- Dec 17, 2022
- 680
- 374
- 63
Though the winds have barely settled since their return from RiverClan's border, the stick that Sunstride sets in the dirt is a hefty one, and his mind is in need of distraction. This storm will take neither from him. Near the dip of camp, where they are most sheltered from the winds, Sunstride gathers a pile of stones. Grass that snaps against the wind, a heavy stick that points in a direction unknown– himself, and his stones. All that he needs. Slowly the warrior rolls his pile a few paces back, until several tail-lengths rest between them and the stick. He remembers learning this game many moons ago, and how terrible he had been at first. First he lacked strength, and then control. Both were as impossible to learn as the other, but his father had lent him some in moments of peace. Beside is far greater form, he met his first failure and his first success both.
Alone and far away as he is, Sunstride still feels his towering ghost as if he is small again. One strike of his paw, and the first stone dances across the uneven moorland earth. Head over heel it tumbles and sways, and falls flat against the muted green. Its end is not quite level with the stick. He grunts in low irritation before trying again. This one is heavier, well-smoothed and an even gray in color. Beneath his paw it feels pleasantly cool. With greater power, he pushes again. This one flies– without the former's jagged edges, there is no wobble to its motion. It goes and it goes. Right past the stick. This time he cannot contain his displeasure to a grunt. Sunstride's sigh is loud and harsh, though tailed by a helpless chuckle. It has been far too long, he knows.
Alone and far away as he is, Sunstride still feels his towering ghost as if he is small again. One strike of his paw, and the first stone dances across the uneven moorland earth. Head over heel it tumbles and sways, and falls flat against the muted green. Its end is not quite level with the stick. He grunts in low irritation before trying again. This one is heavier, well-smoothed and an even gray in color. Beneath his paw it feels pleasantly cool. With greater power, he pushes again. This one flies– without the former's jagged edges, there is no wobble to its motion. It goes and it goes. Right past the stick. This time he cannot contain his displeasure to a grunt. Sunstride's sigh is loud and harsh, though tailed by a helpless chuckle. It has been far too long, he knows.
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SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
—— cis male, he - him. approx. 40 moons old. lead warrior of windclan + 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 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"