pafp POEMS IN THE SAND [journey questions]

[SANGRIAPAW]

✧ Though her interests have begun to lie more in tales and teachings from back home in the twolegplace, Sangriapaw can’t deny her curiosity about stories from those within SkyClan as well. The great journey had happened three seasons ago, and all the clans had united for the first time to save everyone. Sangriapaw thinks it’s cool to hear stories about, especially since the cats who went to the mountains had to be really brave and strong so they could get the lung-whatever for their clanmates. But she’s running out of cats to ask. Cherryblossom is intimidating, and also busy. She could ask Figfeather, she guesses. But Figfeather has better, more important apprentices to worry about. Bobbieblaze—Doeblaze is the next best choice, she thinks. She’s already asked Orangestar, and Slate is still a bit stinky meanie, but Doeblaze is really nice and also Hollypaw’s mom.

"You went on the journey," she says, as a way to spark conversation more than anything. After all the sadness that the older she-cat has gone through, she isn’t quite sure if she wants to bother her with this kind of thing. What if it makes her think of Blazestar, and then she cries or something? Sangriapaw doesn’t know what to do when other cats cry. So quickly, before the tabby gets to dwell on it, she continues, "What was it like? Did y’all really get stuck in a rockslide? That sounds super scary, but I still wish I coulda gone." If she and Coffeepaw had been old enough (or rather, if they had been born yet), would Figfeather have let them go with her? Would she still love their mom, if only they had gone on such a cool journey together? Or would she still be disappointed? The torbie shakes her head to clear away the spiraling thoughts, forcing a smile onto her muzzle.

✧ gliding down the rainbow

• ooc: @DOEBLAZE
• 
  SANGRIAPAW ❯❯ she/her, daylight apprentice of skyclan
  ⭃ cinnamon torbie with white spotting and vibrant leaf-green eyes. bold, bright, and curious.
  ⭃ daughter of fantastream & figfeather ; sister to coffeepaw
  ⭃ mentored by johnnyflame
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted
  ⭃ penned by foxlore

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[DOEBLAZE]

Doeblaze has devoted less thought to the journey as of late than she would've expected when she embarked on it. Starry - eyed and collar - bound, she'd imagined it as a great thing, something lined up to define the rest of her life and paint the path before her awash in brilliant gold. Then something else entirely had overstepped it, crushing fragile snowflakes and lungwort petals in its blundering, bloodstained conquest, and now that something else was what, unfortunately, seemed to define her life now. It is a thing that happened, and with the addition of the lingering traces of tattered gold around the edges of her memories of it, it is easier to simply pack it away.

" I did, " she replies simply, with a tip of the head, trying not to let anything wash across her face. Sangriapaw's question brings it back in a sudden avalanche of colorful memory—the river, the rockslide, the cliff, the forest, the dogs—that sets her lone eye to a quick flutter of blinks. It's as though the memories lie out before her, the way she might sort through the prey - pile. There is the fresh stuff, with its tantalizing aroma—the way the smell of so many clans had coalesced into a unified scent of distant snow; the murmured conversations as they huddled against the mountains' chill; the endless sights she'd never dreamed of seeing. Then there is the crow - food, the stench of death left too long lingering somewhere around her molars—Little Wolf, harlequined scarlet in the snow; talons in the back of her neck; the bitterness in blue eyes as she glanced back, or worse, the glow of love in them as she bounded homewards.

She picks her prey, as it were, moving her mind like she would her forepaws, although perhaps with less finesse. Into the hole the crow - food goes, and she scrapes dirt over it, forming a small mound next to tens, dozens maybe, of others just like it. She will visit its small grave someday, although she does not know when someday will be. For now, she turns her eye towards Sangriapaw's curious face, blinking a couple of times again as she processes the small onslaught of questions.

" It was like nowhere I've ever been before, " the warrior begins, threads of a story tangling in her hoarse meow. " Every day we walked until our paws were sore, and we saw things I doubt I'll ever see again. The biggest tree I've ever seen, and of course the mountains—they were freezing, but so beautiful. Unlike anything I've seen before or since. " Doeblaze's eye takes on the dim glow of nostalgia, for the unbelievable sights she'd seen and the brief bond they'd all forged, almost a Clan of their own out there in the mountains beyond Mothermouth. Then she recalls exactly what Sangriapaw had asked about, lapping at her chest fur a couple times, embarassed at the brief ramble.

