private i'm shameless, i'm something divine — sunstride

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 It has not left his mind since it left Houndthistle's mouth. The assumption of their relationship has Wolfsong torn between tragic amusement and an old, old famine of longing. He looked at them and believed they were in love, and he was not wrong— but not as right as Wolf wants him to have been. His love for Sunstride has many names, many shapes, and the shadow it casts has grown longer as Wolfsong has grown older. There was the wide-eyed adoration when he still had both to see him with, convinced that the older boy knew the answers to every question. When he bled a fleeing trail from a red-lipped dog, Sunnvar became savior, became guardian, then teacher and friend and best friend and family. Where once he seemed too bright to look upon, he became safety, shelter.

How could he not love him? How could he not wish to become bright himself, to draw Sunstride's gaze as he has always held Wolfsong's? But instead he's narrowed it with suspicion and distrust. Heated it with anger. If he laughs at Houndthistle's assumption, it is only to free the air from a crypt where hunger's sealed.

He wants to hear Sunstride laugh at the thought. Stone cracks need filling.

"Sunstride," he greets, speaking over the wind. "I have heard something that may interest you." Amuse you, disgust you, repel you, anger you— which will it be?
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

There are not enough words in this language to make sense of his heart when Wolfsong has a place in it. Of the two of them, it is not Sunstride that has mastery of their tongue, and he had given up hope too long ago for beginning to make sense of it now. Not when it had been years since he had sealed up that portion of himself beneath a father's concerns. He was to have a family, to sire kits that might bolster their bloodline. He was to lead, one day, and take on a mate that would bring strength to their clan. (There is no thought afforded to it now, but then, alone– he had bitten a miserable tongue bloody at the thought that Wolfsong could not have been the one for this. With the younger warrior's connections gone and his life dedicated to a new purpose, want had not simply festered. It had been razed so wholly it might never have held a place within him at all. They both suffered for the cowardice of his feelings. He could not purge them fully, and that is the only way to let go.

He deserves this. He deserves one that he may find love in. And Sunstride still clings to him like misery, like a festering wound.)

The gust of wind steals his immediate hum of curiosity from his maw, and so the lead warrior pivots against the wind to face him. Between the brewing storm and the too-bright eye that seems to sparkle with cautious mirth, he is caught on all that might have happened. But the wind is at his back now, and his dense fur flares up and tickles his face. "Tell me as we walk," he calls out over the din, "lest the wind tear you off your paws. There is shelter up ahead." Perhaps they could find shelter there until the worst of this part blew over.

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-eight moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He has wondered what might have happened, were it not for the dogs, for treachery. If his parents had survived, if the rest of their colony had not fallen or scattered to the winds. Would their parents have met for an arrangement between colonies? Would Sunstride's father have still felt the same fool-weariness and passed their group's future into the jaws of another? Wolfsong knows that such fantasies are as substantial as downy feathers lifted by the faintest of breezes, but such knowledge has not kept him safe from the lull of what might have been.

His mind is given to wandering far more often of late. It is no coincidence that it has increased alongside the slow yawn between he and Sunstride.

To be alone with him now, even in the midst of a howling gale, has Wolfsong far more content than even the evening spent with Houndthistle. "I will tell you once we're there," he calls back, turning to glance at him with a grin just for a moment before pressing on toward the smattering of brush and stone. Though still loud once they teach this small haven, the wind is forced to snarl above their heads rather than tear at their pelts.

He settles down in a low crouch to be in the best position, thick fur tangled in an impressive mess. Sunstride is no better, flame-tufts in all directions and even sporting bits of plants and twigs. Even so, it is not the wind that hastens Wolfsong's heart. He licks his muzzle, struck by a sudden anxiety. "Houndthistle," he begins, then clears his throat as his rasping voice falters. His toes dig into the ground imperceptibly. "I went to him, not long ago— it was after Tigerfrost's murder. He thought that you and I were lovers."
​

 

[SUNNVAR]

Perhaps in a world such as that, they would never have found their way here. If his father had more sense, and their "clan" more allies– well, what use would he have for new horizons? A world with Ellisif astride him (not Wolfsong, not the cat that he was now; Ellisif, his dearest friend) would have been one worth weathering. He is not above admitting that it was his courage that allowed him to leave. What would become of him if his journey had been made alone? Would he have survived even the first steps? To set out in this world with not even a friend at his side. Now, with the distance of time and thought, Sunstride knows that it would have been his doom. When he is alone and aware of this, he knows that it might still come upon him as such. He aches for the closeness of childhood. And even still, he knows that he is the only one keeping himself from such frivolous things.

His pride will not allow himself to crawl to him belly-down and plead forgiveness for words that may never be taken back.

It is somewhere between history and apology, how he immediately begins to groom Wolfsong's fur. Before he is even fully settled in their nook of safety, Sunstride's tongue rasps over windswept curls without hope of truly taming them.

It is the very same emotion that gives him pause as he begins to speak. The name is what has him withdrawing, brow furrowed and something twisting about in his gut. Memories of him curdle, the time they have spent together splashed by the acid of Houndthistle's closeness to him. How cruel he must be, to hold such judgements by his heart. To look at his friend and the happiness he finds in another and wish nothing more than to tear it apart. There is nothing more terrible than this jealousy. That Wolfsong had gone to another for comfort, or sought to comfort him first– he does not resume grooming him, staring instead with heavy eyes.

"Perhaps we should not be alone as we are, if such things concern him so." It is the instinctive strike of a trodden snake, though his voice remains cool. A twitch of a smile curls his lips. It is not wholly sincere, but close enough to promise, It is not you, I am not upset with you. He has not been clear on that as of late. "Their rumors do not interest me. WindClan can say what it will."

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 05.28.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: 200th posts.... finally.....

• 

• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-eight moons old. lead warrior of windclan + former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.

• "speech"

​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 The rasp of Sunstride's tongue drags him back moons. It is often this way between them as of late, isn't it? Wolfsong sprawls between two worlds, failing to find balance between where they were and where they are. It would be easier with Sunstride's guidance; it's what he waits for, but the discomfiting discontent that haunts his dearest friend disorients him further. Where else is he to look? Their fellow rogues? No. While they may share a common background, none can substitute Sunstride's steadiness— or unsteadiness, even.

So he flounders, and he knows his night with Houndthistle was –in part– the result of teetering between worlds. He wanted intimacy, closeness— the sort denied to him by the person who bound Wolfsong to WindClan.

He leans into him. Another failing, perhaps, that he is so greedy for his attention that propriety falls aside. But Wolfsong's not so foolish he doesn't notice the frosted fit of the flame-bearing tom's face. He does not know if he is convinced that his ire is not for him. "I do not think they will be long-lived," he says eventually, measured. "They may speak of me with Houndthistle instead, after that evening." Be angry, envious. Snarl, snap— some sign you share even a grain of my affection for you.
​