TIGHTROPE / edenberry

RUMBLERAIN

RUMBLERAIN

HOLY GHOST
Fall Prompts [WC '23] Yellowcough [Sitewide Event '23] WindClan 10K
Jun 2, 2023
85
12
8
A pawful of rogues and a half-entertained, entirely liar kittypet who'd abandoned the cause is less than they'd hoped for. Rumblerain doesn't know if it justifies the length of their trek, and a guilt they thought they'd long buried urges them to worry at the inside of their cheek. Would it be good enough? They find they care less and less for Granitepelt as days go by, but for DuskClan they'd need strong, capable cats. The SkyClanners number two less than they'd begun with (Rumblerain can still feel blood on their claws).

A friend, too, is not something the seal point had sought and yet had found in Edenberry. They've met nearly every night, a companionship forged in conversation and catching prey.

Would this be the last time they meet, not on opposing sides of a battlefield?

The shift of black-and-white fur amid the dusk draws Rumblerain from their reverie, and they stir from their place atop the fence with a friendly curl of their feathered tail. "There you are."

// @edenberry ?!
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Ignoring the discomfort that rolled around their guts like a hognose twisting to play dead, Edenberry's trek back towards Twolegplace this particular evening felt... weighted. Something is off. Spicepaw's gentle voice served as reassuring ambiance, probably the typical exasperated frustrations of being a daylight apprentice and all the struggles that came with it. They were no stranger to it, and knew that without Orangestar's patience (and Hazelbeam's insistence) they might not've joined their peers in being a warrior at all.. At least not in that same moon.

Ink-blotted ears tilt up at the sound of a familiar voice, one that shoots through the chest like a kind of homesickness. A perfect stranger... never bothered by their stubborn extension of friendship, always humored by their rambling and open enough to actually feel like they were closer than just acquaintances now. More than just felt. Knew.

The corners of their lips curve upward in a pained smile, already brought to the verge of tears just to think of their imminent departure and how rapidly it had come to find them.

It's embarrassing... how quickly their heart leapt towards crying as of late.

"H-hey," they respond softly, looking towards the fence-line, at the height to the top, before finally scrambling up to join coal-dusted fur. They trail closer, carefully considering their steps as if the task is difficult before being close enough to finally meet again. Gingerly, the dusk-lit cat leans forward to press their forehead against Raindrop's chest in a more-than-casual greeting before pulling away to sit.

"I'm glad I caught you before you left."
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 〰 i can still hear you sing
  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 13 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back / filling out where previously skinny
    -- color #728c69​
​
 
A quiet purr rattles in Rumblerain's chest. Their own chin drops to rest, gentle, atop Edenberry's head. It's been so long since they've received any sort of genuine affection that the gesture steals their breath away, as if their bicolour companion takes it with them as they draw back to sit at their side. It feels too far away, though they're still within reach. It's strange, uncomfortable. Their skin prickles beneath short fur.

Sharp ears angle towards them as they speak, and though their entire being as Edenberry knows it is a ruse the way their eyes soften is genuine as Rumblerain meows,

"Me too."

The silence sits between them for some time. It's not awkward so much as it yearns, the cavernous mouth of something unspoken which feels like it might swallow Rumblerain whole. They draw themself to half-and-half paws after a few moments, stretching each leg delicately atop the fence and then stepping closer to their friend.

"Is it a hunting night or a talking night?"

The last night. Both of them know: Rumblerain had been forthright about that, at least. The knowledge casts blue eyes in a shadow despite themself, though a plan hatched immaturely begins to stir behind pale gaze.

​
 
If not for the stifling pressure with which the warm spring-night air sits at their back, they might be more willing to share in the soft rumble of their chest... It's a reassuring noise, distinctly different from others they'd heard and one not so much gifted to them by the one they hoped to hear it from most. It's a far deeper noise than Spicepaw's... who sounds closer to a kit-like murmuring than the distant summer storm that their company sounds like.

A confession of mutual joy lightens the ache of their bones, settles the churning of rolling tides... Would they still be happy, when this was all said and done? It did not have to be ruined yet, Edenberry thinks, they could simply go home after this wonderful final night, could... figure it out.

The silence snaps, snipped like the strings of a violin with a sudden twang that pulls their attention back to dawn-bright eyes. Right... "Actually..." Already their mouth dries with uncertainty, prompting a nervous lick at their lips to buy them some sort of physical strength through internal turmoil. "I... think we should talk."

A part of them winces under the struggle not to brush a bit closer, to be rid of the tiny, miniscule distance that remained- selfish maybe, a yearning for comfort in sincere touch. Companionship. It throbs, sorely, to be considered, to have to withhold it and question if withholding it is fair. Are they doing it as a favor to their friend...? Or is it a pathetic, grasping fear of rejection that forces them to put that distance here now?

"I've been having such a great time," they start, glancing towards the random blotting of trees and brush they'd wandered to hunt through,"You've been... so kind to me- I don't regret the late nights." They recognize the signs... noticed that their outburst over a single bite of food was far too outrageous. Out of character. They have spent enough time in the nursery, tending to the queens and listening to their complaints amongst themselves to know.

