camp WELCOME HOME ☽ STARGAZING

[grizzlyridge]

The world beyond the one his paws were tied to had always called to Grizzlyridge. From the long hours spent within the cradle of his twoleg's embrace to the first few nights on his own– there was comfort in the dark. Even now, it was there, when he could find comfort in nothing else. Too much had changed as of late. The only solace that they had left was the dark. It is divine in its own deadly way. It could claim those who were not careful, or it could open up universes so fascinating that one could be lost to them forever. In some way, it seems, he already was. In these late hours, sleepless and lonely, Grizzly finds himself consumed by his study of them. StarClan was strange to him– they are real, he has seen them, but their mortality is as true as their persistence towards life. They had gone from this world into the next, and left all the others behind. And they would speak of their deaths and their lives, and into the lives and deaths of others, and, despite himself, he cannot decide if it matters at all.

He rests below the overhanging boughs of a tree at the edges of SkyClan's camp, with the brambles nearly brushing his fur. Night is long and late, though the clan is ot as sleepy as he had once thought it to be. Perhaps they are having as much trouble as he is. Grizzlyridge thinks of inviting them, but the words die. His stark pointed pelt is invitation enough, he so hopes.

☾  OOC NOTES INFORMATION ☽

• 
  ooc: —
• GRIZZLYRIDGE. world-weary warrior of skyclan.
  ──── uses he - him - his, may accept they - them - theirs.
  ──── about four years old.  a former pine group member.
  ──── homoromantic homosexual, but this may develop.
  
  a large, broad-shouldered highlander cat with lightly tufted curled ears and large paws made larger by extra toes. a solid seal point with only a small white marking on his muzzle and deep blue eyes.
• "speech"

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[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

Over the moons, the stars had lost their novelty. Tangled with the twice-life souls that bore them, their beauty had dimmed somewhat for the warrior. But that night, the cream silhouette of Grizzlyridge tempted Daisyflight to lift her nose to acknowledge the velveteen black. The tom's quiet nature endeared him to her, his calm almost causing the bustle of camp to slow in his wake. If only I had that effect... Slim smile forming, the snow-glove molly padded up slowly.

"It's so quiet out here. You seem to have a knack for finding moments like these." She sloped her nose politely in greeting. Daisyflight was coming to appreciate that silence was a resource. It could smooth the pelt of worries, rinse the mind or prickle discomfort along a cat's spine. Each had its uses, of course, but she was tired. Tired of noise- of violence. She had thought herself a stout wielder of force, able to dole it out and receive it. Witness it. But the last few moons... A sigh whistled from her throat, hot air raw in the frigid night.

"No matter how dreary it gets, the land humbles it, hm?" Daisyflight bundled her paws beneath her tail. She just had to remember, remember how grateful she was to be in this forest. Her and her family.​

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[DAWNGLARE]

Desolate night. A moon that beckons. Sleep is sporadic in the moments that follow her trip to the stars. It always has been. Always we be with him; someone who could and would enjoy the indulgence that is sleep, so long as no spines were broken and cuts were not urgent. But the restlessness, it's been different, hasn't it?

Weary-faced, he drags himself closer for a view of the stars. Same, same, they were always the same (nothing bad, not really. He'd be more alarmed if they ever were to) but still, every night he'd regard them as if they were not. Map every spark in his mind, count every warrior, every kit, any in-between. And there were far more stars than there were fallen faces, weren't there? Perhaps they were merely empty nests, and a new death only meant another filling that empty space. Maybe... maybe.

No, it isn't like finding quiet was something difficult. At least, not now. Not when Blaise sat silent in his den and the little monster only lurked, bleary shadow flitting between the comings and goings. Dawnglare was thankful for that. Could not stand to see his face. But, it's not only nonsense from her maw. The slightest of sense slips free. He might even think it an accident. 'No matter how dreary it gets, the land humbles it, hm?'

