IT MUST BE OKAY [ smogstar ]

[scalejaw]

★ It was two nights after his return as Smogstar did she finally gather the gift she had been slowly putting together before Chilledstar's death. A paw set foot in territory in lone movements, time and time again, a bundle collected of things she knew he liked. Not so much on the flowery side of things- but definitely the fungus end. A small collection of mushrooms was bunded with green vine. Alright, maybe she couldn't resist putting in some white weed-flowers.

A breath left her as she stepped into the ink of camp, keeping to shadows as she pad towards the leader's den. It was just a gift to thank him for saving her life. Saying that in a sentence strung together made it sound like more then that, but it wasn't, was it? She hoped not. She hoped the twinge in her stomach, seeing Mockingbirdcry speak so freely to him didn't mean anything, she was pushing that urge down. She didn't need him, of all cats, to fill that side of her brain. Regardless, she didn't need anyone there.

It was just a gift to say thank you for saving her life. Scalejaw was not a young cat, anymore. She was not here to throw crushes around. This was business. The bundle was placed just outside the mouth of the den, head poking around the corner. "Smogstar?" She questioned, looking for the cat mentioned. Was he within the den? Saying that name still felt wrong, like chewing on the ash of another's bones.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MESSES WITH YOUR SANITY ⋅❁⋅ TWISTING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AROUND ──┐‎

• "speech"
  // @smogstar
  

• 

• SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, warrior of shadowclan, sixty three moons.
  ★ A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
  ★ mentoring no one
  ★ padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[smogstar]

The new den's a total game-changer. Two evenings have turned into mornings since being crowned Smogstar. Twice has the tom tucked in under the oak's twisted roots and basked in a silent, secure resplendence, and twice has he attained a semblance of restful slumber. Those frequent sleepless nights - hours lost in deep thought and anxious rumination - appear to be blissfully behind him. What's more, he needn't fear a sudden kick to his dozing face by a clanmate jolted awake, nor will he fret over inconsiderate verbal exchanges by the den walls as cats argue over pawspace and bad breath and who-slept-too-close-to-whom.

Smogstar is afforded a dignified bubble, a respectful perimeter. Space in which he may isolate and organise his thoughts, space in which he can choose to exit whenever the mood arises. He feels in control for the first time in moons, and the satisfaction from this indulgence is incredible. Alone. Renewed. Ready. Alone. He sighs pensively, surrendering his senses to his surroundings, vision blurring lazily around the very same nest he has lain in night after night.

Impending rest defines his expression. Eyes give in to lethargy's added gravity and grow heavy, once-crisp amber irises now sallow with strain. The leader's muscles begin to relax, shoulders slumping as he rounds the bedding and- he halts, having heard his name called from across the den's entrance. Smogstar turns, gazes beyond the natural archway and surveys the camp proper. There, a grisled warrior looms in the shade.

"Oh, evening." After purging his throat of its accumulated phlegm and other unsavoury mucous, the tom ducks his noggin and trots outside to greet Scalejaw. His tail curls into a question mark as he considers her, whiskers aflicker in the gloom. "What can I- oooooooh, ohoho, mushrooms."

Sat on the cool ground before the molly is a cornucopia, so to speak. Toadstools and fungi and flowers interspersed, presenting an aromatic array. Their earthy scent tickles the tom's nostrils and he sniffs pointedly, eyes widening, ears lifting when he realises. It's an offering. Not a pledge of fealty, per se (such a gesture would be silly, knowing her) but a token, and a well-meaning one.

The new leader's throat wells again as he cranes over the petite bouquet to face her, a lump forming there. He's perplexed but touched, a soft smile stealing his lips. "Quite a haul," Smogstar remarks plainly. "You must've put a lotta time into this," he adds, humming as he gives the gift another once-over, inspecting its amount and variety. "Why? I mean, what's the occasion, Scalejaw?" Be it the dark of night or his own tired state, he's not quite following. Is it his leadership that she's congratulating? Looking into those lambent orange eyes grants him no further clues. ​

 

[scalejaw]

★ It is clear to her, near immediately, that she has interrupted near-slumber. She inhales softly at her mistake. Normally, she was more careful, more cautious, about how she stepped around these parts of his life. She steps back from the gift as he exits the den, and barely just averts her gaze as he notices. "Yes, for you." She prompts as he leaned down to inspect. His reaction fascinates her, to a point- how his pupils widen, how ears perk and his vision settles like a blanket against her.

He is almost quieter when he speaks again, and it makes that moment all that much harder to speak in. Swallowing pride, and any other anxiety keeping her tongue still, she lifts her vision towards him. The moment of hesitance? Over. "A couple of nights, yes." She responded. She shifts, slowly settling into a sitting position. Her paws were aching, and this relieved them just a hint. Tail curled over feathered paws as she answered. "It is a... gift of appreciation, you could say." She responds lightly, and moments later elaborates.

Scalejaw's head turned- the scarring the badger left against the right side of her neck and shoulder gleaming in moonlight. A nasty, nasty reminder of how she saved Flintwish- who was Flintpaw- that day. Biting cold, hard to see, snow up to their chins, it felt like. Suffocating in a way- to remember such an incident. The staggering moment when Smogstar- then Smogmaw- threw caution to the wind and leapt into drive the badger off. That alone took more courage then she knew how to describe. "You saved my life. I don't recall ever truly thanking you." Scalejaw said.

