camp Though the world is fast asleep | Getting cozy

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Snakeblink is a restless sleeper, always has been, but leafbare always aggravates his insomnia to a new degree. Hunger and cold conspire to keep him awake, the former growling low in his empty stomach while the wind whistles through gaps in the warrior’s den and over his very bones until he feels as if frost might start to grow over the knobs of his spine.

The air within the den is warmed, slightly, by the bodies piled within; most cats cuddle up when the season grows colder to conserve warmth. But Snakeblink doesn’t, instead choosing to sleep pressed against the woven wall of the den, and his thin pelt makes for poor insulation on its own. He’s overly mindful of the fact that he sprawls in his sleep, having kicked many a nest neighbor in the face because of it, and his waking mind’s anxiety over touching others lingers, making him tense up in worry that his sleeping self will reach out when he’s not allowed to do so.

It’s an annoying and uncomfortable experience. He wonders how Smokestar fares in that lonely den of his; the cold must be haunting, a reminder of his loneliness beneath the willow, even taking into account the black tom’s thicker fur.

Huffing softly, Snakeblink lifts his head to glance at the mass of bodies of sleeping clanmates, indistinct shapes in the impenetrable darkness. Quietly, careful not to make so much noise as to disturb their rest, he gets to his paws and turns tightly on himself, trying to find a more comfortable position to hopefully find some sleep in. He winces when his movement jostles his closest neighbor, holding his breath as he prays internally: don’t wake up, don’t wake up—
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 48 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[lichenstar]

⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧ ⋆ ​

It was basically miserable.. to have experienced a brief moon or so of tightly wrapped cuddling with soft, foggy fur just to have it snatched away. Granted.. it wasn't like she was stupid enough to not have known that outcome but.. some nights, she is envious of the six kittens that lay nestled close to her mate. Sometimes she's able to skitter into the den for a quick nap... Shellkit and Pebblekit and Riverkit do have the urge to explore and with plenty of babysitters eager to see the babies... it was a good chance.

Tonight she was not so lucky. Hazecloud was complaining about not having enough room in her nest, that the kittens were so fragile still she was scared to move. Lichentail was too... She'd given her a loving nuzzle, shared a meal... then headed to the warrior's den to curl up with the happily snoozing pile of her den-mates. A small smile.. to see them comfortable being nestled close together in the chill of winter.

Tucking her nose under her paws to keep it warm against the icy breezes that managed to squeeze through the woven reeds, she finds sleep easily for once. Until... a soft pressure against her back suggests someone is close. Winking a sky-blue eye open with a bleary glance, it's a swatch of brown and white fur that catches her attention in the corner of her vision. He is cold to the touch... even under his thin fur it's hardly more than a flicker of warmth.

The deputy purrs, stretching out her paws as if just rolling over to get comfortable.. a faked thing as she squeezes eyes closed again. Snakeblink would hate to admit he wanted to get closer.. so she wouldn't make him. Wrapping striped paws around his side lazily, she squeezes to flex her claws as a gentle threat to his underbelly- come closer, it's warm.

Stubborn rat...

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WELL IF YOU WANT MY BLOOD I'LL MAKE SO MUCH BLOOD

THAT YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DROWN​

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[Tidesong]

Tidesong liked to be warm and cozy amongst friends, but she cannot say she has many in Riverclan. Ever since Deacon and Sasha were exiled, she felt like a rabbit being preyed upon with the way some cats looked at her. Sharing a den with them made her lose sleep, wondering if any of the cats curled up would unravel and drag her out to the river and drown her, or some other murder method. Tidesong only fell asleep when she was sure everyone else was.

But she wanted to be friends with most of them. And what better way to do that then help keep each other warm?

The small chocolate torbie observed Snakeblink trying to get comfortable and accidentally nudge Lichentail in the process. She watches as Lichentail wraps her limbs around him and decides... To quietly tiptoe over and plant her small form riiight on top of Snakeblink. Yes. Perfect. In perfect loaf position she makes herself comfortable on him. Now he will be warm and unable to escape.​

 

[Snakeblink]

MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————​

Fat lot of good his prayers did: as Snakeblink is holding his breath, his denmate — Lichentail, just his luck — stirs, threatening to wake up. He freezes, steeling himself for a reproachful glare…

And is entirely unprepared for the paws that stretch towards him instead, unconsciously wrapping around his lanky body. Feelings flash through him in quick succession: an instinctive cringe at the touch, then deep, pathetic relief, quickly followed by the confusion of an aborted thought — is she reaching for Hazecloud? before he feels something sharp prickling against his tender belly.

He manages to smother a gasp at the sleepy threat of her claws and shuffles closer, tucking himself against Lichentail’s side. Her warmth, the weight of her paws, her breath against his pelt, are all once-familiar, now almost alien comforts, and he sighs deeply in contentment as he settles in his new position. He’s still careful to keep his stars-damned purring in control lest it wakes her up to notice their arrangement—

That is until another weight settles on top of him, knocking the air out of him and kickstarting a rumbling purr that stubbornly refuses to putter off. He is, unfortunately, incredibly comfortable right now, and must resolve himself to his body betraying his feelings on the matter.
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——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely ​

ooc. information.

• 
  
• — Snakeblink • he / him. 49 ☾, riverclan warrior
  — a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
  — gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
  
  
  

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[iciclefang]

Though Iciclefang is only twenty moons, she has been a warrior now for seasons, has traveled through wind-whipped plains, luscious forests, and stark mountainscapes, and wears the title of lead warrior proudly upon her chest. Her new rank has earned her a coveted nest closer to the center of the warriors' den—something relatively unheard of for a cat with only a pawful of moons behind her. The tortoiseshell sleeps in silence, her body tucked close. She'd been lulled to sleep by the warmth, the proximity of her denmates, the gentle snores and sighs unfolding softly amidst the den. Snakeblink's shifting would hardly have woken her, if it weren't for the other cats who shift, too.

Through hazy, sleepy blue eyes, Iciclefang watches Lichentail's clawed forepaws wrap tightly around the tabby's midsection, and then a freckled former Ripple Colonist settles her bulk directly on top of him. She stares, wondering how he can stand to be so close to a cat so foreign still, and is surprised to hear a purr tear from the confines of his throat. He's comfortable—and warmth is warmth, she supposes. Faintly, she remembers cold stone beneath her belly, the oppressive shadows of the rock-fallen cave pressing around on all sides of her. She longs for the twining of a striped tabby tail, for the tingling warmth that had shot from Stormywing to her, warming her down to her aching paws.

But Stormywing is not here, and she's not interested in joining the masses tonight. Her body retains heat fine on its own, and she could not bear to be so close to Tidesong. She rises, her body stiff as she stretches tortoiseshell limbs, and then circles repeatedly until she's tucked securely—and blissfully alone—into her nest.

, ”​

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