camp glass walls || Open ; Memories

B

BoneFang

Guest
This does feature death & anger//

There was something surreal about love. It was an odd feeling. He remembered it, still. A desire to protect the other. Even if it wasn't shown from his half. And they were only children. A tingly feeling, that could send shivers down ones spine, even with someone as tough as him. Even still. After moons of not seeing or hearing her. He still remembered her.

They always say, when you care about someone, they stay in your heart and by your side forever. Her brown speckled fur, the pale pelt underneath that seemed to sparkle when the light hit it just the right way. Her eyes glittered when she spoke, and her grin seemed to brighten everything around her. Someone that made his mind a little easier to understand. Someone to talk to.

Somebody that he never showed his emotions too.

Bonepaw! I Got you these! They reminded me of your eyes! Light blue stones were rolled under his paws, his black and speckled white toes gripped around them as he began moving them to change his torn up and messy nesting. They're just rocks. His tone would be bitter, and confused. Yeah but they're pretty! I.. I just thought you would like them!

And he did. He would keep them around for as long as he could. And when she noticed, the way it made her smile and realize, that's what mattered right? Even if he hadn't said it, she knew he cared about her.

His teeth gritted. Positive memories never lasted long. Dartpaw! WATCH OUT! An adder struck her, and he was too late. Just like his mother's body ripped from him by his own father. He spent grueling time, his face tear soaked as he arrived at camp to bring her small, cold and bloodied form back in.

He was always too late. If he had been paying closer attention... She wouldn't have perished.

Claws gripped into his bedding as he ripped it up more, anger seething still. Loss was a mystery. This starclan, as so many spoke highly of, seemed to rip away loved ones too soon. But she was there, right?

It was a puppy crush, and he would move on.

He just needed time. But time was yet another thing that frustrated the tom. Time seemed to not even be enough, sometimes. The anger still fresh in his heart, tearing and tugging him with reminders and causing this anger to brew longer.
 

━━ι═══════﹥ Clearheart is grateful for his place in ShadowClan. It is not without its flaws, and those within the marshy land are not what he would label as paragons of virtue, but there is no such place nor community, however appealing. Even if a utopia of considerable scope existed, Clearheart would prefer to remain in ShadowClan, where he feels he is needed, where Honeyjaw confounds him with odd phrases and Dragonflypaw makes mischief freely. He is content, if not happy.

The ills and injustices of his life have led him here. He believes quite firmly that what matters most is not how they have suffered, but how they must endure. He does not advise the forgetting of sorrow, nor understating its effect; it is merely what can be cultivated from the scarred earth, and recognizing what has come to bloom may not have done so without the struggles prior.

His unconscious mind does not always permit such equilibrium, but he is fortunate that he makes little sound and often wakes quickly. The same does not hold true for his fellow warriors, and he shifts in his nest to observe Bonefang with a wrinkle between his eyes. He tears at the material thoughtlessly, driven by his apparent distress.

"Bonefang," he calls, hushed yet audible enough for the nearby warrior. "You are unharmed and sheltered in safety. Allow yourself peace."
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══════⊹⊱≼ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʜᴀɴɢꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴄᴇɴꜱᴇ / ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ≽⊰⊹══════
  • — CLEARHEART / / 40 moons old / / amab and uses masculine pronouns but will also accept the use of neutral terms.
    — a warrior of shadowclan / / currently mentoring dragonflypaw / / excels greatly in combat above most all other skills.
    — former loner who wandered great distances & rarely remained in one place for long / / arrived after the great battle.
    — devoted to starclan above all else (aside from his idea of the common good) / / not prone to enter battle mindlessly.

    — of a height slightly above average / / trim and athletic with a sense of immovability about his posture/stance & size.
    — chocolate sepia w/ low white / / fur is quite short for the most part / / tail is naturally bobbed // full-body reference.
    — fairly warm demeanor much of the time; there is a "softness" about his features so that neutrality doesn't seem surly.

