GLASS LOTUS ✩ intro / night swim

Nov 20, 2023
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The moon hangs in the sky, a great pearl suspended as if on roiling waves of sapphire; not even a quarter-moon after the gathering, it's not entirely waned from the fullness of a few nights ago. Its shattered reflection ripples on the river below, scattering into shards of white and silver. Stars look back at themselves, mirrored across panes of glassy watter broken only by the occasional ripple or current, soporific fish drifting through deeper pools. Sunsetfury's blazing rosette pelt, appropriate for her name, is a tongue of flame against the sleepy night of late leaf-fall. Glossy starling-feather fur is hidden by the fallen dusk, reducing her pelt to scattered sparks of amber: a white-tipped tail, a leg, a half-mask of jeweled russet.

Sunsetfury has a certain fondness for swimming when the stars light up the sky. It's paradoxical, really: as much as she adores the night, it compounds the difficulty of her vision. A total of three pupils are swollen wide in response to the dim lighting, though two of them offer her only a vision so blurred the night is painted in great swathes of navy and myrtle to the rightmost side of her vision. She has enough sense to remain near camp, should she land herself in any trouble—an unlikely possibility, but still. Sunsetfury has never been the most competent fisher, an uncontrollable reality, but she's at least an acceptable swimmer (and no drypaw, at least!).

It's with a happy shiver that she steps into the moonlit river; nearing leafbare but not quite to it, the water is deliciously cold. Cold enough that she'll want to give herself a good wash and curl up in her nest after this, but not to the degree that she'll worry about catching cold (hopefully). It's happened before—what can she say, she'll do questionable things on a dare—last leaf-bare, still an apprentice, she'd given herself a nasty sniffle swimming too long in the icy river. Sunsetfury's first choice of entertainment is a good tussle, but that's hardly viable at this hour, and this is pleasant enough.

"Care to join me?" she offers to the first cat or cats to draw near, squinting to make out their shape in the gloom. There's a daring edge to her tone, verging on sarcastic, not uncommon for the young warrior. "Not too cold for you?"

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  • tba ack​
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    sunsetfury ; warrior of riverclan
    x. she/her ; 15 moons ; tags
    x. tall rosette tortie with a white tailtip and deep blue eyes, the right of which has two pupils
    x. played by dejavu
    𖦹 ⭒ ° 。 ⋆ sunsetfury has true polycoria, or two light-reactive pupils, in her right eye. she has blurry vision & near-blindness in that eye and may not always immediately react to visual stimuli on her right side!

 
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bounceheart ✧ she/her ✧ riverclan warrior (=˃ᆺ˂=) Too privy of a midnight swim, it was no wonder she was one of the first to lay eyes upon someone doing just that. Emerging from the darkness, her sleek fur would shine in the moonlight. Before the words could fall from her maw, the orange rippled girl was beckoning her forward. Well, she loved a challenge and wasn't afraid of a chilly swim... just chilly, right? An amused huff left her at the comment. "Hey now, I'm no dry-paw!" While Bounce wasn't fond of the cold, she knew it would be over sooner than later and took Sunsetfury's bait; into the water she sank.

A gasp left her as she was met with the slightly-stinging cold of the waters. It didn't hurt, but she was shocked by the change in temperature. There was a crackle in her voice as she bluffed, "Wow, this sure feels.. great!"
 

Partial to nighttime swimming, bathing in a sea of stars, Ferngill was already downstream when he began to hear voices drift down the current toward him. Up the river, he heard the water split in a splash- the adept paws he had been named for carried him like a fish toward the source of the sound, turning a corner and parsing through reeds to face the shapes of Bounceheart and Sunsetfury in the moonlight.

Immediately he gave them a comfortable grin, half-marred eyes creasing with gleeful welcome as he neared them. Feels... great, said Bounceheart- and Ferngill couldn't stifle a chuckle, the sound sputtering out of his fangs. "It's not for everyone," he commented with amusement, swimming in a figure-eight loop.

His attention slipped then to the sky, the slice of the moon peering through the translucent, bruise-purple veil of the clouds. A melodic hum of a sigh spilled out of him. "It's worth it for the view, anyway." The view of the sky itself, and the smatterings of stars reflected on the rippling surface. Undeniably, there was something relaxing, something romantic, about it all.
penned by pin
 

The late nights had Hazecloud feeling more restless recently. She knew the signs were becoming clearer after each sunset but as the molly stood at the edge of the river, paws kneading against peaty soil as she rode through the discomfort she only found herself in excited anticipation. There were little treasures growing within her that would soon take their first breath. Hear their first sounds. See their first sights. The first thing they feel being soft fur when she cuddles around them and keeps them warm.

The leaf-fall air left her maw in clouded puffs and it is a daunting reminder of the season she would be introducing her treasures into, but she's given no time to dwell on it.

"I can't believe you're not frozen yet." She laughed as she slid closer to Ferngill. Hazecloud worried about rushing into the cold like this, this time before not hesitating before diving in. The water called to her like a siren no matter the time of day or season, and she painfully ignored its lure. "Keep kicking your legs and keep your breath steady, Bounceheart! You'll warm right back up."
 
THE HERMIT ─── Did the shorter days lead to higher desires for peculiar activities in the dark? That was a question that was plucking the very confounded mind of Rookfang as he was shifted through the piles of leaves, clearing as much space as he could due to the rustling becoming a bothersome sound lately. He wasn't sure if it was due to the recent injury but his senses were twisting into a sharper form of themselves, specifically his hearing and sense of smell. He supposed this was his new form of reacting to the world, his vision only worsening from his injury and leading his survival instincts to rely on more stable ground. Even so, he was in the transition process where that was not fun. The stoic figure of the warrior swayed gently as his thick tail pushed aside some leaves at the front of the warrior's den when his ears pricked at the sound of water's surface being crashed and split, meaning someone was in the river's hands. His hardened gaze rose up to stare up towards the direction where the voices began to pollute the air, feeling as if they were closer than when he saw them.

He wasn't comfortable with the colder air and water temperatures being a possible trap for any clanmates though he trusted their strength, Rookfang knew how cruel Mother Nature could be to its residents. He decided to give up on his feeble attempt of orderly cleaning as he stalked over, thick jagged spiked fur gently swaying against his frame, appearing shaggier. Was it due to the cold or the lack of meat and muscle that tended to be held onto better, that was a mystery that another clanmate may answer as the fanged tom halted a little off from Hazecloud's side, vibrant gaze locked onto the others who did decide to slip into the grasp of the ever running current. Despite all the moons that had marked his age, Rookfang was wary of the power of the river. He respected it and had very much seen the ruthless consequences of those who believed themselves as conquerors. But with the ribbons of water dancing against the bodies of his clanmates and the way it reflected the speckled sky above, a new wave of happiness washed over his ever-permanent worries.

They were home. They would be okay. They always made it out. With that thought, the large chocolate-brown shadow of a figure stepped into the water, eliciting a low puff of shock from the cold colliding with his warm pelt. "You must really enjoy the night sky then...I can't really say the same." He flashed a stone-stiff half-smirk to Ferngill as he went to wade in closer towards Bounceheart in case the other was struggling. His own paws were adjusting to the constant lull of the river's pattern as he allowed his own attention to flicker upwards to the brilliant hues of galaxies far away and the glow of their previous ancestors. ​