private ONLY THE FALLIN' STARS ✿ blazestar

[DOEBLAZE]

The night is clear and peaceful, the moon only slightly waned from the fullness of the Gathering—it's only been a sunrise, maybe two. When Bobbie slips into their shared nest, her mate's presence does little to soothe her jangled nerves as he so often does. If anything, the sight of him—so tangibly, beautifully here that it hurts—sets her pulse ever higher. Her heartbeat is a small Thunderpath in her ears, roaring like the paws of monsters racing down their strange paths. It's not monsters that have her watching Blazestar with newly worried eyes, though—it's something far harder to handle. Monsters can be escaped; after all, they never seem to leave their single-minded journeys. Madness, the madness that crawls in the mind of WindClan's leader, is dangerous. It can't be predicted. It can't be avoided half as easily.

"I'm worried about you." Bobbie presses her muzzle into a soft golden mane, words muffled. When she draws back, her eyes are soft and shadowed with concern. When she thinks of Smokestar, left bleeding to die outside of Mothermouth, her mind's eye replaces him with Blazestar. If WindClan will kill for territory that they have no right to, what next? What next?

She's heard tales of Sootstar's cruelty, of her cold-blooded warfare, her cunning hunger for survival. This is more than that. Cruel as a cat could be, most would not send their warriors to certain death, or try to lay claim to lands they could never keep. This is madness, plain and simple—these are the actions of a cat with nothing left to lose, not even her mind. Bobbie is frightened, more frightened than she'd like to admit. A cat gone mad might do anything. Sootstar might do anything. And if she does, Blazestar could be one of her first targets.

"Sootstar has lost whatever's left of her mind. You know it—You—" She falls silent. "They hate us—you—I don't know. She hates us. If she and her pack of—of dogs come after anyone, it would be you." Bobbie flexes her claws in the soft moss of their shared nest. She has her own proclivity for self-sacrifice; she has enough self-awareness to know that, at least. But Blazestar could go on without her, she's certain; she doesn't know if she could do the same without him.

"Can you tell me how many lives you have left? Can you tell me that?" Bobbie turns her pleading eyes toward him. "Or is that something between you and StarClan?"

i'm a moon ☾ ( constantly chasing you )

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  bobbie ; lead warrior of skyclan
  x. she/her ; 43 moons ; tags
  x. small, scarred lilac tabby and white she-cat with green eyes
  x. played by dejavu
  x. mother to lupinepaw, crowpaw, and drowsypaw. mate to blazestar.

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[BLAZESTAR]

His sleep is shallow and troubled, and Bobbie will find him awake when she shifts in their shared nest. Anxiety spans between them like threads of a spider’s web. He can feel the drumming beat of her heart, even as she murmurs into the thickness of the fur at his throat. “I’m worried about you,” she says, and he turns to her, his gaze dark as a starless night sky. “You shouldn’t, my love,” he murmurs. He aims to press his face against her cheek, but the trembling quality her voice holds brings him back to days bygone, days where dog scars rended their flesh and herbs spiced the air around them.

“They hate us—you—I don’t know. She hates us.” “She hates us, that’s right. The Kittypet King, and his entire Clan of cats she believes to be lesser than her.” There’s the hint of a growl buried in the core of his voice, beating like a heart, pumping his whispered tones with blood. “I don’t wish to scare you, but… if her hounds come for us, it will be to kill every last one of us for being kittypets or kittypet sympathizers. And you—” He chokes, then, breaking off with a bitter realization that scalds the inside of his mouth. “—She must never know what you mean to me. Never. I will not have you stolen from me. Not by her or any of her bloodthirsty rogues.

He reaches for her with one massive paw, seeks to cloak her small, dainty tabby forepaw with his ember-colored one. He can feel the claws extended, shredding uselessly at moss. Her anxiety is palpable, and now he knows his is, too. She asks him the dreaded question—how many lives does he have left?

Blazestar meets her gaze and nods. “I have three left,” he murmurs. “Orangeblossom knows, and Dawnglare, but aside from you, now—that’s it.” His breath is warm in the chill that infiltrates their den. “And I would lose all of them to protect you and the rest of SkyClan.”

, ”​

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