I CAN SEE YOU IN MY FATE [ otterbite ]

[claythorn]

She swallowed any thoughts of turning back when she started to look for Otterbite. Soft murmured questions to those residing in camp as sunhigh patrols returned, asking where the chimera might have been. A good question as to why she was looking for him. Claythorn had made up her mind about exactly what Brookstorm had suggested. Yes, the other warrior held a jab at her heritage above her head- but.. maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Perhaps... she swallowed gently as the next thought arose. Claythorn was never one to be nervous, but the idea of never finding someone to love had her paws shuffling.

Maybe Hazel's ideology about her daughter was right- perhaps the chocolate torbie wasn't worthy of love, perhaps it would never come to her. She would have to seek it out. Claythorn's ears twitched, dull vision shifting over the camp as it began to wound down for the night. And when Otterbite finally did return to camp, either after a successful patrol, or with jaws full of fish or mouse, did Claythorn approach him.

She lifted her chin, speaking in a pointed voice. "We need to talk." Claythorn suggested, before turning and padding out of camp for a secluded spot. Whether or not Otterbite followed, she didn't turn her head. She only turned to face him when they were out of earshot, her head not as high as it was before.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[otterbite]

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- His paws still sting from the hot, jagged pebbles he trotted across for hours on patrol. His was not set for any specific Clan or hunt, but rather a simple scouting of the twoleg interference. They had enough problems with apprentices and warriors getting hurt on their own, now with the fur-barren beasts about there was bound to be more. But recent days have had Otterbite even more focused than he normally is.

Brookstorm's death had shaken Otterbite in a way no other had before. Cicadastar... was surprising, shocking but they were left on the sturdy shoulders of the mottled toms mate. Mudpelt's death had been tragic, but his closest proximity to him was sharing a camp, not even a den yet. Clayfur was much the same, having been told from kithood that the tom was never quite himself after Clearsight's death. Crashingtide, Lilybloom, names all lost to the stars but death was as natural as the tide to him.

Except she wasn't supposed to die.

Rejection aside, Brookstorm had been Otterbite's friend before such feelings for her ever stirred. They shared dens for as long as his memory could serve him, and now she was gone. At least until something killed him, too.

He's not expecting Claythorn to make a path for him. She didn't always take to his company so pleasantly, (how many could he name that did?) but the expression she wore did not speak of any enthusiasm to see him. He gave a grunt of inconvenience as he followed after her, tail lashing to and fro before sitting opposite to her.

"Did I do something wrong?" He's obviously irritated by the way his tail still flicked and thudded against the soil, speaking slow like each syllable was twisting thorns into his tongue.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── IM OUT OF CONTROL ⋅❁⋅ OH, HOW I BURN FOR YOU ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  OTTERBITE ✩ he/him, warrior of riverclan, thirteen moons.
  ⭃ scruffy blue/black chimera with a white tail-tip and green eyes. noticeable kinked whiskers
  ⭃ adopted son to pikesplash // former apprentice to coyotecreek
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay requires permission / / underline and tag when attacking or making an action toward
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by beatae ↛ gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[claythorn]

Her ears were ringing, she thought- was that a nervous leap in her heartrate? She felt minimally out of control here. This was far from her element, but maybe it could be... Claythorn inhaled gently, mismatched goldens scanning that of the chimera. He was smaller then her, but strong-willed enough. A choice she could live with- could she love that? She did not know, but he was picking at her, an unspoken demand of explanation. She glanced towards his face again.

On the walk, with her back to him, her features had softened at the thought of what could be. Brookstorm's suggestion of taking up this is- she had to stop calling it an issue. Brookstorm's suggestion that Claythorn take the place of the others she had sought out had been nonstop, and it was even so now. Ears twitched, and she bit down any embarrassment that sought to rise despite the pinkening in her ears. (That was new. A new emotion. She was not sure how she felt about it.)

"No." Claythorn answered. A curious thing, for her to use a tone this soft, one she'd only ever used on someone else. But Claythorn wasn't a fool- Beepaw stealing away into Moonbeam's den in the late night was easily noticed. She knew not to step upon another's claim, even though Moonbeam wasn't just a thing to claim and Claythorn knew she was just a friend. Why was she even thinking anyone else at a moment like this? A soft breath left her. Stop delaying. You're just wasting time.

