private roll the dice, hit a seven ♠ scorchstorm

[brokenpaw ♠]

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Honeysucklepaw's outburst had dragged those lingering stares far longer than it would have been had she stayed quiet as he did. Brokenpaw was not as elated as one might be when given the leader of the Clan to train, as that sort of status held such grandeur and bragging rights as some would say. Periwinklebreeze's brood were much more fitting for all of this spotlight. Bilberrypaw with Scorchstreak, Vulturepaw with their father, Dustpaw with Frostwind... Puddlepaw would have been good enough to take his place, then.

It had taken lots of pretending to be normal and unphased by it all until he felt the gradual path to becoming at ease. Sunstar had also given the pitch tom some distance and he used the stretch of time after the meeting to stay near Honeysucklepaw, who was also suddenly uninterested in his company.

It felt... lonely. Oddly enough, given how much he preferred to be alone.

Night had overcome the summer sunshine and a warm breeze kept him awake. Brokenpaw wasn't sure of where he should sleep among the apprentices, awkwardly sitting within the patches of gorse and heather between the nursery and elders den. Out of the way, watching, waiting for a chance to quietly slip between the bodies and fall asleep. The chance never arrived, or at least he didn't feel ready when it had.

Outside of camp is where he wished to be. It's what he's wanted for moons now and so he set out- careful not to go too far. Getting lost along the rise and fall of hills didn't sound so bad right now, though.

An ear swiveled behind him as the silence was disturbed but the sight of shadow red-painted fur was not an unwelcome one. "Not going back." Brokenpaw warned her, defensive. He had already spent six moons being told what to do, what not to. He craved even the slightest moments of self control, and if the cricketsong of a moonlit nights were the only place he could have that, he would take it.

♠ i swear to god, i did what i could ———— ♠ i practically begged you

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  Brokenpaw
  —⊰⋅ apprentice of windclan | 6 months
  —⊰⋅ he/him
  —⊰⋅ mintshade x gracklestep
  "SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  —⊰⋅ sh solid black tom with yellow eyes
  

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[SCORCHSTORM]

It is not right to be so bitter over something that was never promised to be hers. Scorchstorm's only apprentice is imaginary; is the image of Brokenpaw she has conjured over passing daydreams. He is not hers to mentor. Never would be — Sunstar would make a great warrior out of him, far better than Scorchstorm is capable of doing, surely. She can take solace in the fact that Brokenpaw is still like her, at least, an apprentice of the rosette tom. Maybe he would turn out like her, too: disciplined, fierce, strong. Jealous. Lonely. She whisks the thought away.

But StarClan, does she know what it feels like to be lonely. She remembers Badgermoon's departure, midway through her apprenticeship. She had felt damned lonely then. She remembers Cherryblossom, whose friendship she could never hope to maintain after the journey. She remembers Luckypaw, who has abandoned her for the barn; remembers Rumblerain, whose absence needs no explanation; remembers Frostwind, who is still here, and yet there are oceans between them she cannot begin to know how to cross. She hopes Brokenpaw does not suffer the same loneliness, but perhaps it is a rite of passage for troubled apprentices.

The day is done when Scorchstorm makes her own exit from camp. She has taken to patrolling, incessant in her watching, as if her mere presence could deter DuskClan's next attack. It had to come. She knows it will. She just does not know when — but there is little time to contemplate it when she becomes aware of the tiny black shadow out with her.

He had not gotten far. "Brokenpaw?" Scorchstorm hazards, her prowling gait transforming into a trot as she makes her way to him. Not going back, he spits, and she tilts her head; flicks her tail. She glances back towards camp. The heather tunnel is still in view, though hardly. They are close enough. She will not drag him back to camp yet. "Okay," she replies, soft. She plants herself astride him in a graceful seat, ears twitching in time with the cricket chirps. In an attempt to understand, she pitches him a gentle question: "What brings you out of camp?"

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 17 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

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