SUBURBAN WAR — blazestar

[SLATESNARL]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Slate had made a habit out of sulking on the sidelines of camp ever since he had returned from the shelter. He had participated in a hunt here and a patrol there, just to ease him back into the swing of things, but it was obvious enough that the dark, gloomy, and depressing environment he had been contained in really left an impact on the warrior.

He is hunched slightly when the leader approaches him, another habit from having to cram his large form into the corner of the cage. The looming shadow of the Ragdoll prompts Slate to snap back into reality, blinking his spaced gaze, amber gaze meeting blue hues. "Er, hey." Slate grunts out, straightening his spine and giving a roll of his stiffened shoulders. In the back of his mind, he wonders if the situation with Silversmoke prior to his capture was ever brought to the leader's attention. Could Blazestar be approaching him about that? Or was there something else he wanted?

// @BLAZESTAR ​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

He's seen the despondent look in Slate's orange eyes upon his return home. The hulking dark warrior has lost that fire he'd had before his trapping, and Blazestar is loathe to see it go. Though he could do without the disparaging comments about kittypets and the animalistic hostility he holds for Silversmoke, Blazestar has come to like Slate. His presence had been missed sorely from SkyClan, though he sadly suspects the other tom would not know this.

The flame point approaches him on the sidelines of camp, a chaffinch in his jaws. He drops is graciously before the dark warrior, an unspoken question -- do you want to share?

"Don't get up on my account," Blazestar meows gently. "I'm just coming to see how you're doing."

And, well, he knows, doesn't he? Slate is a shell of the cat he'd been before the shelter. Blazestar searches the depths of his amber gaze for a moment before settling before him. Slate had seen things Blazestar would never see. Things he would not have wanted to see -- Daisyflight, spitting and hissing for the last time as she was carried away from her trapped Clanmates.

Blazestar's eyes cloud with sorrow for a moment, and he wonders what he could do for the cats who have returned so broken. "I mean. How you're really doing. I've noticed..." He sighs. "Eat with me." It's a command, but a goodnatured one. He pushes the bird toward Slate, inviting him to take the first bite.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[SLATESNARL]

❪ TAGS ❫ — It's a foreign concept, being missed. Living on his own as a rogue, Slate hadn't anybody's presence to enjoy nor anybody to enjoy his. He had preferred it that way for so long and, sometimes, he thinks that he still does. The busyness and communal pressures of clan life were still large adjustments for Slate, so much so that he found himself taking pretty much any opportunity to be alone. Ever since Blazestar implemented the buddy rule for leaving camp, however, such moments were quite rare.

Dulled hues flick down toward the chaffinch, and even though it's quite obvious what the leader is offering, Slate finds it hard to believe. Why would Blazestar want to share a meal with him? Why would he want to know how he's doing? If he should be fretting over somebody, it should be his daughter. The two cats weren't necessarily close, but surely Blazestar knew by now that Slate was a stoic soul, one who was able to sit silently through his mental and physical afflictions without anybody's aid. It was what rogues did, what they had to do in order to survive.

The Maine Coon would be lying if he claimed that he wasn't feeling uncomfortable. Sharing a meal was an intimate gesture between two cats, one that he only participated in with Cloverjaw until now. Figuring that he should just suck it up and take a bite, Slate did so, tearing into the feathered flesh and chewing. He swallowed and stared off into the distance, rumbling, "I'd always heard about that place. We street cats avoided it at all costs 'cause we knew there were only two ways outta' there." Adoption or death... either from rotting alone in a cage or being killed by the twolegs themselves. Daisyflight, for whatever sick reason, had been chosen to succumb to such a dark fate.

He closes his eyes for a moment, thinking, before opening them and briefly meeting Blazestar's gaze, "I didn't know what my fate would be." His lineage was special, or so he had been told from kithood, but would that have been enough to spare him? Slate had been pretty scratched and torn up, after all. Had the SkyClanners not arrived in time to save them all... would he have been taken away next?

Slate averted his eyes, nudging the chaffinch toward Blazestar so that the older tom could take his share. "... Thanks. For everything." Not just for the meal, but for everything, and Slate meant it. The gruff warrior wasn't great at putting sincerity into words. The feeling of helplessness and being out of control of his own life, only for it to be saved by someone else, was foreign to him. He didn't like being indebted to another, but yet here he was, freed from the twolegs and reunited with his brother again all thanks to Blazestar's loyalty to his clan. The Maine Coon wasn't going to kiss the ground the leader walked upon, but needless to say, he respected the Ragdoll.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Slate does not ask Blazestar to leave, nor does he react with displeasure, but the Ragdoll can feel discomfort seeping from the dark-pelted warrior. Still, he obeys, taking a bite from the chaffinch. Blazestar listens attentively as he speaks. "I'd always heard about that place. We street cats avoided it at all costs 'cause we knew there were only two ways outta there." He suppresses another shudder.

The grief over losing Daisyflight is still raw and tender. He is thankful none of the other SkyClan cats met her fate, but the possibility looms over them all. It could have been Howlpaw, yes. It could have been Slate. The haunted look in his amber eyes tells Blazestar that he knows it could have been.

He confirms this, briefly flicking burning eyes to Blazestar's blue. "I didn't know what my fate would be."

Blazestar's gaze falls to his golden paws. "I'm sorry," he says, but he isn't sure what he's apologizing for. He exhales, and it's long and full of sadness. "You and I have spoken about Twolegs before. I know how you feel about them. About kittypets. I never... I never knew they could be so cruel." He kneads the earth. "I knew only kindness and kinship with my housefolk. But Twolegs are like cats, I suppose. There are cruel ones as well as kind ones." An image of Sootstar flashes into his mind, taunting him after killing Haze.

He's startled by Slate's gesture. The ebony tom slides the bit of prey toward Blazestar, and he tentatively lowers his jaws to take a bite. As he pulls meat from bone, Slate says, "Thanks. For everything." Blazestar's momentarily speechless. He takes his time to swallow his mouthful of bird, takes time to formulate a response. "You don't have to thank me for anything. You've more than earned your place here, and SkyClan is better with you here." He means it. He has not forgotten his conversation with Silversmoke -- but if there is darkness and cruelty in Slate, he has not seen it.

Blazestar thinks of Thistleback then, the way his eyes had gleamed like polished onyx as he brutally dismantled Kuiper like a kit destroying a bit of prey.

All cats have the potential to be savage, he thinks to himself. Convinces himself. He looks into Slate's ember eyes and feels no fear, no reproach. He cannot believe Slate is capable of senseless violence. Thistleback isn't. Thistleback had acted in the name of justice.

He tells himself this over and over. He believes it.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​