summertime sadness — watching the sunrise

[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

With a sigh, Duskpool sat amongst the others awake this early in the morning, just barely glimpsing a waking sun as a blossom of colors weaved through the cerulean, billowing out like watercolors. Despite the soreness, the battered warrior remained awake throughout the night, tenser than a spring and waiting for the pack of mutts to rear their heads for another round, but it was quiet, or as quiet as it could be with the steady breaths of sleeping cats and the occasional insomniac sitting amongst them.

He rumbled, soft and bittersweet. With a sweeping gaze through the lumbering bodies, Duskpool wouldn’t be seeing some of them unless he spotted them at a gathering or in battle. It was disconnecting, spending time with them, and facing harboring events that left them better or for worse. It was a miracle they survived—barely, his mind helplessly supplied.

His muscles rippled beneath an obsidian coat to shift into a more comfortable position, humming softly while peering up at the watercolored sky blooming with pinks and oranges that created a melancholy atmosphere, just knowing.

The male offered no words to the waking crowd, offering the occasional dip of his helm to those who glanced his way. It would be time to say goodbye. To split, leaving behind the oddly make-shift clan that bonded them with mingling scents that no longer smelt like home. He’d miss it. He’d miss them, but he supposed he should be thankful for the time he spent traveling.

The fluttering memories of when they crossed the bridge and now? He snorted, grinning. Times have changed, haven’t they? He thought, his expression clouded.

He blinked, letting his helm tip back to enjoy the rising sun.

/ @orangeblossom @HONEYJAW @GREENEYES @milkpaw this takes place early in the morning before the first group leaves ! so everyone is more than welcome to say their goodbyes before the groups officially split ^^​

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[iciclefang]

◇────────────【☆】★【☆】────────────◇​

XXXXXIciclefang had slept lightly, her dreams troubled by flashes of long teeth, by blood spilt onto moorland grass. She wakes with an odd sense of heaviness in her chest and heart, weighted with guilt she cannot explain. Duskpool’s silhouette is etched with the fire of the rising sun—he’s up, and others begin to stir, and she knows it’s time to say their goodbyes. Iciclefang pushes herself to her paws, giving herself a slow, weary grooming. Her fur tastes strange under her tongue, the scent of her Clanmates washed away after months mingling with warriors and apprentices from other Clans. She can taste pine, oak, marsh, moor—and the homesickness that floods her mouth replaces all the other scents with iron.

XXXXX“It’s a beautiful sunrise,” she murmurs quietly to Duskpool, brushing her flank against his in friendly greeting. “But I suppose we should… get going. Those of us who are, anyway.” She looks uncertainly to the black and white warrior, remembering his offer to stay behind. This would be goodbye for them, and for others.

XXXXXShe misses RiverClan, but she will miss her companions with almost the same ferocity—one in particular weighs heavy on her heart. She surveys the slumbering cats, finding @STORMYWING among them. On delicate paws, Iciclefang pads toward her and brushes her muzzle over one silver-gray ear. “We should share tongues one last time,” she murmurs.

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[smogstar]

His memory fails in recalling any recent instance or event in which he'd undergone such immense physical stress. Not since the Great Battle, Smogmaw figures, lest not ever before that. Mounting the bodily strain is the mental load carried upon him—residual traces of the distress the dogs had inflicted, in parallel with newfound anxieties about the path onward.

The only reason why the hounds hadn't brought this quest to an end lies solely in their strength in numbers, besides the exceptional quickness of their WindClan comrades. Now, at a time where danger looms large, the travelling party will be splintering in two: one advanced, one delayed, and both more vulnerable to latent hazards as a result. How could he not fret over it?