" Oh, yes, the rockslide, " she mrrows, nodding. " It was like thunder came down from the sky. Rocks everywhere, I'm surprised nobody got squished, " she adds with some amusement, looking back, although at the time it had been utterly terrifying. " We were stuck in the dark for quite a few sunrises, all split up, too. I was trapped with two RiverClanners, two ThunderClanners, even a WindClanner—with Smogstar leading us through it, if you can believe it! He was still Smogmaw then, though. " The storytelling animates the warrior, breathes life into her as has rarely been shown for some moons now. " Hardly anything to eat but lizards, too. We got out eventually, though. "

" Well . . . some apprentices came along, but looking back, I don't know if it was really a place for young cats, " she mrrows in reply to Sangriapaw's idle wish. A flash of talon - scarred Cherryblossom, then not a deputy, only a frightened apprentice with an eagle's claws lodged in her sides—of Little Wolf, spread scarlet in the freezing ground, waiting for her lonely grave—and she pushes the crowfood back where it belongs. " Hopefully, we won't need another one for a long, long time, " she manages, chasing the shake from her voice with some effort. " Or ever, preferably. "

OOC : —

♥︎

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[SLATESNARL]

The rusted Maine Coon rarely recalls the tales of the journey anymore; it was only a few seasons ago, but sometimes it feels as if it was so long ago. It had been perilous, with cats sustaining injuries and even dying to reach their goal. All he knew was that, upon his return, he swore he would never travel such a distance again. Slate much preferred remaining in the forest; he found that he belonged there and not venturing into the unknown like a madman.

It was not as if the apprentice had been addressing him, but having been sitting nearby, Slate picked up on the unfolding conversation. Doeblaze illustrates a recollection of the rockslide, which prompts an unsettling feeling to stir in his gut. The large Maine Coon had felt so trapped, so helplessly lost that he had curled into a ball and hyperventilated. It had been ShadowClan's medicine cat apprentice at the time who had talked him through a—frankly—frightening experience. Slate never got to thank him.

It was probably an apprentice's dream to tag along on such a dangerous mission, to prove themselves worthy of their warrior name at such a tender age. However, Doeblaze was right. It had never made much sense to Slate for young and inexperienced cats to accompany them on their travels. "No, it wasn't." The gruff lead warrior remarks. "Cherrypaw could've died if it wasn't for—" Stars. Had he called her Cherrypaw? It had seemed so long since the SkyClan deputy was nothing more than a spunky young apprentice, insisting to her mother that she was qualified enough to attend the dangerous quest. Slate sometimes wondered if Cherryblossom would have preferred not to go, now having to carry the weight of Little Wolf's death on her shoulders. He knew that she had been a naive, mousebrained adolescent at the time, but she could not change what she had caused. The ThunderClanner's death had been valiant and selfless... If Little Wolf hadn't gotten to Cherrypaw in time, then surely she would have been carried off and never to be seen again. That, or it would be Slate in her place, having to save his pupil and perhaps sustaining fatal injuries himself.

Quickly brushing off the fact that he misspoke, the lead warrior grumbled, "Well. Anyways." Responding to Doeblaze's last remark about another potential journey, Slate huffed, "If it ever does happen again, hopefully the cure will be closer to us." Dark pupils narrow. "And maybe StarClan could send a message sooner." He nearly snorts StarClan's name, not shy to express his lack of faith in the ancestors. They were cryptic and choosy about what they would communicate with the living about; although their omens could be helpful, it was not often that they warned the clans of danger in time. Sometimes, they would not warn them at all and would simply let them all run around aimlessly like chickens with their heads cut off. Needless to say, the Maine Coon had little trust in the dead.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 ✹ .　 + 　˚ 　　 · 　 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐄

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• 

  a lead warrior of skyclan, slate is forty moons and is mentoring coffeepaw. he is a hulking longhaired maine coon with black fur and prominent reddish rusting on his chest and belly. scars litter his form but are prominently present on his face. ✦

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[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Yet knowin’ StarClan it ain’t gonna be that simple.” He commented from afar, timbre a low, dull rumble watchin’ the others with a barely there curl of his lips. It’d been a long while since he thought of the journey, havin’ been one of the things he’d be glad to block out after comin’ home to realizin’ he lost his grandkids and son to yellowcough.

A rueful sigh escaped a parted maw, bulky build shiftin’ to somethin’ more comfortable, paws tucked beneath the fluffy wool of his chest. “Let’s hope we’re smart enough not to make the same mistakes.” He muttered, wooly plumage twitchin’ subtly, frown tuggin’ at scarred lips. Better than lettin’ a bunch of youngsters join somethin’ they had no part of expect makin’ their clan proud. He huffed, thoughts strayin’ to Milkpaw, though he supposed the kid’s been a warrior for some time. Nothin’ but children then, but now with the not-so-recent law bein’ tossed in place, Duskpool had to wonder if that’d sway the majority.

Let’s hope it ain’t gonna come to that.​

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thought speech​