no angst RETURN MY HEAD ↷ [ good morning ]

[smogstar]

Try as he might, a sound night's sleep was constantly denied him. Day in, day out, night after night and then the next, his sealed lids only served to steal away the starlight. Slumber, when it did manifest, could most fittingly be described as utterly sub-par. Piss poor, even. Totally devoid of restorative quality. Sleep merely robbed his body in addition to his time.

What's worse is Smogmaw - as a proud contrarian - could not place the thinnest thread of a silver lining to the chronic fatigue. There was no gain to counterbalance his loss. Simply a slow slide into whatever madness the nightly degradation would leave him. That, and a gnawing headache thrumming in tune with his heart to carry him through the day.

A loved one's warmth once lulled him into precious repose. Sugar-sweet whispers to soothe his worry-worn skull, the blissful haze of romantic delusion granting him moments of genuine comfort. She's not here anymore. His nest was a sleeping space for two reduced to one, and her scent had long ago left the reeds he'd plucked and bundled. Halfshade, his darling Halfshade, dead these frozen moons. Cold, alone, and left to decay—an apt description for the both of them.

⁂​

The morning, today's morning, broke with an unusual air about it. As daylight filtered through the warrior den's thorny curtain and bathed the felines within, Smogmaw lazily shifted in his nest. Still tired; always tired. Though not exceedingly tired. Stifling a yawn, the deputy arched his back high in a stretch—bones cracking as his pelt rose away from the moss he chose to rest his head.

Today feels nice, he reasoned, almost to a point where he could consider himself content. His baroque-patterned pelt slithers past the den's threshold and out into the wide, waking world. The camp is sun-kissed and snowy and tranquil as ever, as it should be at dawn's drowsy hour. But for once, the sights don't repulse Smogmaw, who plants his ass at Clanrock's foot.

Against all odds, in the fang-bared face of the hardships facing this clan, he manages a weak purr. Everything kind of just aligns, clicks and connects in this one singular moment, and it's all okay.
​

 

[Willowburn]

THE GODS CAN KNEEL ⋆⁺₊⋆
"Either I've gone mad or you're actually purring!" Willowburn truly could not believe his ears as he gawked at Smogmaw from where he had been seated nearby, basking in the warm morning glow of the sun. He had gotten up nice and early in order to claim the best spot, though he was willing to abandon it in order to get closer to the deputy so he could truly confirm what he was hearing.

Peeling himself away from his sun-soaked seat he then waltzed his way over so he could plonk his rump down closer to the usually rough edged tom. "There's a change coming, you can practically smell it in the air. I wonder if we will be blessed with the early coming of warmer days, what do you think?" To see the snow gone and the pines harbouring a new wealth of prey would be truly pleasant indeed. They all needed a respite from the harsh moons that had come to pass.

- ⋆ -​

​

 

[lilacfur]

Sleep had begun to return to Lilacfur as time grew a steady distance from that fateful day. The time of their traitors exile had passed and despite the cold chill that still whisked between ShadowClan's marshes she noticed her Clanmates were behaving a different way from before. Kinder, softer in ways she wouldn't expect. Now with the inclusion of Skunktail's surprise kin, the despair that loomed over their home felt like it was quickly fading.

"Smogmaw just had to thaw for the winter." She teased to Willowburn , stretching her front and back legs as she moved out of the warriors den. There was still some time before she had to bring Caterpillarpaw and Pipit out again. Maybe they could enjoy a meal before leaving.

"I can tell newleaf is on its way. Soon we'll see the algae bloom and swamp flowers grow again."​

[ i need the clouds to cover me ]​

 

[Starlingheart]

The cold moons had always been hard, there was no denying that. Within them they always experienced loss, pain, hunger. This was only the second turn of the season in her life and already she feels as if she has lost more than most. Sometimes she wonders if she is cursed, or perhaps ShadowClan is. Either way, she is glad that soon it will be over. New-leaf would come and would wash all their troubles away with the snow. It is a whimsical thought, one she knows is childish and wrong, but if she does not cling to the hope that things would get better eventually then she is not certain how she would ever make it through the long moons to come, the ones she now must face without the presence of a cat she had once relied on more than her own self.

The sun is warm at least, she thinks as she steps out into the open space enclosed by thorns, a wall she had known from birth. ShadowClan was a beautiful place, if only one knew where to look. She could see beauty in the way snow reflected the sun, in the way the pines still held onto their beautiful, rich, green while ThunderClan's tree lost all their foliage after a blaze of fire. There was beauty there too, but once the leaves fell to the ground there was also decay. She preferred it this way, the permanency of the evergreens. Everything else could change but they stayed the same.

Her whiskers twitch in amusement as she makes her way over to the small group, coming up to her sister on the side she still had vision. She bumps her softly with her shoulder in a silent greeting. "New-leaf coming is-is always a good reason to celebrate" she agrees with a slight nod of her head. Her words are directed at her sister, at Willowburn but she does glance warily at Smogmaw from the corner of her eye. Tension still hung in the air around them, leftover from a fight of which neither party had ever acknowledged since.

​

 

[smogstar]

Anticipatory tension grips his shoulderblades as footfalls grow imminent. An ear flicks, and sluggishly does the deputy angle his neck towards the cat infringing upon his person. What would Willowburn have of him on this fine sunrise? A formal grievance, or conceivably a snide quip or two? Be it one or the other, Smogmaw possesses no appetite for piddling banter, hence his tail traces lazy patterns in the snow behind him, indifference radiating in tandem with his purr.

Except Willowburn nurtures no desire to cause him trouble or annoyance. Save for the glaring comment, which brought about a nettled huff from the older tom, but then again, the fault could be his own for struggling to take a jest in good spirits.

Shoulders slack, his head revolves between his shoulders with a good crack or two, and by the time he's settled, the impromptu chitchat has transitioned to a new topic. Newleaf. "What do I think?" Smogmaw reverberates, a fleeting glance towards two approaching outlines separating his words. "I think I'm no good at predicting the weather, that's what I think. But, if Newleaf comes early, it'd be reason to rejoice—all that snowmelt'll make the swamp a lavish home for our prey."

A clearing of his throat both dislodges bothersome phlegm and acts to elongate the pause that follows, making room for Lilacfur and Starlingheart to grace them with their presence. Smogmaw's greyish muzzle flicks to acknowledge their arrivals, though he never does quite reach the medicine cat's gaze. "All things... considered, this Leaf-bare pales in comparison to our last," Smogmaw emends. The stoic mask he wears shatters briefly with a subtle downturn in his lips. Flickerfire's unceremonious end, the raids on ThunderClan, starvation on a clan-wide scale... "Chilledstar has done well to weather our clan through it all," he mrowrs, though a sharp exhale plays along a scoff soon after. "But, then again, who can say for sure? The season could always throw a final surprise our way." ​