private DIE FOR YOU — orangestar

The lead warrior had waited around until after the molly had recuperated, of course. This conversation was not one that Slate would dump upon Orangestar right away, knowing the complexity of it all. Plus, he had bought himself time to ruminate on his thoughts and figure out just how he would word this. The Maine Coon hadn't anticipated confiding in his friend anytime soon... if not ever. He had a stubborn determination to suppress his feelings and pretend like they didn't exist, but after the talk with Owlheart and Cloverjaw as well as the scare that the clan had experienced, he knew that he would regret not acquiring closure for his own sake.

Slate finds it difficult to meet her brown-hued gaze, instead focusing on the sights ahead as they sit together. He murmurs, "We were wonderin' if somethin' had happened to you." Doeblaze even had the gall to suggest that she had died, and that risking their lives for her sake would be futile. To a cat like Slate, Orangestar was worth the risk. She was his best friend — the only one who truly saw him for who he was. He would never live it down, had Orangestar disappeared just for them to do nothing in response they hadn't done anything in response. "I wanted to take a patrol out. I should have just done it. We could've helped you." Some had thought it unnecessary, he recalls bitterly. Slate should have trusted in his gut. He had patrolled the borders, prowling back and forth like a tiger, though to no avail. If a SkyClan patrol had found Orangestar in time, maybe her new injuries could have been prevented.

A familiar spew of harsh words crops up in his mind, "Clearly you're not important enough to Orangestar if she didn't tell you anything before she left. You're just a bodyguard." Slate knew that Emberpaw had been merely spewing nonsense, petty insults to try and get under his skin as she hastily jumped to Cherryblossom's defense. Really, the lead warrior shouldn't have taken anything that overgrown kit said seriously, but those specific words cannot vacate his brain for some reason.

He wants to believe that Orangestar is an honorable cat, one who would never use her own clanmates for selfish reasons. Still, deep-rooted insecurities and doubts prompt Slate to wonder otherwise. Was he just a bodyguard to her? An attack dog of the council who would do her bidding if she commanded it? Slate's brawn and intimidating presence were among the reasons that he suspected Blazestar promoted him in the first place, but he never considered whether Ora had the same thoughts.

"I... need to talk to you about somethin'. Before anything else happens." Before Orangestar potentially embarked on another perilous journey and never came home. His gut twinges at the idea of that possibility, but Slate knows it's a real one. She would do anything for her clan; it was obvious enough, as she had traveled to the Moonstone alone and had been attacked on the way. Slate doesn't know if he'll truly accomplish anything by having this discussion; in fact, he might just end up sacrificing their relationship, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to continue forward without doing so.

  • @Orangestar
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  • 75375484_vL7mDl6wNERV2mI.png
    a lead warrior of skyclan, slate is forty-one moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
 
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"It was going to happen at some point." Orangestar answers softly, her murmur more of a sigh. The dismissal is gentle. What could her Clanmates have done, when she was in the far reaches of the territories? Maybe they could have driven the rogues away, but against a dog, one would have been injured or worse. Much like as she had when the fox's jaws took her first life, Orangestar deems it better that it was only her that lost another. "It wasn't so bad this time. No-one else was hurt."

She doesn't notice her slip-up, her lost life barely a blip in her mind in comparison to everything else that had happened in the last few sunrises. At least she'd received ... answers, to a degree. Had her rumination on the way home been the source of her undoing? Had it been predestined? Orangestar often doesn't think on such things, but the thoughts crowd the edges of her mind: enemies, hidden in the swirling mists of her far consciousness, too distant for her to know if their claws are bared.

Her ears prick as Slate speaks again. As much as Orangestar misses the nuance of most emotions, she's not stupid, and Slate's tone makes it clear the talk he insists upon carries a weight for him. She shuffles to face him with a small grunt of discomfort as her hindlegs twinge, eyes darting across his muzzle. Stoic as ever, she can't glean much aside from the faint pinch around his eyes that belies worry. Orangestar's own expression scrunches in return, inquisitive. "What?"

