camp here i am — stargazing [ pafp ]

Sep 22, 2023
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your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
There was an apprentice some lengths away when he entered the camp from another failed hunt that turned his senses bitter, shame burning hot. He’d been a warrior for moons and the lack of prey was grating on his nerves, no matter how hard he tried to steer at anger somewhere else.

When that happened, Fogbound enjoyed watching the stars, something he never had the privilege of seeing in the city, shrouded in artificial light. He breathed, taking in the smells of WindClan with a fleeting rumble.

He sat with perfect posture, helm tipped back to stare at the glittering lights above with keen interest, willing the rapid beat of his heart to calm, no longer pounding like hummingbird wings. “My. My. Can you see that?” He called, tone soft as he pointed to a row of stars taking shape in his mind, directing his question to the white-furred apprentice. His ruby-hued optics crinkled, bathing in the moon’s rays with a quiet rumble. “Perhaps you know what it might be, mhm?” He prodded further, tone neutral.

/ @whitepaw
thought speech
 
Looking up at the stars was a recent occurrence for the ivory girl, given the morose energy that enveloped the clan. As of late, it felt like almost every other day a windclanner has passed or had a relative pass. It was a dark time, one that Whitepaw herself could only wade through and try to survive. She could only hope that those who passed found peace in the stars. With her ears held back and tail tucked, she startled lightly and blinked when a voice spoke up beside her. She turned to him, blinking somewhat owlishly as she followed his gaze. Oh. His words were followed by a small prodding inquiry and she decided to consider it as her own ruby hues focused on the stars. "... It reminds me of a flower..." She answered after a few moments of silence, glancing at the moor runner from the corner of her eye. Maybe it wasn't surprising that the shape of the stars resembled something comforting to her, but any comfort no matter how little could do some good given the current times.
[I'M BREATHING]
 

Set with stark-yellow eyes that refused to drift to sleep in the dead of night, Featherkit had before simply set her sights upon the shadows. Darkness had contorted into slithering shapes, into imagined threats that reared their backs at her, bristling with aggression. On cloudy nights she was doomed to only that- staring into the pitch, seeing what wasn't there, the brutal information she'd learned that day washing over her. Every night it was a different thing eating at her.

The marble-striped tom sat outside the medicine dan, eyes aglow in the darkness. Narrowed eyes stayed bright, even when embedded in a scowl-though it was lighter than most days as he looked upon the starry expanse above, flecks in the shadow. For a moment, she was washed clean of worries. She could stare at the formation of these stars, could follow their trails and imagine their journeys, until the moment a cloud might drift to cover them and she would see a monster in the shadows again.

For once, though, Featherkit did not deeply frown.
✦ penned by pin
 
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Reactions: SUNNVAR
──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── Featherkit does not sleep well, and Wolfsong has found himself sleeping very little most nights as of late. He untangles himself from Sunstride's warmth and follows his Bird Wing's quiet pawsteps as she makes for the den's exit. When she lowers herself to sit, Wolfsong does the same, and he glances briefly at the nearby WindClanners —Whitepaw and Fogbound— who are also awake and murmuring under the spray of stars. He curls his tail around Featherkit as a chilly breeze rustles through the gorse wall.

"Your grandmother told me many stories about the stars when I was your age," he says quietly, that old chord of loss plucked in his chest. "This night sky belongs to StarClan, but above the mountains I was born, that was not so." He wonders what his mother would think of her five little grandkits. "Sometimes, there was this great light on the horizon, the color of a field of a thousand blue flowers. She told me it was the mountains' breath, the way we see our own when it is cold enough." As Featherkit will soon discover for herself.
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WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.
  • ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
    ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
  • ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
    ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
  • ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
    ★★☆☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
  • ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
    ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.
 
✦  .   ˚ .   They had been light sleepers many moons before Featherkit graced the moors– perhaps it was their own habits which had formed the kit's. A passage of genetic memory; you will take the night watch. He wishes only that it took more time before such a thing came to be. She deserved her rest while it came. Paranoia was not a pleasant burden to bear. Like Wolfsong, the warrior stirs at their leaving– bleary gaze lifted and quickly clearing into the light. He does not stir from their nest, not when the rest of their litter still rests, but he can hear his mate's words. His mother. The mountains. Each memory pleasant and unkind at once. There are still times that he misses it. Still times he aches for those they have lost.

He lowers his head once more, and counts the sleeping forms still with him. They will never know a place but WindClan, if he has any luck left in his bones. They would love this place, and thrive among the open stars, and forget the homesickness that clung to those who came before. The life they had made would be a good one. Good enough that they would not flee their father as he had done to his own. Sunstride's eyes close again, though he does not sleep. Instead he thinks of the mountains, and flowers, and peace.
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  • OOC.
  • ✦  .   ˚ .   FORMERLY SUNNVAR. HE - HIM - HIS OR THEY - THEM. DEPUTY OF WINDCLAN. 4 YEARS OLD. PENNED BY REVELATIONS.  —————————
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    ——  a tall auburn tabby with thick fur and bright glacial eyes. sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond it, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of them. he radiates confidence and self-assured authority.

    ✦ NPC x NPC. DECEASED MOTHER, ESTRANGED FATHER. NO LITTERMATES. MATE TO WOLFSONG. FATHER TO BEARKIT, SINGEDKIT, RIVEKIT, SUNLITKIT, AND FEATHERKIT ——
  • "speech"