camp BLIND STARS [musing]

[FALCONHEART]

𓍊𓋼 The shame of being a part of the patrol that broke the code has finally begun to fade away, and although Falconheart won’t forget it, he no longer feels as though he has to spend every scrap of his energy to make up for it. He still has trust to regain—but maybe he hasn’t branded himself a traitor for the rest of time. Moving past his mistakes has always proven difficult for the tabby tom. This time, it feels a bit easier. Taking on more patrols, taking on the tasks that no one else wants to, and taking care to spend more time with his younger siblings… it all helps him feel better about himself, while also helping out the clan as a whole.

Standing guard at nighttime can often be the most uninteresting of tasks, but it is one task that he could take just so another warrior doesn’t need to. His attention lies mostly in the shadows of the forest, ears perked and alert to each shuffling of brush around him, but still he takes a moment to glance up to the stars. They shine brightly tonight, in the near-absent light of the new moon. The cats that stand guard nearby are cast in shadow and the faint glow of light, but still he takes a moment to look over at them.

When he speaks up, his voice is soft. "What do you think they… think of us?" He blinks, his cream-striped head tipping to one side. Is there a better way that he could word his question? Is it even possible to give the query more clarity, given its topic? No one knows much of anything about how StarClan feels—except for maybe Howlingstar or Gentlestorm. "I always wonder about that. Like… does my…" He cuts himself off, jaw clenching to keep his runaway thoughts contained. Does my father feel proud of me, at all? "Uh, I just wonder if they like what we’re doing. Like, if they were upset with me or anyone else, do you think they’d do something about it?" Not knowing is perhaps the worst part of it all. If he just knew that Flycatcher is disappointed, it would be so much easier. But instead, he’s left to speculate, to lie sleepless in his nest night after night thinking about it. With a sigh, Falconheart settles onto his haunches—maybe he should just stop thinking about it entirely.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 take the world by storm

• ooc: —
• 
  FALCONHEART ❯❯ he/him, thunderclan warrior
  ⭃ shorter than average cream tabby with white spotting. seems gloomy and has few friends, but is a hard worker and never neglects his duties.
  ⭃ son of flamewhisker and flycatcher ; brother to stormfeather, scorchedkit, mothkit, sunkit, squirrelkit, sparrowpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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[RACCOONSTRIPE]

"What do you think they think of us?" The cream-colored tabby warrior has his face tilted skyward, and it is bathed in the pale glow of starlight. Raccoonstripe comes to sit beside him, sleepless, expressionless. He hadn't known Gray Wolf as Falconheart had known and been raised by Flycatcher, and so he cannot imagine an expression of disappointment creasing his phantom father's face. Gray Wolf had been a soldier of the marshes, had existed before the warrior code, and Raccoonstripe likes to believe his father would understand the importance of filling bellies over friendships with rival Clans. The tabby closes his eyes for a moment, thinking of Little Wolf, how heartbroken and angry she'd be with him for starting trouble with the Clan her kits reside in; thinking of Berryheart, a quiet disapproval in the set of his crooked jaw.

"Flycatcher was a fair and respectable tom," Raccoonstripe finally says, after he's let the silence stretch between them for several heartbeats. "Even if he was disappointed in you for breaking the code, he would listen to your reasoning and be proud of the courage you showed and the loyalty to your Clan." He does not know if this is true—he still recalls the anger stoked in Flamewhisker's fiery green gaze—but he wants to believe it is, that his ancestors, too, can find peace with his decisions.

After another heartbeat, Raccoonstripe says, "We cannot live our lives trying to please those who are gone." Is that what he's been doing, his bitter gaze trained on Gentlestorm as he rummaged through Berryheart's herb stores, slept in Berryheart's nest? He exhales through his nostrils, unsure, uncertain.

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

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 37 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Thistlepaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
  
  

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[Softsight]

All her life Softpaw had considered what StarClan was, how it functioned and the faith it imbued in the living. She was smart enough, wise in this at least, to know that not every cat believed in StarClan - there were loners, rogues, and kittypets out there that would never even think twice about where they would go once they were gone, or where their loved ones went. She often wondered if they had their own beliefs, or if they simply let go of those they loved so easily.

Falconheart questions whether or not the stars could be pushed to an edge where they might punish someone who did something bad in life, while they were alive, and Softpaw considers the question. She hadn't been able to sleep, and watching the stars had always been something of a reassurance, StarClan philosophies aside. She knows what Falconheart means, when he cuts himself off, but she lets Raccoonstripe address that; she hadn't known Flycatcher like the two toms had.

"I don't think anything you've done lately would warrant any sort of punishment from StarClan." Softpaw murmurs as she takes Falconheart's other side, tilting her head back to look up at the starry sky. Was that true? Were they all so insignificant in StarClan's eyes that the powers that be would never punish the living? Or was it more that StarClan trusted the living to dole out their own punishments, to see to it that everything was made right by those who enacted it?

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• !
  

• 

• SOFTPAW ✩ apprentice of thunderclan, seven moons
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

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[roaringsun]

❝ IF I COULD BURN THIS TOWN ✧°.☀ ————————————
ROARINGPAW SAT ALONGSIDE THE OTHER GUARDS, his tail whisking to and fro as Falconheart spoke of StarClan. Their concept was completely new to him: cats long gone who still managed to communicate with the living, who still had a say in their way of life. It was odd, for the Clan cats to rely so strongly on what their ancestors said. The ex-kittypet didn't quite believe in StarClan, or that they were nearly as wise as his clanmates claimed them to be.

He listens quietly, until Falconheart wonders if StarClan would do something to him for breaking the warrior code. "Are they that powerful?" He muses, disbelief and curiosity lacing his voice. Surely some dead cats couldn't truly control what happened in the living world.

"speech" thoughts
OOC: -

[penned by nocthymia - ☀]

———————————— ☀.°✧ I WOULDNT HESITATE ❞ ​

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