pafp FLOWER NEST ╱ DREAMS ´ˎ˗

[SUNNVAR]

The moors bloom with color and scent, a buffet to his senses and so thoroughly overwhelming that he might keel over with every whiff. He is torn between burying his nose into the fragrant flowers and hiding it within the fur of his tail to mute the moorland stench. It has been many moons since Sunstride lived elsewhere, but so too was it his first newleaf within these borders. All that he thought he had learned meant nothing now. It was far too different. He wants to explore it, to understand. It ends with a nest as grand as a daydream's, speckled with clusters of colors so vibrant that they chase away the dull brown of its base.

And it begins like this: a few curious pawsteps, dainty despite their size. He sweeps up the petals and tests their stems with a great curved claw. They bend but do not immediately break, and he assumes this to be a good thing. Flowers mean little to him, aside from his appreciation of their beauty. Now that there are such great numbers of them, he begins to understand the comfort that they bring. It is all that he can make sense of. Alongside the burnished gold of dried stalks, they have made something delightful. The warrior had carried them to camp by a mouthful, bouquets of stems delicately placed. It had been an hour of weaving, a task he had loved in its necessity, but seemed too great a chore for is battle-reddened paws. Still, he persisted. He stuck with it to completion.

And now, beneath the moorland sky, warmed by the sun and cooled by a for once peaceful wind, Suntride curls up in a grand nest that was clearly not his own, his paws lazily kneading the air as he awaits for Wolfsong's patrol to return to camp.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: please wait for @WOLFSONG !
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and 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 at its base 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"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 The moors are beautiful in their awakening, and they will be beautiful still in the months when the sun sleeps rarely and shares the sky with the moon. The first breaths of warmth after long days of fields swollen white are to lift the stalks from the soil, encouraging them upright. It is a delight for the kittens born during leafbare, and a delight for Wolfsong, despite his fondness for snow, and he divides his time on patrols between hunting and picturing the sea of color that will spill out onto the moors just a few moons from now.

There is enough to enjoy now, and he knows many line their nests with the most fragrant of bounties, and for a while, the worries are as the air between his shoulders. Even the lingering sear after his argument with Sunstride has found a balm, and when he returns to camp to find slopes of those hues the sky loves and the forests fear tucked into his nest in a ring of petals, it is a forgotten ache.

With a crooked smile, Wolfsong drapes himself across Sunstride, stretching theatrically. "Was my nest too dull for your tastes, Flame-Bathed?"
​

 

[Badgermoon]

The return of vibrant color and rich scent to the moor was welcome, as far as Badgermoon was concerned. Leaf-bare was a harsh season between the ice and the lack of prey, and its disappearance under newleaf's warm sun and gentle breath was a blessing from StarClan itself. Therefore the deputy was in high spirits as he patrolled alongside Wolfsong, and his mood improved even more so when he managed to catch a pair of round field mice. They dangled by their tails in his mouth as he trotted into camp after his golden-furred Clanmate, and he had to resist the urge to snap them up in a few quick bites. It was not yet his time to eat, even as his stomach grumbled, and Badgermoon dropped his spoils onto the fresh-kill pile with a satisfied flick of his tail. His yellow eyes moved to track Wolfsong as he approached and then flopped onto Sunstride, and he could not help but feel a scrabbling sorrow at the easy intimacy between the two toms (or the ease he perceived, anyway). What might've been. he wasn't able to stop the thought and he took in a deep breath, trying to brace himself against the unexpected surge of anguish and the image of a sorrowful amber stare.

"Ooh, can mine be next? You basically like me as much as you like Wolfsong, right?" the bicolor tom joked as he drew nearer to the lead warriors, admiring the deft way Sunstride had woven flowers through Wolfsong's nest. "And how'd you learn to do that, anyway?"​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Trailing after Badgermoon and Wolfsong, the black and white warrior struggles to keep his gait balanced and even. He is surprised at the sight of Wolfsong's nest laden with flowers, but even more surprising is the golden-furred warrior's reaction. Wolfsong drapes himself over Sunstride, and Gravelsnap nearly turns and walks away from the blatant display of affection. Sunstride seems happy, though, content in the nest woven through with flowers, so they stand at Badgermoon's side, jaw clenched.

For a moment the thought pops into their traitorous brain of using the idea, gathering flowers themself and perhaps weaving them into someone's nest, and are disgusted by the idea. Gravelsnap knows the emotion that floods their chest—understands that they are jealous of the two lead warriors and the easy affection that they show to one another. They've felt so much jealousy as of late; they are willing to admit that they have a crush, but it's embarrassing and childish. They are a warrior. They are better than their emotions, their kit-like attractions to others.

He straightens up, shoulders tensed, casting aside those complicated feelings. He raises a scarred brow at Badgermoon's request for his nest to be the next decorated, tilting his head curiously. Perhaps the deputy shares the same emotions as him. "How long did it take to weave all of that?" They ask Sunstride, squinting at the decorated nest.
​

[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[Bluepool]

there is a certain amount of patience that is required from a cat in order to weave intricacies into their nests like flowers and feathers. It is not a skill that Bluepool has ever possessed. It always seems like her paws are too big, too uncoordinated and she rushes through the motions, unable to slow herself down or imagine what the finished product would look like in her head. In the end it always comes out the same. A mess of moss and crushed petals. No, she was better off sticking to just lining her nest with wool in the cold moons. It's all she knew how to do. Still, she looks at the flowers now woven into the nest before her with a longing that is both for the aesthetic of it and jealousy for the intimacy shared between the two.

If someone ever wove flowers into her nest she thinks her heart would simply melt then and there.

Badgermoon and Gravelsnap ask the important questions, like how long it had taken, how did he learn to do that? And Bluepool is content to sit and wait for an answer, pale yellow eyes flickering between Sunstride and Wolfsong as she waits for the answer to the other toms questions.

​

 

[SUNNVAR]

It is a comforting weight upon his shoulders as Wolfsong settles himself into the nest they will share, if only for this moment. His paws flex into the air and his mouth curls beneath his fur. The few shifts of his body are not to dislodge the warrior but to better entangle them, stretched limbs slotting with his own. It is a familiar touch, but not one that he has felt as often as he once had. WindClan is lonely, and the cats within it were equally so. How could he blame them for their jealousy? At times, he himself is as achingly envious. In the extent of WindClan, the pieces are lost. He settled himself to the whole at the sacrifice of this.

So he stretches beneath him only enough to ensure his glittering eyes are wholly visible to the returning patrol. "Oh but how could it be anything but too barren compared to you?" Though his tone is tinged with sarcasm and sharpened, too much of it is truth. Even the flowers paled to his wheaten fur. He is terribly and gloriously bright.

"It is not so much a test of skill as much as my will," the warrior laughs, and as his paw flexes out, the small scratches lining his pads bare to his clanmates. Distinct points where the flowers had quite clearly bested him. "I knew to let them lie a particular way to dry but beyond that I will admit to knowing nothing." A lie as most things in his life must be, but Sunstride had taken to it well. Like patrols, like gatherings, like these isolated nests. "Perhaps that is why it took me the greater part of this morning."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: rough mobile post rip
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and 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 at its base 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"

​