private AU CIEL UN DIEU, PAR TERRE UNE DÉESSE — scorchstorm

[BLUEFROST]

"One thing I thought would change with Sunstar..." Bluefrost's tongue swipes about her lips as she pushes the remnants of the hare to Scorchstorm. It's scrawny, but enormous; unfortunately, it's more muscle than meat. Her teeth still gnash at the gaminess of their meal—"WindClan is still the enemy of the forest." She sighs. Her silver-dusted forelimbs stretch before her; her white paws flex, the claws digging into the dusty camp floor.

She had sought Scorchstorm after the council meeting, her mind whirling with new responsibilities, new burdens upon her shoulders. She had wanted to go to Cottonpaw, but her sister had been busy, her paws rolling herbs for potential war they faced from all sides. Spotting the fire-branded tortoiseshell from across camp, she'd snatched the biggest creature on the fresh-kill pile and dragged it over. When she looks at Scorchstorm now, she does so with intensity, memorizing the lean lines of her face, the memory of smoke and flame on her tongue after they'd bathed one another.

Could she be a friend? Even after everything? She turns from the hare's remains to gaze into amber-gold eyes. "My mother relished being the enemy, but Sunstar does not. You can tell it is a weight on him." She exhales. It's bitter. "He still cannot cast her shadow away from him."

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

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

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

It's a good catch that Bluefrost has brought her; a great catch, even, considering the state of the moors. The rabbits have been eating on whatever new grass shoots they can find, but their food is still scarce — as is WindClan's. She takes a bite from the lean meat as the newly-inaugurated lead warrior begins speaking. It's a tough and stringy bite, but one she swallows with gratefulness, and a silent prayer to StarClan. Thank you, simple in its reverence. She has no room for anything more elaborate, for her clanmate is lamenting WindClan's status as the forest's most wanted.

Scorchstorm's initial reaction is defensiveness. Sunstar did not craft a conniving, villainous WindClan. Her mentor has done all that he is able to restore the good reputation (or at least neutral reputation) that Sootstar had incinerated. She conveniently forgets the grim implications his words had had at the previous moon's meeting; conveniently forgets that it was under his implicit instruction that Bluefrost crossed ShadowClan's border and made WindClan the laughing stock of the gathering; that Bluepool had launched herself over the edge of the gorge. She has heard the whispers, though she did not attend herself. The stolen prey, the flash of lightning. War with ShadowClan feels more real than ever now. Whose fault was that?

She chews and swallows another mouthful of gamey hare. Scorchstorm lifts her head, then, tall and tufted ears angling squarely to her peer. "It is not his burden alone," she mews, pointed. And yet, had she been leading one of those patrols, would she have broken the code at his command? Yes, she thinks. Of course. Obedience came like breathing. Scorchstorm inhales, and when she speaks again, her tone comes resigned. "... but the other Clans lack sympathy. ShadowClan of all of them should know what famine feels like."

Her tufted tail lashes behind her, picturing Sootstar even as she stares into Bluefrost's cool mossy pools. Sootstar's eyes had been green. Scorchstorm can remember them, distant and fuzzy and warm, meeting her and her littermates in the nursery. Her, Luckykit, Frostkit. Rumblekit. Her black lips press thin into a frown. Sootstar had taken them from her, and even in the wake of her death they do not return. Her spectre haunts the moors blackened with her namesake. Scorchstorm's ears twitch at Bluefrost's bitter sigh.

"ShadowClan should worry itself with hunting Granitepelt, not prey. And RiverClan...." She pauses, her heart aching for her mother, for Bluepool, who she had always looked up to, for Featherspine, who had lost his mentor. For Gracklestep, too. And RiverClan sits across the gorge from them all, so fat with fish their pelts excrete its oils. "Surely WindClan has paid its penance for a simple mouthful!" But to break the warrior code was to disobey StarClan directly. Does that mean Bluepool would not walk in silverpelt? Does that mean Scorchstreak will never see her mate again? A cocktail of frustration bubbles over, and Scorchstorm's thin, white claws dig into the earth beneath her.

It seems that WindClan's status weighs as heavily on Sunstar's apprentice as it does Sunstar. Scorchstorm lifts her fiery gaze to Bluefrost once more, ears twitching still. "I know that WindClan starves. But if Sunstar..." she trails off, pauses, rethinks her words. When she speaks again, she speaks slowly: "He should order us all to abide by the warrior code, if he wishes to shed Sootstar's reputation." Would Bluefrost hear her?

