private dial tone is all i have [GROUP 1] bedding down

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

Stormywing's paws sting and bleed by the time they have stopped for what they think could be the night. Her shoulder aches from helping to hold up Iciclefang, but it's a job she won't complain about. After all, the tortoiseshell is undoubtedly in a lot more pain than she is. At Smogmaw's instructions, they have found a dry corner of a wide cavern and she inwardly groans at the realization they have no bedding. They will sleep on cold, hard stone, surrounded by even more cold, hard stone. She shivers at the thought but slips up to stand with everyone else anyhow to pick out their sleeping spots.

Instinctively, she draws nearer to Lightstrike, the tom's familiarity a comfort to her when she can't see anything else. "I'm freezing," She complains, her voice cracking with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, she flops onto her stomach and begins diligently licking her paws, wincing at the metallic taste. She wishes they had Berryheart with them right about now...he always had the best stuff for sore paw pads. A shiver runs down her spine, as the cold from the ground begins to seep into her bones, only causing her to curl in even tighter on herself.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
By now, they had to have been walking for hours. Hours and hours. How far had the sun moved, he wondered? Maybe it had set long ago and the moon was well on its way to the peak. Maybe the sun had set and was already rising again. He wouldn't doubt it, as time had grown fuzzy around the edges long before now.

It was evident from their gradually slowing pace that the group was exhausted of its energy, and somewhat unanimously cats began to settle down, Lightstrike being no exception. A soft groan escaped his maw as the warrior settled on his rump, lifting his paws one by one to try and lick the grit out of his paw pads. It wasn't long before he gave up the task, too tired to care. Grooming was even further from his reach, with which he didn't bother.

Nearby a cat shuffled across the stone, the scent of Stormywing drawing near, a complaint confirming her presence. He too lowered himself to his belly with a grunt of affirmation, rolling onto his side until his back pressed into his Clanmate, but the shift in orientation made his head swim bad enough that he rolled right back upright. Instead, he settled for resting his chin on his paws. "C'mere, then," he mumbled, eye slipping shut.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

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[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw found no comfort in familiarity, tonight. If it was even night- there was no way of knowing, was there? He had to trust Smogmaw's judgement- that the Shadowclanner, apparently used to navigating in darkness, knew enough about timekeeping to tell how long they'd been wandering. If they got out- when they got out, Fernpaw reminded himself- he had decided he would be much gladder to see a golden autumn sun than an overcast night. He'd see his paws beneath him again, and they'd kindle in that light. Oddly, it was a soothing thought.

I'm freezing, Stormywing murmured- and Fernpaw heard her body shuffle closer to Lightstrike, or maybe it was the other way around. He flicked his ear, unwilling to seek the other Riverclanner amongst them. He imagined the feeling was mutual. Still, he felt like he couldn't just sit and rot in miserableness- he had to hope, and manifesting hope often meant speaking it aloud. "We won't have to do this for much longer," he murmured, voice tired but smile-tinged. It was all he could do to reassure them, to keep what was probably dead-in-the-water morale even slightly afloat. He knew his sister would probably think his optimism foolish, as she always did- but he spoke without care for her opinion. Still, he listened for her all the same. ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[iciclefang]

Smogmaw leads the paw-sore and bone-weary travelers to a resting place. She blinks, exhaustion overwhelming her and briefly numbing the pain she wears in her shoulder. “Do you think it’s day or night on the outside?” The fact that none of them truly know is strange. She strains to catch a glimpse of moonlight or sunlight through the stone ceiling above them and finds she cannot.

Stormywing sinks to the stone, and Iciclefang instinctively crouches, too. There’s a comfortable foxlength between the two of them, though she immediately sees the ThunderClanner’s point. The stone is nearly icy under her body, and she shifts uncomfortably at the gritty surface they must sleep on. Stormywing and Lightstrike share their body warmth, but she refuses to try to find Fernpaw. Her brother is still sulking—she can smell it on from here, even.

Instead, the tortoiseshell stubbornly curves herself into a wreath, her teeth chattering from the cold. She will sleep alone… and really, it’s not so bad, right?...

ooc ✧ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

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  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

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[smogstar]

Weary hours spent trudging through the cave brought about an unwelcome return. A limp, thought to be vanquished in the moons past, has resurfaced in his hind-left leg. Along with it are memories of claw and fang splitting his skin apart, and how his very blood turned against him, soaking into the soil that was meant to grant him sanctuary. Spite, in its rawest form, is now the sole force propelling him forward. Never shall his energy dwindle, his body crumble, his own limbs give way to the pull of his own weight. Not so long as he still drew breath within this accursed cave, and most certainly not while in the company of a moor rat.

There's no method of truly knowing how long this forlorn venture has dragged on for, though it ought to have been a whole day since the cave-in. Muscles cry out for relief, and a haze envelopes the realm of his mind. The call of sleep comes as a foreign sensation, but overwhelming regardless. When a needlelike corridor widens into a grotto, the hodgepodge of clan cats positions themselves for a night's worth of rest.

A jagged sigh escapes the deputy as he settles into a nook along the wall. Dulled pain accompanies his hobbling leg and refuses to relinquish its hold. The only solace comes in the form of his unwished-for companions, whom he observes in aloof levity. They blindly stumble about and latch onto one another, in a 'headless chicken' sort of way. Smogmaw cannot recall ever seeing a headless chicken in all of his days, yet he's certain there are parallels to be drawn here.

