private I COULD CROSS THE OCEAN ღ IN A FIT OF DEVOTION

[slateheart]

A late night walk. That's what this was said to be - but unlike his other walks, he had a destination. A goal. Purpose guides his paws tonight.

Slateheart's pelt blends into the darkness of night, illuminated dimly by his forest green eyes, as he slowly pads down the slope. Fourtrees stands tall around him with the moon resting at its peak in the center of their towering branches. The sky is clear, the stars glimmering like any other night - his ancestors are not furious with him yet.

No. Foolish. They had no reason to be mad at him. All he's doing, all he's here for, is to catch up with an old friend. He meant to apologize for his cross temper the night prior, during the Gathering, and learn what the RiverClanner had been up to that kept her holed away in the medicine cat's den for a moon. If it were so simple, then why did his heart swell with hope to see her again? Why did he feel he could soar the night skies at the prospect that all this rejection had been a figment of his imagination? Why was he so afraid.. to be caught, enough so that he'd go out of his own way to meet at the dead of night in a place no others would think to find him?

Alone in his thoughts, the tom finds his seat near the leaders' rock, listening to the scarce chatter of night-birds and restless rodents around the sparse woodland that surrounds. He thinks of deep blue eyes - why had they seemed so cold the night before? - and soft brown fur. How long it had been since they had found comfort in each other's arms, sharing their life stories and aspirations as a means of coping with the Twoleg kidnapping? Did it still mean as much to her as it did to him?

A soft rustle comes from the edge of the clearing on RiverClan's side, and Slateheart's head flicks to the direction. He cannot help the smile that grows on his maw, much as he wished to remain cool and nonchalant. The molly streams into the clearing to meet him, and he desperately pleads for his heart to stop pounding.

" Gladefrost. You made it. "

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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[Gladefrost]

Gladefrost had spent the day training her apprentices extra dutifully today so they wouldn't question why she went out last night, in case a simple excuse didn't work. Her patience ran thin as she waited for the moon to swallow the sun and for the night to come, to drown in the green gaze of Slateheart. Her paws moved gracefully, like a feather drifting in a breeze, and the sight of the four trees quickly appeared. She stops for a moment and glances around to check if anyone has followed her as she stands beside a tree, her dark coat blending in with the atmosphere before she determines that all is clear. The warrior glances around until she sees the figure of Slateheart beside the rocks, causing her ears to warm up at the thought immediately, and she trots forth.

”Slateheart,” Gladefrost murmurs in return as she offers a delicate smile. ”Of course, I would. I wouldn't miss our meetings for anything.” She states until realizing how her words came off and she fakes a cough, looking to the ground as she finds a spot to settle. Her heart throbs, and she wonders for a moment if the black and white tomcat can hear the thundering beats of it. Why did it feel as if she was doing something forbidden? It wasn't like she was betraying Riverclan or putting anything at peril. She could've easily not shown up because the tomcat didn't feel the same way for her after their initial interaction, and so she dreads the worst.

Would he say he couldn't visit anymore? Did he find someone he finally loved, and why did that thought make her heartache? Her long plumed tail curls around her and she stares at him with a curious gaze, wondering why he wished to see her and why he sounded so desperate. If it were possible, she would gladly go back to the past. Glade longed to spend those simple times with Slateheart once more before they were saved. Was that selfish of her? What did he think of her now? A once soft coat splattered with lacerations across her chest, an unsightly gash that went across both shoulders and a scar across her snout. Ironic, was it? ”... Was there something you called me for?” She inquires slowly, almost as treading on frozen waters that would shatter her world at any moment.
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[slateheart]

Slateheart missed her smile. It draws out a smile of his own, and sends him the urge to reach forward and touch his nose to hers. I wouldn't miss it for anything, she said, and he eagerly agrees. " Me neither. "

Except.. she has. He remembers his multiple fruitless waits at the RiverClan bridge where they had met some times before - waiting, waiting.. and returning home with a broken heart. Until one night, he stopped coming back. That brings them to the gathering, seeing her for the first time in a moon and wishing she would stay as absent as she had been. It was the only way for him not to feel so pained again.

When Gladefrosts asks if he called her for something, Slateheart nods - but feels a bitter pang in her heart. There was a reason, of course, but did there have to be an occasion? Couldn't they just.. meet for the sake of meeting, to enjoy each others' company again? Nevertheless, he was ready to answer the question when he arrived.

