ECHOES IN THE TIDE ᯓ★ ROBINHEART

[DIPPERFROST]

Dipperfrost stood in the graveyard, her shadow stretched long over the earth. The wind carried the scent of river-slick stone, filling the silence that settled between her and the marker before her. It wasn't her first time here. It wouldn't be her last.

She hadn't planned on stopping—her paws had simply carried her this way, drawn by some restless pull she hadn't been able to shake since dawn. Now that she was here though, she wasn't sure what she was looking for.

Her tail flicked, a slow, thoughtful motion. "Still feels strange," she muttered, barely above a whisper. She wasn't sure what she meant by that. That Brookstorm was gone? That she was here in the graveyard at all? Maybe both.

She let the silence stretch, her ears twitching at the distant rush of water. After a moment, she sighed, dropping into a sit and wrapping her tail around her paws. She wouldn't stay long. Just a few minutes. Just until whatever had pulled her here let her go.

( ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ) to the sun, there's nothing higher

• 
• 
  DIPPERFROST RIVERCLAN WARRIOR; SHE / HER ; SWANTUFT X FINLEAP
  

  Dipperfrost is a tall, slender she-cat with a white coat broken by blue tabby patches, a tuft of curls atop her head, and a star-shaped marking on her forehead. Her brilliant blue eyes—one flecked with a yellow starburst—are often half-lidded, lending her a distant, unreadable expression. Quiet and observant, she speaks with purpose, choosing honesty over comfort and control over chaos. Her aloof demeanor and measured composure make her difficult to approach, but for those who earn her trust, she is fiercely loyal. Though cynical and pragmatic, she remains a steady, unshaken presence, ever watchful of the world around her.

  ✦ Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter

 

[robinheart]

Rarely does she visit the graveyard. Perhaps it is the connection to Starclan that keeps her from the sacred ground or perhaps it is the overwhelming sorrow that comes with acknowledging the dead's presence many lengths beneath her paws? Robinheart does not think too deeply about such a subject. But she had caught a glimpse of Dipperfrost padding towards the graveyard and decided she should join the warrior.

'Still feels strange,' the other murmurs, words not meant for the tortoiseshell, but words she would hold onto regardless. "This is a strange place," Robinheart whispers in return. Her voice is soft — a dove's coo to serenade the distant river. A means of gentle assurance and not startling efforts. "I have not been here in a long time. Do you visit often?" She asks as she limps closer to Dipperfrost, easing her aching limb and tired form beside the warrior who had trained alongside her mate. "I'm sure she appreciates it… even if she wouldn't admit it," the medicine cat apprentice adds after a few seconds of silence, chuckling with a fond sort of melancholy tinging her words and expression.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[DIPPERFROST]

The soft shuffle of pawsteps doesn't startle her. Even before Robinheart's voice slips through the hush of the graveyard, Dipperfrost can feel the presence beside her—something warm against the crisp leaf-bare air. For a moment, she doesn't respond. Her gaze remains fixed on the weathered marker before her, worn smooth by seasons of rain and wind, until the medicine cat apprentice settles at her side.

"Not often," she answers quietly. Her breath drifts in a fog into the air as she exhales, slow and steady, watching it vanish against the gray sky. "Only when the air feels… heavy, I suppose." Her tail-tip brushes against the snow-speckled ground, tracing idle patterns in the frost-laced grass. "Like something's pulling me here."

Her ears flick toward Robinheart as the other cat mentions Brookstorm, but she doesn't look away from the stone. The weight of unspoken things lingers between them, thin as frost over still water. When she finally speaks again, her voice is softer—quieter, as though the graveyard itself is listening. "She wouldn't have wanted a fuss." A faint twitch of her whiskers, something like dry amusement ghosting across her face. "But… I hope she doesn't mind."

Silence stretches between them again, but this time it feels less hollow—less heavy. The distant rush of the river murmurs through the air like a heartbeat beneath the earth, steady and constant. Dipperfrost lets the sound settle into her bones before shifting her gaze toward Robinheart at last, blue eyes cool but not unkind. "You don't come here often either, then?" It's not quite a question—just an observation, offered gently against the hush of snow and stone. Yet there's a faint note of curiosity beneath the words, a quiet invitation for her companion to share if she wishes.

( ⋆⭒˚.⋆ ) to the sun, there's nothing higher

• 
• 
  DIPPERFROST RIVERCLAN WARRIOR; SHE / HER ; SWANTUFT X FINLEAP
  

  Dipperfrost is a tall, slender she-cat with a white coat broken by blue tabby patches, a tuft of curls atop her head, and a star-shaped marking on her forehead. Her brilliant blue eyes—one flecked with a yellow starburst—are often half-lidded, lending her a distant, unreadable expression. Quiet and observant, she speaks with purpose, choosing honesty over comfort and control over chaos. Her aloof demeanor and measured composure make her difficult to approach, but for those who earn her trust, she is fiercely loyal. Though cynical and pragmatic, she remains a steady, unshaken presence, ever watchful of the world around her.

  ✦ Difficult in battle + a skilled fighter

 

[robinheart]

A soft hum of understanding escapes the tortoiseshell's maw. She has felt the changing weight of the air before; the silent beckoning of grief and sorrow to be obeyed. It must be a universally known yet unspoken phenomenon. "Perhaps then it was time for both of us to visit," Robinheart murmurs after a few beats. Why now? She may never know. But at least she can claim to be in good company.

"Brookstorm was too proud to want to be fussed over," the molly states warmly, her visage swimming with fondness for her late mate. Ever the stubborn molly, so proud and serious… but Robinheart had been given the honor to witness those soft moments. The tenderness of Brookstorm's protected heart. "She would be glad you are here. The two of you were… close. You trained together. I'm sure she is proud of you," Robinheart whispers thoughtfully, citrine gaze so incredibly soft as it rests on the weathered marker of her beloved.

The silence between them is comforting, a quiet mingling of two souls in reverence for someone who bridged the gap between them. The night air is alive around them and after some time Robinheart tunes it out to focus on the cool gaze of Dipperfrost. 'You don't come here often either, then?' she asks and the red breasted molly shakes her head lightly. "Her body may lie here, but she… she is still alive in my dreams. In my gazing upon Silverpelt. In the stories I tell our children," Robinheart confesses with a sad smile. She need not visit the graveyard to be in remembrance of Brookstorm because everything reminds her of Brookstorm. "I suppose I don't come here often because I seek her out elsewhere."​

[ penned by kerms ]​