MY DEATH BECOME A TRAIL | bluefrost, juncoclaw

[SCORCHSTORM]

To the sun-warmed pool and back. No further. These were Sunstar's instructions, and so Scorchstorm abides them doggedly. She escorts Juncoclaw away, mind buzzing with the questions she would like to ask the silver tabby, had they not another party with them.

Bluefrost is at her side. Bluefrost has been at her side for the better part of a moon now, and Scorchstorm had taken comfort in that idea until she'd announced that she was with kits. They have hardly spoken since she had refused the blue molly's offer to share a rabbit; since she had refused that bent olive branch. Had she been right for it? They could still be friends, couldn't they? Had Bluefrost ever even felt the same? Scorchstorm hadn't known to put a name to her desire until it had been thwarted. She could not blame the lead warrior for not knowing, either, at least not in good conscience. But Scorchstorm has not been in good conscience for a few days now.

The news had been the straw to break the camel's back; her adopted ferocity was not borne entirely of a broken heart, but of one left lonely by repeated loss, and repeated rejection. Badgermoon, Luckypaw, Rumblerain. Cherryblossom, Lavendertwist, Bluefrost. She has been spurned, and spurned, and spurned. Even WindClan itself had once spurned her under Sootstar's rule — but now WindClan is all Scorchstorm has left.

Perhaps Juncoclaw is in a similar boat. A WindClanner until she'd let herself believe in Sootstar, now a prisoner on WindClan land. What had she been doing, coming here to fight DuskClan? She had wanted to warn them? Her warning had not spared Nightingalecry; her warning had not saved Vulturekit from capture. Face shadowed, Scorchstorm's dual-gold hues burn into the back of the silver tabby, who walks a few paces before them. She would still like to ask her about Horseplace, about Luckypaw. Maybe she would have, were she and Bluefrost speaking freely again. They had borne much of themselves to each other already. She would not have been embarrassed to bare more, except, except, except.

She grits her teeth. "You said there was an attack at Horseplace," Scorchstorm rumbles to Juncoclaw. "Who was hurt?" In her mind, she sees a dilute blue-and-cream pelt, trimmed with red ribbons, limp on the earth. She swallows it down.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc. @juncoclaw @BLUEFROST
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[juncoclaw]

And so, to the sunwarmed pool they go. Junco is pleased to have been allowed on this walk, and it shows. She is uncharacteristically pleasant as they leave camp, and as they begin their trek through the moorlands, she is quiet. The moorland's recovery has begun, and although this has not been her home in some time, she is satisfied to see the sprigs of grass and occasional flower bud that pokes through the ashen earth.

Scorchstorm and Bluefrost are not unwelcome company; she bears them no ill will for having to escort her. If there is a noticeable tension in the air, she does not notice - if she does, she does not speak. Best not bight the hand that feeds, right? The silence, for the most part, seems mutual. It is nice, to peacefully observe her scenery, though her legs soon begin to ache with the effort of a lengthy walk after several weeks. Perhaps she will dip into the sun-warmed pool for a bit, if her guardians allow, and rest her limbs whose muscles must take time to rebuild.

Scorchstorm's words jolt her out of her wishful thinking, and Junco acknowledges her with a flick of an ear. Surprisingly, she had not seen much of WindClan during her time there; Sunstar jumped the fence, once, but scarcely anyone else stopped by. It is ironic how concerned Scorchstorm sounds now, considering she could have come and seen for herself any time. Maybe that alliance during the rebellion had withered like all else in this place.

But, it's hypocritical of her. If Junco was as concerned as she claimed to be (she thinks she is, but who knows?) about the well-being of her old Clan, Cottonsprig particularly, she would not have hid away in Horseplace for moons.

Junco takes little time in answering; it is not something she needs to ponder. The sight of death and her missing little friend was engrained into her conscious like a parasite. "A queen." As to not open an old wound, she answers simply and intends to leave it so. But Scorchstream looks at her expectantly, as if waiting to hear the worst. "I didn't know her name. They got her in the midst of night; we found her in the morning."

And then.. that little scrap of fur that had earned whatever familial affection Junco could muster. "They took her kitten. Her name was Harvest. She liked to ask me questions." A little shadow around every corner, peaking out at her with ever-growing curiosity. Green eyes lift up to look at Scorchstorm now. She means to conceal her emotion, but to no avail. Junco knows, however, that this isn't about her as much as she feels it should. "But I sense you're not asking for a lone queen and her kitten. May I inform you of.. someone specific?"

​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT
  ━━ 14 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
• 
  
  
• speech is #6a7d8a​

 

[BLUEFROST]

Bluefrost is characteristically silent on this excursion. She keeps her gaze trained on the horizon ahead of them, her paws moving at a steady pace, and is careful not to let her tail brush against Scorchstorm even in passing. There is ice between them, ice that had begun to freeze over after Scorchstorm had rejected her offer to share the proverbial rabbit. The Moor Runner hardly looks her way now, and Bluefrost hates the feeling that twists in her chest, the feeling that something slippery has gotten away from her, the feeling that she has lost something she can't put a name to.