" I was worried about you, " he mumbles. About us, remains unspoken. " Our meetings. I thought they'd continue. You stopped showing up. " Slateheart thought he'd been shown up. Ghosted. It wasn't until last night that he discovered there was a prevention at play. " What happened to land you in the medicine cat's den for a moon? " His gaze briefly flicks to her scars, wondering - had she always had them?

Then, green eyes move back up to her eyes. Like he thought, there didn't have to be a reason - there was more to this than he let on. A small smile rests once again on his maw, serene and kind. " I also just.. wanted to see you, away from prying eyes. It's been a while.. " he admits, a tad shyly. He had no doubt that talking to her so urgently at the gathering raised some suspicions; hence why he cut their talk short then and joined the lead warriors soon after. The tensions between RiverClan and WindClan were high once again, as if there had never been a moment of peace between them. He longs for the beech copse, the place where he met Gladefrost, and the kinship the cats shared (some of them, anyway - he does not forget the hateful glances of others) in their moment of need. Safe to say, a one-on-one would be necessary to avoid his own scrutiny back home.

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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[Gladefrost]

Gladefrost listens quietly yet intently to the tom's words, his words making her face feel warm to the touch. Did he miss her, or was he just lying? She studies him for a moment and for once in a while; it feels as if it's just the two of them in this massive world alone. ”I never stopped thinking about you,” Her words were barely a whisper as she glanced away to stare at the glistening stars above them. Could life always be this peaceful without hate always brewing? She never knew Slateheart was a part of the Windclanners that trespassed, only the angry words of her clan mates at their arrogant behavior from the previous gathering.

He questions her about what landed her in the medicine den for a moon, and she bites her lip. She didn't want to relive those moments━ the vivid taste of blood constantly stuck in her mouth. She spent countless minutes washing her mouth, yet the reminder of the life she had taken stained her tastebuds. That uncanny feeling of emotions; a rage that would destroy the world if not nursed. Her heart skips as she stares at her paws, lost in a trance. The dripping blood from her claws and the burning adrenaline: her chest feeling soaked with her blood. Gladefrost attempts to speak but her words come mute and a grip around her throat suffocates her, dark ears pinning against her head.

A churning agony in her chest as she folds over herself for a moment, her eyes shutting tightly as her lip bleeds slightly. I'm fine, I'm fine. She coos to herself as she slowly sits straight and takes a shaky breath, the cries of her baby siblings a fresh reminder. She barely hears the world around her as her heart races and she paws to her forehead, attempting to stabilize herself. ”Rogues... I would've died if my siblings didn't run back to get help.” Gladefrost finally admits after a moment as she motions to the deep lacerations on her chest that barely hid underneath her thick coat.

If she had been more careful, she wouldn't have gotten her siblings scarred and been on death's door. If she had been more cautious, then she wouldn't have made Slateheart worry about her. She allows her thoughts to swirl and take over until the comforting voice of Slateheart speaks once more. I also just.. wanted to see you, away from prying eyes. It's been a while... Almost as if she became the Greenleaf heat herself, her ears and face become hot immediately. ”I-I wanted to see you too... I missed spending time with you.” Gladefrost spurts out as her ears flatten in embarrassment, as she wonders if she can see the heat from her face and ears showing.

It's been a while since she felt like this, and the last person was Reedstrike. She never wanted to be selfish and believed herself unworthy of love, but she wanted to be with Slateheart. Was that so selfish? Did he feel the same about her? ”I like you━ like...like... the thought of you always brings me comfort and I always find myself wishing you were with me. D-Do you ever feel the same?”
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[slateheart]

" I thought you did, " Slateheart replies after a brief moment of thought. I never stopped thinking about you. Whatever sorrows he had felt before, the worries that she didn't want anything to do with him, seem miniscule in this moment - they seem to disappear, as if they hadn't existed at all. He was wrong, all along - she had wanted to see him. " I never stopped thinking about you, either. I tried to see you. "

It seems his inquiry hit a sore spot. Slateheart winces at the visible pain that crosses her gaze and posture, the shock at being asked. He opens his mouth as if to hurriedly tell her she doesn't need to answer, he doesn't need to know - but she is quick to respond despite her initial reaction. Lichenstar didn't mention rogues.. he thinks first, suddenly wondering if it was wise to leave his Clan unguarded tonight. But he remembers, this was a moon ago - if they'd have trouble, they'd have it long ago. He follows her paw to the recently-fresh wound on her chest and frowns, creased with worry. By the looks of it.. she was telling the truth. " You must have been very strong to survive such a cut, " he mumbles, encouraging but noticeably saddened. He cannot imagine the fear she endures now, after a close call with death.