Then, in a slightly lighter tone she continued. "It is, in part, congratulations for becoming leader. A little... den-warming gift, all three wrapped into one." Her tail flicked towards the den he had stepped from, which seemed nearly dim, still smelling lightly of a friend who had passed on. She wondered quietly if Smogstar's scent would soon cover it, masking Chilledstar's last remnants with his own, living ones.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MESSES WITH YOUR SANITY ⋅❁⋅ TWISTING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AROUND ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, warrior of shadowclan, sixty three moons.
  ★ A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
  ★ mentoring no one
  ★ padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
  ★ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ★ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

​

 

[smogstar]

Scalejaw revives memories he'd casually pushed aside and forgotten about. Not for any lack of importance, mind—with loftier ambitions on his mind, they simply didn't hold much weight in comparison. Like a footnote at the bottom corner, easily forgotten as he chased the stars. This awareness strikes hard and fast each time his eyes found the gift she'd put together for him. His gaze keeps drifting to the little white flowers mixed in, then darting away just as quickly.

Still, it's a wonderful gift. An obvious labour, too; besides the timeframe described to him, it wasn't as though the territory was bursting with the specimens she'd brought him. And he has the nerve to ask why? He pushes his voice past the lump in his throat, blinking back the dryness in his eyes. "I'm not- sorry, I'm not trying to sound ungrateful or nothin'," Smogstar jabbers out, chucking and shaking his head. "I was obliged by duty to... y'know."

Jump between his clanmates and a ravenous badger. He can't put it to voice. Bafflingly, he cannot put it to voice. An unseen barrier remains between he and the enormity behind the gesture, and whether it's subbornness blocking him from tearing it down or sheer incredulity on his end, it exists all the same. It's easier to pretend this isn't significant at all, though perhaps it is even more selfish than dismissing it altogether. Yet, there's another aspect to the mushrooms lain before him, something he cannot so glibly push aside and look beyond. Something more poignant, something which the molly before him graciously explained in her own words.

Scalejaw appreciates him. She'd stated so with a conviction Smogstar was entirely out of practice hearing.

The tom inhales deeply, mouth agape as he drinks in air like he's about to dive under water. What if the she-cat expects an answer to match hers? What's he meant to say here? Inane worries tumble around and around, crashing into each other in their descent—until his inner voice grows faint and he can think clearly, and from his lips escapes a tiny word: "Huh."

Nope. Not good at all. Smogstar swallows thickly, brow furrowing with stress, and blunders on regardless into the deep dark. "I mean to say: I appreciate you, for, erh-" The tom grimaces, squints through his eyelashes in consternation, and barrels ahead, hoping for the best. "For your appreciation. If that makes any sense at all." The last part trails into a mutter, a flush spreading beneath the layer shadowing his face. He has yet to tear his eyes off the scarred-up expression opposite to his, and for some reason the tom feels frozen there. Unable to do anything save study the cat before him.

She's a contradiction. Known to be so sharp, but now, so gentle. A dissonant contrast, that which has always held an appeal to him.

He's supposed to be a hell of a lot better at accepting gifts.​

 

[scalejaw]

★ Her head tilts- not in worry or dislike, but in understanding. He was overwhelmed, she took it. He was nearly asleep, and she bothered him with this at... what time of night, was it? She couldn't seem to drag her eyes away from whatever was going on behind his own orange- if she was reading him correctly, it was... a near-panic, unsure of what to do or say. So she tilted her head in an empathetic way, waiting for him to speak. Patience.

"Your humbleness isn't... ungrateful." She tipped her words out slowly, as if putting it together in her own mind. Was that just it- he did it out of duty? Well, she would have too, she assumed. Scalejaw's eyebrows drew together briefly, tasting something other then the good-naturedness behind her gift, it overwhelmed and coated her throat. Of which, she cleared, swallowing thickly, and knitted together the visage he was used to seeing- the flash of her own doubt gone from her face within moments of it appearing.

She sat a hint straighter, shoulders squaring as he spoke again, almost bewildered at the action she had taken here tonight. He looks like she did just moments ago- both caught in a confusion she had wrought by trying to do something nice. Inwardly, perhaps, she cursed herself. But his eyes are locked to hers, and the flush is hidden through gray fur, darkened by the moonlight. Her own ears twitched, the feathered fur swaying for a brief moment.

And it was... clear, in a way- she had never known him to stumble over his words like this. He was clear, concise, put together. The dull honestly was something that intrigued her, most times- but this was just as fascinating, watching him trip and stumble to catch up to her. She can't help it- the way her head ducks down, a tiny chuckle leaving her mouth, shoulders lifted and shaking in humor. When her head raises, the ever-familiar grin was settled on her lips, teeth poking out over the grin. "Simmer, Smogstar. Breathe. You look like you might pass out if you don't."

Was this her way of ending the conversation, to kill the awkwardness between them that she had brought to fruition? She wasn't sure herself. "Do take care of it. It took me time to put it together." She said warmly, then, "And.. maybe I'll show you where I found them. Next time." Next time. She says it, and she seals a fate she didn't understand even now. Next time? Is that what she wished, to see him.. like this once more? Scalejaw was lost as soon as she said it herself, so her throat cleared once more. "Rest well, Smogstar."

Scalejaw didn't know if she could stand here any longer without getting burnt.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── MESSES WITH YOUR SANITY ⋅❁⋅ TWISTING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS AROUND ──┐‎

• "speech"
  

• 

• SCALEJAW 🌧 she/her, warrior of shadowclan, sixty three moons.
  ★ A SH black/LH blue smoke chimera with glowering orange eyes, tufts of fur that make her look dragon-akin, and scars that she wears with pride. motherly and stern attitude, with a warm streak for clanmates and a cruel streak for enemies.
  ★ mentoring no one
  ★ padding after no one / / mother to bonerattle, nightwhisper, and shadefall
  ★ 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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