pafp it's everything i see — worrying

[CLAYFUR]

RiverClan has faced loss after loss in just the past few days. Another apprentice has disappeared—hopefully Gloompaw is not dead, but they have no guarantee of her still being alive. There hadn’t even been a scent to track. Their temporary camp is in shambles, dens toppled over or outright destroyed in the raid. There is hardly a RiverClanner who got out of the fighting unscathed, and a WindClanner even managed to destroy some of Beesong’s herbs.

And worst of all, Clearsight is gone. It feels as though he hasn’t stopped crying for even a second since his love was ripped away from him, an unfairness that cannot be righted no matter how hard anyone tries.

At least there were no other casualties, but there could have so easily been. He’d seen Cinder, at one point, lying motionless on the ground—Smokethroat, as well. One clanmate he hadn’t seen in the battle, though, is Snakeblink. He wonders whether the other was hurt too badly. RiverClan can’t bear to lose another warrior. Clay can’t bear to lose another friend. He’s spent his time hiding away from the world, tucked into a nest that’s too cold, too uncomfortable without another body in it, but eventually he gets shooed out by whichever clanmate feels least sorry for him at the moment.

Without a place to wallow, he seeks out other clanmates who he knows had been in the battle. He finds Snake rather easily, and relief hits him when he doesn’t see any gaping wounds threatening to drain his life drop by drop. He sniffs, trying to blink away a fresh waterfall of tears. "Hey," he greets the other tom, sliding over to sit beside him. He blinks and sees a pool of blood, lifeless yellow eyes. "Are you okay? Not too hurt? Have you been resting? Sleeping?"

// @Snakeblink.
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Decisions, decisions — all of them wrong. Snakeblink stares unseeingly at the wall he’s been painstakingly trying to re-weave, paws frozen mid-movement, and realizes he isn’t making it any better. He’s not sure there’s a way to fix this short of building a whole new wall, which feels pointless considering the use these were anyway — or lack thereof. Good for privacy, absolutely useless for protection. And working on it has been good for distracting him but hasn’t really helped anything. His jaw aches from clutching at a bundle of reeds for so long, and the hole is still there. The hole is never going away. They’ll just have to learn to live with this hole in their life, now.

This is maybe about more than a hole in some useless wall.

A speaking voice has him turning his head towards the sound and he blinks owlishly at Clayfur’s miserable figure sitting next to him. He goes to say Pardon? but finds his speech hindered by his mouthful of reeds, and the tom’s words have registered by the time he manages to spit them out. Are you okay? Not too hurt? Have you been resting? Sleeping?

”Clayfur! Apologies, I didn’t notice you approaching. I’m as well as can be— only a few bumps and bruises.” Some scratches, a sprained back paw that he’s trying not to put too much weight on as he runs around: the coward’s common fare. He flicks his tail dismissively. ”A little tired, but such is life.”

Exhausted, more like: his insomnia is as bad as ever, although he feels as if there’s grit underneath his eyelids. There’s too much to do, too many of them hurt, too much to be worried about: he couldn’t sleep even if he tried to, and he hasn’t been trying as much as he probably should have. Others bled and died for him: how could he do anything else?

He turns his full attention to Clayfur, leaning closer though he doesn’t dare touch him. He looks haunted; Snakeblink doesn’t know what to do except very carefully think about his words before he says, ”But it’s no matter. How are you, Clayfur? Is there anything I can do to…” help sticks to his tongue, unsaid. Nothing ever truly helps, in this situation.
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[CLAYFUR]

The other tom doesn’t notice him at first, and apologizes for it. Clay shakes his head, a dismissal of the apology—he can’t blame his clanmate for being busy, distracted. Their clan has suffered, and Snakeblink is hurt, even if he’s attempting to downplay it. He says he’s tired, and isn’t that a familiar feeling to Clayfur? He doubts anyone in RiverClan has been sleeping well—Hound’s insomnia, as well as his own, are evidence of it. It isn’t that he doesn’t believe the other tom’s reassurance, but it’s hard to believe that any of them are remotely okay both mentally and physically.

"How are you, Clayfur?"

For once, the tom finds himself with no response to a question. No easy answer.

He’s used to plastering on a smile, covering his hurt with cheer. It had usually passed the inspection of others, a façade to disguise his pain. But this isn’t sadness, it’s… devastation. A mind-numbing sort of grief, overpowered only currently by his concern. Has the lead warrior gone to see Beesong yet? He’s about to ask the question, but Snake asks if there’s anything he can do. "Uh," he says, dumbly. His jaw tightens, teeth clenched around nothing. Unless Snakeblink has learned the art of resurrection, then there is nothing that the lead warrior can do to heal the ache in his chest, to bring back a tom who now walks among stars. "I don’t think there’s anything. He’s just… gone." He won’t say anything, won’t ask the other tabby to try bringing back a lost clanmate; there is nothing that Snakeblink, or any clanmate, can do.

Snake leans in but doesn’t get near enough to touch, so Clayfur shifts closer to the other warrior, hoping to bump their shoulders together. He’s a tactile cat, comforted by fur brushing against his own, but the final touch of his mate is stained in red, splattered across his memory. He hangs his head, squeezes his eyes shut. Change the subject, change the subject. "Is there anything that I can do for you?"
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Clayfur’s face falls at his question, and Snakeblink has to bite back his knee-jerk apology in fear that further words would only render him more distraught. Seeing him in that state is— a sympathetic heartbreak. He can’t say to have been close to Clearsight, but he does feel the loss of the joyful Clayfur keenly even though the tom is, in every other way, still among them.

I don’t think there’s anything. He’s just… gone

He understands the feeling, and that understanding robs him of any other words. He has no reassurance to offer; none would have helped, but he still wishes he could… fix the unfixable.

He stills as Clayfur meets him halfway, bumping their shoulders together. Swallowing thickly, he leans fully into the other tabby at the risk of overstepping, offering the only thing he can remember craving while he mourned: touch and companionship. Frankly, there’s nothing either of them can do for the other, but he wracks his brain for something anyway. Idly paws never helped distract anyone.

”Well, you could always help me with these walls.” No, idiot, don’t remind him of the raid. "And I have some thoughts about Swantuft and Finleap that I’d love to bounce off of somebody else—” Nice going, reminding him of romance. ”Or— I guess there’s an itch at the back of my head I can’t scratch?” He finishes lamely, voice trailing off and muffled as he covers his face with his paw.​

——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 37 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

​

​

 

[CLAYFUR]

Clay is grateful for the increased touch, the feeling of another’s pelt against his own after nights spent alone. A sniffle escapes him, and he can’t help his wince when the other tom suggests that he could help fix the den walls that were destroyed in WindCan’s raid. WindClan hadn’t only taken his mate from him, but the moor-dwelling clan had also wrecked their temporary camp. The other clan’s ferocity, their violence, took so much from him—from RiverClan. He shakes his head, but Snake is already suggesting another option.

The lead warrior chooses to talk about Swantuft and Finleap—Clay is sure his emotions are clear on his face. His mouth twists further into a frown, brows furrowing with distress. He’s struck, nearly offended, even, that Snakeblink wants him to talk about two of their clanmates who he thinks are in love. "I…" He gapes at the other tom, shifts to meet his eyes.

There are tears in his eyes still, but they don’t get the chance to fall, because Snakeblink changes the topic of conversation once again. An itch he can’t scratch. It sounds a lot like an excuse, an attempt to forcefully drive the subject away from romance. An itch. "I can get it for you, if you want." Anything besides talking about the love lives of their clanmates, truly.
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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