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw . scorchstorm
  — she/they ; warrior of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by dreamydoggo, template art by sixbane
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

"It is not his burden alone." The tortoiseshell's words are firm, her ears and tail angling toward Bluefrost accusatorily. The tunneler says nothing for a moment. She lets the heat of the other she-cat's words brush against her pelt like a desert wind, dry and full of grit. "I know." She blinks her long, narrow green eyes, fixing Scorchstorm's amber gaze in place with their vehemence. "But ShadowClan was practically giving away prey at one of our chance border meetings, and I will not listen to our kits cry with hunger." She ignores the other part, the part she has tried to stifle—the bloodlust, the wolf-hunger, the Sootstar in her.

Is that who Scorchstorm is seeing now, as that tufted tail begins to lash? Is she seeing the she-cat who'd divided their Clan, who'd have led them bleeding and broken into ruin? Bluefrost can feel her scrutiny, but she does not back away from it. She's earned it, after all; she has been carved from Sootstar's body, carved from Sootstar's soul.

"ShadowClan is not rational. You saw Chilledstar. And that lead warrior..." The gray she-cat's mouth purses into a thin line. "They want blood, but are too cowardly to come demand it. And RiverClan—" her lip curls, marring her pretty face, "RiverClan has taken too much from us. Should we let it go? Bluepool died fighting, but Gracklestep..."

Bluefrost forces the fur on her shoulders to remain flat. "Perhaps you are right, Scorchstorm. Perhaps following the code will make them forget Sootstar. But will it bring us justice?" Her words are pointed, now, as Scorchstorm's had been before.

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

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

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Bluefrost meets her fiery harshness with a glacial riposte. Her white-tipped ears flick, minutely, backwards; the warrior's confidence in her codebreaking astounds her somewhat. Maybe she is like Sootstar — and maybe Bluepool was, too, tossing herself over the gorge for a chance at bringing prey home to wailing kits. What bothers Scorchstorm more than the potential resemblance is the fact that she can't entirely blame her. It was harebrained on both of their parts to do what they'd done. Beyond whatever noble cause they'd had, breaking the code was against StarClan itself. But she thinks of Rattleheart's kits, of Periwinklebreeze's (and StarClan, poor Vulturekit; is it karma for Sootstar's kitnapping all those moons ago now?), their ribs bulging from beneath their short pelts, and....

Her muzzle still creases, ever so slightly, with defiance for Bluefrost's words. But despite her fleeting thought before, despite whatever that vicious part of her wanted, she does not — cannot — see Sootstar in her daughter.

She asks about justice, and at this Scorchstorm finally averts her gaze to the horizon. Bluefrost is an unfortunately convincing speaker. The barb of her tongue digs beneath the girl's fiery pelt and stays there, firm in the flesh. But Scorchstreak has raised a devout daughter. When she finds her peer's green gaze again, there is a new fire sparked in them.

"There is a way," she answers, and though her voice has lost some of its combative edge she speaks with no less intensity than before. "On the battlefield. An eye for an eye — without sneaking around." She inclines her head forward, willing her tail to still to a mere twitch, ivory brows furrowing upwards. "Riverclan will pay for Bluepool and Gracklestep. ShadowClan will pay for their cowardice. I will see to it myself, if I can. But we must do it Sunstar's — StarClan's way."

Her gaze falls to the rabbit; scrapes across Bluefrost's slim shoulders; combs through her silky cheek fur. Scorchstorm finds the taste of ash at her tongue. Despite their bickering, her heart tugs towards the other she-cat, just as it did at the emergency meeting, pulling her to her side. She was so capable, so smart, so well-spoken — if only she would put those skills to use as a code-follower, not a code-breaker. She dreads to imagine Bluepool in any place other than StarClan, but forsaking the code.... She would hate for Bluefrost to succumb to that same fate.

She dips her head, taking another bite of the hare that Bluefrost has brought her, a show of good faith despite their thorny exchange.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 14 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

"There is a way," Scorchstorm flares, and Bluefrost blinks as though the other has spewed smoke from her mouth. "On the battlefield. An eye for an eye—without sneaking around." The tunneler's thick pelt bristles at the insinuation. "Your way brings glory, but it also brings death," she murmurs, her voice bitten with frost. Her mother had attacked under cover of night, the words ambush whispering in her ears. Bluefrost had fought her only battles this way, hadn't she?

