pafp IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT BUT MINE — open

[SLATESNARL]

The mass of muscle and fur sits close to ( but not directly alongside ) the smaller, orange-splashed she-cat near a small creek. It is much calmer and tranquil compared to the body of water the cats had been faced with previously; it adds a nice ambiance to the late afternoon air as the duo sits and converses. "I can't believe we're actually doin' this." They had passed the trials so far, like crossing a rickety broken bridge over roaring waters and nearly losing several cats to the river. Who knew what more would be in store for the group? "You think we'll actually find this stuff?" The lungwort, he refers to. The former rogue had a complicated relationship with StarClan, in the sense that he had witnessed their power firsthand but was still unsure of how exactly they worked. Could they really rely on the cryptic messages of a bunch of dead cats to guide them toward the cure?

There had not been much to talk about besides current events, but Slate finds his mind wandering elsewhere as the momentum behind their conversation begins to slow its pace. "Ora, there's..." The Maine Coon pauses, his gaze shifting uneasily to the water as it weaved through rocks and crevices. "I've been meanin' to talk to you about somethin'." Stars, was he actually going to address it? A deep-rooted remorse is entangled in his voice, which is usually firm and unwavering with self-assurance. His nerves refuse to rest, itching at his paws and causing him to shift them anxiously much to his discontent.

This is why he never bothered with apologies.

✰ INFO

• @orangeblossom
  please feel free to interrupt them in some way lol
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

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[Orangestar]

ORANGEBLOSSOM — tags​

Slate grumbles at her side as they walk today, a seemingly constant monologue even though it's really only the occasional remark, and Orangeblossom listens to him idly. She's thinking of home, silent musings lingering on her mate and kits (though her label to former is more dubious now than ever, with physical distance separating them now after their most recent discussion). How they're all doing, how the kits' training is progressing, how Ashenclaw has no doubt stepped up in her absence to parent their kittens as wholly as he can. Her torn ear twitches as Slate questions whether they'll even find the lungwort, though not in as many words, and she finally swings her head upwards to look at him.

"StarClan's been right before. You remember Fireflypaw's prophecy, and what happened with the Shelter." Of course Slate would remember. He'd been the one to realise where the captive SkyClanners had been taken, at the cost of his own freedom. They walk in silence for some time after that conversation, quiet weaving into the space between their words like fog. Orangeblossom blinks at him again when he starts up a different topic. Something he'd wanted to talk to her about ... Stars, that could be anything really. A small part of her, the same small part that yearns for closure every time he opens his maw to speak, unfurls; but, much like every time before that, she quashes it back down. This wouldn't be anything different.

"Yes?" The sun-splashed molly queries, whiskers twitching in a silent encouragement for him to continue when he's ready.

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