pafp skellies in my closet ♡ apology

[slateheart]

set a few days after the return to windclan!


With a morsel of rabbit in his mouth, the only remains he could find in the burnt moorland today, Slateheart sheepishly seeks out a familiar golden pelt. He had barely spoken to Dimmingsun since the fire, aside from their time spent together in the medicine cat's den - he felt guilty, and guilt was always a rough thing to process. As an apprentice, his instinct was to swallow it and move on, as taught by his stoic father. Now, as a warrior, he knew he had to be more mature.. and the notion that he had been almost avoiding Dimmingsun only made him feel worse.

He spots his friend resting near the medicine cat's den, presumably after a rough day of wheezing. Somehow, Dimmingsun had gotten the worst of the symptoms from that day in the fire, despite Slateheart being there longer. Though the black-furred warrior felt tight in his chest every once in a while, it was miniscule compared to Dimmingsun who had been frequently out of breath. It wasn't fair - but it wasn't fair for Slateheart to brush it off, either. With a deep breath, he finally swallows his embarrassment and makes his way over with a shy, ducked head.

Slateheart drops the rabbit in-front of the warrior and shuffles a forepaw amongst the dry grass. "Dimmingsun, uh.." he begins awkwardly. His only apologies in life had been half-assed excuses afforded to his father after some mess up blown out of proportion. He was out of practice; what was he supposed to say? What tone of voice should he take? Naturally, he fumbles a little, and sounds a little like he's choking on his words as they stumble out of his mouth. "I - the fire.. what happened, shouldn't have. You shouldn't have.." Slateheart hesitates. He can't say that Dimmingsun shouldn't have helped him; his actions were honorable and actually admirable, whereas Slateheart, well.. "No - I shouldn't have gone in. I was being.. stupid."

The tom takes a seat. Once the worst of the apology is over, he is finally able to look Dimmingsun in the eye, though his ears burn with shame and embarrassment in doing so. Did every cat struggle with this as much as he did? "My.. mother, lives in Horseplace. The thought of losing her again made me.. stupid." He repeats the word again, stupid, the most fitting adjective for his actions. No other warrior in this Clan would be as foolish as he was. Slateheart shakes his head. "I knew better. I could've died, if.. if not for you."

"I never thanked you properly after that, and I never apologized. So.. thank you for saving me, and.. I'm really sorry you suffered as a result of my foolishness." Slateheart swallows hard and imagines all the possible ways Dimmingsun could reply. Would he turn Slateheart away, swearing off the little friendship they had formed? Would he insult him, or report him to Sunstar as a danger? Or.. was Slateheart simply overreacting?
​

CHARACTER INFORMATION — ♡ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ♡ — OUT OF CHARACTER

• 

  slate slatepaw slatetooth SLATEHEART
  ━━ MOOR-RUNNER WARRIOR of WINDCLAN
  ━━ 23 MOONS,, ages every 6th
  ━━ LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE xx SILVERFOOT
  ━━ SIBLING to GRAVELSNAP and ASHPAW
  ━━ MATE to none | PARENT to none
  ━━ MENTOR to BEEPAW | MENTORED by LYNXTOOTH​
  ━━ HEALTH ♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♡ | generally healthy, but experiencing shortness of breath.
  
• 
  
  
• speech is #bbbb88
  please wait for @DIMMINGSUN ​

 

[dimmingsun]

Dimmingsun spends today basking in the sun; it's a lovely way to take the edge off, whenever he thinks he can simply lay around instead of work, but it is something more now. RiverClan's copse had been an effective barrier against the fire with all its rushing rivers, but it is also wholly unnatural for cats who live in the moors and under open skies. The trees and their foliage blocked out the wide blue above, only allowing a few fleeting glimpses. Such protection feels (ironically) suffocating in more ways than the literal physical sense.

Now, he's home, and the sun welcomes him. It makes his fur shine all the brighter, makes it feel warm all over. His eyes remain closed even with the pleasant smile that graces his face.

He only opens one when there's a thud beside him, and then another when he realizes it's Slateheart who's the cause. His maw opens to say hello, but that expression on Slateheart's face commands silence. Still the smile doesn't falter.

And then he starts talking.

"Oh, Slateheart-" Dimmingsun starts, softly enough that he stops when his friend continues. Honestly, he hadn't chalked Slateheart's absence up to... anything, really. Dimmingsun hadn't felt hurt by it, hadn't put more reason behind it than the simple fact that WindClan had been crazy busy. He himself remained more quiet and withdrawn than usual after the fact.

You don't need to explain, Dimmingsun thinks, had thought it when he found Slateheart in the midst of flames. All the mysteries that cling to Slateheart due to the almost fleeting nature of his don't need to be unveiled, not if he doesn't feel ready. But it'd feel wrong to cut him off.

So Dimmingsun listens, and then almost hears his heart break.

"That was a speech fit for a leader. Ever thought of filling in for Sunstar one of these days, up in Fourtrees?" Always the jester, he opens with something light-hearted. It'd feel physically impossible not to say something humorous- but of course, he won't disrespect Slateheart (or anyone, for that matter) by remaining unresponsive to everything else. "Really, it's... there's no need for a thank you, or an apology. I'm glad I got there when I did." If he hadn't, would Slateheart's absence be felt even now? No jet-black fur to whisk over the moors?

A beat. "Do you know if your mother is safe now? I didn't let that reunion happen, huh. If you'd like, we can check Horseplace for her. As soon as Wolfsong won't want to tear us a new one for not resting."
​