She shakes her head. The fur lies flat again. "Sunstar's way is survival's way. He is a great warrior, and my mother valued that in him. He ambushed RiverClan and SkyClan just as mercilessly as the rest of WindClan did. Sunstar knows what needs to be done for our Clan to thrive." Her words are cool as a leafbare wind, stripping leaves from trees and leaving abandoned branches, but even still, something smolders in her green gaze.

Bluefrost's eyes flick from Scorchstorm's tufted tail to the angle of her ears, to the determined flame of her amber eyes, and she relents. A small smile cracks the porcelain of her muzzle. "I admire it, though. You are fearless, are you not?" She studies the set of the tortoiseshell's shoulders, the sloping lines of her brindled body. She is lean, swift, hardy as the fiercest of moor runners, and she carries her heart in her mouth, lets the blood splash her chest fur and soak the earth beneath her paws.

StarClan, I once hated cats like her. But she cannot find it in her to hate Scorchstorm. She wants to be near her, remarkably, despite their barbed exchange. She hopes the smile melts some of the ice Bluefrost had breathed between them. "I could learn to fight that way." It sounds hopeful—perhaps it is. Still, she says it with meaning.

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

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

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Your way brings glory, but it also brings death. Hoarfrost creeps through Scorchstorm's ears, her chest; she watches Bluefrost bristle, her own magmatic gaze as even as she can will it to be. The moment passes after a few heartbeats. Her peer continues, orating Sunstar's ferocity — his obedience to Sootstar, his willingness to do what needed to be done, regardless of what Scorchstorm might think of it. Her ears flick, mouth a thin, hard line.

Badgermoon had been the same, once upon a time. He had been the same until he hadn't been. Until he'd been driven out, tail between his legs, for StarClan knows what offense. Scorchstorm had always thought her own ferocity had come from him, but maybe there is more of her last mentor in her than she thinks.

She is quiet as she chews and thinks, working through Bluefrost's words as a tough piece of gristle. It is only when the ice-pelted warrior murmurs some semblance of praise that Scorchstorm perks to attention again. Fearless? It is a strong word to employ. Scorchstorm is many things: strong, fierce, resilient, obedient, dedicated to her work — but fearless. A soft, weary smile creeps over her fire-splashed muzzle. "No, not entirely," she answers, white whiskers twitching, voice like down feathers. Behind her eyelids, she sees Luckypaw crushed beneath a rockslide; sees hound muzzles snapping in her face; sees Rumblerain retreating over the border, ribs catching moonlight as they go. Scorchstorm shakes her head gently.

"I'm afraid of a few things, at least. But battle is not one." She knows her duty to her clan, and she will face it willingly. Maybe that is what Bluefrost means, then. I could learn to fight that way, she says with a smile of her own. It casts a warm spring breeze across her fur to see Bluefrost smile now — but her mind churns. Scorchstorm is little more than a hound herself, gleefully obliging the commands of its master. If Sunstar were to order her to march into the maw of a dog, if he said WindClan would benefit from that act, would she do it? Maybe. Her brows knit, just slightly, over the scar that bridges her muzzle.

"I'm sure you could," she finally replies. "I see why Sunstar has elected you to his council. You're smart, Bluefrost. Much smarter than me." Her smile, formerly weary with memory, blooms into something more earnest in its playfulness. "Maybe I can teach you fearlessness if you can teach me cunning."

Though, the idea of teaching her senior much of anything disobeys the sense of hierarchy instilled in her. And really, what is her fearlessness if not obedience stronger than her own wanting? That sort of doggedness... it would not suit Bluefrost, would it? She who is so self-assured, who acts with WindClan always in mind, even if her methods are... dishonorable. Even thinking it makes Scorchstorm wince, ever so slightly. But she can't allow Bluefrost to spurn StarClan's favor.

Shining eyes fall to the molly's trim shoulders, only to notice a spot of dirt there. A leftover from the tunnels, surely. Scorchstorm inclines forward only to catch herself, heart thumping. "Um — there's something on your shoulder. May I...?"

