private THEOPHAGY ☆ DRIFTWOOD

[CICADAFLIGHT]

Beefang is fine, he keeps telling himself, she's fine, or she will be. He had been in and seen her with his own two eyes ( now only one of theirs matched, he realizes faintly ), had pressed black curls to the very same, and yet somehow, he doesn't feel soothed. It might be the fact that, despite Moonbeam's arduous efforts, his sister could very well be fighting for her life in the confines of the medicine den—or it might be residual shame over the way he'd behaved while he'd been waiting to at least see her, to know that as long as he had his eyes on her, that she was okay. That she was alive.

Half the camp bearing witness to the spectacle of his rage is a shameful habit he'd thought himself long grown out of—and yet the prospect of a world without Beefang in it had driven him right back to that darker place. The tom sighs, feathery ears drooping where he's settled himself by some dewy ferns after visiting Beefang and staying there until Moonbeam had ( gently ) kicked him out into the dusty purple glow of the evening. One of the other new warriors—the blue - and - white one—Driftwood, that was their name, had suggested he do some fishing, swimming, what have you, offered to escort him even. He'd declined the escort, more for their sake than his, but the fresh - kill pile was mounded high with the fruits of his rage.

" Who—Oh. " His sharp inquiry drops into a slightly softer tone of recognition when a patched form wanders up to his secluded perch, a piece of prey clasped in their snowy jaws. He blinks heavy lashes as two - toned as his eyes, startled. A gravelly voice carries tacit disbelief when he murmurs, " Is that . . . uh, is that for me? "

// @Driftwood !!

" speech "

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[Driftwood]

It was interesting how some cats were so different from others. Sometimes one had to tred carefully around what one said and did around others, then one could be as open as one wanted to. Most had a medium or leaned to one side depending on what was happening or said. They were all in the same forms and similar structures but they were all so different. They all had a soul that determined what they would be and how one would act. Driftwood gravitated to others like a magnet, not that they wanted to please others, rather, that was out of the question. It was to know the differences of soul in their clan and they knew it was a tool to know these personalities. When they were bored, they knew who to gossip to, when they were looking for a reaction- they knew who to pick about and when there was a dangerous situation.. who was the most helpful? Almost an experiment.. but it still benefited both parties. They were giving them attention.. they were getting attention good or bad. Eyes on them was a liking of theirs.

None of their clanmates scared them, Driftwood always bounded up with their playful smirk to socialize whether one would hate their guts or not. Cicadaflight happened to interest them, it seemed others were so cautious around him- he seemed to gravitate towards his siblings or be alone. Now, why was that? The two-toned warrior seemed quite caring. He was a reflection of his father, although, they didn't quite see the same personality. He was different. No one was truly the same. Sure, what they saw was a bit explosive, but they understood. They'd be that way if it came to their mother. Cicadaflight had a mysterious aura from afar, maybe in their eyes a little downhearted. It was understandable, to lose both fathers so traumatically would make anyone downhearted. Distant? They weren't sure and they were going to figure that out. Their challenge was to conversate.

So, to start any conversation was to bring an offering. They hung a piece of freshkill lightly between their fangs, lifting her long tail to represent friendly intentions upon the bouncy trot in approach. A non-verbal "I brought this for you". Which, still shook a question of near disbelief and their brows lifted with a muffled giggle.

Driftwood placed it in front of Cicadaflight, nudging it with their paw before circling to lay down by their side. "Of course...! Looked as if you could benefit from some company." The young warrior pointed playfully, a aim of a brief touch to their shoulder with their paw. "I like you, you're a rather interesting individual. You seem to possess a heightened care for your family, something deserving of respect... Tell me, who here makes you feel the safest?" It was a question of mere curiosity, to prod words rather than silence. Not that Driftwood would have minded merely sitting and keeping their mouth shut but he could just tell them that if he wanted that. It was a matter of learning.

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

There are two things about Driftwood in this moment that truly shock him.

One is how . . . open they are. The honesty with which they deliver their words, plainly stated curiosities and questions delivered without a hint of deception. For one used to half - truths and shadows, to following long and winding paths to the answers he's long given up on finding, it's startling in its newness, this candor. Their statements are plain, unsullied by the usual evasiveness, the stilted caution with which many of his Clanmates opt to treat him, stalking around the truth like wolves around a wounded deer.

The second is that unfiltered kindness. The kind of easy touch and friendly words he hasn't been greeted with since he was a tiny thing. They like him, they say, they find him interesting . . . find him deserving of respect, and precious few have ever granted him that kind of privilege. The blue - and - white warrior has brought him prey, offered him company, assailed him with these kind words—it's practically a barrage to a heart long grown cold, a dizzying outpouring of friendship most of his Clanmates likely experience each day.

