sing to me | barn cat at night

SNOWGLARE

Didn't know I had a soul
Mar 14, 2024
34
3
8
જ➶ Under the cover of darkness is better for him unfortunately. With the sun being around longer now and how harsh it is in the afternoons he prefers to stay hidden within the barn. But since that day, that battle, he has been thinking and wondering if everything is okay with Windclan. He knows for sure that they will need time to heal from what has happened to them. Days he has tossed and turned and soon he finds himself here. Treading a path he can say he knows to some extent towards the scent of heather a gorse. Ghostly figure stops for a moment as he approaches the scent line and a part of him wonders if he should cross it. It isn't like it's the morning time where he is sure to cross some of those cats again. Surely they sleep just like everyone else. He'd have to sit out here till the morning and honestly he doesn't much like that idea. But he can't really help that too much. Glancing up at the stars in the sky he sighs for a moment. "Hopefully this goes well. I'd rather not be attacked...'' Taking a step over the border the large tom pauses for just a split second before he makes his away across the moorlands. His gaze stays trained on the area in front of him but his ears flick and shift. Hopefully he can find someone soon and he can also explain himself. Especially to Sunstride or maybe one of his other colleagues.

After all he did help them fight. It only felt right after everything he was told that was happening. Taking a deep breath those pink stained blue orbs narrow slightly as he pauses figuring this may be far enough. Maybe. The scent here is strong so he should be okay to stop and sit here. "Hello, Windclan?! I come in peace, promise! Sorry it's in the middle of the night though. It was better for me to travel this way."
 
༄༄ It was under the moonlight that Scorchstreak found solace in Badgermoon’s company, that single fateful night. It was under the fading darkness of night that she lost Rumblerain. The nighttime in her memories is a bittersweet thought, a garden path lined with thorns. Better times have occurred recently, for the clan as a whole but especially for the calico, but still she is prone to her nighttime wanderings. Perhaps it is a lingering sense of paranoia, a concern about the wolves’ presence, that keeps her out tonight. Or perhaps it is something else. She does not know—but she is glad for it.

A pale figure catches her eye, and the lead warrior’s hackles raise. Ghostwail, she thinks, slinking closer to the cat she spots. But then her eyes narrow, and she gets a better view. The cat is certainly not Ghostwail; she knows this cat, knows of his allegiance and knows that it is to neither Sootstar nor Granitepelt. His identity is made doubly clear when he calls out into the darkness like a harebrained fool, outlining his reasoning for being here so late. It is better for him to travel this way, he explains, and Scorchstreak thinks of the burns that had once affected Whitedawn so terribly. It must be strange to spend one’s entire life shying away from sunlight, but in the eyes of a tunneler it is not quite so outlandish an idea. Still, she gives a lash of her tail, and scowls at the other cat. "You’re lucky that I would recognize your wraith-pelt anywhere," she snaps, her voice dangling on the edge of a snarl. Annoyance drips from each bared fang, forming around every word. It is not necessarily due to anything that Kat has done wrong, but still he has made her night more difficult than it needs to be.

She will have to wake Sunstar, she has realized. Which means that she may also wake Wolfsong in the process, and any other cat who she passes by. What a troublesome situation she has found herself in. She doubts that he will attempt to harm anyone—she doubts that he could harm her if he tried—but she does not want to risk allowing him into camp without Sunstar’s direct approval. "Stick close and follow me. If you try anything untoward, I will not hesitate to remove you." With this, she turns and heads back in the direction of the clan’s camp, not waiting to see whether the tom will actually follow. If he does, she will lead him to where the camp’s nighttime guards are stationed, and dip her head to the first that she sees. "Fetch Sunstar, if you will?"
 

⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ Night-time guarding was a favorable task for Slateheart. In his attempts to re-connect with his estranged Clanmates as of late, he found his social battery quickly draining, and his motivation to speak becoming strained. Under the cool cover of night, he rejoiced in that he could spend some hours alone (or with another, who would be hopefully quiet) and recharge.

