private TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN [ splashdance ]

[pebbletail]

(☼) the day dawns cold and frosty, as it has for the past few sunrises now. pebbletail awakens in his newly built nest, fur fluffed against the brittle wind that already threatens to whistle through the den. their fortifications have not been completed yet, and the newest warrior can feel it. his nest at the edge of the den is located not far from the doorway, where a clear icy sky stretches past the reeds and willows, up and away toward the heavens. the blue tom hauls himself from his nest, grateful for the thick fur he’s inherited from his uncle smokestar. a thought is spared for his sister, still huddled in the apprentices’ den (albeit for not much longer) and he makes a note to check in with her. it is the bite of leaf-bare that cursed shellpaw with her illness, after all, and the return of the season does not bode well.

white-dappled paws creep carefully over the frost strewn ground, the rime crunching nicely under his footsteps as pebbletail makes his way out of the den. sunlit eyes glance around, noting the dawn patrol as they return to camp, looking more miserable than he feels. once, he would huddle close to splashdance, whisk her away to the riverside for some fishing or an early morning chat, but she is nowhere to be found. he casts an eye around for the flame-licked pelt of his friend’s mate, knowing where midnightash is, splashdance is keen to go, but the femme must be out with her new apprentice, for she, too, is gone.

it is only when the young man turns, deciding if he can’t find splashdance, he might as well see what he can do to help the clan, that he sees her. the sun casts down watery rays upon the pitch dark pelt of the molly. her white freckles practically glow across her face, and her eyes reflect the radiance of the bright, cold sky. a grin alights pebbletail’s maw and he will trot over to the girl. “chilly morning, huh,” he greets, flicking white tufted ears. “you feel like some hunting? just you and me, like old times?”

LET ME BE YOUR OWN ☼ ICARION CARRION

• // go on, @splashdance, break his heart </3 " #848DAE"
• 
• PEBBLETAIL ☼ HE / HIM, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. 12 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a large blue tabby with low white and vitiligo. pale blue fur covers the length of pebbletail's stocky body, sliced through with darker tabby stripes and spots. baleful orange eyes peer out of heavy set sockets, and his muzzle, paws, and tail tip are dashed with white.

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[splashdance]

The early morning chill burrows into the furls of her coat, hiding alongside her skin as if it, too, is annoyed with the freeze. Splashdance had awoken with Midnightash, but soon after their eyes opened, her mate left with her new apprentice. Bringing up the next generation if difficult work, she knows (though she cannot imagine Redpaw to be a difficult apprentice.) She has long since bid her partner a morning's farewell and sat quietly in the rare beams of sunlight the cold morning affords them. Brief glimpses of warmth shadow over her form and Splashdance nearly fears falling asleep right then and there, too sharing the unfortunate circumstance of sleeping towards the edge of the warrior's den.

More than once had she been tempted to scooch over and find Pebbletail's warmth instead. More than once is she reminded of her mate's striking venom, and relinquished the want to be closer to her friend.

His pawsteps are a discarded sound of crunching frost, but his words draw her attention. Old times, he says, and Splashdance is almost too eager to accept. But she fears - and loathes to fear - Midnightash learning that the distance hasn't been held. Her jaw tenses as her excitement tapers. "It's too cold, Pebbletail," she tries to be playful, no different than sunrises past, but it falls flat. Her words cannot be daggers for him, she cannot strike through his heart even if her lover commanded it. It would hurt hers, too.

"Midnightash..." a drawn out spoken name and she looks away, "... she wouldn't be happy seeing us together. She... doesn't like how close we are." But I do, she doesn't say, only hiding behind the shield of, it's her fault. Her actions are not her own; she's puppeted by someone else's control and grief. Understand, please, the plea is silent as she draws her tail closer to her body.
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