- Dec 18, 2022
- 534
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── .∘°°∘. ── //please wait for @SUNSTRIDE :)
As Ellisif, he had attended two official celebrations of lovers, and at the time, had envisioned himself standing in that thawed meadow with the white-capped peaks surrounding him. He had not envisioned the face of his would-be partner— his mind had shied away, yet not so greatly that he hadn't imagined a flame-traced silhouette. He could not have known he would find himself in a different meadow, not far from WindClan's camp, flowers tucked hastily in his fur, Sunstride across from him. He has not seen him smile so gentle and genuine in Wolfsong's direction for so long that it is a gift. He could think of none better, save for this sharing of new oaths.
In the land of their birth, this was intended to be an ordeal with moons of planning. The families would collaborate closely, arranging a feast for the celebration-goers and meticulously hunting for flowers, feathers, and bright stones to mark the land. But this suits them better, he thinks. We have waited long enough, and we need nothing but ourselves and the soil beneath our paws.
They caught their first meal together not long ago: a rabbit, slowed by its plump belly, and they shared it between them on the moor, sides pressed tightly together. As he does now, Wolfsong had gazed up at him intermittently, warmed from the tops of his ears to the tip of his tail by the fervent tenderness of bright eyes. He knows better than to mistake him for a dream's mimicry. None could replicate successfully the tangible weight of his softened features, or the vibrating rumble of his laughter when Wolfsong struck him with a rabbit foot inadvertently.
The remnants of their meal now rest within a hollow their paws had carved together, mounds of dirt poised at the fringes. He licks his lips, the thrum of his heart keeping pace with the flit of songbirds chasing each other high above their heads. "Remember me," he begins, and though it is a recitation of what he has heard and committed to memory, it is dense on his tongue. His throat is abruptly hoarse from the trembling effort to give voice to each syllable.
"I remember you," comes Sunstride's reply, and he does not miss the slight waver to that typically steady ring.
Wolfsong clears his throat, reaching out to guide the soil over the rabbit's remains. He finds Sunstride's stare once more and his breath swells in his chest, lungs caught by his ribs. "Love me." What grace he had managed to cling to deserts him, that sun-swept face blurring behind the burning springing up in his remaining eye.
"I love you." Without casting his gaze from Sunstride, he leans to paw another layer of dirt down the crafted slope. As it settles into place, so does he. And as he waits for Sunstride to begin again, everything is where it needs to be.
As Ellisif, he had attended two official celebrations of lovers, and at the time, had envisioned himself standing in that thawed meadow with the white-capped peaks surrounding him. He had not envisioned the face of his would-be partner— his mind had shied away, yet not so greatly that he hadn't imagined a flame-traced silhouette. He could not have known he would find himself in a different meadow, not far from WindClan's camp, flowers tucked hastily in his fur, Sunstride across from him. He has not seen him smile so gentle and genuine in Wolfsong's direction for so long that it is a gift. He could think of none better, save for this sharing of new oaths.
In the land of their birth, this was intended to be an ordeal with moons of planning. The families would collaborate closely, arranging a feast for the celebration-goers and meticulously hunting for flowers, feathers, and bright stones to mark the land. But this suits them better, he thinks. We have waited long enough, and we need nothing but ourselves and the soil beneath our paws.
They caught their first meal together not long ago: a rabbit, slowed by its plump belly, and they shared it between them on the moor, sides pressed tightly together. As he does now, Wolfsong had gazed up at him intermittently, warmed from the tops of his ears to the tip of his tail by the fervent tenderness of bright eyes. He knows better than to mistake him for a dream's mimicry. None could replicate successfully the tangible weight of his softened features, or the vibrating rumble of his laughter when Wolfsong struck him with a rabbit foot inadvertently.
The remnants of their meal now rest within a hollow their paws had carved together, mounds of dirt poised at the fringes. He licks his lips, the thrum of his heart keeping pace with the flit of songbirds chasing each other high above their heads. "Remember me," he begins, and though it is a recitation of what he has heard and committed to memory, it is dense on his tongue. His throat is abruptly hoarse from the trembling effort to give voice to each syllable.
"I remember you," comes Sunstride's reply, and he does not miss the slight waver to that typically steady ring.
Wolfsong clears his throat, reaching out to guide the soil over the rabbit's remains. He finds Sunstride's stare once more and his breath swells in his chest, lungs caught by his ribs. "Love me." What grace he had managed to cling to deserts him, that sun-swept face blurring behind the burning springing up in his remaining eye.
"I love you." Without casting his gaze from Sunstride, he leans to paw another layer of dirt down the crafted slope. As it settles into place, so does he. And as he waits for Sunstride to begin again, everything is where it needs to be.
- — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge. — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know— he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
- — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel." — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
- — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you. — ☆☆☆☆☆ KITTING: He doesn't remember what it was like to be born. Coincidentally, that is the extent of his familiarity with kitting. At least he won't leave you without moral support.
- — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you. — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.
