pafp CARPE DIEM \ proposal

[GRANITEPELT]

please wait for @STARLINGHEART . <3

The sun is beginning to set on ShadowClan. Scarlet bleeds through the pines, thickening and lengthening the twilight-born darkness beginning to coat their territory. The air is heady with the scents of newleaf, with promises of new life.

Despite Ghostpaw's death, which had cast a pallor over his Clanmates, there is promise of hope. He has turned twelve moons, become an adult and a warrior in the eyes of ShadowClan and StarClan, and he intends to claim what has always been his -- what always will be his.

In this same camp where Granitekit had pulled a thorn from Starlingkit's paw pad, Granitepelt will pronounce his love for Starlingheart. It is written in the stars; it is their StarClan-given destiny. He is confident their bond is blessed by their warrior ancestors; if it weren't, wouldn't they have interfered by now?

Despite her connection to StarClan, she still loves him. It's all the proof he needs. They endorse his actions, or they have turned a blind eye.

"Starlingheart." He speaks with confidence, his expression marbled. He's never resembled his fabled father more, striking without the tightness of internal rage creasing his face. His dark green eyes are clear and full of promise, just as his words are. "We made a vow, not long ago, to become mates once I received my warrior name."

He dips his head to her, lovely and outlined in the fire of sunset. "I promise to never let any cat hurt you. I will make sure you never have to fear another cat or another beast." His eyes glow as he continues. "You'll be the greatest medicine cat this forest has ever seen, and I'll be a warrior who can make you proud."

Granitepelt raises his voice, knowing he will draw the attention of his Clanmates. Good. Let them know. Let them know Starlingheart will be his mate, that she will never leave him. "If you'll still have me, Starlingheart..." He trails off, raising his gaze to burn into hers.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Starlingheart]

Just like every other time a cat had died in the clan, life continued on without them. It had happened when Briarstar died, it had happened again with Pitchstar, and now Ghostpaw was gone and the black and white she cat needed to move on. She couldn't grieve forever, especially not when there were so many others counting on her. She sees them now, looking at her with expectant eyes. They all want to know if she's seen another sign, they all want to know if their paws would fall off after a scratch or want her to look at something on their back for them. She is happy to help, always. They are her clan, after all, her family. But after a long day there is one cat she always finds herself being pulled to. He is her safe place, her rock in the storm. Ever since she was a kit he had protected her, stood up for her when cats were crowding her, demanding answers after she had to watch her own brother loose a life due to her inexperience. He had always stood by her more than any other.

She sees him now and her whole face lights up, the way it only can when those emerald eyes rest upon her shaded pelt. She moves to touch her nose to his chest, to purr a greeting but he stops short, says her name in a way that makes her heart twist in anticipation and nerves.

She remembers the vow well, they had made it in her den not too long ago after a nightmare. She had nightmares often, usually about loosing the cats that she loved. One after another, it makes her afraid that perhaps she is cursed. It made her afraid to open her heart to anyone. But Granitepelt was still here, and she couldn't stand to loose him, not without him knowing how she really feels. He had agreed and she had never felt more excited but scared in her life. What if she lost him like she lost everyone else? Silently she had made a separate vow to herself to become better, to learn more, so she could do everything in her power to stop that from happening.

He dips his head to her and she searches those green eyes while she awaits the words she is certain are coming, but what he says makes her heart skip a beat, his promise, his vows... She closes the gap between them, touches her cheek to his chest and lets out a rumbling purr "O-of course I'll ha-have you " was there ever any doubt she wouldn't?

She pulls away, eyes filling slightly with tears, with emotion, "Gr-Granitepelt..." she had seen so many versions of him growing up together, so many different sides. "You already make me- make me p-p-proud" she says quietly, and it's true. Many did not see what she saw, she knows that, but she knew that he was a great warrior already, knew that he was capable of so much and that he was as loyal as anyone else in the clan. "I-I would be honored- honored to call you my-my mate" she says and she leans in again, overwhelmed. She touches her forehead to his chest this time, finding safety in his embrace "I love you" she says quietly into that familiar marbled pelt

For once she didn't care if the whole clan was watching, didn't care what they thought or might think. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with the cat that stood before her now, wanted to share every sunrise and sunset with him. Others opinions on it didn't matter.