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  • 68451166_mY2BOSe6hTLMAcu.png

    [ art by pin ]
  • ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | seven lives

    — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
    — single ; mentoring springpaw & ashpaw
    — speech is in #D2977D
    tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.


 
The Maine Coon purses his lips, giving a shake of his head as much as Orangestar tries to lay his worries to rest and play things out as if they were to be expected. Just because she was more than willing to put herself in harm's way for the sake of her clan didn't mean that SkyClan shouldn't be more protective of their leader. Slate doesn't want to live in a reality without Orangestar in it, not anytime soon. Not ever.

"It wasn't so bad this time." His friend mentions. Her words nearly go right over his head, though Slate finds himself landing in a new state of worry now. "What do you mean?" Black lips part to question, his amber eyes lighting up with concern. "Did you... lose a life?" He was not entirely sure if that was what Ora had alluded to, but now he was eager to know. WindClan was damn lucky that they had helped SkyClan's leader rather than taking advantage and attacking her. He would have raised hell in no time.

Slate involuntarily gulps when Orangestar shifts herself to fully face him. He is not usually one for the business of beating around the bush, so to speak, but this was unfamiliar territory. Slate, for once in his life, wasn't so sure of himself. He felt like a youth again, alone and vulnerable in the shadow of towering skyscrapers and looming silhouettes of strangers and mongrels. He had grown to excel in many things, namely brawn and self-preservation, but the exploration of feelings was not one of them.

As he opened his maw to speak again, he felt his heart beginning to gallop like a wild stallion, "I was an idiot for runnin' away all those seasons ago. I was just… scared. I didn't want to care about anything, or anyone. I thought it would be better if I didn't see you again." His eyes wince slightly as he admits to his mistake, irises fixing onto his paws as he initially shies away from gauging Ora's reaction. The tom could recall her confining in him about how much his actions had hurt her, how close she was to asking him to stay with her in SkyClan. Turning a blind eye to emotions and pretending as if they didn't exist was, regrettably, a defense tactic that Slate had employed even to this day. He knew now that it would no longer work, not without sending him into a state of emotional turmoil anyway.

The lead warrior still cannot muster the strength to look his leader in the eyes, especially now as he reveals truths to her that he's never divulged to anyone before. For a moment the words sit on the edge of his tongue, the male wondering if this was even worth discussing, but he proceeds anyway, "But then when I joined SkyClan, when I saw you with Ashenclaw, when I saw how happy he made you... I couldn't bring myself to hate him. I... hated myself." The memories faintly sting, a deep and thoughtful frown forming on Slate's maw. It is not his intention to reopen old wounds by bringing up Orangestar's ex-mate, but Slate felt that his feelings surrounding the matter were essential to address. He had wanted to hate Ashenclaw so badly — and for what? For bringing happiness to a she-cat who Slate never had in the first place? Ultimately, he could not fault the late tom for falling for the cream-and-ginger goddess. He couldn't fault Ora for starting a life with Ashenclaw, either. He had been kind, benevolent, and likable — everything that Slate was not ( this stings to admit, too ).

Truthfully, as Slate keeps unpacking his sentiments, he finds himself growing more dispirited. An uncomfortable, regretful tenseness takes hold of the Maine Coon's defined features. Despite this, a pair of vulnerable amber eyes flick up to meet pools of brown. "I never stopped carin' about you, as much as I tried to." He knew it would be better for everyone involved to move on and leave the past behind, but unfortunately, Slate had little control over his emotions. He wore his anger and ferocity so well that he could not suppress it however much he tried. As the moons went on, as he grew closer to Orangestar, he found that his attempts to abandon any feelings he had were futile.

And what was all of this for, Slate wonders. He had always asked himself: would he truly gain anything from fessing up to Ora? Would this heal him and give him the closure that he needed? At the end of it all, he knew that he needed to say this for his own sake. He needs Orangestar to know the truth and nothing but. "I'm in love with you, Ora." He always had been.

