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[Chickbloom]

Was this a good idea?

Chickbloom had been wrestling with the question (along with others) for what felt like forever now. Whose business was it? Who needed to know? Who would care?

He cared.

The coward had already told Johnnyflame, but that was different. Driven by desperation, a desire to understand himself, the Scottish Fold had sought out his friend's advice and told the truth. Then, it mattered. This time, though? The simple act of knowing wouldn't change anything. By definition, it would affect no one (unless they had a crush on him, which the coward saw as…unlikely). Why not keep it secret?

Because he cared. Too much, certainly. Chickbloom cared about what cats thought of him. If life went on, what would others' image of the baby bird be? At best, a pitiable soul unlucky in love. At worst, an unlovable wretch; Unable to form a relationship, and therefore unable to assert his own value. If the coward could love no one, and no one could love him, what use was he?

At least if he told them, it would be an explanation; a way for the whelp to defend his worth. Of course, that brought its own worries. Chickbloom could practically hear the whispers now, reflecting his own doubts:

'Did you hear about Chickbloom? I think he's just making it up.'

"Yeah, It's a good excuse for someone like him to use. If no one wants you, you might as well pretend the feeling is mutual."

Egg-battered fur shook back and forth as the warrior cast the image from his mind, trying to stay positive. Johnnyflame had accepted him without question, after all. Maybe everyone else would be like that? Simply taking it at face value and going on with their day, or giving the Scottish Fold a small congratulations and a few kind words. If even one other cat reacted like the daylight warrior had, was that not a victory? In all Chickbloom's anxiety-tinged hypotheticals, he was viewed as a failure in love. At least this way, that number might not encompass the whole camp.

It wasn't the right reason to make an announcement like this, born from petrifying fear instead of pride in himself. On some level, even Chickbloom knew that, but simply being aware wasn't enough to stop the coward from caring far too much. He could tell himself a million times, but the boy would still be curled up at the end of each day, clutching his old collar and worrying himself silly. It was the same as his towlegs, he briefly noted. The former kittypet was so fixated on their approval, their affection, that it almost separated him from Skyclan forever. "I ran away, and it turned out to be the best choice I ever made." The spineless whelp steeled his resolve. If he did this, it meant it was his decision, at the very least.​

"Um-" Chickbloom started from his seat near the prey pile, gaze fixed on the ground lest he be aware of how many eyes were on him. "I - I don't think-" no, he had to be more sure. "I - I d-don't-" The last word came out a smidge louder than the rest, but the stumbling speech was still somewhere between a whisper and a mumble. "I don't…I don't…l-like cats…romantically, o-or, y-yeah…" The boy could have left it there, but he needed to elaborate, to give his claim credibility, so cats wouldn't think he was making it up.

"I…I t-thought I did, y'know. I thought I w-wanted a - a mate, but after-" An anxious mind turned to Butterflytuft, wanting to keep her (awkward) involvement anonymous, for both their sakes. This was already hard enough, and the whelp wasn't in the mood to broadcast how he'd been rejected to the entire camp. The queen would know how she helped him, he hoped. "-after t-thinking about it, I r-realized the idea m-makes me really - um - uncomfortable, so…I…I hope that's okay with - with e-everyone."

Was Chickbloom brave for telling people how he felt, or cowardly for doing it to cull some imaginary social pressure? The Scottish Fold didn't know. Right now, he just hoped that people would accept him. Still, that nagging worry remained hooked to his brain: would he be able to accept himself?
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[BLOODY MARY]

Sounds like a mouse's squeak, it does. Far cry even from the little birdie he was named after. The dog's keen because of what she is. Oversized ears prick forward. It takes a moment before its even clear he's talkin' too anybody. Good thing she's real polite. Yeah, that's what everyone knew her for, her politeness... The shift of her head is slow... Down past her nose, she looks at him; thinks that if she doesn't, she'll forget he's there entirely.

That's something, isn't it? Actually, no... No, it's nothin'. Mary's eyes screw up in her skull as if searchin' for the rest of his speech. Lazily, she looks left. Mirrored, looks right. That look of hers centers on him at last. Slick lids snap open quickly, flared in some sort of revelation. Her smile's the way it always is. She grunts, nothin' much at first. " Sorry. " Somethin' rare from her: an apology. She tries, and only halfway succeeds in stuffing down her snicker. " Uh... was just lookin' for all the suitors turnin' tail right about now... "

THEY SAY I CAN'T KEEP MYSELF FROM TRYING ⬪ 𝒜 𝐵𝐼𝒯𝐸 𝒪𝐹 𝐸𝒱𝐸𝑅𝒴𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐼𝒩 𝒮𝐼𝒢𝐻𝒯 / ( 12 . 05 )

• OOC. ily chick . i apologize

• 
  BLOODY MARY ⬪ DAYLIGHT APPRENTICE. SHE - HER - HERS.
  