Slowly, brearily, Dawnglare nods. "...Yes." And a side glance to the painted tom. Night-sky, but not quite; dark face and moon-brightened body. For a moment, he wonders if he will agree, but he doesn't really care. Not really. He doesn't really care to see either of them. And with that final thought, he clambers up the nearby pine (–nearly slips, and wouldn't that just be a tragedy?) Heavy-bodied, he settles upon a low hanging branch with a slow slump, fur a weeping willow upon its edge. Just barely, it shutters; but he knows what branches are best for sleeping.​

 

[Finchfang]

Finchfang was not much of a nighttime animal, preferring greatly to rise early and sleep not long after the sun set. He had been that way since he was a kitten, finding solace in the soft gray light of the early morning and the slow eruption of birdsong. Despite this, he had occasional bouts of sleeplessness, like most cats - nights where his mind raced and demanded he get up from his nest and do something, anything. Tonight that something had been tree-climbing through the dark, leaping lightly from branch to branch in typical SkyClanner fashion, paws soundless upon barks both rough and smooth. He stopped short, though, as he sprang onto a crooked limb a few paces away and heard the sudden murmur of voices.

Who's awake? And why? Was it bad that his immediate reaction was alarm? Narrowing his hazel eyes, he lowered himself and flowed like water down the trunk til his paws thumped ever-so-quietly to the ground. At this level, voices and scents began to coalesce and form a recognizable shape: his Clanmates. Which ones specifically were not clear until he made his way closer, but there was no cause for alarm, anyway. Too paranoid. he thought as he came upon the group, catching enough of the conversation to determine that they were discussing the stars. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Finchfang was not much for stargazing - they were beautiful, sure, and compelled him to glance up at least once if he was out late enough to see them, but he couldn't understand the appeal of staring at them for ages like some did. Perhaps he lacked the imagination, or didn't have the character to appreciate them the way he was supposed to.

He settled a polite distance from Grizzlyridge and Daisyflight, tracking Dawnglare as the herbalist sprang onto a nearby branch, and then spoke. "Keeping a good eye on StarClan, eh? As they keep their eyes on us?" he wasn't a particularly devoted adherent to Clan religion, not really; but it was there, after all, the stars shining like so many watchful ancestral eyes. It was comforting, he supposed - or was it unsettling? Were they watching right now? Were they judging him or keeping him safe? "It's a beautiful night." he added carefully. "Even with the chill."​

 

[Orangestar]

"Stars, sounds like half the Clan's up." Orangeblossom yawns, flashing pearly teeth to the night as she joins the small congregation beneath the tree. She'd been up briefly for a drink of water, but voices had deterred her from immediately returning to her nest. She settles on the frosty ground next to Finchfang with a small thump, tucking her paws underneath her to ward against the chill. Brown eyes turn skyward, softening at the view of the stars; she settles somewhat then, exhales misting in the night. "Why are we all out here in the cold, anyway?"​

 

[parsnip]

They're not sure what woke them up - coincidence or the voices and pawsteps of the others. Parsnippaw blearily blinks as they peek their head out of the den. They stare as a few bodies slink away toward the same area. Did I miss a meeting? Since when were night meetings a thing? How come no one told them? Scratch that, she knows the answer to that. Drowsily, she pads to where she can hear the voices congregate.

"I'm not late to the meeting, am I?" They sleepily murmur as soon as they reach others. They stare at the gathered cats for a few moments, catches a few snippets of their conversation and then takes note of the distinct lack of Blazestar.

"Oh. This isn't a meeting," he dispassionately says, more to himself than to the gathered animals. "Okay." Well. This is embarrassing. They stay standing for a moment or too, debating on what to do. She couldn't spot a single apprentice in the group.

Which meant she probably shouldn't be here.

They nod to themself. "Okay," they repeat. Then they turn on their heel and start to briskly pad away. Maybe if he's fast enough they'll forget that he was here.​

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