private doin' time — sunstride

[dolly lynn]

❝ 'CAUSE YOU AND I ✿°.✦ ————————————
A chimera pelt stands bright against the newly green newleaf grass; bright as a trailer-park dye job, no toner needed. Dolly Lynn tosses her thick dual-toned mane further across her face, the oversaturated butterfly wing tucked in behind her ear shifting with the motion. Sharp blue eyes appraise the area around the horseplace; no gullible-looking toms ready to catch a pretty girl a mouse, as far as she can see, just a couple barracuda-eyed rogues hunkered down over their prey, fur flecking their muzzles as they devour it. Dolly's freckled muzzle wrinkles slightly in a delicate show of distaste; she wouldn't be caught dead digging into her food with such disgrace, even if she were starving, which she's been pretty damn close to. Well, she didn't come all this goddamned way from the alleys, where she splits her time, just to look at some ugly cats and turn tail ...

With no small effort, Dolly hauls herself as elegantly as she can manage over the wooden fence that cleaves the border between the horseplace and the wide-open moor where she's heard wild cats make their home. Maybe one of them would be willing to catch her something; probably more manly than the foul creatures that regularly trawl Twolegplace's dumpsters, she thinks. Dolly Lynn tosses her dark-rooted fur across her face again, primping as best she can without the convenient mirror of a scum-ringed puddle. She takes a few strides into the moorland, enough that the thick stench of a border-marking rises to her nose and forces a disgusted expression into her roughly pretty face again. The blonde squashes it quickly: A wrinkled snout don't get you a full belly, as her old mama used to say. Dolly settles her thick tail over her paws, spine loose in a faux-relaxed posture, and waits. Hopefully for someone with a handsome face.

[penned by dejavu - ✿]

———————————— ✦.°✿ WE WERE BORN TO DIE ❞ ​

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// @SUNSTRIDE

 

[SUNNVAR]

Handsome face he may be, but if she is hoping for someone that she may charm– well, Sunstride is hardly that. There is no clean way to tell another that their appearance mattered none to him; to put it as gently as he could, unless her voice deepened and her shoulders broadened, nothing else about her mattered the slightest. Other than the knowledge that she was so terribly out of place among this moorland greenery. He approaches from an angle, not head-on, but should she somehow miss the flaming golden-red of his fur, it was entirely her own fault. The intent is not to startle her. With the old mission that Sootstar had given him still ringing within the back of the lead warrior's mind, he would quite prefer she remained nearby. Or at least close enough that he may share his words.

Playfully, though without the softness of sympathy, the lead warrior finally raises his voice: "You seemed troubled by the ground that you stand upon. Is this the first time that you have ventured so closely to the clans?" He comes a little closer. Not so close that she might have an advantage in a sudden strike. Sunstride is far too wary for that. "You have no idea what you've come upon, do you?" he even laughs with friendliness.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: sorry im so freaking late! replies should be much faster now

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-eight moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

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[dolly lynn]

A cat approaches; handsome face indeed and a multicolored pelt, stinking of the moors for sure—but Dolly Lynn's made her dealings in life by reading cats and instantly she can tell it's unlikely she'll be getting what she wants out of this interaction. His approach is not one of instant hostility, and while the flaming cat's tone is playful, it lacks that distinctive luster Dolly aims to pull from cats. Still, her appearance matters to her the most, and she tosses her mane of hair again, coiling her heavy tail about her paws serpentine. Her saturated eyes consider the cat's form, lean with wildcat muscle; so it's true. Those feral forest beasts really do exist.

Dolly Lynn narrows her eyes at the cat and opens her mouth, a drawl dredged up from the depths of the country emerging in silken tones lacking their usual flirtation. It's quickly becoming clear this cat is unlikely to be charmed, intimidated, or otherwise bullshitted; she'd almost respect it if it wasn't getting in her way so much. "I've been damn near ever'where, but yea. 'Spose this is the closest I've ever come down yonder." He approaches further, a poised distance; Dolly's posture tenses instinctively, she's heard enough stories of the wildcats mauling loners. Pausing, she finally settles on, "Suppose I don't."
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