- Apr 23, 2024
- 23
- 14
- 3
The cinder-hued feline waited upon the cusps of midnight, the moon's quietude a simple solace for the rogue, its halo of light choked out by its own face of darkness. Cygnet's Cry did not speak, only twitched long whiskers at the subtle shifts and dances of the wind around him. He looked almost statuesque, carved of ivories and marbles, set just upon a dilapidated post of which only the brave or the foolhardy would come to. Gunmetal-grey eye glowed within the gloom, as he patiently awaited the final chapter upon his time on Shadowclan's land, as though it were the apogee of a waxing scene from which new opportunities burgeoned from. Excitement rustled through his short fur, through restless paws, through a want to wander the vast lands once more. He had resisted the call of the wild, but he could not discontinue anymore. Worry settled gentle into his basest being, the limb of uncertainty like a tide of murmuring seawater, softly kissing against the sand bank. He will come, right? He is not one to back down from a promise. Would he...? Valleysong had a support system here, so it would be absolutely idiotic to forsake that. Then again, the tomcat found little honor in living with felines that only fought and bled for their right to own the land to which none could ever have a claim to. Claws dug into the soft loam below, as though it would anchor him to the dirt, disallow his beating heart to become flighted.
And yet, he held out hope. Cygnet's Cry remembered how fondly Valleysong spoke, how he declared that there was no other cat the other wanted to spend his time with than him. I'll really, actually go.
Familiarly half-toned face emerged from the shadows, and Cygnet's Cry found himself heaving out a great sigh of relief, as his breath had simply set and stagnated within his papery throat. "You came. Have you said your goodbyes yet? I'm sure they will miss you." Languid smile, as thin as the crescent moon above, sprouted upon moon-shot countenance. Such an eased expression did not come easy to the nomad, and yet his face was a great garden upon the nourishing care of Valleysong. Cygnet's Cry got up from the mouth of the den in which he had spent a too-long moon underneath, the shades of twilight rising with his angular back and falling as they flowed along his flanks, as easy and as wordless as a river's song. Glancing backwards, a sparkle of pining light upon his one good eye. Was he missing this place already? No, he was simply missing the memories and the shelter. He could find it elsewhere, as long as he was with Valley. The death of their leader had distracted the Clan for long ago, so both Cygnet's Cry and Valleysong could weave through the grief and escape from the earth that had beheld them for so long. If they were as selfish and unkind as Cygnet's Cry had always conceptualized them as, they surely would not care.
He knew now it was not true, that there existed good hearts in a bad system. Even so, there was little use in pulling out cats so entrenched in their own world, like bringing up a fish to the surface. It could not breathe, for all it knew was the water around it, and thus it would only flounder around until it suffocated and died. It was a tragedy that he was not willing to incur, not after this with Valleysong.
At the break of dawn, there lie nothing of Cygnet's Cry's existence within the makeshift den beneath the knolled root of the cypress tree. In the morning, only the cloying stench of herbs infested the little space that had been carved out for the nomad. The only thing that indicated that anything had lived here was a few marsh orchids, delicately plucked and strewn upon the floor, as if a verseless 'thank-you' to those that had looked past their pity and their hatred. They were white, like winter's snow upon the summertime.
( Thank y'all for taking care of Cygnet's Cry! @Valleysong has left alongside him. By the time any cat finds out both have left, they will be long gone from the marshlands. Also no need to wait for a reply <3 )
And yet, he held out hope. Cygnet's Cry remembered how fondly Valleysong spoke, how he declared that there was no other cat the other wanted to spend his time with than him. I'll really, actually go.
Familiarly half-toned face emerged from the shadows, and Cygnet's Cry found himself heaving out a great sigh of relief, as his breath had simply set and stagnated within his papery throat. "You came. Have you said your goodbyes yet? I'm sure they will miss you." Languid smile, as thin as the crescent moon above, sprouted upon moon-shot countenance. Such an eased expression did not come easy to the nomad, and yet his face was a great garden upon the nourishing care of Valleysong. Cygnet's Cry got up from the mouth of the den in which he had spent a too-long moon underneath, the shades of twilight rising with his angular back and falling as they flowed along his flanks, as easy and as wordless as a river's song. Glancing backwards, a sparkle of pining light upon his one good eye. Was he missing this place already? No, he was simply missing the memories and the shelter. He could find it elsewhere, as long as he was with Valley. The death of their leader had distracted the Clan for long ago, so both Cygnet's Cry and Valleysong could weave through the grief and escape from the earth that had beheld them for so long. If they were as selfish and unkind as Cygnet's Cry had always conceptualized them as, they surely would not care.
He knew now it was not true, that there existed good hearts in a bad system. Even so, there was little use in pulling out cats so entrenched in their own world, like bringing up a fish to the surface. It could not breathe, for all it knew was the water around it, and thus it would only flounder around until it suffocated and died. It was a tragedy that he was not willing to incur, not after this with Valleysong.
At the break of dawn, there lie nothing of Cygnet's Cry's existence within the makeshift den beneath the knolled root of the cypress tree. In the morning, only the cloying stench of herbs infested the little space that had been carved out for the nomad. The only thing that indicated that anything had lived here was a few marsh orchids, delicately plucked and strewn upon the floor, as if a verseless 'thank-you' to those that had looked past their pity and their hatred. They were white, like winter's snow upon the summertime.
( Thank y'all for taking care of Cygnet's Cry! @Valleysong has left alongside him. By the time any cat finds out both have left, they will be long gone from the marshlands. Also no need to wait for a reply <3 )
