private Finding Mr. Midnight || Swankit

[Emberpaw]

A flurry of shadow. A flash of stark white and brightest blue. A torrent of crimson, a gut wrenching hue that was deeper than the dawn. A soft thud, muffled by moons of shed needles. And while a rumbling bellow exploded overhead, rarely was it a snarling face Emberpaw saw in her nightmares. Instead she saw Chilledstar, pelt ruffled, blue eyes stretched wide, neck oozing as their life drained away. It was all she saw. All she would ever see, until the end of time.

Jolted from sleep Emberpaw lay crouched in her nest, panting quietly and praying she hadn’t cried out or woken anyone. She hadn’t, though. Despite the horror of the nightmare that plagued her, as far as she could tell she was always quite still in sleep. Hardly a sprig of moss was out of place when she awoke. The perfection of her nest was nearly taunting, a reminder that everything was okay, would always be okay. Chilledstar had lived, after all. They were fine. She must have imagined the severity of the wound in her panic, and it was therefore ridiculous for her to be having nightmares over something that hadn’t happened that way. It was silly.

Unable to return to rest, fearing the scarlet retribution she would face in her mind’s eye, Emberpaw slunk out of the apprentice den. The evening was clear, a tapestry of stars speckling the ebony blanket above. She was coming to appreciate the night sky more than the daylight, for when dawn and dusk broke all Emberpaw could see was Chilledstar’s blood spattered between the clouds. Why won’t the dream go away? Why won’t it leave me alone? The childish whine wriggled through her head, for she was still only a child. Is it easier to tell your dreams what they should be when you grow up?

It was then she remembered one feline who did appear to be able to tell his dreams what for. At least that was what he claimed. Figuring it was worth a shot to try and talk to him, Emberpaw trod as quietly as she could toward the nursery. As she was debating how exactly to find him within, a the moonlight glinted off a figure settled a few paces outside the den.
“Swankit? Swankit, is that you?” Sure enough, she recognized him. She was lucky to find him outside the nursery. If she’d needed to pick her way through nests and queens there was no way she would’ve avoided waking someone she would rather not. Swankit seemed lost in thought, not uncommon with him. Is he out here because he can’t sleep either? Or is he just happier outside? He didn’t seem distressed from what the apprentice could tell. He seems so content. All the time, almost. I wonder how he does it. Emberpaw wasn’t unhappy by any means, but she often found herself either bright and sunny or subdued and drearily anxious. The quiet peace that seemed to envelop Swankit like a cloud was something she had yet to discover.

“Hi,” she meowed quietly, hoping she wasn’t interrupting something of unseen importance. “I, um, I couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe, you might know how to help, or something I could try.”
Hmm. This was a bit trickier than she’d imagined it. Embarrassment ripples through her fur, her paws scuffing the ground. He’ll think I’m being silly. I’m sure he doesn’t have dreams like this anymore. He just sends them away. Still, Swankit was the only one she knew for sure might understand. Even if he knew how to deal with the dreams, and probably had long ago, he’d still had them.
“I see the, the bears, at night. I remember you said once that, when that happened to you, you just told them to go away. Does… does that work? Like, really work?”

// @swankit <33

 

[Swansong]

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NOW I KNOW WHAT'S REAL, WHAT'S FAKE

Swankit wanted to be able to sleep without fear. He really did. He'd grown no less tired in the time isnce the nightmares had started — if anything, he was even sleepier than before — but now there was a nervousness. He didn't want to worry anyone again, didn't want to wake up somewhere unfamiliar or wake yowling.

On nights when his head felt crowded, he'd taken to finding refuge somewhere other than sleep. He naps enough during the day it doesn't bother him much — not like he could get more tired, hah.

Instead, Swankit seeks comfort in the moon, in the glistening of stars. Some nights, he thinks he can hear the moon and stars whispering to him as he falls asleep, bits of dreams creeping into the edge of his waking moments. Some nights, he whispers to the moon, unsure if it can hear him. Some nights, he whispers to the stars, hopeful that they can hear him.