  A dog-like woman. Large, with bulk in some places, and only lean muscle in others. Elegant at some angles, acutely strange looking at others. Has a longer, wolfish muzzle and gleaming dog teeth near-always on display due to an overbite. Skull presses insistent against her skin. Eyes are almost too - large, and not all sunken in her skull. Has large, tufted ears. Polydactyl, with a curved spine and recently-chopped tail.

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[SLATESNARL]

A measly mouse is what Slatesnarl gnaws on, licking the bones clean and tearing away every scrap of flesh from its carcass that he could manage with sharpened canines and a rough tongue. The wolfish tom is hungry, having had to ration his meals for the sake of making sure the rest of the clan is fed ( mostly his children and his mate ). Subsequently, Slatesnarl's stomach was clawing for more and his temper was testy at best.

A blade-edged stare shoots in the direction of the ginger-splashed whelp, jet-black irises thinning as his ears are forced to digest whatever rubbish Chickbloom had to say today. Of course he can't get his point across without stammering and stumbling over his words with the grace of a newborn fawn.

What spilled from Chickbloom's maw next frustrates Slatesnarl, if only because it wasn't anything of importance. Why had he decided to announce this to the entire clan? The Maine Coon has noticed rumors floating about regarding the younger warrior, sure, not that he really listened to them. Rumors were insignificant and of little worth ( at least most of them ). Chickbloom was better off ignoring them as opposed to drawing a spotlight on the status of his love life... or lack of it.

The lead warrior snorts with a typical bluntness, "Why wouldn't it be okay?" As long as this did not affect SkyClan then Slatesnarl saw little reason for it to matter. If he never takes a mate then at least he won't pass down those pathetic genes of his. He thinks.

"No one cares about your personal life." It was all the same when cats announced that they were mated to one another. Slatesnarl hadn't bothered to address the clan publicly about his relationship with Orangestar and they were better off because of it. No need for a bunch of unwanted attention. "Or at least I don't." Maybe Chickbloom's friends would have a better selection of cheery words and supportive sentiments.

WHAT YOU WONT DO FOR LOVEㅤ

• ooc: ic opinions ofc <3

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[FIGFEATHER]

Akin to Slatesnarl, Figfeather didn't understand announcements like the one Chickbloom broadcasted now. Figfeather didn't think there was anyone in the forest who cared if you liked she-cats, toms, or none of the options at all. She never understood why some were so anxious about their new self-discovery that they felt they needed to seek approval from the rest of the Clan.

The half-stifled chuckle from Mary and the blunt truth from Slatesnarl makes Figfeather blush with second-paw embarrassment. ...But still, she feels bad for Chickbloom.

"I mean... I... care...?" Figfeather sounds as if she's uncertain of her own words, "Like- I just mean- I'm glad you've learned something new about yourself... But Slate's right, why would any cat have an issue with this?" Maybe she shouldn't have spoken at all... Good StarClan this is awkward.

Apologetically, she adds "I'm happy for you though." 'I think?'

 

[Sorrelsong]

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. ° ♡ . . ♡ °

SORRELSONG ​

---

♥ ♥ ♥ ♡ ♡​

Similar to the crowd, Sorrelsong found the announcement a bit funny, but any humor or annoyance that might've flashed in others' eyes does not in hers.
"I care," She smiles, a declaration and a promise. Isn't that what being part of a clan is supposed to mean? Caring about others? Sharp eyes sought out Slatesnarl and Bloody Mary, dismissing them with a tail flick and another kind word towards the egg-stuck chick.
"It's a scary thing to figure out, I imagine," She offers, her words genuine and kind. And she didn't really need to imagine the journey Chickbloom went on - she knew. Her days with Florabreeze and the complicated dance of emotions were behind her, she had ended in the same spot as he. Only she lacked the courage it took to make such an announcement. It was nice to see him come out of his shell a little bit more. The molly couldn't help but find a bit of a purr rumble in her throat.
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↪ OOC: IC opinions <3! Yay Chick :3

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[Chickbloom]

As if by some sixth sense, it seemed Skyclan's predators could tell the baby bird was making a rare trip out of his nest. They hunted as a pair today, targeting the boy from all angles. One wearing a wide smile that was all teeth, not unlike a hyena. The other, hiding endless rows of fangs behind and eternal scowl.

"S-Shut up!" Chickbloom lashes out at the first, full of rare moments today. Scrambled-egg fur burns with embarrassment and insecurity, the coward infinitely grateful he's able to keep his eyes dry. "I-" I did have a mate, the lie almost leaves him, the warrior biting his tongue at the last moment. Not because he understood the sheer childishness of it, no, but because the boy knew he'd be caught. Johnnyflame, Butterflytuft, anyone could poke holes in the story, not to mention how the coward crumbled under pressure.

