BITTER PILL 〘 GORGE 〙ˊˎ﹤

[SUNNVAR]

With the blazing warmth that came after the blizzard's frost, melting his snow-haven and tearing away the last vestiges of familiarity in this sun-kissed moorland, came water. Sludge. The ground beneath his paws squishes in ways that he finds himself unfamiliar with outside of riverbanks and the short hot moons his previous homeland got. The ground beneath his paws is still dead, yet drenched. How it wraps around him, unnerving broad pads– he feels as if he's a kitten learning to walk once more, which in itself is reason for distaste. He pulls himself around with a scowl upon his maw, quite unlike the joy or simple determination that has become his usual. It is a stormy look to him. Perhaps it is only that he mirrors the world around him, stormy and unpleasant as it is. There would be no end to it while these snows still melt, and so he would bear it. But so too would WindClan bear his displeasure.

Pulling himself from camp was meant as a last-ditch effort to spare them the worst of it. Despite the injuries that plague him and ache in their half-healed state, the lead warrior has taken himself to the far edges of WindClan's territory. Wind and water rage together in the gorge far below, in a rolling thunder so loud that it deafens his very heart. Standing at this edge, not even that is important. His heartbeat, his very life. A tempter's voice calls him ever closer, and Sunstride stands there, his paw sending a clump of dirt off the gorge's edge, into the raging waters. They seem higher than they have before. Not quite so deadly in their depth, but far more in their intent. Were there protective measures to be taken? Ways to keep the young and foolish from these ledges? Or would they always rest so plainly here, tempting others as they have tempted him? Though he is not young and foolish, he is certainly not old or wise. It calls to him, this...void of fate. They have had too much of fate in this last moon. It would do to spit some back out, a bitter pill to a bitter end.

Standing here, listening to this roar...it is a purging, he thinks. An end.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, uses he - him. thirty-four moons old. warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— cautious of clan life, but an apt learner. encourages close bonds between clanmates.
  —— loyalty uncertain, cares for those surrounding him. undoubtedly closest to wolfsong.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

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[ELKSKULL]

Finally, finally, it's all melting. It's all going away. He couldn't stand the harshness of it, the wailing tones. But at the sams time he is more visible now. Yes, others can see him again. No longer just a figure blending into the background but present and it makes the small smile on his face become ever wider. Perhaps he may have issues with with hunting but he has long since learned how to deal with that. His pelt, his burden. He has overcome such a simple thing. Even as he steps among the slush and pools of water he weaves his way toward a familiar pelt. One that edges ever closer to the edge. So close that if he just bumped him they would disappear and fall like a rock into those thunderous waves. He forces himself not to chunkle, the amusement turning in those chilling blue eyes of his. He would never. Surely not. He likes this one.

As he gets closer and closer he slips his way around the lead warrior to stand there and stare. It is so much and so fast. Rushing, ending that harsh wailing and he hopes for the return of the song and the new green. Flicking his tail back and forth he almost leans forward, a strange eagerness taking shape as he watches all of that water. "Do you think this is telling of the new green we will have? I hope it's better than all this ice and snow. Better decision making too." Better everything. Desperation looks disturbing on Windclan.​

 

[SOOTSTAR]

”If that was our leaf-bare and this is the dawn of new-leaf, I am concerned.” Sootstar vocalizes from where she stands several fox-lengths away from the gorge. She didn’t even want to be by the earth’s gaping maw. She has witnessed two leaf-bares prior to this, all were longer and even tougher. The blue smoke finds herself weary to trust the false promise of early new-leaf.

”Snow will be back, it has to be, hasn’t ran it’s full course yet. Expecting leaf-bare to be over would be foolish and I advise the clan against it, in a few days time we’ll be sourly disappointed.“​

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Spoiler: TAGS ★ 01/07

( primary character / "speech" / ic opinions )​

╰ ★ ჻ 001 GENERAL INFORMATION ,
· SOOTSTAR, female — she / her
╰ ‣ 34 moons . pisces. ages on the first
╰ ‣ windclan leader . marsh-born . believes in starclan
╰ ‣ former soldier of the marsh group

╰ ★ ჻ 002 VISUALS & AESTHETICS ,
· DOMESTIC FELINE, smells like heather and wet dirt , status — 100%
╰ ‣ blue smoke . scarred chest, difficult to see through fur . green eyes

╰ ★ ჻ 003 MENTALITY & MANNERISMS ,
· ESTJ-A ❝ EXECTUTIVE ❞ , Slytherin, Lawful Evil
╰ ‣ Cunning, brash, fierce, confident, self-reliant, envious & selfish
╰ ‣ finds great difficulty in relating to others . can be cruel, usually shows mercy to those she can find sympathy with
╰ ‣ sole key to her heart is loyalty, if you have her trust, she often shows a completely different side of herself. Aggression tends to manifest from her extreme paranoia
╰ ‣ Appreciates titles such as "miss, m'am" etc