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[✧ Siltcloud.]

THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SOUL ( I CAN'T FILL IT )
siltcloud | 12 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally hard | attack in bold #905d5d

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Well isn't that touching? SIltcloud has always known there was something strange going on with the two - granitepelts freakishly tolerant attitude towards the molly just one of many warning signs - but this? Well, they certainly didn't waste time in making their announcements. The newly named warrior watches with a rather sickened look on her face - the idea of romance churns her stomach and yet also - leaves her feeling hollow, a twisted sort of jealousy and longing at war with her mind. Love is something foreign to her - she has only ever had her brother.

But.. her mind wanders for a moment, certain faces flickering upon her minds eye, and she wonders if she could have that someday. If she could be like them. Happy. Lost in her thoughts it takes her a while, but she finally gives a blink. "Congratulations," she says stiffly, still a bit off-put by the public display of affection but happy for them nonetheless. She's quick to leave the scene however, not wanting to stick around for the rest of the display. She can only stomach so much.
// out
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[smogstar]

ShadowClan is predicated on this cyclical rhythm of death, bereavement, and finally, shallow promises of a better future. It's a twisted ballad marked by an unforgiving cadence, and, truth be told, it has gotten to the point where the patterns have become unnervingly predictable.

When Briarstar splattered herself into seventeen pieces, she was mourned by most, only for her ill-advised son to then ascend to power and conserve the status quo. When Flickerfire had gotten herself mauled, her loss was mourned not for the tragedy of her demise, but for the shattered illusion of loyalty and treason she'd left in her wake—a reality that only emboldened the clan's unity, yet simultaneously shook their trust in one another to its core. Pitchstar, and now Ghostpaw; the cycle perseveres, and, in acknowledgement to the potential defeatism in this observation, Smogmaw cannot imagine a day where his clan is not defined by its unending chain of death, bereavement, and shallow promises.

He stands at the brink, a long line of scrutiny cast into the greater territory beyond the bounds of camp. Sundown manipulates the shadows shed by the marshlands' trees, broadening and extending them so they enveloped the feline in their gloomy cloak. The deputy's eyes are desolate, characterised by a weariness that extends past physical exhaustion. As per usual.

Amidst the backdrop of eveningtime conversation and the typical humdrum of ShadowClan's camp, a confession transcends above all else. Smogmaw's head would turn, not all the way, but enough to land a furtive glance on the newly-named Granitepelt, along with the so-called light of his life. The stony-furred tom stands nose-to-nose with the clan's medicine cat, and the words which spill from his maw seep with the sweetest of words. It is then that the deputy pivots around, part in disbelief, though predominantly in disturbance. How, in the name of everything - and anything - that's holy had he not picked up on this earlier? And, why would Starlingheart squander her emotions on Granitepelt of all cats?

The dark-toned tabby treads towards them, an aggrieved gait ravaging his steps. While his vision remained fixed on the couple as he walked, his mind wandered, and it quickly delved into the realm of unsettled conclusions. From how he saw it, Starlingheart was succumbing to the same path as her disloyal aunt, halving her loyalty to the clan and placing the remainder elsewhere; and Granitepelt, may just as well be another pawn in the game of tragedy and betrayal.

He arrives at the hilt of their discussion, eyes lingering on the departing Siltcloud for but a moment. "Young love," he muses aloud, his low voice twinged with rancor. "Tried it once. Never again. But I hope it suits you two better than I."

As much as he would have enjoyed doing so, he does not spare the breath in confronting Granitepelt's assurances.

They were simply shallow promises, after all.​

 

[hitch]

Love must be in the air, so they say— or maybe there's just something in the water, which would explain why Rosemire hasn't caught it yet. He wants to believe it's a good sign, that ShadowClan is finding their feet again, but even if that is true, it's only a matter of time until the next inter-clan blunder starts another war. Then a memory like this one will be squeezed of every comforting drop, even more so if StarClan gets their paws on one of them. He doesn't want to think about that, though; seems like bad luck, and it must say something awful about him that it's what comes to mind when seeing a new couple.