    — lawful good, in the sense that he likes to maintain order and work toward bettering lives around him without cruelty.
    — often misunderstands figures of speech and may interpret them literally. as such, can seem to lack a sense of humor.
    — deeply genuine; dislikes lying immensely, and so (most of the time) he is wholly earnest, especially with compliments.
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"Well I make the shelter dangerous but..." A smile, twisted with satire, suddenly grew more ponderous as she contemplated if she did indeed make their shelter more dangerous. Items of all ages and types surrounding her nest, her hoard liable to dig into anyone who was unlucky enough to share an immediate space with the Lead Warrior. Looking over the resting bodies of other clanmates, her eyes glinted in the dim of the den as they settled on Clearheart and Bonefang, instinctively lowering towards the aggressively kneading paws - the only indication Ferndance had that she had woken up to something more serious than her demeanor would allow. Still, Ferndance allowed her large ears to fall to the sides of her head as she leaned into the conversation, offering a muted apology to the unknown cat she was suddenly looming over (her interest was more important than their comfort at that moment). Realising she hadn't finished her initial thought, the tabby let out a contemplative hum. "You can live... for now." That was one of the many sacrifices she had made to become a ShadowClanner - no murdering one's way out of any unpleasant conversation with a clanmate (or backstabbing them, or stealing their things... most of the time).

Shuffling in the cluttered mosses and straws, Ferndance let out a shameless yawn, jaw near-enough unhinged like a serpent's before she lowered her head again and settled her partially closed eyes on Bonefang. He wasn't a Warrior she was particularly close with, there was a shallowness to social interactions that led to a rather friendless life, but it wasn't something that particularly bothered the cinnamon tabby. Regardless, be it the fatigue of an interrupted nap or an impulsive change of heart, she decided to make the effort. "Do you want to talk about it?"
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can we leave it behind? — Bonfang wouldn't be the first, nor the last cat to lose a loved one. Either from family or solely love. Faces that became familiar and adjusted to daily life, attachments with emotional bonds of all sorts. Once they were gone, the connection was too. Left to endure its loss.

It was no secret to Clanmates more familiar with Sabletuft, that he had not been the exact same cat after losing his own loving companion. The next moon would make it a year since the ordeal. A year since that twisted child had ruined everything.

A short moment of rest was disturbed by the idle chatter of his Clanmates. A single burning amber eyes squinted in the direction of their voices, sending his tail-tip thudding against the ground. A rising tension built itself in his gut as he tried to swallow his irritation and ignore them, force himself to relax. He slowly shuffled around to pointedly turn his back to the three of them. Though he kept one ears angled back, wondering what could be so concerning to address here. — tags​

 
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He had not intended to disturb others rest, the others forms suddenly stirring from naps, or resting made his teeth grit in what felt like embarrassment. He was not an emotional Tom. Hardly, rarely showing the anger of the memories haunting, and looming his mind.

Unharmed was a debate, his face just a reminder, teeth showing ina permanent gaped position, and scars lining his body from a fight that would forever engrain in his mind. "Apologies, I do not typically let anger overtake me." He muttered. Safety, was still a new feeling yet to be understood. There was no safety in words that he found. The deaths that overtook them did not portray this safety. But he chose not to argue, that was easy at least.

Ferndance did not scare him. Death for himself did not scare him. Death for others, losing others, that however was a fear. And he would be mad, crazy, to admit that. His blue gaze cast to the lead warrior, who appeared intrigued. Over what, he had no clue. Do you want to talk about it?

A gesture to... comfort? It was strange. Threw him off. "Ah- Fresh wounds still of lost loved ones. Memories that remain to haunt for what feels like forever." It was 8 moons ago, that he would have lost his mother, his father banished himself and engrained the wicked memory into him. It was nearly 10 he had lost Frogpaw. "As everyone says, time still heals the deepest wounds..." Though he trailed off, not believing that to be the case.​

"Speech"
BoneFang- Male- 20 moons - Shadowclan
Penned by Deidre​
 

The Lead Warrior listened, unblinking, unmoving, a stone to talk to rather than someone who would understand Bonefang's feelings but, she would try. She knew not what it was to lose a loved one permanently, her own travelled the world in search of happiness and community but had put her here for reasons that they refused to elaborate upon even when she'd pressured them. In a way, it was like losing them, she'd never know if they died, not until she climbed up to StarClan herself to greet them. Emerald eyes briefly fluttered towards Sabletuft, noting her peer's curiosity but deciding not to bring it up for the time being - if he had something to add, he could add it. Then came the phrase, 'time heals all wounds', and the cinnamon tabby finally blinked quickly. Where had she heard that phrase before? It was so vexing she couldn't remember. "Oh... well that's a load of fox-dung," she whispered to the other with her usual polite crassness. "Time never healed Briarstar or Pitchstar. What heals wounds is satisfaction, be that revenge or simply... moving on." She tried not to think about how the latter was essentially time.

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