Unfortunately, his night of peace and quiet is cut short as a pair of cats approach. Scorchstreak, who he knew had been on one of her nightly walks, and a ghostly stranger whom he recognizes as one of the barn cats. He guessed at once that the white-furred tom had bad news, the way Scorchstreak's scowl persisted - had Granitepelt's cats infiltrated the barn? Were they in trouble otherwise? But the barn cat's features held no trouble or quarrel - what on earth would bring him here so late at night?

At Scorchstreak's request, Slateheart dips his head and excuses himself from his position and begins his trot towards the Tallrock, where he would find Sunstar (hopefully awake, lest he wake Wolfsong as well.)


  • ooc - fetching @SUNSTAR
  • slate-ref.png
  • SLATEHEART he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 19 moons.
    a short-furred black tom with low white markings and green eyes.
    son of LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE // brother to GRAVELSNAP, ASHPAW
    peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
    penned by ixora@.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 
AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Once upon a time, Rattleheart had found himself tossing and turning relentlessly when the nighttime came, thoughts plagued with seeming premonitions of violence and terror. Nightmares had been his ever-present companion, spurred on by Sootstar's continued calls to battle and harsh snarls that led, inevitably, to Windclan forming more and more enemies, rather than alliances. Those had been the hardest moons for the tunneler, stuck in a constant loop of wanting to keep his home safe but unable to force his muzzle open to protest against the slow descent he saw going on around him. Sleep had been nothing more than a wish during those days, a far cry from the peace that he was allowed to enjoy today.

Nowadays he often found that sleep was a frequent and caring companion, eyes always slipping shut mere moments after his body hit a lovingly tangled nest of moss, feathers, and flowers. Truthfully, the lead warrior was unsure if the easier sleep came just because of the newfound peace that Windclan clung to, or if it was partially due to the increase of the workload on his back. An increase that he had welcomed readily, but still often made him far more weary by the end of the day then he had been before. There was also a chance that it was partially due to the presence of his mate beside him, whose steady sleeping form was a constant reminder of the positives in his life. Not to mention how warm Venomstrike was, the press of his pelt often enough to lull Rattleheart to sleep even when he wasn't worn down.

He had been buried in that aforementioned fluffy pelt when a shout split the air, loud enough to yank him from his sleep and make his ears pin back against his skull in displeasure. At least the cry from outside of camp wasn't that of an enemy, though Rattleheart still wore an annoyed look on his face as he pulled himself from his mate's embrace. Sluggish steps brought him over to where Scorchstreak stood, offering a short nod to Slateheart as the moor runner turned and rushed off to go find Sunstar. "You might've had more luck coming a bit closer to the morning, even before the sun was up..." He couldn't help the grumble that left him in Kat's direction, though it lacked true heat or hostility. The presence of his sister was enough to soothe him for the moment, leaning into his side as he looked towards her questioningly. Had she already been up?

If she had been, he was hopeful that she remembered this particular barn cat's name, his face familiar but his title failing to be summoned up to the forefront of his groggy mind. It seemed he had gotten lucky when Celandine and Grave had announced themselves, saving him the trouble of having to admit his terrible name memory.


  • 75034712_8183RsjuzqJmQXv.png
    longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
    49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
    afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
    homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
    sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
    currently mentoring downypaw
    somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
    "speech", thoughts, attacking
    peaceful powerplay allowed
    all opinions are ic
 
The rustling of clanmates outside his den is hardly a sound unfamiliar to him. He used to stir at every passing pawstep, certain that they were coming to rouse him with trouble. The nights passed by quietly, and he began to rest with more certainty. Still something that swayed in half-watchfulness, but he is unfortunately asleep when Slateheart comes for him. His freshly-lifted gaze is bleary for but a moment before steadying itself, and he disentangles himself from his nest with steadier paws than one might expect of a cat just awoken. His eyes are clear by the time he leaves his den though not fully adjusted to the dark.