He smiles, though his gaze rarely strays beyond Starlingheart. Granitepelt is no more comfortable to look at even during a swearing of hearts. His ear flicks at the underlying friction in Smogmaw's voice, but he would be worried if the man sounded genuinely happy for them.

"Lovely," he says, pale eyes crinkling at tired edges. "The best kind of promise to keep. If I'd known about it, I would have found some flowers to bring you, or something brighter than leaves. Sunset was a good choice." Rose clears his throat before he can ramble too much about romance, glancing briefly at Granitepelt, gaze centered around his left ear. "Is there...a clan custom for this? A ceremony? Does Chilledstar need to be here?"

I N F O R M A T I O N
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[Magpiepaw]

He does not understand what this is or what it means but Starlingheart was happy and that was enough for him. Magpiepaw listens, watches, eyes ever wide and expression unreadable as it always was. He wasn't stupid, however. He knew of the concept of mates, cats starbound and destined together who may or may not have kits of their own. ShadowClan had a few, one of which was expecting a litter and it occurred to him that Starlingheart might also eventually have a litter as well one day too since she now had a mate. For whatever reason, he dislikes the idea. A tiny surge of jealousy wells in his chest, beneath his white throat he feels a tremor like a cry going unsound. The medicine cat was practically an older sister to him, he already had to vye for her attention with the entirety of ShadowClan due to her duties but now he would need to compete with the impossible odds of blood. Blood in ShadowClan seemed to be so important to some cats, carrying the same kind, shedding it, spilling it in honor of others, bonding it together to make more. He was not blood bound to any cat, a kitten found in a pile of scraps and debris, no true family to speak of.
Magpiepaw knew he would never come first for many, but now he'd not even come second at this rate. It was enough to make him want to despair, but for the happiness before him he witheld it all and tucked it away within the folded wings of his heart.
"Happy for you." He says, broken singsong voice like a carrionbird's last cry splitting the air before him; he understands now how lying could be a good thing if it made someone else feel better.
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[Sundewtail]

Love was a foreign concept to her, surprisingly. Perhaps it was due to the gaps in her memory, her inability to remember past a certain point. Regardless, she did not know or couldn't remember what it is to love and be loved. Perhaps she never knew at all.

Sitting in the clearing and picking at a mouse, her ears lifted when she heard Granitepelt start to speak. A confession of love and loyalty. She felt that she didn't quite understand. Couldn't relate, couldn't imagine how it must feel to profess such emotions to someone held so dear.

She should be happy for them, and yet.... A feeling of unease was all she felt, as if the scene stirred something long forgotten within her. She idly nibbled at the mouse as she dwelled on this feeling. Why does she feel this way?

She found no answers, and decided to deal with it later.

"This one is happy for you!" She said with her usual cheer. She wouldn't rain on them with her problems.

This was their moment, and it should be a happy one.
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[S A B L E T U F T]

can we leave it behind? — Sabletuft was not but a whiskers length away from Smogmaw in his own thoughts. Though not as heavy as the Deputy's mourning over lost life in ShadowClan, the scarred warrior's mind was lingering more on himself. Dealing with Loampaw, battling the storming clouds of intrusive judgements that fought to the forefront of his mind. Most of his idle thinking was still stuck on the past. The history his teeth and claws had left behind. The history of blood he's tasted.

Sabletuft forced his mind to empty by quickly lifting his head from his paws, tail-tip flicking irritably against the ground. It's just the slightest improvement that Rye's death wasn't still hanging so heavily on his shoulders as much as it used to. Even though he wished she was here to grow old with him like they promised one another, with all of the recent death in ShadowClan, maybe it would have been inevitable.

His ears turn toward the sound of Granitepelt and Starlingheart's voices before his head does to face them. The familiar sound of vows sent a twinge in his chest. Something bittersweet. The warrior sounded pure and genuine in his affections. Words so similar to what his own had been.

