backwritten i've come home / sillybreeze

[HAWKSPINE]

A warrior's vigil is possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done. A night of silent contemplation, to ensure warriors knew the weight of their new role in the Clan. No talking allowed, no quiet discussion or hellos passed between Clanmates who passed by in search of the dirtplace. Hawkspine, known for his friendly countenance and constant stream of chatter, had nearly slipped up a few times. More than once he'd opened his maw to say something to Sillybreeze, their tabby-patched form across the camp entrance from his own, silenced with a sharp glance of reminder only for the words to die in Hawkspine's throat and go forgotten as time passed.

Hawkspine's eyes sting by the time the sky begins to lighten and the cats behind the ferns stir to life. He doesn't talk when Owlheart and Duskpool come to relieve them, though a part of him knows he could, and he doesn't even stop for a meal before he heads to the warriors' den. Thank StarClan they'd moved their nests yesterday, between the meeting and the dusk patrols. Tortoiseshell fur hits mixed moss with a soft thump, ignoring the complaint that reaches his ears.

"I'm not moving," he whinges in return, an exhausted slur to his voice, and Hawkspine flicks his tail to invite his denmate closer to their adjacent nests. "Just c'mere."

// @SILLYBREEZE ​

 

[SILLYBREEZE]

Sillybreeze hadn't minded the silence of the night; in fact, he had found it peaceful, almost meditative. The weight of his new title as a warrior was something he welcomed, resting comfortably on his patched shoulders like an old friend. In contrast, Hawkspine's constant struggle with staying quiet hadn't gone unnoticed, and each time he'd nearly spoken, Sillybreeze had had to stifle a grin. There was something endearing about his friend-slash-rival's restless energy, a stark contrast to his own quiet acceptance; though, it had definitely stoked his competitive nature, leading to a sense of smugness at his own control of himself.

By morning, though, his body feels like it's aged several moons. His legs are stiff and his eyes are burning with fatigue, but even still, he trails after Hawkspine, not quite awake anymore but determined to stay close. He seems to be following the sound of pawsteps rather than actually watching where he is going, eyelids drooping over hazy eyes. When Hawkspine flops onto the nest, Sillybreeze whines without words at the obstacle. He doesn't bother to try to figure out how to find space, just follows suit without hesitation, collapsing half on top of him with a muffled 'uhf' as he does so. He mutters something incoherent, a sound that could’ve been an apology—or maybe a complaint—but he doesn’t bother clarifying.

Sillybreeze doesn't much care where he's ended up, too tired to even try adjusting. Hawkspine is comfortable enough to lay on anyways, he's quickly learning. His body is already growing heavy with the weight of his exhaustion falling over him, and within moments, he begins to drift off, mind growing foggy as he slips away into sleep.​

 

[HAWKSPINE]

Hawkspine is asleep before he can realise Sillybreeze has taken him up on his offer, dropping off the ledge into pleasant darkness. Despite it he's not so tired that his mind forgoes dreaming, finding himself among sprawling branches and the weight of the warm sun upon his side. He sees birds above his head, wheeling in circles, and shakes out wings he didn't even know he'd had. Without a second thought he's flying, ascending the tree branches with ease until he sits above a blurry cloud of green pines.

When he wakes, it is to the sensation of fur brushing against his own and a tapering purr from outside of the den. Unfamiliar weight is draped over his flank, warm and comfortable, and Hawkspine cracks one eye open to see mismatched fur. Huh? Oh, Sillybreeze. With an absent patch of memory between how he got from the edge of camp to now, his expression twists into confusion.

"Hey ..." Half asleep but not entirely unkindly, he jerks his hindleg to rouse his denmate. "Oi. 'Cha sleeping on me for?"

​

 

[SILLYBREEZE]

Sillybreeze stirs at the nudge, blinking groggily as he registers Hawkspine's voice and the weight beneath him. His mind, heavy with sleep, takes a moment to piece together where he is and why he's draped across another cat's side like a particularly large moss ball. Realizing he's more or less sprawled over Hawkspine, he considers moving, but his body has other plans, refusing to cooperate with his half-hearted attempt to shift. "Mm," he mutters, the sound somewhere between a yawn and a sigh. He feels Hawkspine's flank rise and fall beneath him, steady and warm, and though he knows he should probably explain himself or at least make some effort to remove himself, he finds he's reluctant to do either. Shifting his head slightly, he squints one eye open, catching Hawkspine's bemused expression with what can only be described as drowsy defiance.

"You're warm," he murmurs finally, the words so quiet they're barely more than a breath. He's too tired to put much thought into excuses, and, frankly, Hawkspine feels comfortable enough that he doesn't see the need to. After the long night of their silent vigil, his limbs ache, and every part of him feels like it's sinking into the softness of the nest and the heat shared between them. StarClan knows he's earned a bit of rest. Still, Hawkspine's confusion makes Sillybreeze huff softly, a low sound of amusement mingling with his exhaustion. The warrior's mind, sluggish from lack of sleep, takes a moment to catch up, and he realizes how odd it must look—him, of all cats, snuggled up close. It's not exactly his style, nor does it fit with the sense of independence he typically values. But in this moment, none of that matters. He lets his eyes close again, his whiskers twitching with faint irritation at the continued disturbance.

"Got tired… watching you almost break your vigil," he mumbles, voice rough and barely intelligible even as he teases the other about his inability to keep quiet. "Can't help it if you make a good nest." It's the closest he'll come to admitting just how draining the vigil had been, how the long, silent hours had weighed on him more than he'd anticipated in the end. In truth, he's grateful Hawkspine is here, something solid and familiar to lean into as he finally lets himself surrender to the exhaustion. Sillybreeze manages to crack one eye open again, giving Hawkspine a drowsy, almost smug look, as if daring him to argue. He's too comfortable to care what his friend might think right now. Besides, he reasons to himself, Hawkspine did invite him closer before they fell asleep in the first place—he's just taking full advantage of the offer.

"Wake me up later if you want," he adds, already feeling himself half drifting off again. "But I'm not moving 'til I have to." With that, Sillybreeze's eyes slide shut, and he settles deeper against Hawkspine, a quiet sigh escaping him as he relaxes again.​