private THERE'S NO WAY OUT — blazestar

[SLATESNARL]

He hated this. An uncomfortable pang twisted and tossed in his gut as he approached the leader's den, heart beginning to pound in his chest as he caught sight of the Ragdoll. He still felt that it would be best if a more... emotionally available cat like Figfeather was to break the news to Blazestar, but Slate was a member of his council. Cherrypaw was his apprentice and, ultimately, his responsibility. As much as Slate dreaded the idea of being the bearer of bad news, never quite knowing how to handle situations of a delicate nature, it made sense for the lead warrior himself to step up. He and Figfeather were home now, rested and settling back in, and the Maine Coon felt as if his head would explode if he held onto this secret for much longer.

"Blazestar," The burly former rogue greets with a grunt, features solemn, eyes dark and dull. "I, uh... I need t' talk to you." Slate manages, wanting to knock himself upside the head for how hesitant he sounded. Don't screw this up.

✰ INFO

• @BLAZESTAR
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

When Slate approaches Blazestar, he lifts his tail straight up, mrring a friendly greeting. “Slate! Would you like to share this with me?” He holds half a squirrel between his paws, and the pale gold of his muzzle is faintly stained with blood. He swipes his tongue about a few times to clear it, blinking guilelessly at his lead warrior. “It’s been so busy since you’ve returned, but I want to hear more about the journey, about the cats you left behind, how our warriors did, how Cherrypaw did…”

And he trails off, because there’s nothing amicable about Slate’s tone or expression. The warrior all but droops, tail in the dust, and the note of darkness in his voice fills Blazestar with mild trepidation. “Sure. What do you need to talk to me about?” The SkyClan leader remains friendly, but there’s a note of caution in his own voice now, a bit of wariness.

, ”​

​

 

[SLATESNARL]

The Ragdoll's enthusiasm, blind to the truth, is almost nauseating. Ultimately, it's for the better that Slate gets this over with now. There was so much that the tom didn't know. "Er, no thanks." Slate definitely wasn't feeling hungry. His stomach churned and it was highly doubtful that it could hold any food at the moment.

Blazestar mentions Cherrypaw, the edges of his lips twitching with the sudden urge to wince. Well, here goes nothing...

"It's about Little Wolf. She..." The lead warrior pauses, breath bated, before sighing, "... She died on the journey." There was no easy way to put it, no way of sugarcoating the situation. Slate was expected to be honest with his leader at all times, which he normally had no issue with, but... Never had Slate had to break the news of a death to someone. This was Blazestar's ex-mate he was talking about. There was no doubt that the tom still held a place in his heart for the now-deceased ThunderClanner; one did not simply lose love for someone because of distance separating them. Slate knows this.

Explaining the incident was akin to trudging through a field of thorns. It did not get any easier, especially because Slate's own apprentice was the reason why this happened in the first place. He should have kept a better eye on her. He shouldn't have let her out of his sight. Cherrypaw was his responsibility whether he liked it or not, and now his lack thereof had resulted in Little Wolf's untimely passing. An incredible sense of frustration with himself—guilt—claws at his chest as he continues grimly, "Cherrypaw got separated from the group," Nevermind the fact that she likely went off exploring on her own. Mousebrain! What had she been thinking? "An eagle almost carried her off. Little Wolf attacked it 'n drove it away, but her wounds were too deep." Truth be told, Slate had never seen an eagle with his own eyes before, but they were known for having large and deadly talons. The injuries that Little Wolf had received were, quite frankly, horrific. A cat's claws were nowhere near as damaging as those things.

"She saved Cherrypaw's life, Blazestar." Slate reiterates, averting his orange gaze in an attempt to spare himself from witnessing the inevitable reaction. He didn't want to see the strong SkyClan leader break down into shambles. Frankly, he doesn't know how to comfort Blazestar, either. Secretly, Slate wishes that the leader would dismiss him so that he could retreat somewhere—anywhere but here.

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar hears Slate tell him Little Wolf is dead. Immediately, the Ragdoll’s dark blue gaze goes hollow, distant, and his mouth parts as though to protest. The memory of her drowns him out—a pelt brushing against him, green eyes curious in the night. “You’re, uh… you’re not supposed to be here,” Blazestar remembers the first words she’d spoken to him, staring at Slate with eyes that begin to mist over. Little Wolf’s voice in his head is still clear as it had been the night they’d met, with the crescent moon hanging above them in the sky. The harsh scent of marsh was in his nose, then, and the soft quality of her voice, feather-like, as she introduced herself to him. “My name is Little Wolf,” she’d told him, changing the trajectory of his life forever.

