private AM I UNDER CONTROL? + snakeblink

turtlepaw

it's hard to make the good things last ✦
Jan 29, 2024
57
14
8
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———————————riverclan | apprentice | she/her——————————
Milky night spread through the sky as the sun dupped below the horizon. A layer of fog moved over the ground quietly and covered leftover freshkill with a shiny layer of dew. The river whispered its babbling as a steady lullaby every RiverClan kit had grown with. Turtlepaw wished it lulled her to sleep now as she sat in the pale moonlight. The clan was mostly asleep, with a couple of warriors prowling the edges of camp, looking for any leftover twoleg interlopers. She eyed them warily. She hadn't slept in what felt like a moon despite only a handful of night passing since her return to camp. Her thoughts were filled with Moonbeam being dragged away and Turtlepaw being stuck in that monster forever. That eerily quiet monster with the stale, sterile smell. Her pelt shuddered at the memory.

Turtlepaw had exiled herself from the apprentice's den. Her denmates had been woken up from grunts and kicks for too long. She felt horrible and embarrassed. A cool breeze pushed over her fur. She shivered against it. It was a chilly summer night and she longed for company. Her eyes flicked to the warriors guarding the camp, but she didn't really know them that well. They wouldn't do.

Green eyes flicked warily to the warrior den and a deep sigh left her chest. She would never let this down, but it felt like the only thing that would make her feel normal right now. Turtlepaw pushed to her feet and padded to the warrior's den. She could feel her paws shaking again - a new symptom of her nerves.

She pushed her head past the entrance and breathed in the mingled scents of warriors and warm sleep. Her eyes scanned the bodies for a familiar skinny frame. "Snakeblink?" she whispered. Hot shame flushed her pelt. She wasn't a kit anymore, she shouldn't need a warrior to soothe her to sleep, but she couldn't think of anything more comforting than her mentor's flank right now.

[penned by muddly].


tag: @Snakeblink
 
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Lying awake in the warrior’s den is not new for Snakeblink. It’s how he’s spent most of his nights since joining Riverclan: he is a lifelong insomniac. Before the clans, only the absence of a warrior’s den kept him from the habit, and he simply lay awake under the stars instead.

He’s learned to fill the silence with thoughts. Learning to fill it with quiet ones is another battle he is still fighting, and this night—like most—has him mulling over his anxiety in the dark. He misses Lichenstar and the comfort of them purring against his side while they sleep, but her absence means he will not keep her awake with his constant movement as he tosses and turns, trying to find a position that will miraculously erase the concerns from his mind.

The twolegs are gone, their contraptions and grasping paws, and their clanmates have been returned unharmed. Their warriors, their medicine cat. His apprentice. Still the old worries sit heavy in his chest as he recalls Turtlepaw’s face, her conspicuous absence from patrol, the silence in the wake of her leave. He has her back now, but—

His name is whispered in the dark, and his head snaps up immediately. He cannot make out her features, not even with his slitted eyes wide open, but he has spent so long with his ears perked to pick up this very sound that he recognizes Turtlepaw’s voice easily. It’s as if his muddy thoughts had summoned her.

Lifting himself off the ground, he calls back: ”Turtlepaw?” Not waiting for an answer, he starts picking his way through the den towards the entrance. His nest is near the woven walls, and he is used to the nocturnal trips in and out of the enclosed space: he quickly reaches her and, without thinking, immediately pressed his noses against her forehead, checking for whatever he might find. ”Are you well? Is something the matter?”

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely

  • 2h3Dnip.png


    Snakeblink • he / him. 53 ☾, riverclan warrior
    — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
    — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo


 
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