gritted teeth & . buckgait

[CICADASTAR]

− ♱ ABOUT : she’s been staying out of trouble. lightningstone was a loyal warrior — gruff around the edges, from what he’d seen, unfamiliar with facial expression, but a loyal warrior nonetheless. he’s reported her activity with the tirelessness he’d expected when they’d first been assigned together, and her activity has been . . harmless, thus far. she attended her patrols, brought in fish for the freshkill pile, assisted the apprentices in ( supervised ) weaving lessons. they boasted them, now — layering his fur with trinkets and assortments of blooming flower. some of them linger still, petals finally beginning to wilt and come loose from the sleek curls of his pelt. he’d asked the molly to come with him on a small patrol — patrol near twoleg bridge, to refreshen boundaries as well as scope the ever - damp stone for signs of activity, as that was the only way into riverclan territory windclanners were willing to go. they were of the moors, all but offended by water. it’s part of the reason he chose this land — their protector, their natural defense system.

they’re coming along the arching stone bridge, looking out over the waters to see if he can catch a glimpse of twoleg activity. all is quiet, and he slinks under, nearing the water rushing underneath. all is clear — nothing but the faint scent of thunderclan as they ventured back towards riverclan camp after the disastrous fourtrees event. the air is tense between them, as it’s been the entire way out ; he’s said little, other than brief instruction on the purpose of their patrol, should he even be able to call it that. in all truth, he did have ulterior motives.

“ how has lightningstone been treating you? “ the man asks, because he is curious — they seemed to have been prickly towards eachother to start, and cicadastar would be lying if he said he had not reveled in it. as time passes however, the tall tom finds himself watching closely, observing the molly as she, albeit with a glare, goes about her chores and clan duties. she is a valuable asset, he will admit — his personal grievances towards her do not extend to the rules he’d been given out. she was to prove herself to her clan, and she was doing a good job of just that. it would pain him to say, and if the man were being honest, a good portion of his silence on the way out had been spent mulling over his choice of words, “ you seem to be working well together. “

out of character information translations

• @BUCKGAIT.
  finally…… water fight thread…….
  
• − CICADASTAR ; he / him. roughly thirty seven months old, riverclan leader
  − handsome, lanky black smoke tortie chimera with curly fur and icy blue eyes
  − gay. speaks with a thick german accent, former marsh cat, penned by antlers
  
  
• none.

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[BUCKGAIT.]

MY NAME IS BRUTUS AND MY NAME MEANS HEAVY ✧​

when cicada had asked her for a patrol, buckgait was hesitant but in no position to refuse him. it's awkward and tense between them, and buckgait is suddenly longing for the stiffness of lightningstone compared to this stuffy atmosphere between her and the leader of riverclan. she still hesitates to call him her leader. it feels wrong, a shunning of her very being. she has not forgotten anything that he has done, but the riverclan cats love him, and he loves them just as much. truly, she can't say much aside from that she doesn't share the passion for him that their clanmates had. he had still taken over the river, threatened to drive her from her home, and had forced her under the guise of buckgait. nothing within her could ever forgive him for it. she does not long to either.

she's just as silent as he is; eyes upon the horizon and fleeting birds. the large fowl will be moving soon, when the winds begin to nip and chill, they are quick to leave the water territory. she assumes for something warmer, but she could never understand it. even in the biting winters where she will freeze and grow hungry, she is bound to the flowing waters. briefly, buck eyes the looming tom. far too tall to be considered normal, and his muted mottled pelt would have been interesting on anyone else.

this patrol is draining, and she's growing irritated. being alone with cicada has never been a good thing, usually only bitter words are shared between the two. but buck has been good. she's been palatable and compliant, always by the side of her calm and aloof ward. she's helped her clanmates, entertained the youth and taught what she could. she's been nothing but what he's wanted, yet she grows so stiff by his side. paranoid, perhaps.

the silence breaks and it's of lightning, it almost makes her want to laugh. these shared moments in silence only to ask about someone he trusts far more than her. if this was what this whole patrol was about, she isn't sure why he couldn't have talked to lightningstone himself. heavens knows that the tom knows little of anything close to lying. "we haven't killed each other yet." short and curt, simply because cicada does not need to know of her growing fondness for her ever-watching guard. nor the fact that when she has proven herself worthy (she doesn't even know where to start for that) he'll no longer be by her side. he'll likely no longer be near her nest, and that seemed like the loneliest thing in the world at the moment.

the earthen molly stiffens and keeps her attention on the sound of running water. "well, i am known to be the most agreeable cat." the western drawl she's grown with is heavily tainted with a lightly jovial tone. clearly sarcastic in her approach, until she mulls it over. they do work well together. "we're similar enough to get along. not to mention he's next to me night and day, so we had to figure something out." she's tempted to offer a small thanks for what he's done. for assigning lightningstone to her. she likes to think she's helped him as much as he's helped her.
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