camp gonna pretend for you ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ zoning out

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　Someone is speaking to them. Someone has been speaking to them. Swansong is aware of this, on a distant level. And yet... Her mind drifts.

Her eyes, pallid and glassy stare at something just beyond the cat in front of her. Her mind drifts dreamlike, swept up in swirling visions of half-remembered images. She is here, and she is not. The cat is staring at her. "Mm...?" The hum is quiet, melodic. It reverberates through the warrior's skull in a very pleasant way. They smile. "What, um..." The words feel list mist upon her tongue, all her thoughts slipping away. Stars, she is tired. What was this conversation about again?

A slow blink. "Apologies," she murmurs, dipping her head poltiely. "What... what is it you were saying, again? I seem to have... lost it." She seems to be doing that a lot, lately...

‎‎┌── WE FOUND TWO DEAD SWANS ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ AND FILLED THEIR BODIES WITH FLOWERS ──┐‎

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• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

• 
  SWANSONG　⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, sixteen moons.
  ➳ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with tired blue eyes.
  ➳ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ➳ halfshade x smogmaw, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[MIRESTAR]

"Don't worry about it," comes the reassurance from a sincere maw. If Mirepurr's being fair, they should have paid more attention to the way Swansong's usually lidded eyes drifted more and more from them, ears not at all indicating she actually received any of the words they had said. Maybe they should have cut it short... or speak slower. But then, the topic at paw has always been something Mirepurr is fond of. Family and all that it entails.

Swansong has never been the fastest... regardless if that means physically or emotionally. She reminds them of a cloud every time they look at her; floating and largely unbothered, unless something gets in the way too much to remain unnoticed.

It does not bother Mirepurr. They mirror her soft smile, and recount where they had left off — or rather, where they presume they lost Swansong. "I was just asking, how do you feel about your siblings getting old and all that? I mean, the little ones aren't so little anymore... all warriors. Not to mention, Ashenfall has found his other half. It's all exciting, isn't it?"
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[FERNDANCE]

Speed was a social construct. To Ferndance, Swansong was as swift as a fleeing bird. To Mirepurr, she was more of a plodding tortoise. To think of nothing was to think of everything, and be it her vivid imagination or a subtly expressive cream tabby, she swore she could see scenes dancing across the other's blue eyes. Ferndance nodded along as if engaged in the conversation too, but only blinked rapidly upon Mirepurr's intermission, her wedge-shaped head turning towards the Deputy. Her own were warriors soon, they would reach their twelve moon after the Gathering, and the sudden realisation that they may find love within the clan just as Smogmaw's kittens had sent her brain whirling with theories. She'd never seen any of them express interest in another apprentice, then again, she had tried to grant them some social independence. Perhaps there was a Mx. Shadepaw out there somewhere.

Or, maybe they would be content by themselves. It'd never been something she'd considered until now.

"That's Mirepurr's polite way of asking if you're going to find another half yourself," the older warrior teased, her smile growing tenfold as she put words in the Deputy's mouth. Every word was spoken to torment those around her, Mirepurr with a silly insinuation, Swansong with the pressure of knowing others had noticed their isolation. Then, she entered a loaf and tilted her head back. "I'm just kidding."

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