Vision dropped to Otterbite's tail, then lifted towards his face once more. "Our... deal. I've asked around, and all have.. denied." She paused here, summoning courage she didn't know she needed for this conversation. "I propose I take the spot at your flank instead." Claythorn's chin lifted at the sentence. Something dreadful inside curled, at the same time her heart skipped. She could manage this, even though she felt nervous and shy, of all things. The flame-pelted torbie could.. learn to enjoy this, perhaps. "If... that's okay. That is." Ears twitched in preparation of denial, or promise of her secret going free.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[otterbite]

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- Her answer is not dripping in a tone that would suggest the answer is a lie. The switch in the manner of which they normally spoke had entered Otterbite in something unfamiliar to him. A lack of desire to antagonize and pester as Claythorn normally made it so easy for him to do.

She isn't gritting through every word and yet he felt as though she were about to admit defeat. For a mission with an impossible percentage of success, he would not be surprised. Their deal was never made in her favor or in fairness (what kind of mateship is genuine under matchmaking?).

A long pause, and then a solution he did not expect. Claythorn wanted out from under his paw, did she not know this position would set her beneath all four, instead? Otterbite doesn't say anything immediately, allowing the silence to stretch on as he kept his eyes on hers. A cycle of thoughts pushed him into cornering what this could mean for him, what he could gain.

Claythorn was not a helpless flailing thing like some of the other warriors and older apprentices were. She didn't have a RiverClanner's birthright but Otterbite worried little of such things, and she was trusted among their peers despite the crimes of her formers.

Could he love her...?

Maybe not with the methods of other couples around them. Love, to Otterbite, was an act of submission. He would accept as much from Claythorn and in return... he would keep her secret safe. Keep her safe.

"I would like that."

Descriptions of gentle, kindness, care are none that have ever graced the chimera and have yet to still. His tone is plain, but empty of any taunting sneer. It is the closest sound of 'nice' Otterbite could be.

"And you? Would you like this, us?" He wants to know it's real. It's not some form of sacrifice, it must be real.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── IM OUT OF CONTROL ⋅❁⋅ OH, HOW I BURN FOR YOU ──┐‎

• 
  
  
  

• 

• 
  OTTERBITE ✩ he/him, warrior of riverclan, thirteen moons.
  ⭃ scruffy blue/black chimera with a white tail-tip and green eyes. noticeable kinked whiskers
  ⭃ adopted son to pikesplash // former apprentice to coyotecreek
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay requires permission / / underline and tag when attacking or making an action toward
  ↛ see battle info here
  ⭃ penned by beatae ↛ gonkpilled on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[claythorn]

Truthfully, she didn't know. No, Claythorn thought little of the situation, of the what trap she had stepped right into. A vice circled about her neck and she felt relief about it, though it were not so simple- to Claythorn, she had entered a bit of even ground, a step in the right direction. Vision searched his as he contemplated and thought, and her paws itched with the need to fidget, something so unlike her. She had never felt the need to fidget. Did she?

His words sent a spark of surprise through her, and she let go of a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Much like that of Otterbite, the tom she had chosen through painful process and a beguiling situation, she did not share sentiments in gentleness or kindness, not in regards to those similar in age. Yet, she could not fight the relaxing of muscles at that statement. Even with everything going on right now, he said yes? Nearly unbelievable.

Claythorn's head dipped in a nod. And it was true- she spoke without grit teeth, considering that a solution had been found to a pawful of issues. Her secret- and her need for someone, perhaps, whether or not that went unspoken. Otterbite had found something to stand dominion over, rather- someone. No, this was far from sacrifice. Claythorn wanted to feel needed. No one had ever made her feel like that. With her decision made, she spoke in a voice- a genuine one, nearly decorated with warmth. "Yes. I would like that."

She stepped closer to him, were it allowed. A difference of height was obvious, but she lowered her head. No threats, no promising to make his life hell. Just a quiet study of his features up close. "... What's your favorite color?" She asked, tone still quiet, still strange- that shyness punctuated her words as she lifted her head again, mismatched goldens blinking at the canopy overhead. "I'd like to find you a feather.. to mark this occasion. For your nest, or your pelt." She slid her vision back towards him- Permission? Acceptance? She sought to see his reaction to this proposal.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ┌── WHO ENCRYPTED YOUR DARK ⋅❁⋅ GOSPEL IN BODY LANGUAGE? ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• CLAYTHORN she/her, warrior of riverclan, eleven moons.
  ⭃ LH chocolate torbie with mismatched golden eyes, scars across her right cheek and over her left ear. cold exterior and threatening glares, built for stamina/battle and not swimming (tall/muscled)
  ⭃ mentored by darkbranch (npc) / / mentoring no one
  ⭃ no current love interest / / only child
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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