- Aug 9, 2022
- 689
- 327
- 63
—————————————————————⊰★⊱————————————————————
The willow den had never felt so large before, so chilling. He remembers the day he moved into it, it had been a slow and natural thing to simply stop sleeping in the warrior's den and join Cicadastar in his. There was no discussion, no moving of nests or noisy affair of it, he'd just changed his sleeping arrangement and said nothing further on it. The clan noticed, of course, but they kept their mouths closed even after seeing his old nest abandoned and eventually removed. He'd always felt strangely out of place in the warrior's den, his prickly nature and tendency to be restless in his sleep did not earn him much closeness so he had kept himself to his one corner and out of the way to the best of his abilities; with Cicadastar he felt as if he fit finally into the puzzle that was RiverClan, from the day of the clans first formation he set his star-ladden gaze upon their leader and knew his place was at his side. That it eventually developed into more than just loyalty was a surprise to him, but not an unwelcome one. Loyalty, love, sometimes they overlapped and it was hard to find the line but eventually he did and he followed it with the eagerness of a kitten chasing string.
Now he felt tangled in it, lost and unsure. It was like he was new to the clan once again despite now leading it. There was a hollow feeling in his chest that never quite closed after leaving highstones for that first time, a pain more deep than any wound he'd endured under WindClan claws. He was lonely.
It was not a sensation he was used to feeling, he'd been fine alone before and when he adapted to clan life and found his place the feeling was never given a chance to surface. He always had someone, Cicadastar, Willowroot, Houndstride, Beesong...eventually the list grew, more and more cats added onto it; an entire clan of them. Some he didn't get along with as easily, some he outright despised, but they were there and they were all together. Unity, the comfort of conformity. Now he felt displaced once more. He was not the same cat dutifully doing his work and rolling his eyes when anyone brought so much as a drop of good cheer in his vicinity. He felt older than he was, ragged from age that had not passed. When he slept it was either fitfully or so deeply he was stone; tucked tight into a ball and cold. He didn't know if the lack of warmth was the actual chill in the air or the sensation of no longer having a partner in his nest. He hated it either way.
When Smokestar awakens that morning from his groggy haze it is from a heavy sleep, his body stiff and his single eye blinking to adjust to the light in mild confusion; a weight falls upon him and he stretches a paw to hear a clatter of a sound. Pebbles, shells, smooth stones and other bits and baubles surround him or lay atop him in a messy arrangement. His yawn is stifled with a choked sound of surprise, what was all of this? He stands slowly, feathers and dead leaves falling from his pelt like snow, he shakes to dislodge the few remaining and looks around his feet at the collection. To have slept so deeply he could be covered in what he assumed was some prank was a warning he was more exhausted lately than he initially thought.
With a tired sigh he sets about cleaning it all up, moving in and out of his den to arrange it all in a pile just outside.
The willow den had never felt so large before, so chilling. He remembers the day he moved into it, it had been a slow and natural thing to simply stop sleeping in the warrior's den and join Cicadastar in his. There was no discussion, no moving of nests or noisy affair of it, he'd just changed his sleeping arrangement and said nothing further on it. The clan noticed, of course, but they kept their mouths closed even after seeing his old nest abandoned and eventually removed. He'd always felt strangely out of place in the warrior's den, his prickly nature and tendency to be restless in his sleep did not earn him much closeness so he had kept himself to his one corner and out of the way to the best of his abilities; with Cicadastar he felt as if he fit finally into the puzzle that was RiverClan, from the day of the clans first formation he set his star-ladden gaze upon their leader and knew his place was at his side. That it eventually developed into more than just loyalty was a surprise to him, but not an unwelcome one. Loyalty, love, sometimes they overlapped and it was hard to find the line but eventually he did and he followed it with the eagerness of a kitten chasing string.
Now he felt tangled in it, lost and unsure. It was like he was new to the clan once again despite now leading it. There was a hollow feeling in his chest that never quite closed after leaving highstones for that first time, a pain more deep than any wound he'd endured under WindClan claws. He was lonely.
It was not a sensation he was used to feeling, he'd been fine alone before and when he adapted to clan life and found his place the feeling was never given a chance to surface. He always had someone, Cicadastar, Willowroot, Houndstride, Beesong...eventually the list grew, more and more cats added onto it; an entire clan of them. Some he didn't get along with as easily, some he outright despised, but they were there and they were all together. Unity, the comfort of conformity. Now he felt displaced once more. He was not the same cat dutifully doing his work and rolling his eyes when anyone brought so much as a drop of good cheer in his vicinity. He felt older than he was, ragged from age that had not passed. When he slept it was either fitfully or so deeply he was stone; tucked tight into a ball and cold. He didn't know if the lack of warmth was the actual chill in the air or the sensation of no longer having a partner in his nest. He hated it either way.
When Smokestar awakens that morning from his groggy haze it is from a heavy sleep, his body stiff and his single eye blinking to adjust to the light in mild confusion; a weight falls upon him and he stretches a paw to hear a clatter of a sound. Pebbles, shells, smooth stones and other bits and baubles surround him or lay atop him in a messy arrangement. His yawn is stifled with a choked sound of surprise, what was all of this? He stands slowly, feathers and dead leaves falling from his pelt like snow, he shakes to dislodge the few remaining and looks around his feet at the collection. To have slept so deeply he could be covered in what he assumed was some prank was a warning he was more exhausted lately than he initially thought.
With a tired sigh he sets about cleaning it all up, moving in and out of his den to arrange it all in a pile just outside.
-
OOC - This is one of my prompts! Your cat can be one of the ones to have done this for any reason, whether it be a prank or a gift etc...up to you! It can have been a collective effort or just cats adding onto it.
Actual Prompt - Heading to his nest early on a particularly cold night, he wakes up to find himself surrounded by various objects. What does he do?
-
Smokestar
—⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
—⊰⋅ He/Him
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
—⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