Tonight, he does not whisper anything, and simply watches.

But it seems the night has drawn him out here for another reason: a voice, quiet and familiar, draws his gaze away from the sky. Emberpaw, one of the lost-children brought into the clan from beyond its walls, a kit he shared the nursery with not long ago. “Swankit, is that you?” she calls. "It is," he breathes into the night, with more hesitance than is warranted. Someone calling his name at night doesn't usually mean good things, means summons back to nests and reprimands for "sneaking away" again. But this is Emberpaw, and Emberpaw does not do such things. He blinks at her through half-lidded eyes.

And he listens, silent, to her words (just as the moon does for him). And he softens, visibly. She sees the bears at night, just as he does. A companion in this haunting, seeking him out for advice though he is younger and frailer.

He considers before he speaks. "I... see them too. Still," he admits. They follow him now, even moons after. "They... Ah, they do go away... Sometimes..." The night he woke up wailing of bears that wouldn't leave still has its claws in his chest. The night he wandered, like fleeing, and woke up unremembering but with a lingering impression of fear is much the same. He doesn't want to frighten her, doesn't want to frighten anyone. He doesn't talk about the nightmares anymore; it's like he's forgotten how.

"I'm not a very scary cat... So, um, so sometimes they won't listen to me, 'cause they're so much scarier. But I always, um, try and I always..." he trails off, seemingly lost in thought. Considers the apprentice in front of him. "Sometimes it works, usually it works... But, maybe it'd work even better if it was both of us..." he says quietly. "It'd be less scary, 'cause if the bears come then you can know that I'm telling them to go away too... Since we're both having the same dreams..."

Is that how dreams work? He's not sure. But he likes the idea of it, likes knowing that he won't be the only one chasing away the dream-bears. It's a little lonely, having to face them all by himself.

RATHER SLEEP THAN STAY AWAKE
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☾⋆⁺₊⋆ info ; visual

• //
  ​
• SWANKIT named for his pale fur, after his maternal grandmother.
  — he/him. 4 moons.
  — shadowclan kit.
  — quiet and dreamy.
  
  penned by saturnid.​
• "SPEECH"
  ​
• 

​

 

[Emberpaw]

“You… You do?”
That was a confirmation Emberpaw had not expected. How could he still see the bears when he held the knowledge of keeping them at bay? Maybe it’s not so easy. Maybe he has bad nights too. Just like she did. Sitting out here, alone, contemplating the midnight sky, he admits that the bears don’t always listen. His words make sense, and though Emberpaw doesn’t exactly like them, she nods. I guess we can’t always expect to win against… those things.

The air around them is heavy, but not with sorrow or fear. Invisible life-giving dew hangs suspended, cool as sunhigh’s breeze, and as Swankit explains his thoughts more clearly, Emberpaw feels her heart revitalize.
“We scare them off… together. Yeah. Yeah,” she mews, her ears flicking forward. “It would be less scary, a lot less scary, imagining I don’t have to scare off the bears alone. And I think…” She pauses. The young molly has never been in battle before, not really. All she knows is words, and they aren’t harsh ones either. But even with little experience, when she imagines facing down such a terrible opponent, her resolve hardens like the surface of the thunder path when she adds the small figure of Swankit to her side.

“I think I would wanna give up less, knowing you’re there too. I’d wanna stand taller, yell louder, if it means that your bears get scared away too.” She can smile now, the stiffness of anxiety melting enough for her maw to curve upward. She had a friend, at least in her mind. A friend who wanted to help her, and who she could help back. I’m sorry that you see them too. But I won’t let you down. I’ll make sure they leave you alone, someday for good. It might not be the easiest, since Swankit was in the nursery and she was moved out.
“If you want, i can save you a nest next to mine, so when you get a’pprenticed I’ll be right there, and I bet the bears won’t even wanna bother us when we’re so ready for them like that,” she purred.