private LPS POPULAR &. snakeblink

[CICADASTAR]

the dawn is crisp. mottled ribbons of pink - blue streak across the cresting skies, and his jaws split — flashing rows of pearlescent fangs to the frosted air. patrols had left for the morning and he lie on a long flank, early greenleaf sun beginning to dry curls dampened by his fresh caught breakfast. a pink tongue laps about the edges of his maw, cleaning the bits of white meat and pale blood that linger in ashen fur. the moon had fallen on ravenpaw’s venture to the stone beyond windclan borders, his newfound name rising like the early morning — idly, he wonders what it was. what had the stars bestowed upon him? what grace had he found in beesong’s untimely wake? the thought flicks back an ear, slitted eyes closing.

a stale, lingering windclan scent assaults his nostrils.

flickers of white, blood - spattered and ribboned red. flattened ears and wrinkled noses, whiskers drawn back to flash blushing gums, blindingly pink above arching, dripping teeth. had they come for him? had they come? the phantom’s muzzle twists, ears twitching back and eyes flying wide just in time to catch dark stripes — long limbs, eel - like strides silent amidst the gentle lapping of nearby waters. the scent sings stale yet again, something caught in passing, and cicadastar feels his heart beat loud in thin ears. after a steadying swallow, a slow blink brings pale eyes upwards, making it clear he was casting his gaze at the approaching lead warrior in the rivers reflection. he prayed the faint bristle along his shoulders went unnoticed, " snakeblink. “ rolling vocals alight with amusement, rumbling and forced as it were. serenity floods into his veins by force, mantra of safe, safe, safe howling in his skull, ” i was beginning to think someone slipped in hare dung. " hound of a grin, lopsided and sharp - toothed with pale eyes heavy lidded in repose. he leans back, stretches out his limbs, ” share tongues with me, ja? “

his paws still buzz with nerves, with misplaced anxiety — he takes the opportunity to draw his tongue over a paw, averting his flickering, unsure icicle gaze, ” i trust those rabbit - chasers had given you no trouble on your way through last night? “

˗ˏˋ 𓆩  OOC ✟ VISUAL 𓆪 ´ˎ˗

• i. the girls are gossipingggggg @Snakeblink
  
• ˖ ⁺ ｡ ˚ ⠀ CICADASTAR⠀⠀−−−c−−−⠀⠀king of the rivers.
  
  
  m. he / him. black smoke & tortoiseshell chimera with intense salt - blue eyes. a handsome, looming tom bearing patchwork black - silver curls that fall over his slim figure in loose, shining rivulets, broken with white and glossy from his fish diet. descending from a heritage of overtyped oriental shorthairs, cicadastar stands unusually tall amongst his peers, and holds himself with a tragic grace, poised and prim and ever - aware of how he is being perceived.
  
  ᨒ gay, mated to smokethroat. smells like wet stone & moss.
  ᨒ speaks with a german accent. 43 moons, ages every 50 posts.
  
  penned by antlers​
  
  
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• "speech"
  

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[Snakeblink]

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

Fatigue, worn and familiar, tugs at Snakeblink’s limbs. The scant sleep he caught between his return from the medicine cat gathering and dawn — even exempted from morning patrol, he couldn’t help waking for it — were not enough, but nothing has been lately: no matter how much or how little he sleeps, he wakes up a little worse for wear everyday.

It’s nothing a dip in the river won’t fix. Cold water will shock him awake, and he’ll have an easier time staying awake and aware after stretching his paws and shaking the tired numbness out of them. He’s heading to such a bath when Cicadastar calls him over — voice lighthearted yet thrumming with a tension Snakeblink cannot pinpoint. Is it a mirror of his own fatigue, weighing down the monochromatic tom? Or has he upset his leader somehow? No, Cicadastar is rarely so subtle with his displeasure — especially lately, when anxiety has him more likely to bellow his anger than to simmer in it. Something else, then, hopefully unrelated to his own actions. He would like to think they are… friends, perhaps, or something akin to it: though Cicadastar’s position has dug a gap between them, Snakeblink would be devastated to learn he has widened the distance between them with unwise words.

The invitation to share tongues goes to dispel some of his doubt. He is, at least, welcome in this: it’s more than most allow him. Sniffing himself discreetly — he doesn’t smell that bad, he doesn’t think? — he pads up to Cicadastar and offers the lanky tom a slight smile as he settles next to him.

Even deep in the throes of anxiety the other tom looks infinitely more graceful and put together than Snakeblink’s own short, messy fur, kept clean more by the river than his own ministrations. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t already so pleased with Cicadastar’s attention and company: there is something overwhelming about being on the receiving end of his full attention, in a good way.

”Indeed we had no trouble from Windclan — perhaps for a lack of opportunity rather than desire: their medicine cat was missing entirely,” he murmurs. It felt curious at the time, but he knows too little of medicine cats and their whims to judge on how strange of an occurrence it was. ”If my company was to deter negative attention, I fear it was a lost cause: my presence attracted more ire than going alone would have. Still,” he adds hurriedly, ”I was glad to be of service, whatever service that may have been.”

Head tilted in quiet curiosity, he gazes upon the sinuous frame of the River lead. ”The camp is still standing, so I assume nothing monumental happened in our short absence?” His tone is leading, lifting on the tail-end of his words: an unworded question, aimed at the restless energy animating Cicadastar’s frame. What is on your mind, friend?
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

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• — Snakeblink • he / him. 42 ☾, 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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