It appears to leave him with a sort of breathlessness—a deeply unfamiliar tightness in the chest that weighs down words he already struggles to pull free. White lashes flutter in a spastic series of wide - eyed blinks; he either doesn't bother hiding his surprise, or isn't able to catch it quickly enough, deer - swift as the reaction is. " Oh. Oh, thank you, " he murmurs, voice hanging in its usual raspy register. Cicadaflight hurriedly swipes a paw through the messy curls hanging in his eyes, struck with a sudden awareness of his own disheveledness.

" I guess so. I . . . don't get a lot of it, " he admits with a gentle incline of the head in reply to their offer of company, flinching at the gentle tap of their pale paw to his shoulder. It's such an unfamiliar sensation he can't help the kneejerk twitch, the kind of thoughtless tap he's only used to receiving from his family ( and then, scarcely ) . . . but it's not an unwelcome one. The warrior leans down to scoop up a mouthful of the fish, humming softly in appreciation of the sweetened hint of the river.

" Um, thanks, " Cicadaflight replies to their maybe - compliment, quietly cursing his own social ineptitude. He's midway through chewing his second bite of fish when they prod him with a . . . rather invasive question. Almond eyes stutter in blinks of surprise yet again, and he hurriedly swallows the chunk of prey before clearing his throat and replying, " My sister, I guess. "

It's Beefang, of course. He had felt safe with Cicadastar, but he was dead; he had felt safe with Smokestar, but he was gone. He can't quite bring himself to feel . . . safe is the word they'd asked for. Iciclefang, Lichenstar, his cousins . . . he didn't feel . . . safe. He felt like a protector, a soldier, a guard; not the one in need of protecting, and he thinks ( thought? ) he is fine with that.

" Which is why I was so . . . um, you know. You saw, I mean, " he sighs, kneading the sand with tufted paws as if shifting the issue of his explosion from one to the other. " Sorry you had to see that, by the way, " the warriors hastily tacks on. A pause and he glances up at Driftwood again, voice a gravelly murmur as he bats the question back, " What about you? Who makes you feel safe? "

" speech ( theme week edition ) "

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[Driftwood]

A funny fellow, it seemed he never received company by the way Dirftwood observed the bewilderment. How come? The question stirred within but they didn't dare to press with more invasiveness. Not with a question of such, atleast. Clanmates were supposed to work together, build each other up and set each other straight. Shouldn't it be a common occurance? Maybe most had their nose up in work and resting to themselves rather than socializing. For a moment, they even believed Cicadaflight may just be awkward but the following comment confirmed their first suspicion.

"Oh really?" They mewed, lifting their brow playfully, "Well, then you can expect more of mine, friend." Driftwood added with another light nudge of their paw and a chuckle. Really, who wouldn't want to be friends with the curly furred feline? The mystery that dripped from mix colored eyes drew them in, it made them want to investigate. It made them want to know them. It was hard to imagine he didn't have company often.

His sister. A peculiar answer, but they guessed not in a time when parents weren't in the picture. Relying on siblings was rather difficult in their eyes, having them be nearly as weak and unskilled as one was. Driftwood hummed in interest, remembering the torn individual Cicadaflight was fretting over. Just when they thought he'd stop there, he moved with an explanation and an apology followed by a redirection of the question. Briefly, they fluttered their lashes in mild surprise towards the engagement.

"Ah, I think we'd all be upset in that situation." Driftwood emphasized with a tip of their head and then giggled lightly, "I have and am going to see worse than that..! Don't sweat it." It was the reality of life, there was the beautiful and there was the tragic to see. To their yellow gaze, it didn't horrify them. Merely, it mildly concerned and peeked their interest.

Then, the question. Who made them safe? A hum in thought drowned the potential of silence. They didn't think their own question would make them pause for a thought, "Myself. Maybe my father." Little would he know what's happening to me, however. "Almost everyone here makes me feel safe too." They smiled with a shrug, gazing out upon the campgrounds.

"Your favorite downtime, what is it? Why?"

