CHATEAU / foxglare

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

It's a morning of dodging ice, and not just from the cooling weather—one wrong look can paint a target of scrutiny on your back, and while Sedgepounce is no stranger to the balancing act that is WindClan favor, it feels...different.

He's not sure if there's many who share the sentiment. The journeying party has had some culture shock, sure. But who is he supposed to talk to? Scorchstreak is a lead warrior, and her kids are just kids. Milkthorn and Periwinklebreeze are still healing from the whole dog thing.

And his parents? His siblings? Give him a break.

WindClan runs on passive aggressiveness. No one really says what they mean, and even when they do, there's a million things they still aren't telling you. It's the knowledge of this that sours the presence of Smogmaw's children here even more. Lark-kit and Ouzelkit or...whatever they're being called. He can't believe it's an act of good faith—he's not blind.

But what is he supposed to do about it?

He parts through a thicket of heather, frost melting from his whiskers as the post-dawn rays thaw at the earth, and freezes when the figure crouched there whips around. "Er, sorry," Sedge says to Foxglare. The look he receives is skeptical, at first, and then yielding. Foxglare's a bit harsh, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. They're friends, he thinks, as few as those as Sedgepounce's really got.

He crouches further in the cocoon of the heather, wrapped around them like a veil. As though this foliage will save them from prying ears. "We haven't had a chance to catch up, yeah?" Sedgepounce hedges. His face falters, too earnest for his own good. "Have things been...okay...since we've been gone?"

// @FOXGLARE​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Foxglare had never quite managed to learn the balancing act of Windclan's high-stakes social sports. He was perhaps doomed from the get-go with the outsider label branded permanently to his forehead, but he had so far made do with his place comfortably among the outer rings of Windclan's circles. Up until recently, he was fine with fulfilling his simpler sense of purpose with wading four paws deep into working to support the clan, but things were becoming... not so easy to ignore.

The quiet of the morning was a comfort, at least, where he could be alone with his thoughts without having to make a fool of himself lumbering through backhanded unsayings from various parties. His solitude, however, was only temporary.

Foxglare whipped his head around at the sound of the thicket parting, a puff of breath fogging the chilled air as he tensed unconsciously at the intrusion. He relaxed when he recognized the face before him as belonging to Sedgepounce, scolding himself internally at his own jumpiness.

"You're good," he shook his head at the other's apology, "Not like you're interruptin' anything." Contrary to his own stony exterior, Foxglare didn't mind Sedge's presence, truly. He remained one of the notable few cats that didn't seem to mind hanging around Foxglare all that much. He could be a bit... silly, but in a way he accepted easily given that Sedge in turn batted no eye at his own straight-shooting tendencies. His absence may have been the one he felt the most these past moons, but he felt compelled to keep that particular observation to himself, for some reason.

Sedgepounce lingers, entering the heather hollow properly, with a wary look on his face that Fox narrowed his eyes at slightly. He asks if things have been 'okay', and Foxglare does not answer immediately. He watches the tom's face for a long moment longer, trying to spot any telltale signs of deception, but only finding a sad earnestness. He sighs, hoping that he wasn't about to be double-crossed for making an attempt to look out for the guy.

"Weaselclaw died, not long after y'all departed for the mountains. Succumbed to the 'cough," He says, in lieu of an answer. "Somethin'... changed. After that. Or maybe somethin' was goin' on before but... Sootstar denounced Starclan." He paused, he didn't know how the other felt about Starclan—he seemed like one of those devout do-gooders—but he couldn't be sure. His own relationship with the stars was somewhat foggy—as far as he knew, he had no ancestors hunting in the skies as the Windclan-born did. Still, there was something about her heresy that felt weighty to him, especially in conjunction with everything else, they were in dark waters now.

"Things've been off ever since. Almost seems like she's stopped caring 'bout the clan's safety, besides those hangin' close to her..." He murmured lowly, aware of the very real possibility of sharp ears looking for something to catch.

"We shouldn't have those kits," He says this simply, almost challenging Sedgepounce to say otherwise, "Whatever's goin' on, it doesn't feel right."

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE

• OOC:
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 11mo moor-runner of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​

 

[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Weaselclaw. Sedgepounce's felt his absence. Not that he'd ever really known the tom, but he's Sootstar's mate. Cottonpaw's dad. Of all the cats to die, his has caused the most ripples; left the biggest hollow.

"What?" Sedgepounce hears himself say. Whispered, like a child whose just spotted the boogeyman under his bed. He stares wide-eyed at Foxglare's steely face. There's no quirk of his lip or glimmer in his steel-blue eyes—just grim determination and a confession that rolls over Sedge in a frozen wave.

It's never crossed his mind to question Sootstar. She's always meant absolution, entirety; she and worship are so synonymous that there's no room for anything else, let alone doubt. He's never really cared about authority—shirked responsibilities and orders throughout his whole apprenticeship just because he could get away with it—so he's just never thought about Sootstar's choices and whether they were the right ones. She's the queen of the moors, for better or worse. Chosen by StarClan.

What Foxglare says is blasphemous, and Sedgepounce doesn't second guess it.

His eyes have drifted across the heather wall, Fox's voice weaving over the nebulous current of his thoughts, but they snap back at the mention of the kits. His face does an incredible acrobatics performance before he blurts: "I journeyed with their dad."

The confession bursts out of him like it's a hot coal that's been glued to his tongue and he stares at Foxglare with a terrible desperation. "Smogmaw's a little...weird, I guess. But abusive? I can't imagine any of the ShadowClan cats we met being okay with something like that." He's rambling, insane but vindicated; thrilled to finally feel like he's the only one who understands what's happening, and now someone else gets it too.

"I just..." Sedgepounce throws at a paw, turns it through the air as he struggles to find words. "What can we even do about it?" Any of it?​

 

[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ Foxglare's eyes widen slightly at the others recognition of the kittens. "They're the deputy's kits?" He should've figured there was some motivation besides simple generosity that sent Sootspot into Shadowclan's nursery, "Doubt they were kit-napped outta just the kindness of their hearts." Whether they were intended to be leverage or simple provocation remained unclear, but his blood boiled at the thought of it all the same.

"What can we even do about it?"

Foxglare's tail lashes, perturbed, along with Sedge's voiced desperation. The truth was, there wasn't much they could do—really do—as newly-named warriors of Windclan. Not if they wanted to keep their ears, anyway. "...Something's gotta give." he said finally. Foxglare couldn't get himself to believe that it would be like this forever, it was just a matter of how much blood had to spill before something changed, before Sootstar was satisfied.

"You need to be careful," He says lowly, fixing his eyes upon Sedgepounce once more, "I have no plans on losin' my life nor my soul anytime soon. Hope the same goes for you."

ALL IN ALL ⁀➷☾⁺₊ IS ALL WE ARE

• OOC: late but i wanted to make sure this reply got in<3
• 
• 
  — sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 12mo moor-runner of windclan
  — bisexual ; single
  — a large, scarred, longhaired light ginger tabby with high white and grey eyes
  — smells like wet oak wood and dewy sedge
  — sounds like leon kennedy, with a vague texan drawl.
  — the straight-faced and taciturn adopted son of houndthistle, lived as a twolegplace loner until 7 moons old, now a moor-runner of windclan. stalwart and resilient, he is not easily shaken and lives by a very strict personal code of honor.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — hs by mercurial, fullbody by antiigone
  — penned by eezy

​