private THE HERO DIED, SO WHAT'S THE MOVIE FOR? ⚜ FOXGLARE

[BLUEFROST]

She has not spoken to Foxglare since her sister's disappearance had been announced, but today she does. She approaches him where he kneels over a piece of tough fresh-kill, and she asks him, politely, to accompany her on a walk. Whatever his feelings for her, he does not disobey her as his superior, and, satisfied with that, at least, the two of them disappear through the heather tunnel and into the moorland at large. The sky is expansive and arid today; she can see only faint, pale wisps of clouds, suggestions of rain that will not come. It's past sunhigh, and every step she takes feels sluggish in the heat.

What do I say to him? The silence stretches between them, innocently at first, and then otherwise. She licks her lips, pondering — "You said you found blood." She speaks to him without looking; her green gaze is sad and distant, trained on some distant horizon. "Is that the truth?"

Bluefrost turns to face him. Her flanks heave with the effort of her walk, her belly ballooning to either side of her. She slows her pace. "Who... who came to get her? Can they be trusted?" Her frown wavers with sadness she cannot expel.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: @FOXGLARE
• 
• Bluekit . Bluepaw . Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 17 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
  — mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
  — windclan lead warrior and queen. sootstar x weaselclaw, gen 2.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.
  
  

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[FOXGLARE]

⁀➷ He doesn't know exactly why he entertains Bluefrost's request, perhaps it is a mere concession to her flagrant exertion of her Lead Warrior and pregnant Queen statuses, though it would have been easy enough to make up an impromptu training session to hold with Frightpaw if he wanted to shoo her off to find herself another chaperone. He suspects the thing that drives him to his paws is more the loyalty to her sister that threads them together.

Whatever the case, the awkward silence that muddies their short, sun-spotlit journey is broken by the queen as she slows her pace, and he turns to watch her closely. Her eyes are fixed upon something far away, perhaps some imagined vision of a sooty, silver-shimmering pelt too much like her own. He’s surprised by her initial question, expecting something either more wide-sweeping or pinpoint direct, but he answers it anyway, “It is. Wasn’t anything worse than could be patched with a cobweb, she said, but… Yes. There was blood.”

He doesn’t say anything more than that, he doesn’t know what else she finds important enough to inquire from him. Bluefrost turns to face him directly, and he holds her gaze in turn. Admittedly, Foxglare held no spare sympathy for the cat, nor for any of Windclan’s pawful of housed traitors. Especially following the instance of her throwaway comment about what should be done with outsider kits, he’s had a particular distrust for her.

But the weight of the thing that lingers behind her expression makes him narrow his gaze down at her, glaring through his discomfort. He didn’t know what she saw past his stony mask, the shifting beneath his exterior like she prodded at a purpling bruise. The shared malaise pulsed upon the thin thread that tied them together, an ache that reached across the black-holed gap between them.

“Peonybreeze.” he told her the truth, didn’t see any reason not to. “Ditched Duskclan awhile ago, or so it’s told. He took her to wherever he’s livin’ now…” Perhaps she knew something more about the expatriat than he did, perhaps she would have something to do with this information. Despite everything, he believed she had no intention of harming Cottonsprig with whatever he revealed. He hoped he was correct.

“She trusts him. I don’t.” But he brought him to him anyway, so what use was that? Regret seeped familiar through his veins.

He pauses again, and he doesn’t know why he says what he does, “I told her not to go.” He breaks his gaze from her, at last, and it’s his turn to stare at the horizon behind her, looking for something to fix his eyes on.

WE CAME FROM DIRT ⁀➷☾⁺₊ WE HAVE TO SWALLOW IT.

• OOC:
• 
• 
  
  — meztli . sun . fox . foxpaw . foxglare
  — he/him. 20mo moor-runner of windclan. Mentored by shalestripe. currently mentoring frightpaw. formerly mentored sunlitpaw.
  — a scarred, hulking white and golden tabby tom with gray eyes
  — taciturn, vigilant, reserved, self-righteous, restrained, independent, humanitarian, unyielding
  — “speech”, thoughts, attack
  — penned by eezy

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