There were few within this clan that could claim they knew Sunstride as anything but a warrior. A steady and unbreaking creature who stood steadfast near the helm of WindClan. He had proved himself upon the battlefield, and he hopes he has done the same here– but in the moons he has spent in his work here, parts of him had fallen to the side. He clung to stories as a hope of remembering; if he shared those pieces of him, perhaps they would live on even so far from home. Like seeds strewn about the wind, one day preparing to flower. The rest of him remained tucked away. It nearly threatened to rot. In the lonely darkness of his chest, even he began to lose sight of it. But a little light goes a long way, and love even further.
He has cracked open, time peeling from his shoulders. He has lost its protection, but so too has he lost its weight. Glacial eyes twinkle with a life unmatched as his great paws press down into the mud. It had rained not too long ago. An endless deluge, warm yet relentless and all-consuming. Though it had since stopped and the sun was high in the sky above the territory, the mud has remained. He remembers teasing Adderpaw, flinging mud upon his apprentice's pelt. It had been an accident then, but he wished he could do it once more. To play with him the way that he had once played– WindClan did not foster such things, but he had learned to fight far better in games than he had under pressure.
That is not his goal today. Beside the puddle of mud lies a warm, flat rock. And upon that rock, Sunstride presses his paws. Again and again, mud to stone, leaving darkened imprints across its surface. Slowly it begins to take shape. A frankly terrible facsimile of the horizon, bundles of leaves made of a pawprint and dragged pads creating its bark. A few mud-dark clouds and an equally dark sun (all nothing more than a pattering of pawprints once again). Ridiculous, terrible, but it is enough to bring light to him again. Where he is, mud dripping off of his paw, the warrior glances from his work to its inspiration, and he laughs.
He has cracked open, time peeling from his shoulders. He has lost its protection, but so too has he lost its weight. Glacial eyes twinkle with a life unmatched as his great paws press down into the mud. It had rained not too long ago. An endless deluge, warm yet relentless and all-consuming. Though it had since stopped and the sun was high in the sky above the territory, the mud has remained. He remembers teasing Adderpaw, flinging mud upon his apprentice's pelt. It had been an accident then, but he wished he could do it once more. To play with him the way that he had once played– WindClan did not foster such things, but he had learned to fight far better in games than he had under pressure.
That is not his goal today. Beside the puddle of mud lies a warm, flat rock. And upon that rock, Sunstride presses his paws. Again and again, mud to stone, leaving darkened imprints across its surface. Slowly it begins to take shape. A frankly terrible facsimile of the horizon, bundles of leaves made of a pawprint and dragged pads creating its bark. A few mud-dark clouds and an equally dark sun (all nothing more than a pattering of pawprints once again). Ridiculous, terrible, but it is enough to bring light to him again. Where he is, mud dripping off of his paw, the warrior glances from his work to its inspiration, and he laughs.
- ooc: lighthearted thread because i need some good vibes <3
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- "speech"