" You don't need to say more. I can tell it upsets you. We can talk about.. anything else. " The small smile grows again, warily, but sincere. Slateheart worried about a lot of cats in his life - Gravelsnap, Dimmingsun, Blizzardpaw - but this concern goes deeper than familial or friendly surface level worry. He feels his heart break for her, he feels her fear and her sorrow, as if it were his own. He feels, with a fiery determination, that he would protect her if he could - the feeling swells in his heart, rises his hopes and then crashes down when he remembers the world of difference between them and their Clans. At least.. he is comforted by the knowledge that she is fully capable of defending herself.

As suggested, they move on from the topic. Not quite in a way he expects, but.. the hope that's been flourishing within leads to this moment. There had been unspoken words since they met at the gathering, revealed only in subtle hints of missing each other and worrying about each other. Slateheart's ears perk as she begins to speak, and he leans forward ever so slightly - listening intently, hoping, wishing.

I like you. In a silky smooth voice, she reveals what he had been longing for (indescribably, for the warrior had never felt so strongly before - at least to his own knowledge) for so long. Although.. he is still stunned. It finally puts all of his feelings into words - the natural draw towards her, the thinking about her when he saw the moon at night, the heartbreak when she stopped showing up - he likes her. And . . she likes him. Slateheart feels as if all his feelings could bubble over - he feels like reaching over and nuzzling her, like spending the right of the night chatting and dreaming, like.. running away from the code he is breaking.

But there is a question that needs answered, first. Rehearsing be damned, all his well-prepared topics that he'd mulled over all day have dissipated from his thoughts. " I - " he begins. . but is swiftly cut off by a nearby rustling, and rushed pawsteps stomping their way. Stars - so lost in his thoughts, like a lovesick fool, did he check for followers as much as he should have? The black-furred tom turns on his heels, bristling in anticipation for the last cat he'd hope to find him . .

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun's presence here is not entirely born out of selflessness.

He worries for Slateheart — always, it seems. Perhaps if his fellow lead warrior weren't so keen on wandering out by himself after being stolen away by Twolegs, there wouldn't be a reason to bat an eye. Introverts with their need for space and all that. It's like he is taunting Dimmingsun; and he knows that is a wild assumption to make, but when Slateheart had offered an olive branch of peace between them following the disastrous patrol...

Well, Dimmingsun has always been quite greedy. Those claws of his hold onto everything with impossible strength; and that's exactly what forces him to come out to Fourtrees, dragging behind his unaware friend.

Those giant oaks tower over the scene. It is a serene night by all accounts... but Dimmingsun is too caught up in a whirlwind of vague guilt and friendly concern to pay it any mind.

Using cover to stay hidden has never been his strong suit; he is graceless with that build of his and he stumbles around the dense undergrowth, now that the landscape has turned from moor into woods. At least the row of bushes he's picked out for his hiding spot rests at a generous distance from the pair.

Wait- pair?

Dimmingsun watches his friend greet a stranger with intention. The way they approach one another suggests a certain degree of familiarity... or at the very least, their meeting is expected. He combs through the faces he's seen recently at Gatherings; curse him and his restlessness at full moons. It is impossible to remember the participants when he seldom cares for them in the first place. That brown-and-white figure will remain nameless for the duration of the night.

The moments keep on passing him by, and Dimmingsun considers turning tail. While he knew exactly what he was doing when he began to follow Slateheart, the deliberate act of staying and watching like a creepy hawk is... something else entirely. Slateheart is not the kind of warrior who would betray his Clan. As long as no plans of invasion gets discussed, there should be no issue — a degree of friendship between rival Clans is no sin.

But then. Just from the corner of his eye, Dimmingsun sees it; the pair leans closer together still to share words spoken as smooth as silk. The ruckus his paws make as he struggles to climb over shrubbery is not important anymore. Dimmingsun wants to be heard — an interruption to put an end to whatever this is.

