private i'm feeling like a drum without a beat {dimmingsun}

[Cricketcry]

𓆧 Cricketcry has been thinking of the impending conversation all day, the words he has carefully chosen feel heavy on his tongue as the time to say them comes closer. It is not that he arranged for a meeting and surely he could just go right back to his moping, but he has worked himself up and must see this through. He returned back from a routine patrol and had been lingering nearby the entrance to camp since then, awaiting for the return of moor runners' who had been on the last patrols of the day.

When he hears the sifting sand, signaling the return of the patrol, he rises quickly to wait for a particular golden tom to press through the the heather tunnel. When he spots him at last he scrambles to his paws and approaches hesitantly, weaving through his counterparts to get to Dimmingsun. He must get to him before his attention was inevitably stolen away by somebody much more interesting. "Dimmingsun," Cricketcry croaks the three syllables with a tinge of anxiety surrounding his words. "Could w-we speak? He gestures with his tail towards a preferred spot for a conversation. "Won't take long..."

He stares up at the much larger tom with mossy eyes, nearly meeting Dimmingsun's piercing green gaze before adverting them quickly, focusing on a piece of heather on his shoulder he must've picked up from the tunnel. Cricketcry is beyond terrified by himself when he unwillingly reaches out with a forepaw to flick the debris off of Dimmingsun's heavyset shoulders, but instead of fleeing he sets his paw down and remains poised-- outwardly. In his mind he is regretting ever having built up the confidence to approach Dimmingsun. I've already messed it all up... He won't want to speak to me ever again... Why did I touch him? I'll act like that's a thing I do... just... cleaning off some dirt.


// @dimmingsun​

 

[DIMMINGSUN]

On good days, passing through the tunnel that acts as the camp's exit and entry is something Dimmingsun deems enough of a highlight to break the push-and-pull of monotony. He gets to see any and all changes, regardless of their size; patrols returning and going out, Clanmates sharing a piece of prey before continuing their duties, kittens waking up from the occasional slumber to resume their mischief. He's always been known for being quite perceptive, but his promotion to lead warrior has only ever amplified that trait about him.

When Cricketcry hurries to meet him, Dimmingsun greets him with mirth. "Cricketcry! Hello." StarClan knows why he keeps gravitating towards the more shy cats. That's how his friendship with Slateheart had really started, anyway — an impulsive comment thrown at the nearest quiet tom. Much the same has happened with Cricketcry, and Dimmingsun has grown rather fond of the tunneler, despite their differences in rank and personality. Cricketcry asks for his time, and who would Dimmingsun be if he did not give it willingly? "Of course. Take all the time you need, too." He remains oblivious to how much nerve Cricketcry has to muster up to ask; it's not like there is impending doom to put one's focus on more.

When the pair stop at the preferred spot, it becomes impossible not to consider their size difference. Cricketcry is small, even for a tunneler, and Dimmingsun has never fit the typical wiry build of a WindClanner — he looks much more like Sunstar, a rogue from faraway lands. Cricketcry is the type to bolt when frightened, so with much amusement, Dimmingsun decides to lower himself to appear more... approachable, perhaps. He already considers himself as such, but that might as well be subjective.

Dimmingsun flicks an ear in surprise when Cricketcry reaches out; frees him from a stray piece of debris that had stubbornly clung to him. "Thanks, Cricket. I'd have looked like a fool, carryin' that around for the rest of the day."
​

 

[Cricketcry]

Take all the time you need to, Dimmingsun's words were met with a nonchalant, dismissive swish of tail. Cricketcry would not take long, he did not want to take up any time if could help it but unfortunately he cannot; he feels an insatiable need to thank Dimmingsun. After removing the heather from his counterpart, Cricketcry sits down quickly. He sweeps his disheveled tail around his forepaws and mews roughly, "Yeah, y-you're... w-wel...come." He flounders and lets silence settle between himself and Dimmingsun, eyes now settling on the heather he had swiped off of Dimmingsun's shoulder.

His maw opens the shuts just as quickly before he inhales and murmurs, "I... I just wanted-d-d to thank you for asking what had been weighing me down..." Cricketcry trails off, face furrowing as he realizes the best way of approaching this would be longwinded. An annoyed huff escapes him and his shoulders droop. He really does hate speaking. It's exhausting to listen to himself. "I know I was... avoidant-t-t, maybe a little rude. Well, look, I I have been... distant for many, m-m-man...many moons. Guess I was kind of waiting for sss...somebody to say s-sss-something... I needed to realize I've been kind of an idiot."

Idiot. Cricketcry always has known this to be a fact, but in this context it was more poignant. He was being an idiot by denying himself any kind of camaraderie or companionship with his clanmates, isolating himself further and further, moon by moon he had been drifting further and further from Windclan since his accident. He'd left his conversation with Dimmingsun with a bitter taste in his mouth, he'd denied himself, yet again, the opportunity to be open. It is exhausting, to push away every single person who has ever expressed any kind of interest in his life, maybe more exhausting than speaking. Dim eyes flit up to meet Dimmingsun's- relunctantly- and he continues, "I reflected-d-d on it and I'd just like to thank you. I shouldn't... well, I should not carry on as I have been. Does mys..s-self no good. As a mmm...matter of fact it does nobody any good."

"I'd like to... not be seen... as so down or Windclan's hermit any longer. I'm trying to be b-b-better. I have grown to be sick of myself."

​

 

[DIMMINGSUN]

Cricketcry gets down to business — or at least, that's how Dimmingsun views his abrupt decision to take a seat. He mirrors him, and hopes his willingness to wait and listen shows through such an act. His gut feeling tells him this won't be an easy one...

And he is right, as it dawns on him in time. At first, Dimmingsun does not think much of it; he merely nods along to Cricketcry's words with a pleasant smile on his face, but the sincerity of it bleeds out as the conversation heads to something a bit more self-deprecating. The past haunts the former moor runner, that much is certain. An awful accident, a painful broken limb, and a diverging path in terms of fate. It is a definite way to bring one's spirits down.

"I'm glad if I helped-" he starts, and stops, because is that the right thing to say? It's not like Dimmingsun meant anything particular with it... other than a conversation opener, a way to get the normally quiet warrior to talk. "But... aren't you a little hard on yourself?"

This is not an easy topic to handle. Dimminsun, despite all his friendliness and openness towards his Clanmates, has the tendency to say things wrong... oftentimes he does not even realize what he had said clung to someone's mind long after the fact, warping into something worse than intended. Simple conversations are easy. A deeper connection... not so much. All of it is a mine field, required to traverse through with big, clumsy paws.

He is not about to leave Cricketcry hanging, though. Here he is, despite himself: opening himself up and allow himself to be vulnerable. Dimmingsun ought to appreciate that — ought to pick out his best words. "For what it's worth, I don't think of you as a hermit. You're as much of a Clanmate as anyone else, and I do not view you as anything less for bein' quiet."

Is this right? Dimmingsun averts his gaze just for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. What is it that Cricketcry needs in this moment?

"You're already past the first step. Like you said: you're trying to get better. If you ask me, you haven't done anything wrong... but I'd love to stick with you and see where this all takes you, if you'll have me on the way."
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