speaks and there's blood rushing in her ears. Her eyes pull from the horizon and she looks into his emerald green ones, lips parted. Snakehiss has always been blunt - she's told herself that she likes that about him - yet she wants him to flounder in the moment. Has he rehearsed this, maybe, to be sure its right for her? His tone is so definitive that she almost wants to believe it so, but would Snakehiss put on a show just for one? For her?

He asks. Mates, once Wolfsong deems her ready for her name. She could be Cottonsnow, Cottonwing, Cottonfeather, -song, -claw, -leaf - she could be anyone, but she would be Snakehiss' mate.

Her heart doesn't thrum. There's no exchange of 'I love you's and she doesn't have the urge to start. There's no warmth, no giggles or laughter. The sun sets and all they are left with is the cold breeze.

But surely, after all this - the tail chasing, the flirting, Snakehiss making her feel seen and heard and adored - surely... this will be enough. And maybe one day, she will learn to love him, just as she's learned to fall for him.

"Awh, Snakehiss," she purrs his name, something short of a natural laugh. Shorter than the moor runner, Cottonpaw presses herself up on her tiptoes to press her cheek against his, hiding glimpses of her true emotion by settling with the partial embrace, "Yes. I think I would like that, very much." It's not a lie. She will speak truths into the air and StarClan or otherwise will accept them as such and help her breathe through it all.​