private MAN ON THE MOON — cloverjaw

"I s'pose you've heard the rumors." Slate sighs almost defeatedly, staring out at the rippling water's edge that separated SkyClan from RiverClan. It's peaceful out here; the lead warrior often retreats to the borderlands to think and get away from the bustle of camp. The sound of the river was also loud enough to muffle private conversations to an extent, which was why Slate figured he would confide in his littermate here and now. Stubborn as he was, the lead warrior had bottled everything up for so long, but he had finally permitted himself to talk to Cloverjaw about the whispers floating about camp these days. If he was going to trust anyone with his secret, it would be his brother.

The Maine Coon's amber gaze does not leave the water's surface, perhaps just a means of not having to look Cloverjaw in the eyes as he makes himself vulnerable in a rare instance. "Orangestar is... my best friend." Besides you, obviously. "I met her before I came here. Before SkyClan was a thing." Didn't he tell him this already? Perhaps a long while ago, but Cloverjaw would be getting the story again whether he could recall the details or not. "We would meet by the fence pretty often, at night when no one was around. We got pretty close but then we—I stopped comin' around." Slate flicks the tip of his tail gently; he stares ahead pensively as he is forced to confront the true nature of his past behaviors. The former rogue is not an introspective soul, not someone who takes the time to examine why he acts the way he does. "I guess I got nervous." The lead warrior finally reckons. Nervous was certainly one word for it. He had been afraid of the emotions that Ora had made him feel, terrified of what the future would be if he continued to see her.

"I didn't think I'd see her again, but then I found you here, and..." Well, Slate hadn't a choice at that point, did he? He wouldn't avoid SkyClan anymore, not when his long-lost littermate lived here. However, joining the clan meant that he had to eventually confront Ora again and try to make amends to the best of his ability. He'd coexisted with her as a fellow warrior for a long while, and her having a family had helped him in his attempt to move on, but embarking on the journey together had only brought them close again. "I still... think of her as more than a friend." Romance was a strange territory to navigate. Slate had never actually put his feelings to words before; the "L-word" was utterly terrifying to him and he was unsure if he should say it or not. But... was that not what he felt?

He knows that it would be a lost cause even so much as considering talking to Ora about this. Slate couldn't imagine it, not after what he did to her all of those moons ago. He figures she must have been pretty hurt as a result of his actions — she had once confessed, "I was so close to asking you to stay." All these seasons later, had she forgiven him? "I don't know what to do. I mean, what am I s'posed to do, ignore her? I'm on her council. I sleep in her den." I think about her all the time. She made him act like a fool, quite frankly. Leaders did not require den guards, and yet here he was, stationed at the mouth of her den every night like her personal protector. He felt afraid for her safety despite her having several more lives to spare, even though it was her duty to sacrifice herself for the clan. Slate knows this, yet it's not easy to accept.
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  • ooc. @CLOVERJAW
  • SLATE —— lead warrior of skyclan , mentoring coffeepaw ✦ penned by beatles
    cismale / he/him pronouns / 39 moons & ages every 1st
    single / bisexual & monogamous / closed to romance
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
    —— hard combat difficulty & weak to agile, quick fighters / will start fights, will kill if necessary

    "speech", thoughts, all opinions are ic
    biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  • 81989570_qOt9GUlhGgQcrtn.png

    a scarred longhaired maine coon with amber eyes. a large, 20lb tom with thick locks of fur. his chest and underbelly is ruddy from sun exposure. notable scars decorate his face and his ears are both torn with one being folded over.
 
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