TWO SLOW DANCERS \ sunset

[FERNGILL]

The sky burned, and Fernpaw did too. Golden light set his fur so brightly ablaze that it had always made sneaking around impossible- he was glad his father had never put any emphasis on land-hunting in their training, for he imagined in any light he would stand out. At least for now he didn't have to worry about it very much- everyone was beginning to settle for the night, achey from the incline. Nature had taken some pity on them though, showing them this sight. The sky streaked with orange, glimmering off the snow like star-dust upon the ground.

It was beautiful. As Fernpaw curled himself up, cradled by the sight of the fire in the sky and the silken blanket of his tail, he watched the sun as it crept down, down, down. It left fire in its wake, and Fernpaw- despite his exhaustion- was amazed. More than anything, though... it kindled within him a feeling of relief so prominent that he felt himself tear up.

Movement in his periphery caught the ginger tom's attention. "I didn't think I'd ever..." he began, but cut himself off as soon as he recalled the possibility that it might not be one of his Clanmates- that it definitely wasn't Sablepaw, Ravensong, or any of his kin at home. It felt uncomfortable to delve into hopelessness he's stopped himself from feeling in those tunnels- hopelessness that he was beginning to fully realise the presence of. He didn't feel it anymore- but wouldn't admitting it was there just make him feel worse? ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[dovethroat.]

His pelt is markedly softer in color, looking nothing except lighter and fainter in the presence of the strong, orange light. If anything, the only conspicuousness comes from the sun tinging his fur with its' own color. There's nothing that can be done about that, he supposes. Maybe that's why Hyacinthbreath was capable of making him, somehow, better at land-hunting than he was at fishing; it went directly against his skill set, but maybe he was built for it. He has gotten better at fishing, though he still feels a bit strange about it.

Fernpaw had complied with orders quite readily when Cicadastar, and by extension everyone in RiverClan, was hungry to kick his mentor out. To deny the presence of any animosity when he had noticed would be to lie. Does he still feel it? Dovethroat cannot admit either answer. The reality of it is that he does not know. Sometimes, the way one feels about something can be so contradictory—and yet neither side of the self-argument could be called incorrect. With Ravensong, he had learned that quickly.

Reconciliation with Ravensong has been the second thing that makes being angry at Fernpaw more difficult, and Dovethroat probably does not have to say what the first one is.

When he hears Fernpaw begin to speak, he can tell that he does not know precisely who he is speaking toward. All he may be is a mass of fur in the side Fernpaw's eye. For a very long time (which is to say about ten seconds, or so), he does not know what to say. He almost says many different things, but eventually he says just one of them. "...Y-Yeah Me, uh, me, too."

[⋆]​

​

 

[Orangestar]

𝐵𝑈𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐴 𝑊𝑂𝑀𝐴𝑁, 𝐵𝑌 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐷 ✧ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀

• 
  
  — orangeblossom | tags
  — she/her ; deputy of skyclan, mentoring eveningpaw.
  — scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes.
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — chibi by waluigipinball
  — penned by mercibun. @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots.
  
  

​

The setting sun sets Orangeblossom's ginger patches aflame in such a similar way to Fernpaw's that, for a half a heartbeat, she wonders if he is some lost kin of her own. But he isn't, and Orangeblossom's expression sours as she thinks of Apricotflower, and then pinches further as she wonders if her littermate has escaped the clutches of yellowcough.

She sits a little ways away from the two young RiverClanners, unbothered by their presence but also uninterested in intruding on the moment they're sharing. Neither had been with her in the tunnels, and she doesn't see Lakemoon close by right now, so she feels no such need to strike up a conversation. For once, as the clowder settles in for the evening among frosty leaves that crunch underpaw, Orangeblossom allows herself to just be.
​

 

[CHALK]

⭒✧ The sun, yolk-like, hung low on the horizon. The splintered hues reminded Chalk of experiments the twolegs would conduct- water crawling up parchment, bloomed pigment. Slightly overwhelmed by the large group after so long spent with so few, the skyclanner paced the fringes of those gathered. Orangeblossom’s pale silhouette, along with the view, pulled him from his rounds.

To his surprise, other cats came into view as he rounded the grassy knoll. Basalt and cinnabar, he identified the riverclanners. Fernpaw was one of the cats he left Fourtrees with, and seeing his red tabby pelt again after all their group had experienced was somewhat affecting. Chalk’s tongue turned in question, unseen, curious to how know he had fared in the darkness, but the their quiet interaction stalled it. The landscape beyond them took on another shade, sifting into a richer umber. Each filament of colour was a heady reassurance, of an easy night of rest surrounded by greenery, that prey would rise with them when they woke. Chalk wonders how many times the sun had set this way while they wandered the caves.

When the pair fell silent the daylight warrior approached with careful steps. He nodded to his deputy as he went, warmth stoked by their separation in the tunnels unusually plain on his sunset-brushed countenance. It was good to see the skyclanner out in the open air, alive. "It’s a relief, isn’t it?" Despite being unable to let his questions rest he was lazy in his pursuit of the answer, closing his eyes- it was obvious, anyway. Chalk basked in the sunset, pink nose tipped to the descending dark. ​

⭒ ———————————— ✧⭒​

 

[hazecloud]

The sunset over the river's horizon had always been a beautiful to the molly. Nothing quite beat the scene of orange's and red's descending across clear blue waters. Light stretching over the surface in a final hurrah until the night overcame. It had been a while since she had seen a sunset so beautiful, so serene as what they had at home. For a while she had assumed she would have to wait until their return to see something like it again.

This evening she is given the pleasant surprise of being wrong. The landscape opened up to the sky as the sun's light burned heavy in its last hours of the day. "Oh wow..." She gasped, murmuring under her breath in her shock. Fernpaw faced the suns graces while it brightened the orange glow of his fur. Dovethroat is next to join him, then a pair of SkyClanners. It's quiet, maybe it should stay that way, but Hazecloud doesn't find the silence enjoyable.

"You wear sunsets very handomsely, Fernpaw." Hazecloud complimented with a gentle purr. "When we get back, I'll have to tell Troutkit all the beautiful things we've seen. I think this will be her favorite." ​