Sleep swiftly laid claim to his worn and washed-out muscles, and the tom felt just as sore when he awoke the following morning. Amber eyes, semi-draped, whisk along the assorted felines rousing from their respective slumbers. Giving a groan, the broad deputy hauls himself into a slouched, seated position, tongue streaking through cowlicked chest tufts that disobeyed his understanding of physics. Slowly, the drowsy mist dissipates from his mind, and a growing awareness ushers in its stead. This morning stands to be their last as a collective unit.

Chatter catches his ear, and his head swivels over a shoulder to pick out the cats in question. Duskpool stands chin pointed to the sky, Iciclefang alongside him though shifting her attention elsewhere in the ensuing moments. Haunches rise, limbs stretch outward, and his back arches in a brutal stretch. He'll pretend to ignore the sound of his own joints popping.

"We're homeward-bound," Smogmaw assesses on approach, drawing to a halt at a respectable distance away. He inhales through his nose, then, closing his eyes. "It's as if I can smell the swamp's shit and rot from here. I cannot wait to be back." ​

 

[milkthorn.]

Frosty gaze flickered open as the sun began to peak the horizon, but still, he felt exhausted. His bones and muscles felt together as sore as an elders, who had spent their whole life doing what they have done in a month. His body rose, and casting a glance at the gathering cats would join their side. His side had been torn, and moving was a pain. But he was stronger than he would let on. He still couldn't help the wince that pained across his face as he moved to sit beside them.

A final goodbye, it seemed.

It was a long, difficult journey. But.. most of the journeying cats survived. He felt like he hasn't done enough to help, but got in the way. He had tried their best though, they all did what they could.

He had even gained respect for them. Riverclan, for assisting them across the river; Shadowclan, for making sure no one got lost in the depths of the mountain; Skyclan, for helping them up the mountains cliffs; and Thunderclan for hunting for them through the twisted tunnel of foliage that seemed endless to him.

Even for his own clan. He had survived, he would become a warrior. He had saved Scorchstreak, and his scar would be a reminder of his bravery. He now understood the fear of dogs, but was thankful his moors had no heights they would have to climb, and he'd remember even now to keep distance from the gorge.

But the peacefulness, and the trust they'd put together he would never forget. the colours were memorizing as he watched with the others. Iciclefang, who he helped partially through the tunnels spoke. "It was nice meeting you guys..." he murmured back, softly. And Duskpool, who fought bravely and vigilantly, yet he snapped at him. He offered a sorrowful look. "You didn't deserve what I said. I spoke selfishly. And I'm sorry it took this long to apologize."

Smogmaw approached and he offered a dip of his head towards the other. He had guided his group through the caverns and past a snake that rattled hauntingly through the caves. "I can't wait for more runs through the moors. Hopefully I'll get my warrior name when I come back." A soft sigh escaped him. He could only wonder what name Sootstar would bestow upon him.


//ninjad <3
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[GREENEYES]

His slumber had been a wavering one, light and driftless as uncertain worry weighed heavy on his thoughts. Finality is upon them; a journey’s end he and everyone else knew was coming for a while prior to now, but one marked by a premature separation he headed the opposition for just the night before.

As he rises to his paws under a flaming sky, Greeneyes knows his return home won’t be as soon as some of his journey-mates - as some of his clanmates, as his own sister. A moment he’d imagined they’d share together all this time - a homesickness abated as cloud-capped paws stepped back into the pine forest beside golden-red - is now merely a dream pushed to the wayside. An arrival disjointed, a return in pieces - no longer as one, but as two.

It’s a homecoming part of him still can’t believe is truly set to happen. Obstacle after obstacle, the journey had been proven as dangerous as the clans’ healers had dreamt. With everything they’ve gone through, bound together as a wandering clan of their own, it’s a wonder tragedy hadn’t struck them more than it had. Still, he’ll miss this - this bond they’ve created.

And while he wouldn’t change his decision to stay back with Flamewhisker and Stormpaw’s group, he can’t help the guilt that sits in him, the fear of unknown consequences.