Slate feels that he knows what to expect, really. Orangestar was the leader of SkyClan, the protector of the entire pine forest with duties she would commit to with every fibre of her being. She had a family of her own with children who provided her with all the love she could need. He had made a mistake long ago, and it had cost him everything. He grimly accepts the consequences, gaze parting now as he braces himself for whatever Orangestar has to say... or not say. Slate would not blame her, in all honesty. It is not every day that a leader's council member confesses romantic feelings for them. "It's... alright if you have nothin' to say. I just... I had to tell you."

  • 75375484_vL7mDl6wNERV2mI.png
    a lead warrior of skyclan, slate is forty-one moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
 
At the question about her lives, Orangestar had made a nonchalant noise. That train of conversation is quickly lost, discarded for later, covered up by Slate's uncharacteristic shuffling of paws. Orangestar remains quiet through the confession. Her eyes sharpen, pupils thinning briefly as if the moon had struck her across the face, but still she listens silently.

His explanation of behaviour moons-passed makes sense, even if it hurts some fragment of her younger self to hear. He'd been a coward to run away, the Orange Blossom of moons passed seethes, though Orangestar shushes her mind with a blink and a twitch of her ears to show that Slate still has her attention.

That's mature of him. She notes idly, arching a feline brow as Slate mentions how his frustration over Ashenclaw had turned inwards, aware of how different his reaction may have been moons ago. She doesn't dwell too much on how his younger self might have turned away fully. Had turned away fully, though for different reasons.

"The last few moons ..." Orangestar's meow croaks, gives out from underneath the weight of what she wants to say.

Slate had never stopped caring. Some time ago, Orangestar had realised the same. It had taken a different form for several moons during her entanglement with Ashenclaw, with Orangestar regarding Slate as a trusted friend in that time more so than any potential paramour, but since her kits' graduation the sparks of a former flame had started to fan into a fire once more. Her mind lingers with a brief flash of fondness on the blue-furred tabby, on how the two toms seemed to have traded places in her heart over the moons.

Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, in stark contrast to the peace that washes over her. Pink tongue darts across her lips. To close this confession with a simple reciprocal isn't enough. What do you say to an extension of yourself? Is there anything she can say?

"I'm glad you told me." She sounds sturdier this time, her meow its usual stern cadence. She steps closer, angling herself so that she can look him in the eyes even as he tilts his muzzle away from her. While her expression is still serious, a rare vulnerability softens ochre eyes.

"Stay by my side." Orangestar meows, barely a breath in the evening air. This moment crystallises, leaving her with the feeling that anything said louder would shatter the web they've trapped themselves in here. She feels like she hesitates too long, but she manages regardless to meow, "I don't want you to go far."

There is more for her to say, guilt eating at the edges of her countenance, but for now she will take this moment: weighty, but as it is.

//mobile
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"I'm glad you told me." These words do little to provide Slate comfort in this moment of vulnerability. The beautiful molly steps toward him, catching a glimpse of her gaze out of the corner of his own — subdued from their usual hardness, though not entirely unserious. He's half-expecting Orangestar to let Slate down honestly and tell him that she's not ready to pursue romance in her life... or maybe just not with him. Truthfully, Slate would accept that answer. He wouldn't be happy having to pretend, but he would force himself to live it down. What other option did he have?

And then, suddenly, Slate cannot believe his ears. The leader's voice remains soft-spoken as an admission of her own escapes her maw, as this moment between them is delicate and intimate. The scarred warrior turns to her fully, unfeeling of regret and self-loathing if only for a moment, though still ultimately of the belief that he was unworthy in her presence. "Really?" Slate meows, an incredulous doubt spurring in his heart. He feels as if he should know what she meant but he does not want to get ahead of himself.

Orangestar's reciprocation remained fuzzy in his mind; the truth was staring him in the face but he didn't want to misunderstand her. His heart thunders up and down mountains twice as vast and three times as towering as Highstones. "Wait, so you...?" Slate scrambles for the right words, the gruff lead warrior now reduced to a bumbling mess as anticipation wracks his core. "I mean, are we...?" The possibility of mateship scares him, not because he doesn't want to be with her but because he doesn't know how to love someone. Slate had run away before he had the chance to. Would he be able to give Oranegstar what she needed? What she deserved?

