pafp PROMISES MADE 〘 PREPARING 〙ˊˎ﹤

[SUNNVAR]

There is much to be done in WindClan's world, and yet the camp seems frozen in some strange stasis. Between phases of destruction, held aloft in their plummet towards the ground. It is early evening and eerily quiet, with most of his clanmates having found other ways to avoid this strange moment in time. Perhaps they are out hunting, or patrolling, or plotting, scheming — it must be something, for most are not here. It's quiet. Were he any other creature than what he is, Sunstride might even call it serene.

He is himself, and it is not.

A tired paw sweeps across his cheek, and he pulls himself back to his task. In and out his paws weave the walls, prodding at each hinted weakness to test for its strength. With all that has happened, he can only assume that RiverClan will come marching soon. They will take their allies and come upon this hollow, and it will be these walls alone that save them from slaughter. Perhaps it is not the truth, but it plagues him nonetheless. So in the silence of their preparations, he weaves. In and out, in and out. It is dull, tedious work that he finds no love for, but at least he can be assured of its worth. Should the worst come, these few moments could save many lives.

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: please wait for @cottonkit !!
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Sunstride is far from the least interesting of their plentiful lead warriors. Though Cottonkit can't help but feel a little disappointed that he's not a tunneller (it would be impossible for him, she knows, based on stature alone,) she knows of his importance in the Clan. He's a pillar of support, just like her father, for Sootstar and Badgermoon. Without them, and the rest of the lead warriors, WindClan wouldn't be nearly as strong as it is. Perhaps that's enough to pull curiosity from the almost-apprentice.

Though, to be fair, a grass whistle would be more than enough to distract her on a good day.

She strides from the nursery, unbothered by the tenseness in the air. Juniperfrost is dead and she can't ignore that, and so is Branchfall, and dozens of other cats - but RiverClan would be stupid to attack a whole group of ferocious and fearless WindClanners. It's disappointing when some of their own loyal few must live within StarClan, but Cottonkit feels no less comforted with those that remain after. Sunstride exhibits a different point of view - more realistic, though the kitten doesn't feel the need to justify it as much. A strong warrior must always be prepared, and that's that.

Cottonkit spies him with his idle work and trots closer. It's only when she strays too close does she realize how truly not fluffy the tom is. He is, certainly, thick coated and fluffy by design. However in trying to sit by him, distracted by her incoming questions, she miscalculates the space she has and knocks, clumsily, into Sunstride's side. She doesn't think about how he hides his muscle beneath a near immaculate coat - instead, she wonders how many other seemingly fluffy cats are doing the same. Dazed, Cottonkit simply falls back onto her haunches, confusion clear in her gaze.​

 

[LAMBCURL.]

Follow ups to such tragedy were not a think he afforded much thought to. Death was death, an inevitable thing. The gate deciding when or where was never consistent, and by nature, never could be. Ever-moving, and controlled by just about anything under the sun, even if it was not all equal control. All that he thinks of is the stiffness of that body. How it cools after death. He can feel it, of course. The cold wind blowing over them all. Result of grief, he only thinks. No, it does not cross his mind that an attack may come.

Different. Diligently different, the two of them are. Sunstride is a force to be reckoned with. He carries with him such unexplainable air– him and Wolfsong, both. Perhaps it was a matter of where you hailed; a difference in culture... Lambcurl nearly thinks to ask...

But it'd be no less than rude in this moment, wouldn't it be? Not when his paws worked so deftly. Not with the grace with which he moved. Oh, Lambcurl is perfectly contented to watch him. And in this way, he is nearly a mirror to Cottonkit, though unmoving. Clumsy– no, awestruck she tumbles. Distraction... he knew it well. "Seen something amazing?" he asks, and he sounds far away.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──⇌•〘 INFO 〙 He has never gone into battle beside Sunstride while uncertain of said place. He will not turn Wolfsong away if RiverClan attacks; they cannot afford that, and even when bitter and angry, Sunstride is reasonable. But it makes him uncomfortable, uncertain. Restless. How am I to prove my value to you again, friend? Will any battle be enough to convince you your faith was not misplaced? Part of him questions whether that should be his goal at all. He should not have to demonstrate to him that he is reliable, that he is trustworthy.

He clenches his jaw, one-eyed gaze skipping between Lambcurl, Cottonkit, and Sunstride. The kit has the look of someone struck by a sky-lance, taken aback and entirely bewildered. Lambcurl asks after her, and Wolfsong debates whether he should join Sunstride in strengthening their walls.