A goodbye he knows he has to give, his gaze scanning the area in search of @FIGFEATHER before she departs. A dip of the head is bestowed to Duskpool as he meets the older warrior’s gaze, a small smile to Iciclefang as he moves past the RiverClanner.

“Good luck with training,” he tells the tortoiseshell with a flick of his tail, a nod of his head following. Cicadapaw is bound to be a strong warrior, if Iciclefang is in charge of the kid.

To Milkpaw, he offers another smile. “I bet you’ll get a really cool name,” he tell the moor apprentice, though time will only tell.

When his gaze finally finds Figfeather, he pads towards his sister, a farewell hanging between them: one that he hopes will be akin to the one he’d given Butterflytuft and Violetnose, rather than to Snowpath.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he offers to her with a small nudge against her shoulder, a hope that his delay won’t be too far off the first group’s return. His smile falters as he looks up at his littermate, as uncertainty begins to gnaw at him again. “Please… Please stay safe.”

✦ ABOUT

• 
  

  
  
  GREENKIT ‣ GREENPAW ‣ GREENEYES, Warrior of SkyClan
  — Daisyflight x Raven Ramble
  — AMAB; He/Him
  — A red tabby and white tom with bright green eyes.
  — Mentored by Sheepcurl; Currently mentoring Falconpaw
  — "Speech"; Attack
  
  ✦･ﾟ: * — Among SkyClan's first born, Greeneyes is a bright tom with an affinity for the world around him. Despite always seeking to be kind to others, the warrior believes he's cursed - a belief brought on by rhetoric that green is a deadly color.

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[FIGFEATHER]

Figfeather felt as if she had gotten little sleep. It was difficult to remain in slumber when anxiety curled and rotted in your stomach. She worries for the group they are leaving behind, for Stormpaw, and of course for Greeneyes. The ginger tom was more than capable of fending for himself, he was a strong and noble warrior… but even the greatest of warriors can be struck down.

Her gaze softens when he approaches her. He nudges her shoulder and assures he’ll be right behind her, her whiskers quiver as she refrains from getting emotional. ”I wish you’d come with.” She confesses, leaning to give his forehead an affectionate lick, ”But I understand.” This was a selfless choice of Greeneyes, he’d bring pride and honor to SkyClan.

”I will, you do too. SkyClan needs you.” So does Violetnose, Butterflytuft and Figfeather. None of them could take another loss, not Greeneyes.​

♡ INFO BATTLE

• 
  » Figfeather
  » SkyClan Warrior
  » She/her . AMAB
  » A red tabby she-cat with a mangled leg.
  » ”Speech”․ thoughts ․ attack
  
• 
  » A foe in battle whose ability to strategize can shift tides.
  » Excels in strategizing and pre-planning her battles.
  » Fights defensively and aid her clan to victory.
  » May powerplay minor harm. Can powerplay healing

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[DUSKPOOL]

anger makes you stupid . stupid gets you killed .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He glanced at Iciclefang through his peripheral, humming in agreement, but offering no words but a singular dip of his helm. His gaze remained locked on the rising sun, bittersweet, but glad they were splitting. If they’d stayed together, then who knows what would befall the clans.

Duskpool shifted, meeting Iciclefang’s gaze with a dip of his helm, offering a silent goodbye to the RiverClanner. It was time for them to leave. His gaze softened, watching others reach out to those staying. He would have gone with them, but with a healing dislocation, Duskpool would have slowed them down even more than he’d been doing since the cliffside.

He snorted at Smogmaw’s comment, dark lips curling from its deadpan expression. His focus shifted to Milkpaw, offering the apprentice a shake of his helm, snorting. “No need for the apologies, kid.” He’d been annoyed at first, bein’ called a kittypet when he sure as hell wanted nothin’ to do with the monsters, but the male had let it go with a flick of his tail.

“I’ll see the lot of ya during the gatherin’.” He rumbled. “Tell my kids that I’ll be seein’ ‘em soon enough.” ​

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