Oh, but how he wished he could sell it! It was the perfect thing to lend legitimacy to his claim, proof that the poor boy wasn't just making it all up. If he'd given up love willingly, or denied another's affections, it would be impossible to call him a pathetic loner, putting a cover around himself. "Maybe she wouldn't be laughing if it was true."

"….I just w-wanted to say it. It's…it's i-important t-to me…" Chickbloom eventually mumbles after a long silence, fleeting anger quickly replaced by crushing melancholy.

Slate doesn't make it any better, the second of the duo of predators ready to cuff him over the ears. The former kittypet finds his words slightly more helpful than Bloody Mary's (he thinks). stony apathy was more appealing than half-suppressed snickers. "I…I d-dunno…" Chickbloom eventually answers, sounding like a kit being asked why they were eating bugs. "It's j-just….e-everyone - er, m-most everyone, I guess, gets a - a mate, so I was…worried."

Slatesnarl's next words are ones the ball of nerves desperately needed to hear, but it's easy to take things the wrong way when they're said by someone who hates you. "I don't - I d-don't think I'm - y'know - the c-center of the forest or - or anything, b-but I know i'm…It's h-hard for me to not worry about what some cats think." The former kittypet had strength enough to meet the wall of muscle's gaze, trying to convey unsaid words through sight. "I know you hate me. I'm sorry."

Figfeather shares a similar sentiment to Slatesnarl, but is unsurprisingly infinitely more compassionate. Maybe that's why her words break through the baby bird's nest a bit better than the wolf's fangs had. I have an issue with it. The words are added to the list of those that have gone unsaid, Chickbloom more willing to jump in the river than open up that much. Still, even the limited talking was helpful. "It's like…the - the thing cats are s-supposed to do, I guess. T-True love, family, g-grandkits…it's how you grow…" Chickbloom could never point to a single cat that had told him these apparent rules of life, it was jut what he'd grown up believing. It was too much to work out, like hunting for the whole clan with three broken paws. The warrior was grateful for the positivity, clinging to it like a life raft, reassurance that he wasn't completely braindead. "T-Thank you."

Sorrelsong adds to Figfeather's raft, granting the coward more to console himself with on cold nights. "It…It w-was" Chickbloom finally admits, amber eyes flicking to Bloody Mary and Slatesnarl, searching for amusement and disdain, respectively. "I'm - I g-guess I'm s-still figuring it out…" He trails off again, both unwilling and emotionally unable to expand any further​

 

[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather's eyes nearly pop out from her skull when Chickbloom tells Mary to 'shut up'. She's not sure if she's heard the tom raise his voice, especially not at a Clanmate. 'Good for him,' She feels almost proud, it was refreshing to see the former daylight warrior stand up for himself. Figfeather respects him more for it.

"I get it now." Figfeather meows reassuringly after Chickbloom explains his fears. It was common for most cats to take a mate, she supposed by announcing it like this Chickbloom would never deal with the expectant 'when are you going to pad after someone?' comments.

Sorrelsong is better at emotional comfort than Figfeather, who was about as good at it as a newborn fawn trying to walk. Her final sentiment; "SkyClan will support you whether you take on numerous mates or none at all. Don't worry about other cat's opinion on that." StarClan knows they didn't have a shortage on kits and she can't foresee SkyClan going through a dry spell anytime soon. If one cat stayed mate-less, and therefore kit-less, that was plenty okay with her.

 

[edenberry ?!]

If StarClan were benevolent, they would strike Slatesnarl upside the head with even a crumb of compassion right now....

But nothing happens. And he grumbles like the same bitter load of stones that he has always been, ruining what ought to be a tender moment by implying it means so little. Edenberry doesn't have the forethought to mask their face, shooting the dark-furred tom a glare of jagged jade. Chickbloom already stumbles under the weight of such apathetic responses, assuaged only by Figfeather's willingness to understand and Sorrelsong's genuine empathy.

The mention of the implied goals of life twists uncomfortably in their belly for how familiar it feels.. a quiet conversation with a collar-dressed she-cat about love, its rules and what the limits to it were. They swallow it down, eager to be supportive like they had been for others- gender reveals and name changes alike.

"I don't think it's weird not to want those things," they chirp, hoping to be helpful. There were plenty of cats they knew that hadn't pursued a family as their ultimate goal. Not everyone was parent material- their heart squeezes painfully. "Good for you for figuring out what you want... or... don't want!" Figfeather puts it best to summarize that they would all support him regardless of his relationship status or romantic goals.

⟡₊ ⊹ i ll betray you like a man

• 
• -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 20 moons
  -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back
  -- color #728c69