BLACK SKIES CHANGE INTO BLUE // RAIN [beech copse]

[Periwinklebreeze.]

OH, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SOMEONE ━
THAT EVERYBODY HAS TO TALK TO━​

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periwinklebreeze ❀ 21 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior ​

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In the makeshift camp that riverclan has offered to be their shelter, Periwinklebreeze watches over his charges like a hawk. Most of the are young - kittens, many the same age he'd been when hed been granted his apprentice name. When he'd slipped away from jaggedoak, been caught unawares by the fox that had ravaged his leg before his brother and vulturemask had swooped into his rescue. Looking at them now, they seem so small - so fragile. Had he been that little once? He must've he supposes, but it still feels surreal.

As sky begins to darken, the blue sky still stained gray by ash and soot, he can only watch - gaze turned heavenwards in prayer. Its not a strange sight, really, to find the boy turning to starclan for their guidance. They have not failed him yet, cruel as they may be. Lighting strikes and dreams of dandelions, cotton fluff appearing within the medicine dens walls, visions of bodies falling around him and bloodstained paws - visions of what once was and what would be. Each of them had come true, and it seemed the latest omen was no different. The sun gone, blotted out -snuffed out, just like sunstars first life. Starclans guidance has always guided his paws - guided windclan, the closest of the five clans to the stars - even if he doesn't always like what they have instore for him.

And they do not fail him now either.

He manages to catch it as it happens, the way clouds shift before half-blind eyes - a gasp of joy he cannot quite contain slipping past his lips. One moment, the world around them is still and clear as everything across the water burns. The next, it pours. Pale pink and haze, the dusk brings relief to the moorlands in the form of a shower, and he cannot help the giddy laugh that escapes him. Doesn't even try to, really. " Starclan has s-saved us, " he says - voice ringing loudly across the beech copse.

Soon, they can go home.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

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━H E━H AD━N O━O N E━T H A T━H E━C O U L D━T A L K━T O━

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[FOXTAIL]

He knows that the WindClanners who currently seek shelter here at the beech copse must feel uneasy. It feels almost.... wrong to runaway from what you call home, even in a fire. RiverClan is all Foxtail has known in his 19 moons on this earth; he can't imagine their beloved camp or territory burning down from an unforgiving blaze. For a moment his heart aches for the WindClanners who sit and wait in the beech copse; he can sympathize with how they long for their home. RiverClan's history with WindClan might be.... rough, broken, and even tense, but no clan deserves their home to be burnt down.

Foxtail looks up at the sky as dark, rumbling clouds roll in and cloak the blue sky; his nose twitching. Foxtail can taste the rain in the air, and he feels relief that the scent of petrichor has clouded the smell of smoke. It starts with a single raindrop that lands on his nose bridge. He blinks, and more and more raindrops collide with his fur and the earth— before turning into a downpour. "F-finally, some r-rain," The young tom murmurs, as his olive green eyes look over towards the moors, his gaze landing on a WindClan warrior he doesn't recognize. "StarClan has s-saved us," Periwinklebreeze's voice easily reaches his ears, and Foxtail can't help but fondly smile at the leader warrior's rejoicement as the rain storm pelts the WindClan moors. "B-bless StarClan for looking out for your c-clan," He mews to Periwinklebreeze with a polite nod, as he watches the rain suffocate the wild flames.
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𝐨𝐨𝐜 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

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  credit to skaicraft (via insta) for the artwork <3
  
• Foxtail

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  warrior
  warmhearted
  timid
  experience: trained
  backstory: [HYPERLINK]
  biography: [HYPERLINK]
  credit to clangen for sprite <3
  

  cisgender male [he / him]
  eyes: green
  pelt: cinnamon/chocolate
  fur length: long
  parents: dawnflower and redfur (riverclan npcs)
  19 moons
  

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  ​

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[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun's body shudders for what feels like the hundredth time. Slowly but surely, it's getting easier to breathe, but he still has to pay attention to how often he does it in a minute, and how big of an inhale he allows himself. Such a feeling threatens to skin you alive. He feels like he's gotten skinned, anyway, with the knowledge that he's remained under another Clan's care instead of tending to his homeland.

And to add salt to injury, what keeps him here is the inability to use his lungs properly. Breathing is second nature, not something you ever think about; it's like walking or running.

It should be as easy.

Even as the skies open and rain pours down, he remains in his spot, huddled at the edge of the beech copse with his head resting on his front paws. Soon to be a pathetic mess of wet fur with his heart twisting over past decisions.

He doesn't say about time. It remains unspoken in the air, but it chimes again and again within his brain, like it wants to be heard.

"Symbolic," Dimmingsun mutters instead, either to no one, or anyone who might care to listen. "RiverClan shelters us, and rain puts out our fires." His words have no bite to them, but there's no easy-going smile added to them either. He'd be a fool to ignore the bloodied history between the two Clans even after all this. Or, especially after this. Would they all sneer at WindClan now at Gatherings, forever reminding the moor-dwellers of their weakness which they had no control over?
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