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 14 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Scorchstorm denies Bluefrost's claim, that she is fearless. The tunneler tilts her head to one side. "What is it you fear, then, if not death in battle?" She draws her paws closer to her chest, tucking them neatly beneath white fluff. Scorchstorm deems her cunning, and the word has her smile dissipating just a fraction, like smoke in a strong gale. "My mother was cunning," she murmurs.

Abruptly, though, the tortoiseshell warrior seems to pause. Her ember-stoked gaze settles on Bluefrost's shoulder, where a patch of dust had slipped her notice while grooming. The gray she-cat hesitates before nodding. "Of course. I... must have missed a spot earlier." She meets Scorchstorm's eyes, suddenly blinded by the intensity she sees in them. It is like gazing into open fire.

It is like losing yourself in flames. The feeling is distinct, but familiar. She thinks of Thriftfeather, of other fires that she's been caught in, and her pelt prickles with sudden adrenaline.

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

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

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Bluefrost asks her the predictable question: what does she fear, if not death itself? She rolls her broad shoulders while her gaze lifts to the horizon. In the wide, flat line she sees again the still frames of her life: sees Badgermoon fleeing the moors, sees Luckypaw disappear, sees Rumblerain turn away from her. Even images she has not seen for herself, she conjures: Bluepool tumbling over the gorge, Sunstar broiling alive. She swallows thickly. She had not expected to ever reveal this soreness to any cat, let alone Bluefrost, but... it feels right, in this moment, to be vulnerable.

Scorchstorm returns smoldering embers to the other warrior's cool cheeks, the peaks and valleys of her face, the emerald pools. "I am afraid to lose," she admits. She has suffered loss many times, but none were easier than the one before it. "Not battles. Other cats, I mean. I...." She quiets, white-tipped ears flicking thoughtfully as she considers Bluefrost's murmur. My mother was cunning. They have both lost a lot, haven't they? Even if Sootstar is better dead, she had still been a mother. Does Bluefrost mourn that?

In her contemplation her willingness to be so vulnerable has passed. She does not harden, though; she simply leaves her thought unfinished, never to be completed. Instead she asks about the mote of dust on an otherwise impeccable pelt, heart drumming with vigor so sudden she almost fears its beating. Their eyes meet. She holds the molly's verdant gaze and feels similarly lost in it: a cool ocean, foamy green saltwater sluicing over her. A current lapping at her like a grooming tongue, cold and sobering and refreshing. It must have only been a moment, for she licks the dust away quickly and rights herself again, but it had felt like forever.

"There," she murmurs. And then, she picks up their conversation again, as if nothing of significance had just occurred: "What do you fear?" There is some breezy implicitness to her tone that says, you can take this as seriously or unseriously as you want to. In truth, spilling her guts to the hoarfrost warrior had felt like inviting lightning to strike. It had made her almost weary, though... she finds herself completely unwilling to take it back.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

"I am afraid to lose," the flame-streaked warrior tells her, her voice quiet, almost demure. "Not battles. Other cats." And Bluefrost thinks of Rumblerain, outcast, slave to a cruel warlord. She thinks of Luckypaw, squirreled away at the Horseplace barn, afraid to return to a home lost, seized. Her father, Weaselclaw, rotting away in the abandoned badger set. She thinks of Harrierstripe, razed, half-mad, his claws in Blazestar's back. She thinks of Sootstar, the final moments, her mother's tongue bubbling venom: "You should have died." She has lost, and — does she fear it too, losing more? Addervenom, Cottonsprig, Moorblossom? Pinkshine, Scorchstorm? Thriftfeather?

Scorchstorm's tongue reaches for the spot of dust on her shoulder, and Bluefrost feels herself yield under the warmth. It's tender, this moment, it's something Bluefrost cannot name. When the tortoiseshell she-cat pulls back, there's something guarded in her gilded gaze.

"What do you fear?"

"Judgment," she answers, at once. Embarrassment at her steady response colors her face beneath her steel-and-snow mask, but she maintains her expression. "One day, I will stand before StarClan, and they will look at all I have done... and they will judge me as I deserve." She looks away, stunned at how easily this has slipped from her mouth. "And what do I deserve?"