"Raindrop... " It means admitting the canyon that looms between them and Cherryblossom has made her so far out of reach that they dove willingly into a stream far below in hopes of feeling just a little bit better... that they'd come out of it feeling like they'd closed a little bit of that distance. "I think I'm pregnant."

It tastes bad on their tongue... it feels cliche. It feels wrong. This wasn't the way this was supposed to go. It wasn't supposed to be a stupid accident... It wasn't supposed to be with some sapphire-eyed wanderer, too far away to even know them. Too far away to make this better. It wasn't supposed to be now. The idea to confirm it with Dawnglare or Fireflypaw was a non-starter... And who could they tell in SkyClan that wouldn't look at them with disgust...? Twitchbolt was too gentle to ever yell at them... but to imagine amber-flecked greens filled with disappointment was too much to bear. They still hadn't even told Hazelbeam... or Spicepaw... Didn't know how to start.

Nervously, they glance towards the other cat standing on the fence posts, afraid of how their face may become unfamiliar, contorted by whatever dismay they felt from this news. From this surprise.
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 〰 i can still hear you sing
  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 13 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back / filling out where previously skinny
    -- color #728c69​
​
 
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Reactions: RUMBLERAIN
A talking night, then. Rumblerain's ears prick, twitching forward. Edenberry sounds hesitant, nervous even, and the deputy shuffles around to face them patiently. A sense of serenity soothes the frayed edges of their mind as their companion assures Rumblerain of their own enjoyment of their late night jaunts, but there's something placating to the words, as if there's something more.

Addressed by name, or at least alias, Rumblerain sits upright. They barely get to relish the connection between Edenberry's use of Badgermoon's old nickname for them, a heartwarming moniker they'd chosen to take on for safekeeping of a darker reality; instead, their attention sets squarely upon the SkyClanner's next words: I think I'm pregnant.

"What? Wait, actually?" It may not be the smart thing to say, they realise immediately after the words escape. Guilt surges forth and they press their jaws shut for a moment as if that would stem the tide of it.

"Eden ... Edenberry ... I'm so sorry." Their voice comes in a croon, ears falling back sympathetically. Yet despite that they press closer, whiskers almost touching, seeking some sort of sign. Seeking an answer, unsure if it would come. Blue eyes dart up to meet green. "... Are- are they mine? Or are you just telling me?"

It's almost hopeful, the tone of their voice. Why else would they tell them? Rumblerain's heart races, fluttering like the frantic wings of a bird trapped beneath their claws. It aches; trapped, caught, time counting down until the moon reaches its pinnacle and the DuskClanners vanish from the Twolegplace alleyways once more. Rumblerain wouldn't mind if the kits Edenberry expects aren't their own (it's a lie, one that they expect to tell themself many more times over the coming heartbeats), but they know they will listen regardless if the black-striped feline simply needs a friend.

​
 
It's... certainly not the reaction they expected. A baffled request for confirmation is far lighter than the outburst that had replayed as a nightmare scenario over and over again in their head. Their ears flick, almost amused where they furrow their brow at the pale cat beside them; 'yeah, dummy,' written in their glance.

It's weird... hearing names that mark the two halves of a life that would now become even further separated. Eden the kittypet, locked up in their home to wait out the clock and Edenberry the warrior, who fought for their place, to be a representative of a double life held in proper balance. A joke... StarClan or whoever's up there had to be laughing.

They don't shy away. Raindrop does not run like their namesake might suggest, tracing a frantic path down a window pane. The surprise is enough to send their lip to quivering- sniffling in preparation of the sting of surging relief- they lean against their companion then, no longer fearful of a hasty escape. "I'm sorry," they mumble, "I've been... really emotional, it's embarrassing."

They wipe at the corners of their eyes, taking a small, shaky breath to soothe their nerves. It's fine... It's fine and they did the right thing to tell them... The follow-up question tumbles out of a soot-dipped face and it takes Edenberry a moment to remember that they'd have no way of knowing there isn't really anyone else it could be anyways.

They sniffle, though less intently, before returning a shake of their head, "No, no, I wouldn't dump that on you if it didn't matter- They'd have to be yours... if I'm right." It's not like they're so swollen even a blind porcupine could tell they were rounder but to someone painfully familiar with being tiny enough to slip between iron-wrought fences... the small changes are plenty noticeable.

"I won't be all alone, you don't have to... to feel bad. I've got sisters... Did I tell you that?" They frown, if only slightly, to consider the details. Could they keep this hidden forever...? Hide their children in a Twoleg nest (and hope their Twoleg did not take them away, the way Edenberry had been as a kitten? "Two of them... They'll help, I don't doubt they will."

"Did you... dream of being a parent someday, growing up?"
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 〰 i can still hear you sing
  • -- edenberry / skyclan daylight warrior / any pronouns / 13 moons
    -- mostly white with black pinstripe and green eyes / scarred face and back / filling out where previously skinny
    -- color #728c6​
​
 
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