Cherrypaw had gone wandering, Slate tells him. Blazestar thinks instead of the day he’d reunited with her, her fur smoked with forest fire, belly showing he first signs of rounding. He thinks of her sprawled between their territories, Dawnglare shoving a stick between her teeth. He thinks of holding Fireflypaw, their son, slick and tiny and mewling, between his paws.

“She’s gone?” He rasps, tears beginning to spill onto his cheeks. He thinks of her gentle touch, the shrill cry she’d emitted upon seeing Morningpaw’s body. He thinks of her leading Burnstorm and Moonwhisper away, to ThunderClan, the scent of him still in her fur. He thinks of the children they’d created who never knew the truth, who still linger in their Clan, never knowing their father is so near and so far.

“How can they expect me to live without you, when you’re the only reason I’m here?” He’d asked her under the full leafbare moon, feeling her tears soak into his chest.

Her response comes back to him, and he feels his paws seize on empty air, as though her body lays still between them.

“Could we just spend one last night together,” she’d cried, and Blazestar had been weak. The warrior code. What was the warrior code in the face of love, he’d thought then, and now he shakes, his body crumpling, his soul going with it. “I told her goodbye once,” he rasps again, his throat raw from the emotion scraping against it. “I should have known it would be the last time.”

She’d saved Cherrypaw, Slate says, and Blazestar closes his eyes. “Did she die happy?” He asks, remembering the pale, bulky cat she’d twined her tail with. “Was he—were they—” He breaks off, stifling a cry that will not come to fruition. What right does he have to mourn her now—what right?

, ”​

​

 

[SLATESNARL]

Did Little Wolf die happy? Good stars, this was rough. This was really rough. Continuing to talk Blazestar through this dreaded news wasn't getting any easier. Slate sighs, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts and wonder just what he was going to respond with. "Yes." The lead warrior confirms. He can only assume so, anyway. Could he really know? "They took each other as mates. Hailstorm was by her side when she... passed." Was it wrong to tell Blazestar the truth? To rub dirt in the already gaping hole in his heart? Then again, Blazestar had implied his curiosity surrounding his former mate and the mountainous ThunderClan tom, as stammered and broken as his inquiries had been. Slate was obligated to deliver Blazestar the details; if he wanted to know everything, then he'd be venturing at his own risk.

As out of place as the former rogue felt, though, he couldn't help but feel for the older tom. The flame-point leader, ever steadfast and wise, cannot even maintain his composure in front of his lead warrior. To lose his kit and now his first love as well... Slate had never experienced such a magnitude of loss. He has never experienced the death of anybody close to him; clanmates, maybe, but none have ever shaken him directly to his core. What did such a thing even feel like? Slate is curious, but at the same time, he never wants to know. He never wants to hurt as Blazestar does.

Standing before the heartbroken man, paws shifting on the ground and the skin underneath his fur beginning to crawl with discomfort, Slate rumbles, "I'll, uh, leave y' alone. Unless there's anythin' else...?"

✰ INFO

• 
  
• 

  ✰ SLATE
  —— he/him; lead warrior of skyclan; former rogue
  —— bisexual; single; not looking
  —— hulking, scarred charcoal-black colored maine coon with amber eyes
  —— "speech", thoughts, attack
  —— link to full tags; @ on discord for plots.
  —— penned by beatles

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

There’s a sigh, a pulling of breath, before Slate confirms Blazestar’s suspicion. “They took each other as mates. Hailstorm was by her side when she passed.” The Ragdoll nods. The truth is blunt, brutal—but he finds it hurts less than he’d anticipated. She’d had someone she loved with her—someone who could hold her while the warmth seeped from her body to melt the snow beneath her. He exhales, long and slow, and though the tears continue to flow from his eyes, his sobs cease, and his shoulders still.

He had vowed to allow Little Wolf the happiness she deserved. The two of them were never going to be together while she lived—and she has taken another mate now, one who mourns her from her own Clan, who yearns to follow after her in StarClan.

Slate shifts his paws, looking uncomfortable. Blazestar dips his head at his request to take his leave. “Yes. Thank you for… for telling me.” He turns his face away, pressing a paw to his cheek. The pads come away wet and slick. “I’ll need to tell Fireflypaw and Howlfire. Would you tell them to come to my den at once?”

, ”​

​