- Sep 11, 2022
- 52
- 28
- 18
// retro injury
➵ Icecap eyes glitter in afternoon sunlight. Clearsight breathes, keeps his pawsteps steady, his own flaxen-gold luminaries flicking away to look at—the river, the shore, literally anything else. The man is so beautiful, those eyes so full of life and light, and Clearsight can't afford what that does to his mind. He's anything but clearsighted right now.
They're paws-deep in the river, the shallowest bit surrounding camp, calm blue wading-waters behind the nursery. There aren't any kits around now, so it's just the two of them, two sets of snow-capped paws soaking up the welcome cool. Today's been hot and busy; it's a nice reprieve.
"Come on," Clearsight had murmured, brushing pelts with the mottled tom, "you could use a break, mm? The troublemakers have all got someone watching, don't worry—"
And had led him to this quiet spot, sun-gold eyes fond and then glinting with mischief as he flicked a pawful of water toward the tortoiseshell, splashing like a kit. Clayfur was rubbing off on him, he'd thought, unable to help the purr that rumbled from his chest. Shell-hunting, rock-collecting, a splash-fight for StarClan's sake, anything but fishing or fighting—they both deserved the chance to just enjoy the river. To claim a few minutes from the chaos of today. Clearsight may as well have been a kitten asking will you play with me?
"Look," he says now, ducking his head into the water to nose at a particularly pretty stone, "this one would look nice in your nest," smooth and dark and flecked with white—not unlike Cicada himself—
And should Cicadastar look, Clearsight will spin and sweep his foreleg, grabbing another, bigger scoop of water to fling at the man while he's distracted—much more an armful than a pawful this time.
An uncharacteristic bark of laughter slips out as he does and he feels like a kit—not in a bad way, he thinks, eyes alight as he watches the cascade of droplets splash through the air.
// @CICADASTAR
➵ Icecap eyes glitter in afternoon sunlight. Clearsight breathes, keeps his pawsteps steady, his own flaxen-gold luminaries flicking away to look at—the river, the shore, literally anything else. The man is so beautiful, those eyes so full of life and light, and Clearsight can't afford what that does to his mind. He's anything but clearsighted right now.
They're paws-deep in the river, the shallowest bit surrounding camp, calm blue wading-waters behind the nursery. There aren't any kits around now, so it's just the two of them, two sets of snow-capped paws soaking up the welcome cool. Today's been hot and busy; it's a nice reprieve.
"Come on," Clearsight had murmured, brushing pelts with the mottled tom, "you could use a break, mm? The troublemakers have all got someone watching, don't worry—"
And had led him to this quiet spot, sun-gold eyes fond and then glinting with mischief as he flicked a pawful of water toward the tortoiseshell, splashing like a kit. Clayfur was rubbing off on him, he'd thought, unable to help the purr that rumbled from his chest. Shell-hunting, rock-collecting, a splash-fight for StarClan's sake, anything but fishing or fighting—they both deserved the chance to just enjoy the river. To claim a few minutes from the chaos of today. Clearsight may as well have been a kitten asking will you play with me?
"Look," he says now, ducking his head into the water to nose at a particularly pretty stone, "this one would look nice in your nest," smooth and dark and flecked with white—not unlike Cicada himself—
And should Cicadastar look, Clearsight will spin and sweep his foreleg, grabbing another, bigger scoop of water to fling at the man while he's distracted—much more an armful than a pawful this time.
An uncharacteristic bark of laughter slips out as he does and he feels like a kit—not in a bad way, he thinks, eyes alight as he watches the cascade of droplets splash through the air.
& we've all got battle scars ✗
// @CICADASTAR