"There is a section here that is weaker," Wolfsong says, prodding the wall. "Were you meaning to return to it later, or are your eyes in need of rest?" It is not an accusation.
​

 

[MALLOWLARK]

Mallowlark had always found Sunstride fascinating, if only in the way that the other tended to regard him. Despite his gung-ho grin and oblivious cheerfulness, the white tom equally was not blind nor deaf- it was no secret to him the peculiar glances and words that were often slung his way. Sunstride had always been pretty receptive, though- someone who'd never, at least not yet, set a wildly terrified look upon him. He'd often come to associate the lead warrior quite heavily with Wolfsong, though... the two of them, side by side, was something he'd seen a little less of. He was not surprised to see them near each other now.

Cottonkit and Lambcurl sat observing, enraptured, at something rather mundane- the fixing of a wall. Speck of snow asking in a tone as wispy as the mist itself, Lambcurl's question caught Mallowlark's attention fully, pulling his sensibilities from simple idle watching. Something amazing- was it the malleable mind of a kitten that made banal things entertaining? Perhaps if he gazed in the same way she did, there might be something luminous beneath the skin... pristine bone, sleeping in a veil of ichor...

A towering mirror of Cottonkit, the night-footed tom collapsed on his own haunches and set his grinning face upon the duty the lead warrior was performing, staring with wide-peeled eyes and attempting to etch his gaze with that same confusion in her face. It was not a masterful mimicry- in fact, it was not even close. ​

☺PENNED BY PIN​

 

[SUNNVAR]

The fist glimmering of Cottonkit's confusion is a welcome reprieve– Mallowlark's echo of it, however, is entirely unsettling. His head had been bowed lower to look upon the small bundle of fur, a smile gracing a wearied face at the purity of her confusion. It is as if she has found herself in contact with something she has never seen before. For the life of him he's no thought as to what; would not have any idea in the slightest until he could once more step into the mind of a child. It had been many moons since he had felt so entranced by the world that surrounded him. His fur, especially, had never been something to wonder at. Even if it were not what he was born with, his father was much the same. A mountain of a cat, grace with a pelt so dense one might lose their entire paw to it before finding his side. There are times that he misses the warmth still.

"Did you lose your tongue in the battle with my side?" he chuckles lowly, reaching out with one paw to gently nudge Cottonkit's idle form. It would seem that Lambcurl, strangely worded as his query may have been, struck a close mark. (He would not have minded a question of home. With his thoughts wandering ever further in these green-growing moons, it would have been a welcome distraction.)

It is much cuter with her than with Mallowlark, and he cannot coax himself to react similarly to the black-footed tom. He is quick to gloss over, to accept the distraction of Wolfsong's voice. As distant as they may have become in the lonely moonrises, he would know his voice anywhere, and know this tone just as well. He glances at him sidelong, wary of his paw's desperation to return to his mouth. "I have been at it too long," Sunstride finally admits, loathe as he is to accept the weakness of such words. It had never been Wolfsong's way to judge him harshly for such slights. "You are welcome to take care of it yourself."

﹥ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〙ˊˎ﹤

• ooc: —
• SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
  —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
  —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
  —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.
  
  sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
• "speech"

​

 

[cottonsprig]

It's only a few moments wherein her gaze remains unfocused and lost. It's the presence of others that bring her back to reality - that, and a rough shake of her own head. The kitten notes the few others that've joined them. First comes Lambcurl, the odd tunneller claiming that she must've seen something amazing. Then Wolfsong (though Sunstride's usual partner-in-crime is oddly silent today, simply moving along to help the work of the aforementioned.) And finally, Mallowlark. The grey kitten's seen how the many other cats react to the unyielding grin that the final white tom boasts, some going as far as to call it unsettling. She decides in the moment that they're not all that wrong. She decides, too, that Lambcurl isn't too far off.

Though she finds herself grounded, it's only when Sunstride nudges her carefully that she realizes time still moves on. Another blink and she looks up at him, defiance now intruding on her gaze however not in any truly angry way. "It's unfair!" Cottonkit claims firstly, reaching up a paw to press against the tom's side. She's at most attempting to display how misleading his image is, however when she turns to do the same to either of the other toms (Wolfsong is too far for her example,) she's met with the curly furred Lambcurl and Mallowlark, who she believes to be diseased from the way cats avoid him. She pouts further before looking back at the lead warrior, "I just...! Ugh, never mind," she settles absolutely having lost her tongue in a battle with Sunstride's side.

She inches away from him and in an attempt to save herself from further embarrassment, she lifts the same paw towards Sunstride's work, "Can I help?"​