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

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

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

"Judgment." Scorchstorm does not flinch at the sudden answer, though she cannot mask the spark of surprise in her eyes at how readily it comes. It had taken some massaging to elicit an answer from herself. Bluefrost's naked vulnerability is not betrayed by her steely expression, nor is her expression changed by her acknowledgment of her future in death. The flame-streaked molly can do little more than gaze at her in quiet awe, the same way one might gaze at a wolf mother guarding her endangered pups to the last.

What stuns her further is the question that follows. "And what do I deserve?"

Scorchstorm knows what she would have answered only a few moons ago; knows the certainty with which she would have damned the frost-furred warrior that she now shares meals with. Bluefrost's crime was not simple: she was not just her mother's daughter, but at times her mother's dog, her mother's soldier. She still disobeys the code at times — still makes herself difficult to trust, at least in full. But these realizations do nothing to wet Scorchstorm's freshly-dried mouth. Still, she tries not to take too long to answer, once the sands of thought have shifted into a legible pattern.

"A chance," she replies simply. She does not coax Bluefrost's gaze back to her, but should the molly turn her head once more she would see an expression softened but unsmiling, a head tilted just slightly. She could not damn the Bluefrost that she knows now; she could not in good conscience allow the Stars to do it, either. The thought makes her stomach twist with recognition for how she had done it herself before, even after those damnable offenses had been moons behind them and Bluefrost had had her time to make a new impression. For a second, she thinks of apologizing, but she reigns the impulse.

"You're a good warrior, Bluefrost." Even if all of your choices are not equally smart. For what feels like the first time in moons, she returns to the rabbit between them and takes a new bite.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[BLUEFROST]

It is not lost on Bluefrost that only moons ago, she and Scorchstorm had stood in opposition to one another, mortal enemies divided by lakes of fire. Her vulnerabilities have been stripped like the remains of the rabbit splayed between them, though, her bones arcing toward the naked, windblown sky. Scorchstorm's gilded gaze carries multitudes, even as she mews her simple response to Bluefrost's loaded question. "A chance."

Is it that simple, Bluefrost wonders?

"Perhaps. Perhaps that is what I have been given, over and over.. what I continue to be given." She blinks, her gaze lowering from stoked embers to the dark lengths of her forearms. Scorchstorm sees what I allow her to see, she thinks, but why have I bared myself so? For what purpose?

It's something unspoken, something she cannot name.

"You can... have the rest." Bluefrost tears her eyes away from her paws, lifting them a final time to stare into an ash-masked face. "I am feeling... tired." Confused. "I have an early morning. As do you." As we do every day, and what is keeping me here?

She licks her lips of the dust that's settled there. "My nest is..." Empty. "Calling my name."

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. 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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[SCORCHSTORM]

She feels as though she has not spoken well. When Bluefrost lowers her gaze, the strings of Scorchstorm's heart pluck with uncertainty and go twanging uncomfortably through the rest of her. The naked vulnerability of it, though not dissimilar to what they'd been sharing before, puppets her posture into something a touch more schooled. She still does not allow herself to be closed — not completely — but she has the distinct feeling that she has said something wrong, that Bluefrost is upset and that is her own fault. Still, she watches the new lead warrior, unable to tear herself from her.

"You... can have the rest." The first of Bluefrost's excusal requests fall upon the pile. "Okay," Scorchstorm admits. Warmth lingers in her voice, a dying hearth. "I am feeling... tired." "Okay," she repeats, softer now. An ember as opposed to a flame. They both have early mornings. They both have empty nests.

Scorchstorm holds Bluefrost's gaze for as long as the molly will allow. Her head has inclined ever so slightly forward, a hint of a parting bow, though she has not realized this. "Okay. I've enjoyed talking with you." The corners of her mouth flick upwards; her grin is warm and worn, old leather. She hopes there will be a next rabbit. She hopes that she has not scared the lead warrior away somehow, baring their souls as they had.

But Bluefrost is right. The moon has climbed high into silverpelt now, and all of StarClan pranced gleefully around it. Scorchstorm rises to her paws, red-streaked back arcing deeply as she stretches before rising to her full, broad-shouldered height. Should Bluefrost allow it, she would accompany the warrior to the fringes of the nests laid bare below the stars. "Until our next rabbit."

Scorchstorm picks her way over to her own mossy bed, curling into it — distinctly alone, but maybe not forever.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

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