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    a warrior ( formerly lead warrior ) of skyclan, slate is forty-one moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is mated to orangestar. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
 
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Do you want to be? Orangestar bites back the question, eyes narrowing by a minutia. Her earlier feeling of guilt has overflowed with the addition of Slate's scrambling hope, the disturbance lapping at cracked pawpads and dragging Orangestar under with a shaky sigh which she grits ivory teeth against.

"Wait."

She disentangles herself from their close proximity, setting a modicum of distance between their flanks. Still close enough that she can feel the rise and fall of his side against her own, but preparing for the worst as if it is guaranteed. This is her chance to set a standard for herself, her mind lingering on Cherryblossom briefly before it returns to the moment. Resignation sets in, tempering the blossoming light that unfurls in her heart.

"... I can't take you as a mate and have you on my council, Slate." Can't or won't? Blazestar had not forced this choice upon Bobbie when they had agreed on their mateship: it was only after his death that she had removed herself from SkyClan's service. Orangestar feels the freshly-changed cobwebs itch at her skin. "I trust you, but I need to make sure my head is clear. The Clan needs that from me. Is ..."

She trails off. Is that alright? She wants to ask him, but she also knows that she can't give him that choice. Orangestar would understand if Slate chose service to their Clan over she herself. It would hurt this tremulous and newfound emotion between them, perhaps irreparably, but she thinks that she would understand.

  •  
  • 68451166_mY2BOSe6hTLMAcu.png

    [ art by pin ]
  • ORANGESTAR ✧ she/her, leader of skyclan | seven lives

    — "a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes."
    — (undisclosed) mate to slate ; mentoring springpaw & ashpaw
    — speech is in #D2977D
    tags | penned by mercibun, contact on discord for plots.


 
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The sudden interruption of their enrapturing intimacy, the suspension of strange and newfound warmth pressing close to one another, inspires mild alarm within the gruff lead warrior. Anxiety seizes in his chest, irises thinning as he anticipates the molly changing her mind or otherwise breaking some rather unpleasant news to him.

While brief relief sweeps over him, as she is seemingly not outright rejecting his affections, he now fixates his attention on the choice extended toward him — remain on the leader's council or step down in order to take Orangestar as a mate. "Why?" Slate blurts out, knitting his faux brows and reacting in an instant. He does not mean to offend the she-cat, of course, but acting on impulse is something that even she isn't an exception to. "What do you mean? You think I'd distract you?" It probably came as no surprise that the temperamental Maine Coon would try to fight Orangestar's proposition right away instead of taking a moment to actually reflect on why she thought it necessary. Nevermind the fact that Doeblaze had been a member of Blazestar's council and that Slate had suspected favoritism at play — they were different. Orangestar would never let Slate's words unfairly influence her decisions. She was headstrong and would yield to no one if it meant prioritizing SkyClan.

This was a bad idea. Slate could not even fully reason why, but he knew it was. Nothing had to change. Why did she want things to change? "We've both been on SkyClan's council for a long time. You've always put the clan first. Nothing will ever stand in the way of that." Slate insists toward the brown-eyed belle, a tightly wound conviction gripping his words. While the initial promotion of her inexperienced daughter had been ludicrous and deprived of sense, even she had soon come to realize that Cherryblossom was not the best fit for SkyClan's deputy. No kin—no love for another—had prevented Orangestar from realizing the best course of action.

So, why couldn't they both continue on like normal? Slate frowns as he expresses his determination, "I want to stay on your council, Orangestar." Please. The Maine Coon had never been on the council for power's sake. He had never thirsted for authority, had never been driven by ambition like other cats. He just wanted to help keep SkyClan—help keep Orangestar—out of harm's way. The Maine Coon would not possess much of a stake in the actions of the council—if at all—if he were to step down from his post. He would not yield without first making a case for himself, especially now that she was without a deputy again and the council's numbers were dwindling as it was.

  • 75375484_vL7mDl6wNERV2mI.png
    a warrior ( formerly lead warrior ) of skyclan, slate is forty-one moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is mated to orangestar. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face.
 
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