"What's going on here?" Dimmingsun demands, tone and pitch uncontrollable as he rounds on the two cats. His singular eye is full of emotion; hope, that he's just misheard the words or misread the body language; guilt, for encroaching on business not his own; disbelief, over the possibilities that underline all this.
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[Gladefrost]

Gladefrost can feel her heart screaming to lunge out her chest, an indescribable heat flooding her face and ears. It's been so long since the last time she seen him, and before she didn't feel this way. She enjoyed his company and watching the silverpelt by his side, the soft scent of the moors that lingered on his coat and how his voice instantly brought him comfort. She once felt like this with Reedstrike, but whatever she felt for Slateheart was a thousand times stronger than anything she felt or known before. The tip of her plumed tail twitches like a rattlesnake's, out of the sheer excitement of being with the man she missed and longed for moons.

”R-Really?” The rosette tabby spurts as he mentions that he never stopped missing her, and her paw pads feel sweaty from anticipation. She automatically puts a paw to her face as if brushes away a lock, but disguising it as feeling the heat from her face, her eyes closing. Slateheart... I can never describe how much I've missed you. Her paws squeeze against the earth's touch as she listens quietly to his words, her tail finally curling around her forepaws. Was she really strong when she used the imagination of Slateheart by her side to make it through the day?

When the guilt sought to sink her underneath the currents, she imagined the husky voice of the Windclanner. When the pain ached through her body and it was too painful to even move, she imagined the soft touch of his scruffy dark fur that reflected the night skies brushing against hers. ”I... only survived because I imagined you were at my side...” Gladefrost whispers, her ears flattening in embarrassment at her words. The Riverclanner internally scolds herself for her embarrassing words as the conversation slowly traverses from the painful topic that still plagued her to this day. He leans forward and listens to her confession and she can imagine him leaning forward to touch noses, confessing his love for her.

She remembered her parents and how deeply in love they were: completely lost in each other's love that they often forgot about their surroundings. The stories that her mother told her about how she knew her father was the one came to mind and her mouth opens slightly. Her throat tightens as Slateheart speaks before stepping, and the snapping of a branch catches her attention. A wide chambray gaze darts in the direction as the figure of the Windclan lead warrior emerges and her heart drops, instinctively moving to protect Slateheart's identity.

”T-There's nothing going on.” Gladefrost instantly retorts as her heart sits in her gut, scared to move in case any part of her beloved was saw. What could she say to get Slateheart off scotch-free? What if they told Sunstar, and it left Slateheart to get exiled? Kill him then. It was the voice once more, and she bites her lip, and she feels her throat tighten. She didn't want to take anymore lives, but... if he hurt Slateheart then... it was necessary. Her gaze was frigid compared to the warm and affection gaze that only Slateheart would see moments before, her claws digging into the dirt.

”I selfishly asked to see my friend because...” Her words trail off as she glances to the moon and a bittersweet smile traces her lips. I never liked you, Slateheart. ”...I'm hopelessly in love with him and I just wanted to have a moment to him myself.” Gladefrost replies a second after as she stares at Dimmingsun with a firm gaze, her heart beating loudly. She wanted to go back home and pick out the prettiest rock that reminded her of Slateheart. Maybe one of the color of his eyes or one that looked like the moon? She wanted to sleep by his side where he was hers, and she was his; was that too selfish? Hadn't she lost enough?

Was it so selfish that she loved someone outside of Riverclan?

No. It wasn't. She was always loyal to Riverclan and just because she found love outside, didn't mean she would be unloyal to them. Her figure turns slightly as she looks at Slateheart and gives him a soft smile, ”I love you, Slateheart. Even if we're lengths away and moons apart, my heart has only thought of you.”​

 

[slateheart]

Dimmingsun is so full of unbridled emotion that Slateheart feels he could break under the intensity of the golden warrior's gaze. The pain of betrayal - he had casted it unto his closest friend, the least of all cats that he'd wish to hurt. And yet, yet, after the shock, he still feels anger well up into his heart. Anger at himself, for letting them be caught - anger at Dimmingsun, for catching them, as if it is he who has wronged the pair.