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[CICADAFLIGHT]

" Really? " He cringes the moment the words leave his maw. Did he have to make it so painfully apparent to a cat who's evidently a social butterfly that his " social life " mostly consists of patrol talk and passing nods. Apparently, if the tacit disbelief in his tone is anything to go by, so painfully evident he can hear it leave his own lips . . . Great StarClan, have some tact. He's never had his father's gift for the gab, so to speak, nor Smokestar's stoic sort of charm. He's just . . . here, here in a rather awkward way that seems to make everyone but this strange cat give him a wide berth. " I mean, uh . . . "

" . . . Thanks? " he manages in a delayed save, delivering a couple of embarassed licks to tangled fur turning freshly white on his chest. They term him friend with startling ease, and Cicadaflight swears he can feel his eyes go wide and startled. He's just . . . not used to a cat being so nice, so free around him . . . usually everyone treats him like some kind of caged animal, something to have meat tossed at it through the bars and maybe ( in Sandpelt's case ) occasionally prod with a stick to elicit some snapping. Driftwood acts like he's just . . . another Clanmate. Another " friend ", as they so easily name him. " I'm glad for the company. Like I said, I don't really . . . have it often. "

He ducks his head, embarassed, white lashes fluttering low over two - toned eyes. A pale eye flicks towards them and away as if they're the brilliant sun, too painful to look at for longer than a glance, taking in their expression in microdoses. He's attempting to gauge any disgust, disturbance, distrust . . . dis - anything, but there's a distinct lact, just a light giggle and a gentle cant of the head. Their words are slightly concerned but mostly relaxed, without the unabashedly ( or semi - abashedly ) repulsed distaste he's acquainted with seeing on the faces of those who look at him directly. It's startling, really.

" It used to be my fathers, too, " he rasps with an agreeable nod, then flinches. Why'd I say that? He hasn't breathed a word about either of the two to anyone except his family for damn near a full season now, Cicadastar alone much longer than that. " Sorry, you . . . don't want to hear about that, I'm sure, " he manages in stilted syllables with a quick shake of the head as if to dispel the painful memories.

" Quite the interrogation, huh? " he murmurs with a hoarse chuckle. It's nice, though, to have someone be so interested in learning about him . . . him as Cicadaflight, just Cicadaflight, not the freak or the orphan or the disgraced prince. Just finding out what he likes to do when he's not working himself nearly to the bone. He's hardly ever had anyone besides his family, maybe, treat him like this . . . and he has to admit, it's nice.

" Probably diving. Hardly anyone else is ever down that deep, and it's really nice . . . dark and quiet, and cool. Maybe too cold in leaf - bare, " he remarks with a brief laugh and a twitch of his crooked bottlebrush tail against the earth. " Good fish, too. You've gotta be quiet, but they're bigger and they move slower. " Half - lost in technical considerations, he blinks in a flutter of white again, ducking his head slightly in embarassment, gaze flicking towards Driftwood and then away once more. " How about you? "

OOC : —

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[Driftwood]

Really? I mean, uh... Thanks?

Driftwood noted the reaction with a humored gleam in their sunny gaze, but they dared not to chuckle this time. A smile merely hung from their jaws as they watched the embarrassed licks.
Better just to act like he saved himself , but of course, with social intelligence, they knew better than that. They'd save him from the amused laughter that stirred within their belly this time around. They wanted him to grow comfortable.

Cicadaflight admitted to the liking of company and a grin met their features as if it were a compliment, "Well, I'm happy! I know my presence was rather almost forceful. But you know, I don't like listening to my own voices circling within my mind. It gets boring and repetitive. Hearing a different one is... Hm... What's the word-.. not as boring and repetitive?" They snorted in a suppressed giggle at themself, shaking their head, "The point is I'm here to entertain you. Push me away you may at any time and I bow to your wishes." They joked with a playful tap to his shoulder once more.

Cicadaflight related to them in the choice of fathers, remembering how involved and protective the toms were with him and his siblings. They shared the nursery, remembering the now absent faces that once curled up around their offspring and looked down with adoring gazes. They.. almost were jealous of it. Sure, their father was fun and loving but.. busy almost. Mostly absent. Maybe they'd be more definite if he was more present. Cicadaflight had lost both of them, however, something they wouldn't wish for anyone. Parents were essential and his didn't even get to see his warrior ceremony. They sympathized with him but dare not to make the conversation drip with pity, not a lot enjoyed pity, "If you wish to speak of them, I'm all ears! But if you wish to move on than we shall. I dare not to press you on that."

It was nice to see Cicadaflight chuckle and attempt to lighten up, sharing a chuckle with him and nodding, "Well, I do apologize my question come out that way. I am merely learning of you. Nosy and invasive you can call me if I get to be too much." They jested, flicking their tongue out in a tease.

Diving. An intriguing down time, hardly have they personally dived despite how much time they spent swimming and resting on the riverside. It was dark down there, which they supposed why they avoided it. They prefered being coated by the golden rays but dark and quiet was what her newfound friend enjoyed, they took mental note of that, "Mmm, I bet you can find all kinds of stuff down there. Do you have a collection of sorts?"

Then the question was directed back once more and Driftwood shifted their gaze towards the stream. "Swimming or sunbathing. I think it's a tie and of course, depends on season too. Hah! I suppose I'm guilty of the boring clan stereotype."

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