rotbringer ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ sharpshadow

[Swansong]

⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ 　The carrionplace brings a comfort to Swansong like few others. It is second only to the graveyard, her usual haunt. She feels at home here, among the rot and treasure. Though not so much a hoarder as her father had been, once upon a time, she still finds joy in seeking out rarities among the mountains of twoleg-trash.

She thinks of him now, with Sharpshadow by her side. A shared thread of connection between them, a shared ache. Her eyes skirt across mounds of rot, and she thinks of her father. He was - is - a scavenger, as much as the crows and vultures which call this place home. "Oh, look at this..." Her voice is delicate, pleasantly intrigued. Wistfulness creeps into its corners.

A pale paw reaches out to brush an old, decaying piece of twoleg-trash, brown and ridged. Mushrooms bloom from its moldy surface, their own frills and earthen colors seeming almost a mirror. "Hah, Smogstar would have loved it..." She wonders if he had anything like this, among his collection. Wonders if he'd know the names of these mushrooms, would pluck them and bring them triumphantly back to camp. She smiles. "Don't you think so...?" She murmurs softly, not looking away from the fungus-eaten thing.

‎‎┌── WE FOUND TWO DEAD SWANS ⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆ AND FILLED THEIR BODIES WITH FLOWERS ──┐‎

• @SHARPSHADOW
  
• 
  
  

  "SPEECH"

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  SWANSONG　⋆⁺₊ ☾ ⁺₊⋆　she / they, warrior of shadowclan, fourteen moons.
  ➳ a pale, silky-furred cream tabby with droopy blue eyes.
  ➳ dreamy and detached, known for her perpetual sleepiness.
  ➳ halfshade x smogstar, littermate to applejaw, garlicheart, & ashenfall.
  ➳ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ➳ penned by SATURNID ↛ saturnids on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[SHARPSHADOW]

Carrionplace is not the same source of comfort that it was for Swansong. It made sense— side by side like this, it could be any more obvious how opposite they were. Swansong is delicate curls lain atop a willow-tree frame. A gait that compliments the rest of her nicely, a long, sonorous tail... Sharpshadow is as pitch-black as the shadows she was named after, the spines of her back haphazardly placed atop a crude figure. Her silence is one of necessity, rather than the natural proclivity she's sure that it was for Swansong... The pale warrior belonged anywhere but here, really. Sharpshadow was the one who ought to be rooting for garbage, like this...

But Sharpshadow is... detached. His head swings around aimlessly ( No less aimless than he's felt for the past moon, he supposes ). Paws hover with a hesitance... His attention is called, and Sharpshadow glances over, glimpses both a foul-smelling and foul-looking piece of twoleg garbage beneath that delicate paw. His nose wrinkles. At the mention of Smogstar, his breath stills.

"...Yeah, " he agrees. Of course. As much as he would have them think he was better than them all — with his downturned stares and hunched posture; gaze that practically said, you're hardly worth my time, he was the carrion-chewer the other clans likely took them for. If his dark stripes hadn't said it all... it was that part of him that made him ShaodwClan. His Willingness to pluck at anything that could benefit him, even if the potential consequences weren't even able to make it beyond the horizon... She snorts. " I wonder how he'd feel knowing that garbage is what reminds us of him "

how he'd feel... the past tense makes his heart ache. The more time passed, the more it seemed like it may stay past tense forever. His shoulders hunch. The sudden sigh surprises himself. " ...I hope he's okay. "​