- Aug 9, 2022
- 689
- 327
- 63
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Foxtail is not a cat he really knows too well. Of course he knows all of his clanmates, by name, by scent, he is accustomed to their presence and familiar with each but the heart is a lot less tangible of a thing to understand. You could not pull it apart like moss to pick through, it was not something you could snap between your teeth to taste and mull over flavor and texture - it was a lot more complicated than anything your normal senses would allow you to parse. Over several moons he's begun to realize the burden of leadership more and more, that his duties lay not simply in keeping his clan alive and safe but also ensuring their lives are filled with purpose and care. He'd spent so much of his being satisified with just getting by that learning to live at all had been a struggle, taking enjoyment in things, sitting and simple existing in the world and viewing it not for the cruelty it could give but the beauty it might display. His earlier days in RiverClan were rife with these struggles, he remembers the first time he paused to appreciate something he liked looking at and realizing with an embarrassed bewilderment that it had been Cicadastar's fur; glossy and mottled in patches of dark shadow and storm gray over a white hillside. Love, romance, even the more platonic idea of friendship, these were all things he learned and had to come to terms with in RiverClan as he'd never given them much of a thought when he was a loner in two-leg place barely scraping by.
The black and white tom moves across the snow with a lightness, his paws crunching each step and the chill that seeped into his pads keeping him more alert than he would ever like to be this early in the morning. It was a simple patrol of the camp's perimeter, Foxtail had been brought along because he did not wish to wander alone if he could help it given his insistence that the clan do the same. They were stronger in numbers, together, he was no different; his recklessness at highstones was a testament to that.
"...you know." He starts, voice hushed and clouds of pale white like his namesake drifting from his maw with each breath, "...despite how much of a pain it is. The snow is quite nice to look at. Everything feels more..." He rolls his shoulders, expression tightening as he considers the word he's looking for, "...peaceful. There's something peaceful about it."
Peace was so hard to come by as of late, it was no wonder he was looking for it in all the wrong places. The snow was beautiful, but it was also harsh and brutal...
Foxtail is not a cat he really knows too well. Of course he knows all of his clanmates, by name, by scent, he is accustomed to their presence and familiar with each but the heart is a lot less tangible of a thing to understand. You could not pull it apart like moss to pick through, it was not something you could snap between your teeth to taste and mull over flavor and texture - it was a lot more complicated than anything your normal senses would allow you to parse. Over several moons he's begun to realize the burden of leadership more and more, that his duties lay not simply in keeping his clan alive and safe but also ensuring their lives are filled with purpose and care. He'd spent so much of his being satisified with just getting by that learning to live at all had been a struggle, taking enjoyment in things, sitting and simple existing in the world and viewing it not for the cruelty it could give but the beauty it might display. His earlier days in RiverClan were rife with these struggles, he remembers the first time he paused to appreciate something he liked looking at and realizing with an embarrassed bewilderment that it had been Cicadastar's fur; glossy and mottled in patches of dark shadow and storm gray over a white hillside. Love, romance, even the more platonic idea of friendship, these were all things he learned and had to come to terms with in RiverClan as he'd never given them much of a thought when he was a loner in two-leg place barely scraping by.
The black and white tom moves across the snow with a lightness, his paws crunching each step and the chill that seeped into his pads keeping him more alert than he would ever like to be this early in the morning. It was a simple patrol of the camp's perimeter, Foxtail had been brought along because he did not wish to wander alone if he could help it given his insistence that the clan do the same. They were stronger in numbers, together, he was no different; his recklessness at highstones was a testament to that.
"...you know." He starts, voice hushed and clouds of pale white like his namesake drifting from his maw with each breath, "...despite how much of a pain it is. The snow is quite nice to look at. Everything feels more..." He rolls his shoulders, expression tightening as he considers the word he's looking for, "...peaceful. There's something peaceful about it."
Peace was so hard to come by as of late, it was no wonder he was looking for it in all the wrong places. The snow was beautiful, but it was also harsh and brutal...
- @FOXTAIL
-
Smokestar
—⊰⋅ Leader of RiverClan
—⊰⋅ He/Him
"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
—⊰⋅ Black tom w/vitiligo & one orange eye.