" Nothing! " the tom replies tartly, a bit more harsh than intended. He is just as bewildered as Dimmingsun feels, and even more ashamed and embarrassed, too. In the same moment he speaks, so does Gladefrost, jumping to his defense - but by Dimmingsun's expression, he knows that this isn't just nothing.

In the next mere seconds of silence, Slateheart searches his brain for an explanation. Could he lie, as poor of a liar as he was? Could he stretch the truth with how poor a poet he was, too? If he stood here now and confessed his feelings for the molly next to him, would Dimmingsun ever look at him the same way? Would he be able to return home unscathed, to a life so normal that it feels abnormal after such a turn of events?

He opens his mouth to speak, and finds no words. It closes, then opens, then closes again, and he is at an utter loss. Suddenly, all he wants to do is go home, crawl into bed and forget this ever happened. Would it be easier to forget about Gladefrost than to carry on like this?

But before he can make that request, the RiverClanner speaks with a firm ferocity that turns his blood cold. Hopelessly in love. So it's true - this wasn't just a foolish heart's hope. Slateheart turns to stare at her with round eyes and, if he could, he would rejoice. But with his fellow lead warrior watching, a lovely, romantic scenario turns awkward and painful, and he finds himself cringing with every word she says. No, you fool! he longs to interject with. You will get us both in trouble!

But then.. Gladefrost looks at him, expectantly, but not as to urge his reciprocation. Clever, she was, and selfless and brave - it was all he fell for. Do I love you? he thinks, knowing with a sudden rush of emotion that he does, but he does not reply. She is taking the blame, and giving him an opportunity to save face. He meets her gaze with the same urgency, the same emotion she gives him. In a split second, there is relief and there is apology - and then he narrows his eyes and turns away towards his witness. " No. You're mistaken. Take me home, Dimmingsun, " he mutters to the lead warrior. " Please. "

He will see her again - carefully, next time. Though, in a dangerous surge of devotion, he feels he could risk it all for her. For now, he keeps his head down and nudges Dimmingsun's shoulder with his cheek, silently begging for an out. He hopes the warrior bought his lie, and hopes Gladefrost saw through it. Stars, save me from this walk home..

SLATEHEART ( he/him )​

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[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun doesn't know what to expect — nor what to hope for, actually. It is clear that this is no ordinary meeting by chance; but it would be so much easier if his ears weren't hit by truth or context of any capacity. Whatever comes of this night, it will be a burden to carry... he just does not yet know the scope of it all.

Both cats tell him this is nothing with equal desperation, and he cannot keep himself from scoffing, despite the potential seriousness of the situation. Silence stretches right up until he's had enough of it. "Right. I-"

Whatever he wanted to say is not important. Even he himself is not sure... maybe he ought to thank the RiverClan stranger for sparing him from making a fool of himself and stammering until he finds his voice, but what comes out of her mouth is nothing to thank. She speaks of love, the kind that is forbidden — and already Dimmingsun is thinking of a catastrophe where Sunstar casts Slateheart out of the Clan for the crime of following his heart. Her frigid gaze is so different from the warmth that she speaks of so highly.

Slateheart and his cross-Clan romance. While the she-cat speaks, Dimmingsun finds his eye traveling to his friend instead, unblinking as she paints a picture for them both. Throughout their friendship, Dimmingsun has been privy to parts of Slateheart that others haven't seen; but surely, he does not feel so out of place in WindClan that he had to find love elsewhere? Or is there something else at play?

Dimmingsun inhales sharply in preparation for speech, but it is then Slateheart's turn to cut him off. He is curt and unfeeling in the way he rejects everything the RiverClanner has uttered, and if Dimmingsun were just a tad bit more naive, it would be easy to accept. But...

You think I'm a fool?

He does not voice it aloud. Slateheart leaves the stranger's side and comes over to Dimmingsun instead — oh, if only the situation could be this easily solvable, a simple act of crossing over something with finality. There is more he could say... he could demand more explanations, could escalate this further. Whatever the truth might be though, he wants to minimize Slateheart's pain and discomfort. Being a third wheel in such an open declaration of love was awkward enough already.

So, Dimmingsun allows himself to be whisked away. He spares the she-cat one more curious-yet scrutinizing glance. "I'll see you at the Gathering." Brown, white and blue; all tied to memory now, never to disappear in the crowd again.
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