╰ ★ ჻ 004 INTERACTIONS & RELATIONSHIPS ,
· SOOT CLAW x PEBBLE BREEZE, sister to Pebblenose
╰ ‣ heterosexual. mate to Weaselclaw
╰ ‣ mother to Windpaw & Sootpaw
╰ ‣ mentor to Smokepaw & Coyotepaw
╰ ‣ average fighter . skilled hunter .
╰ ‣ will start fights . unlikely to flee .
╰ ‣ attack in underline . penned by user @ava.​

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[Badgermoon]

The gorge had a voice of its own, one which spoke softly in drier seasons but rose to a cacophonous howl in wetter times like now. What had begun as an apparently infinite blizzard was now simply moisture: small creeks emboldened with snowmelt, dead grass and mud clogging the spaces between his toes, tiny rivulets running down the moor's rolling hills. The skies above were open and bright, and the earth was slick with the thaw. All of these were hallmarks of newleaf, and of course they called to his spirit (and his belly) - but the black-and-white cat knew that Sootstar was right, nodding as he approached the pregnant she-cat and the two toms with her on careful paws. "There's a reason for leaf-bare." opined Badgermoon, seating himself on a slightly elevated and thus marginally less damp patch of ground. "Even if we wish it could be newleaf all year long...such rich hunting and endless beauty is reserved for StarClan." a life of endless prey, sun, cool water, and fresh grass! He could hardly imagine the splendor of such a thing.

The deputy let out a long exhale and added, "I'm sure the cold will come back, and perhaps that won't be so bad what with that thing roaring the way it is." he flicked one white-tipped ear toward the gorge and added, with a touch of uneasiness, "I'd watch yourself, you two. The edge can be tricky - never know if the ground will hold up or if you'll be able to keep your footing." he was perfectly content to stay back here, thank you ever so much. He was glad Sootstar was keeping her distance, too: he could hardly imagine something as tragic as losing their leader, what with her belly so full of kits and her Clan so reliant upon her wisdom and strength.​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Days of ice and snow have finally given way to cracks of warmth, the barest glimpse of something other than bone-chilling cold. It’s nice to be able to get out and wander, to follow a warrior out onto the damp, squishy moorland. They keep their eyes locked onto the back of Sunstride’s head, until the other WindClanner stops at the gorge.

Gravelpaw is familiar with the gorge, a dangerous spot to fall from, with water at the bottom, normally a smoothly flowing river. Now, though, the water seems high, almost angry in its closeness to them. It roils with an energy that’s nearly living, and they get the sense that even standing with their paws on the edge is tempting fate.

Sootstar remarks that the winter is likely far from over, and their ears slump against their head. Dreadful.

They crane their neck to get a better look into the gorge, leaning forward until it seems that if they just leaned a bit more… Elkpaw’s voice chimes in, warning of the fall that may await if they venture too close. "How long would you fall for," they wonder aloud, dragging their own pale paws back from the edge. They don’t want to worry anyone—such a fall would surely be fatal, even without waters so high.
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[SNAILSTRIDE]

It was the feline's second outing to the Gorge in a short space of time, the ability to stretch their legs again a blessing after the stuffiness of camp. With sleep-crusted eyes and the silence interrupted by the occasional deep yawn, Snailpaw knew better than to approach the muddy edge whilst they weren't at their best. Their limbs tired as they finally reached the group, and with the grace of a drunk swan, they plopped down on their haunches a short distance away to assess the Warrior's conversation. The promise of Leafbare's second wind forced the tabby to suppress a groan. StarClan, the cold weather made him sleepier, why couldn't he hibernate like a bear and just... ignore the world for a little bit?

They listen to Badgermoon's words, their dark ears lazily falling to the sides of their head. 'StarClan... or the barn...' It was a thought that emerged before they had a chance to comprehend anything else, a twinge of guilt causing the apprentice's whiskers to twitch as he contradicted his good friend. Forever warmth, endless mice, endless company, the care of the twolegs if anything went wrong, living there would've been a dream well within reach if he didn't fear the retribution from his Clan. Tales of warriors snapping at the heels of exiles like rabid dogs had been quick to reach his ears, he didn't have the principle or confidence to be on the receiving end of that. Their head popped up at Gravelpaw's words, a wayward glance cast to the aloof feline. "You'd fall until you hit the bottom!" They grinned as if solving a great mystery, chest puffed out in pride for helping out a fellow apprentice. It was a playful grandeur short-lived as the water continued to crack against the bottom of the gorge, the noise enough to stun the tabby into a momentary silence. 'I still can't believe they think RiverClanners are gonna swim in all of that!'



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