MARCO! POLO! ☼ STOATSPOT

[dimmingsun]

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When his conscience lets him, Dimmingsun allows himself to partake in the quotidian cog-wheel turn of camp life. Sunstar had not yet relieved him of his duty, and he takes some sort of twisted pride in it, having been entrusted with importance by a leader who is quickly losing trust in his council. They are dwindling... a sorry ghost of what they used to be, with Bluepool and Rattleheart and Slateheart.

Nevertheless. Dimmingsun needs space and time to breathe — so he busies himself by the fresh-kill pile when he believes Bluefrost and her kittens are asleep, eye trained on the nursery's entrance.

"Stoatspot," he calls when a familiar figure whisks past his crouched form. "Want to share?"

She had been solicitous; something not all of WindClan seems to share when it comes to Thriftfeather and the issues he represents. It is unfair to compare barn cats to warriors when most of them had already proven their worth, but it is paramount now: even those who might have been outsiders during DuskClan's birth are aware that this is simply not right. Her reminder about that grim time had been needed. It certainly brought Dimmingsun back, cowering behind Sunstride in a place not their own. Some are too quick to forget.

A big paw pushes his rabbit towards Stoatspot; a polite invitation, a firm request. He does not want to muddy himself with those not in agreement with his opinions right now. "How does it feel to be in the "more brains that others" club?" There is mirth within his expression and tone, despite the bleakness of their current situation, and despite Dimmingsun's unusually gloomy mood..

@STOATSPOT

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[STOATSPOT]

She's returning to her nest for the evening as she returns from an all-day patrol under the tunnel, bits of mud and dirt still clinging to her pelt. She needs to wash that off... But the exhaustion that drags at her bones today was killing her. A familiar voice breaks her out of her trance.

"Oh, howdy, Dimmingsun! Pleasure seeing you!" Stoatspots voice is chipper as she stops, turning back towards the moor-runner with a friendly smile. Looks like settling in to her nest for a nap was out of the question now, but she doesn't quite mind. "I'd love to share! I ain't had dinner yet," she quips, settling down next to him.

She stops for a second, thinking carefully of her words. If she called the cats that vouched for Thriftfeather sad, would he be upset considering it would include a council member? Periwinklebreeze... Stoatspot held no contempt for him, but now something wary lays within her chest as she sweeps her eyes over the camp, trying not to meet any of the loud defenders gaze.

She takes a deep breath, weighing her options for just a second before she speaks. "Well, seems like the lot of them forgot about what violence they had been running from in the first place..." she finally decides on, taking a deep breath as she leans forwards to take a small bite of the rabbit when its presented, her appetite suppressed by the rampant thoughts flitting through her mind. Not many barn-cats were so willing to deal with the sudden clan of cats that had just shown up unannounced, her brother one of the scornful ones.

Palomino had given what she could to Windclan at the time, helped where she could, battled on their behalf- it was this reason she was reborn as Stoatspot. She swallows her bite.

"Kinda- Hypocritical of me to say this... I mean, not really, but you get what I mean?" her voice drops to a whisper. "But I don't think he should be here. He doesn't... belong here..." as a fellow once-outsider, at least she had never allied with their enemy. "And what if this is all a ruse? And Duskclan comes parading in to camp for the second time? What do you think they're going to say then?" she poises this question with pinned ears, reeling back to stare at Dimmingsuns face, to gauge any emotions that flicker across; perhaps its sheer paranoia, but she does not feel comfortable with the situation one bit. "This mess shouldn't have happened." if it were her galivanting with the enemy, showed a tenebrous side of her, she has a feeling that she would have been sent back to the barn...

𝖫𝖨𝖥𝖤 𝖧𝖠𝖭𝖣𝖤𝖣 𝖴𝖲 𝖠 𝖯𝖠𝖸𝖢𝖧𝖤𝖢𝖪 ‧₊˚🍎 𝖶𝖤 𝖲𝖠𝖨𝖣 𝖶𝖤 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖪𝖤𝖣 𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖣𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖲

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  ❥ stoatspot ʚ♡ɞ palomino
  ❥ cis female ʚ♡ɞ she/her ʚ♡ɞ 25 months
  ❥ windclan warrior ʚ♡ɞ mentoring silkenpaw
  ❥ fluffy black / fawn tortie with heterochromia ʚ♡ɞ short, but pure muscle
  ❥ "speech, bfdb81" ʚ♡ɞ thoughts
  ❥ single ʚ♡ɞ pansexual
  ❥ smells like straw, fresh rainfall & soil ʚ♡ɞ home on the range
  ❥ penned by chuff

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