That matters little, it would seem. The cat that stands in wait is as stark as the moon against WindClan's night sky. His thought goes where Scorchstreak's does: Ghostwail, yet the silence lingering and the cautious sleepiness of those around him keep his nerves from fraying too far. As he focuses further: Cat. He assumes this is how he is named, at least: cats know quite little about spelling, as it is. "It surprises me that you would leave the safety of your barn at all," he calls back to the cat. His voice is not quite as friendly as it had been for the others — perhaps simply because they had not pulled him from his nest with mussed fur and a dream half-forgotten. Yet neither is he cold. His head tilts faintly into the breeze that ruffles his throat. "What is your reasoning?" his voice booms.
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  • OOC.
  • sun_icon_new2.png
    SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  
    ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.
    NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.

    TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES
 

Sleep seldom came easy for the long-furred chimera, as he appeared on the scene with mud caking his limbs, there was an alertness to his gaze that suggested this had been a night of thinking instead. His best ideas came when he was out on the territory, free to wander the tunnels while his clanmates slept, alas, it was not meant to be. Charteuse eyes fell upon the stranger before him and hardened for a moment, before the tension on his face eas eased away with a passively pleasant smile. 'I cannot tell if it was worse of my mother to bring in rogues, or worse of Sunstar to see value in keeping the barncats.' One had resulted in the entire dissolution of an Empire, the other just irritated him for existing (kittypets lived in Twoleg creations, not real WindClanners), but it was enough to make the withdrawn tom mull over the this-or-that with care. There was a surliness to his clanmates that sent a glimmer of amusement across his features. "Your name eludes me, I am afraid," he dipped his head in greetings, giving a lash of his tail as he contemplated reminding the clan of how... late he had been to join them.

Sunstar wasn't stupid, he could read between the lines without the chimera spelling it out for him. Still, he doubted the same of Rattleheart and Scorchstreak, the glance he offered them the 'kill with kindness' type. He would give them this opportunity to bite at him, just this once. "I spent little time in the barn, I was unable to get away before my sister's distraction." He spoke after Sunstar, voice quieter, carrying it as if it were a conversation rather than a reminder of his innocence. "You do have a name, do you not?" No one had spoken it yet, and Sootspot loathed not knowing something.


 
જ➶ He can not he upset nor can he hold any sort of hostility. Afterall these cats that run the moorlands have been through a lot. So much and through claws and bloodshed at that. That is the main reason he helped them before. So seeing Scorchstreak and hearing her words he dips his head in only that of gratitude. She has a reason for her actions he is sure of that. "I promise to do nothing that would come as surprose or aggression. You have my word." He is grateful that she does recognize is pelt. A ghost upon the moorlands and he follows her with the same exact silence as well. Keeping to himself as the large tom surveys the land and that of the place they call theie camp. It takes little time before there are more and he dips his head to those who come forth. A flick of embarrassment lingers in his gaze as he hears Rattleheart and he looks down at large white paws before looking back up. "My apologizes. I did not think of that..." A soft embarrassed chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head a little. It is true. He could have come at dawn, when the sun was low. Not a cause for alarm like in the middle of the night. Still he is here he supposes and soon the one he is here to see arrives and speaks. Asks him his purpose for coming here.

"It surprises me as well. Though saftey is...not so assured when it comes to your doorstep." He speaks with a calm and low tone before he flexes his limbs slightly. Windclan. It is a interesting place and though he distrusted them at first he knows now that he can have a home here. Work here. Grow here. "I've come because I would like to join your clan. Learn the ways in which you live and take on your mandates as my own. If you would have me." It was up to him after all and his ear swivels to another voice, pale pink blue hues focusing on Sootspot before he smiles ever so slightly. "I remember your pelt. Though it takes time for me to remember names, sorry. Mine is Kat."