camp DON'T STOP DANCING [ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ] HEARTBROKEN

[Halfsun]

The walk back to camp is one laden with misery. She had found her patrol, barely held it together as she told them "I don't feel good, I'm heading home.." and the way she swayed on her paws, the glazed over look in her eyes, it made the excuse believable enough. It was then, when she was traversing the marsh alone on her way back home, that she let herself fall apart. She had to stop several times to let it out, the agony, the pain, the embarrassment. A fool. She had been such a fool for thinking that Pinkshine could ever feel the same - the distance between them was too great and how would they ever been able to bridge the gap? A thunderpath stood between them but it was more than that. Time had passed, and she could hope and wish and pray all she liked but Pinkshine had had a life on the moors, one that did not often involve her. She remembers fleeting conversations, gatherings where she would search out those familiar sun-drowned eyes and they would steal conversations with one another in the moonlight. Larkpaw, she would always call her. Stars. It hits her like a twelve pawed monster. Pinkshine couldn't even be bothered to remember her name half the time.

She hates her, she thinks for a few steps before the pain in her heart tells her no, that's not right. How could she ever hate someone who was sunshine-incarnated? She was a little ditzy sometimes but it was not mean-spirited, she knows. She remembers. Pink-kit, who she had played with once in the marshes, who had been so happy to see her when she had appeared in WindClan's camp. Halfsun had not thought back then of anyone but herself - her selfish desire to play with the kit who had made her smile, her thankfulness that at least she had Laurelkit with her. Terrible, no one was to blame for this situation but herself.

By the time she makes it back to camp, she's a mess of hollowed eyes, tear stains down her cheek and throat raw from her sobbing. No doubt the hunting patrol had made it back before her, puzzled looks on their faces when they realized she wasn't back yet. "Wow Halfsun, you really don't look good, maybe you should go see Starlingheart... A clanmate suggests, an attempt to be helpful but she merely brushes them off. "Drop it." she croaks, eyes narrowing and claws extending. They back off, stepping out of her way as she makes her way to the warriors den, tail dragging in the dirt. When she reaches her nest, she throws herself into it and buries her head in the moss, not wanting to face the rest of the clan and their questioning eyes.

// this thread takes place immediately after this one, anyone is free to be part of the hunting patrol she had been a part of and anyone is free to be the cat she was speaking to when she came back into camp.

( ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ) smile for me when you set me free

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  HALFSUN SHADOWCLAN APPRENTICE ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO APPLEJAW, ASHENFALL, SWANSONG, GARLICHEART, AND LAURELGRIN
  

  A tall and well-toned she cat with a long half-and half pelt, one side being a dark blue tabby and the other a bright cream, split by a pool of white at her center and travelling up her face like flames she is fire and ice simultaneously swirling into one. Her eyes are a mismatched shade of blue, with one being bright like the daytime sky and the other dark like the depths of the river.

  ✦ Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter
  

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[Briarthorn]

.·:*¨༺🕷༻¨*:·. Briarthorn could not sympathize with rejection, not when it came to a romantic partner at least. Admittedly, it wasn’t as though the young warrior had ever tried or felt the need to. If some cats were nice to look at, then they were just that.

Halfsun’s croak can be heard from where Briarthorn works on grooming her fur inside the warriors den. Unbothered as her clanmate drags herself into the den, Briarthorn continues enjoying the little time she allotted for herself during the day- though judging by the fur that was slicked wet under the others eyes, it hardly looked like she was actually ill with something. When Halfsun all but flops into her nest, probably to continue on crying, Briarthorn debates getting up from her own nest with paws set to exit the den.

It was pathetic, an unbecoming display of emotion. Briarthorn’s nose crinkles, fully turning over her shoulder to look at the new warrior with criticism. If someone had died, surely there’d be some sort of fuss beyond the warriors den. Without so much as a step, Briarthorn stubbornly settles further into her nest. "Don’t wallow too loud." The warrior huffs, rasping her tongue over her ungroomed forepaw.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── KEEP YOUR DEMONS ⋅ ࿏ ⋅ ON A LEASH ──┐‎

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  BRIARTHORN ꔫ she/her, warrior of shadowclan, 12 moons.
  ⭃ slender, lean-muscled black she-cat with sharp hazel eyes & large ears.
  ⭃ daughter of Forestshade && Vulturemask ࿏ sister to Screechpaw && Sweetpaw
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Noor ↛ @toyangel on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[MIREPURR]

Mirepurr hears Halfsun before they see her; a low-spoken croak from somewhere outside the warriors' den before she slinks in and throws herself into her nest. She looks like she's hoping to bury herself under the soft greenery, back turned to all and her face evidently hidden from view completely. The entire ordeal is cause for concern, and Mirepurr almost decides to alert her father... almost. Halfsun does not appear approachable enough even for a relative.

It is odd to see her this way. Her face is marred more often with smiles rather than frowns; and after the no doubt exciting ceremony where she finally received her warrior name, Mirepurr assumed she would be boundless with joy. Whatever had brought Halfsun's spirits down this much must have been quite unexpected.

Briarthorn speaks before Mirepurr could decide what to say — or not to say, but that has always proved to be difficult for them —, and they wince at the near-malice. She had never been the type to display her inner workings; in an eerily similar fashion to Halfsun now, Briarpaw had rejected comfort even in the monstrous face of grief. It is no surprise she reprimands Halfsun for it then, but... Mirepurr can't simply keep it at that. "Nothing wrong with showing a bit of emotion," they say, knowing full well it provides little to no solace to either of the two.

And in much the same vein of uselessness, they can only think to offer one thing.

"If you want to talk about it, we are here..."
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