private fray the strings 𖥔 gentlestorm

[Wormwatcher]

In no way was Wormwatcher staunchly against Mirestar's invasion upon Thunderclan, if he were he would not have kept his opinion so close to his chest. But still, he silently considered it to be a wholly absurd thing to do. A part of him wishes he'd spoken up, done more to demand the council reconsider their decision. Now he watches as his dear Ferndance lives in grief over Needledrift's death, supposedly hellbent on revenge. A part of him knows if he expressed his disapproval that within the sea of support it would do nothing but still, maybe if he did not stay back as a guard he could've done something. He reminds himself Needledrift died for this sliver of territory, this fact makes it easier for him to cross into it, not utilizing it would be a disservice to her. Wormwatcher was not sure what brought him to the stolen land specifically, all he knew is his head pounded and he needed to put some distance between himself and camp. The last thing he desires was a repeat of last time his head ached when he snapped at poor Buzzardpaw.

He trails along the extended border, hunched forward as he trudges through snow. Wormwatcher's fur prickles from agitation as he mutters nonsensically to himself, only when he is alone does he finally sort through his several grievances. "...Puddlepaw... not quiet enough..." He grumbles, spindly tail whipping wildly at his heels. He has to pause and press a black paw against his eye socket in an effort to ease the headache's pain; he doesn't want to waste Marbleleaf's time with an issue that will be better with time. Being alone is the best treatment.

Snow crunches behind him on the opposite side of the border. "It's not polite to sneak up on someone," he calls out as he drops his paw. In a fluid movement he whips around with his lips pulled up, but he falters as he is met with the sight of Gentlestorm. I didn't even hear him! He suppresses a flutter of panic that arises at the thought that he could have been attacked in his moment of vulnerability. The sepia tom is everything Wormwatcher is not; broad and powerful where Wormwatcher is gaunt and lanky, opposites in all ways physical. He respects this tom, and often admires him from afar at the Gatherings but even so he already has a sour taste in his mouth. The pain, the annoyance of toward his apprentice, the dissatisfaction he must deal with so often clouds any sense of rationality he has.

Gentlestorm is far too close to the border, he decides, it appears the tom could've been coming to intentionally cross over the border. If it were a better day maybe he would grit his teeth and nod a greeting, cordially remind him Shadowclan owns this territory now. "Back away from Shadowclan's territory," he growls, sauntering to the exact edge of the border. Wormwatcher's tongue swipes over his teeth as he glares at the medicine cat through narrowed eyes. "I don't care if there's some stupid herb you need on this side, put some distance between you and this border. Now."

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something lost and never seen ⋆⁺₊.𖥔 ݁☾⋆⁺𖥔₊.⋆ ──.✦ SOMETHING TAKES A PART OF ME

• @GENTLESTORM
  
•  
• 
  WORMWATCHER
  —— a tall, slender and angular 50% oriental shorthair black/blue chimera with low white with pale blue eyes.
  —— shadowclan warrior
  —— he/him ⋆ homosexual (closeted)
  —— 31 moons ⋆ ages every 10th

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