"Without being able to observe the outside, it might as well be both," he says then, matching Iciclefang's inane query with a commensurate response. Dark-smirched paws curl into the tufts of his chest after a shiver contaminates his spine. "Get some rest," the tom continues, "we're going to be walking 'til we leave this cave, or we're dyin' tryin'."

If the stars' grace punctured through solid stone, the least they could be afforded is a wink or two. ​

 

[STORMYWING]

☁︎

She can hear the shuffling and shifting of Lightstrike at her side before his back presses against her flank. The heat is welcome, but he just as quickly rolls away which earns a displeased mrrow from the sleepy she-cat. Instead, he beckons her closer and she reluctantly obliges, crawling closer until their pelts press together. It reminds her of their days in the apprentice's den, when she'd huddle with her denmates for warmth in leaf-bare.

Fernpaw mentions they won't have to do this for much longer, and if anything she can admire his optimism. "Yeah, I hope not," She murmurs back, getting comfortable. Iciclefang's question grabs her attention a little too quickly. Smogmaw's reply is one she would have mirrored. There is just no way to tell, but she likes to imagine the sky full of stars and a shining moon anyway. It's more comforting to sleep, if she does.

Her ears flick, the darkness only making her hearing all the more sensitive. Teeth chattering, and it's easy to realize it's coming from the tortoiseshell somewhere nearby. She doesn't move for a moment, frozen with indecision. She's a RiverClanner. Stormywing is better off just staying huddled up with her own clanmate. On the other paw, she kind of hates the idea of the injured she-cat shivering herself to sleep. She decides to extend an olive branch.

Her thick tail flicks closer to Iciclefang, in the blackness where no one can see. It drapes over her own sleek tail. Some might consider it an invitation. Others might call it an accident. Stormywing lies awake, startlingly awake as if she hadn't been sleeping on her paws moments before, waiting and listening to see if there is any reaction at all.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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[iciclefang]

Smogmaw’s rumbling voice comes from the shadows. Iciclefang imagines the slope of his shoulders, his lumbering stalk, and finds she cannot remember what he looks like in daylight. Frustration tugs at her mouth, but she only grunts a quiet and dignified agreement with the deputy. Musings or not, she knows it doesn’t matter whether the sun is afire or the moon is frosting the rock-studded fields above them.

She rests her head on her paws, doing her best to ignore the chill seeping from the stone beneath her belly. It’s like her body is sinking into a pool of icy water, cold as the trickle they’d drank from after Lightstrike’s stumble. The tortoiseshell’s body trembles without her consent. Each rattle agitates the injury to her shoulder. She’s truly never felt so physically miserable—and has she ever felt this mentally miserable? She has to doubt it.

The brush of a soft gray tail against her dark one startles her. She lifts her chin, looking to see who’d extended their body for warmth. She’s surprised to see that Fernpaw has not moved from his spot—the tail belongs to Stormywing, who seems to be looking elsewhere. Perhaps she’s asleep already, and it was an accident, Iciclefang thinks. Her instinct is to pull away—this is a ThunderClan she-cat, after all.

But… the gesture brings a strange fire to warm her belly and throat. She cannot explain it. She does not try to. Instead, she twines her tail with Stormywing’s in the dark, pretending for a moment it’s a ginger tail, that she’s back in RiverClan in her bed built from reeds and moss.

In her imagination, though, the orange just becomes gray again.

ooc ✧ 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

•  
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• 

  — iciclekit . iciclepaw . iciclefang
  — she/her ; warrior of riverclan
  — lesbian ; single
  — short-haired tortoiseshell with white and ice-blue eyes
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by Marquette
  — chibi by Pin

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[LIGHTSTRIKE .]

❝ WE HAVE YET TO CRASH ✧°.☀ —————————————————————————————
Following his invitation, Stormywing shuffles across the stone until he feels her pelt press into his. "You're cold," he muttered without bothering to turn his head in her direction. It was times like these that he was grateful for his thick coat. All he had to worry about was chilly paws and ears.

With exhaustion filling his head like a thick fog, Lightstrike let out a miserable sigh. At least his ears had stopped ringing for once. Now all he had was... everything else. Rather than dwell on it he shifted and twisted, lifting a paw and unceremoniously jabbing it into his Clanmate's side. "Sorry," he mumbled, and lifted it higher until his arm draped over her shoulder to tug her closer. He wasn't one to deny the prospect of more warmth either.

[penned by its_oliverr - ☀]

——————————— ☀.°✧ BUT WE STILL MAY AS WELL ENJOY IT ❞ ​

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[STORMYWING]

☁︎

There is movement, and Stormywing fights the urge to tense her muscles. Gently, her own tail is wrapped up in Iciclefang's own. She's awake, She thinks with a start, giddy and breathless for reasons she doesn't care to elaborate on. She realizes she'd been holding her breath and, very slowly so as not to let anyone know of her halt of air, she exhales. A light blush touches her cheeks and she buries her face in her paws as if the darkness doesn't hide it enough.

You're cold, Lightstrike comments to her before suddenly jabbing her in her ribcage. "Ow," She halfheartedly hisses back to his apology before his foreleg is draped over her, pulling her close and she gives a huff of acceptance. She can't bring herself to turn down the surge of warmth his heated pelt brings. To her surprise, however, her clanmate's closeness is not the sole source of her warmth anymore.

I WANNA TASTE LOVE AND PAIN ☁︎​

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