Focus. Focus. She and Scorchstorm are on a mission. Juncoclaw seems satisfied to bask in the sun, to stretch limbs that have no doubt locked from misuse. If the silver tabby notices anything amiss, she refrains from saying so. Bluefrost is grateful for that, at least.

Conversation is stilted. Scorchstorm asks the DuskClanner about the cat who'd been killed at the Horseplace. Bluefrost frowns, knowing she's picturing pallid tortoiseshell fur, but Juncoclaw dispels her fears. A queen. She exhales a breath she did not know she'd been holding, relief flooding through her. She had known Luckypaw since his birth, she had —

"Ough!" A ragged grunt escapes graceful lips; Bluefrost stumbles, one forepaw eclipsed by a small hole. She hadn't been watching where she was placing her feet, and she pays for it; the ankle twists, and she falls onto her face into a heap of smoked fur. "Augh! I am fine," she tries to say, wrenching the paw from the hole, but the moment she tries to put weight on it, she collapses again, hissing with pain. "Damn the stars! I cannot walk on it!"

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 16 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan warrior. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

Juncoclaw answers her swiftly, and Scorchstorm flicks a white-tipped ear. "A queen." The knot in her chest unspools. Luckypaw is safe, then. Her relief weathers her through the candid retelling of the queen's demise, the kitnapping of her child. She thinks of Nightingalecry and Vulturekit; she thinks of the ShadowClan kittens that Sootstar had stolen, all those moons ago. Another face whips through her, too, white with a smoky black smash, pleading and pleading with her to explain why StarClan had forsaken them. The relief she had felt turns quickly to bile. Scorchstorm swallows it, face unchanging.

Juncoclaw prompts her further, asking for a name in the most polite way she can think of. The flame-streaked molly flicks her gaze to Bluefrost for a half-second, then returns to the silver tabby before her. "Luckypaw. My brother," she answers, and worries her teeth into her cheek.

She has visited him, but with everything going on, her visits had become sparser and sparser. Once she'd been freed of the Horseplace, she'd been eager to leave it behind her — she had never intended to leave Luckypaw behind, too. He seemed happier there, when she had talked with him, but new worry hooks its claws into the soft meat of her stomach. Does he resent her for not staying? Would he refuse her, would he refuse WindClan, if they needed him? Would it be her fault if he did?

Ough! Bluefrost had been at her side, but suddenly she is in a heap on the earth, wrenching her paw free from a small hole that none of them had seen. Scorchstorm's attention snaps to her, dual-hued eyes wide with shock. A worry she cannot bury punches through her chest, the taproot of a tree she cannot fell. "Bluefrost!" she yelps as the warrior falls a second time. She forgets the silver tabby she has been escorting, if only for a moment, to nose the blue shoulder of her friend back into a seated position. The ankle doesn't look broken, but what has Scorchstorm ever known about medicine? Apparently enough to say, "we need to fetch Wolfsong and Cottonsprig."

She forgets the burn in her ears, the fever in her cheeks, as she whips her head back again to Juncoclaw. At least it is hidden beneath a layer of matte black and gilded orange fur. Her scarred muzzle wrinkles aggressively, as if daring the other to run off. "Someone... someone needs to stay here." She crooks her head down to Bluefrost. "I can go back to camp. Whatever you prefer." Ever the dog, even when scorned. She waits for the queen's command.

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 15 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

• 

​

 

[juncoclaw]

Luckypaw. Junco searches the depths of her memory for anything to resemble that name - within, she scarcely remembers a pale tortoiseshell amongst the shadows of the barn, and nods. Though she could be mean, she could lie with a smile and say the molly's brother is dead - inflict pain that had been time and time again inflicted unto herself.. she finds it within her the strength to use this information to gain their favor. "We've never spoken, but he's there." Simple as that. The boy was alive and well, and she would not be obligated to give more information.

A strangled noise comes from the nearby queen, just as soon as Junco finishes speaking, and she stands dumbfounded while she watches the royal molly disgracefully attempt to stand, only to fall back on her paws. She fights the urge to roll her eyes by glancing up nonchalantly to the sky, as if distracted by something amongst the clouds.

She thinks, with an ounce of hope, that she could run now. Would Scorchstorm abandon her friend to pursue her? Would she be able to return to the barn safely with WindClan knowing her whereabouts? Where else would she go, with DuskClan similarly lurking every shadow, knowing of her traitorous acts?

If she left.. would Cottonsprig be relieved?

The thought curls Junco's lip into a disgusted snarl, but only for a moment. A heavy, defeated-like sigh leaves her maw and she returns Scorchstorm's aggressive gaze with tired annoyance. "WindClan will have my hide and yours if I return alone. It may be best for you to go." And, before either cat can interject with their distrust, she speaks again, stern and sincere: "No, I will not run. Consider it a debt repaid for escorting me."
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• juncokit juncopaw JUNCOCLAW "JUNCO" ━━ penned by ixora
  ━━ BARNCAT
  ━━ 16 MOONS,, ages every 21st
  ━━ CASSO xx BUDGE
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to none | FORMERLY MENTORED by mockinggrin
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎ | junco is healthy.​
• 
  
  
• speech is #6a7d8a​