Sabletuft stood to join the show of affection, thinking as Rosemire had brought a good point. "With all that's happened recently, I think it would be helpful to establish something... Congratulations kids. You two seem very happy with each other." Through his neutral tone there wasn't any hint of sarcasm or cynicism. He was truly glad for the pair. His eyes suddenly lit up and quickly the tom turned and padded away, returning some moments later with a few items between his jaws. He came closer to Starlingheart and Granitepelt, displaying the items in a neat line. A rat, a piece of moss, and a slightly tattered flower.

"My mother did this for me and Rye, I think she would like to see me pass it on." He cleared his throat before beginning. "The gift of prey, so that you are never starved of love. The gift of moss, so that you may always find comfort in each other. And lastly, the gift of a flower, so that your family may bloom. Congratulations, again."— tags​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepelt's joy is genuine, his eyes shining as Starlingheart accepts his proposal and touches her forehead to the white of his chest. He lowers his nose to the top of her head, his heart pounding. She was his mate now. She was his. He can't remember ever feeling such unfiltered happiness before, and he basks in its warmth.

Cats draw closer, their Clanmates looking at them with wariness, cheeriness, disgust. Granitepelt meets every gaze with defiance. The only cat's whose opinion matters to him is here with him now, his beloved Starlingheart. The rest of them...

There is one exception. Siltcloud stares at him with an unreadable expression. Granitepelt searches her dull green gaze, his ears flicking at her stiffly-spoken, "Congratulations." "Thank you," he says to her, formal as she. He watches her white-spotted dust-colored figure move away from the gathering group of Clanmates, his expression changing into an indifferent mask like his sister's.

He coolly meets the ShadowClan deputy's eyes. He dips his head in acknowledgment, but there are no verbalized thank yous coming from him. The gray warrior can tell Smogmaw has mixed feelings, but he can't parse what they are. Granitepelt has his own feelings about the deputy's mate, but they will remain unspoken.

Rosemire approaches on phantom-white paws. As always, Granitepelt finds the pale warrior's pinkish gaze remains on the cat beside him, as though he's afraid of looking Granitepelt in the eye. The young warrior's eyes narrow, but he only says, "I don't know of any customs." Simply said. Flat. His father had been formally mated to the traitorous foxheart who'd birthed him, but he'd been unborn, hardly a twinge in her belly. He's never witnessed a formal ceremony. He feels it would be unnecessary -- StarClan was looking at them now, blessing them. Starlingheart would be their favored child until the two of them walked paw in paw into their silvery mist.

The strange violet-eyed kitten who staggers behind Starlingheart at every opportunity earns a blank look from Granitepelt. He again acknowledges this half-hearted congratulations with a low dip of the head. He offers the same to Sundewtail.

It's Sabletuft who breaks the ice of his visage. The dark warrior offers what sounds like a heartfelt congratulations, offering Granitepelt and Starlingheart a pawful of gifts. "The gift of prey, so you are never starved of love. The gift of moss, so that you may always find comfort in each other. And lastly, the gift of a flower, so that your family may bloom." Granitepelt's dark gaze sparks with interest -- it moves from present to present, lingering on each but especially so on the flower.

"So that your family may bloom."

"...Thank you, Sabletuft." He begins to look thoughtful. "Is there anything else, or are Starlingheart and I free to go?" ​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Yarrowpaw]

This was ... a lot. Yarrowkit was primarily preoccupied with making sure he could name every cat involved here - a favorite pastime of his, even if he was only marginally successful most of the time - but he did have to wonder what, exactly, was going on here. It seemed pretty obvious at first - Starlingheart and Granitepelt were mates now, with lots of nice words to seal the deal - but...some cats seemed disturbed, or displeased, or even agitated, including Granitepelt himself! Was becoming someone's mate a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe it's both. reflected the mackerel tabby with a wrinkle of his nose. Or maybe some of them wanted to be one of their mates, instead.

The chocolate tabby blinked owlishly up at the medicine cat and her newly-certified mate, mirroring his Clanmates as he mrowed, "'Gratulations!" it seemed like a good thing, so he'd treat it like a good thing until it was proven otherwise. His eyes moved to the rat which Sabletuft had presented before returning to the couple. "Y'guys are gonna eat that, right?" you could still eat prey even if it was part of some sort of love ceremony, couldn't you?​