WHEN IN ROME | swiftdawn

[CAMPIONSONG]

"Swiftdawn...?" Campionsong's tone quietly lilted, so unbecoming of the overgrown prince and so uncharacteristic of the flippant feline. He stood over the other warrior, casting a comber-like shadow on the snow-dappled cat. He had been tempted to shove at the other to wake them from their sleep, but even he didn't push his luck at times. The long night grew soft and still, with even the moon's smile becoming stagnant as it slowly dipped down from its apex. Campion had already been up, as moonlight seeped into already-silver pelt, as though it had absorbed the ichor of the celestials above. Truth be told, he found himself fraught in sleepless nights. The silence had been anything but calming to the cat who hated to be left alone with his burgeoning thoughts for too long. The thoughts had won this time, it seemed, as his wandering, wresting mind guided him to the ends of the warrior's den.

"I've got a crazy idea. What if we, you know, took a walk together? We can just go around the camp, something like that." Verdant gaze turned back towards the hushed camp, and there proved little disturbance or distraction even among the dens of slumbering cats. Campion wanted to discuss... well, even he wasn't sure how to put it. Everything? Maybe once they started talking, it'd flow to him. The tabby didn't have a plan other than that, which seemed quite on par for the airy and glib man. Though his rather brash decisions made him seem solicitious, he tended to follow his impulse that dragged him along everywhere like a thrush on a tether. Still, apprehension bit at his restless feet like he had stepped on an anthill, each bite sending more waves of tension shooting through his nerves as electricity. The once moon-bright feline now dulled, paled in the face of the life he had made for himself.

@SWIFTDAWN ​

 

[SWIFTDAWN]

Where Campionsong is personified as a pale reflection of the night sky, Swiftdawn is oft compared to the opposite: sunlit, as one golden eye cracks open at his gentle urging. They aren't appreciative of the wakeup call, especially knowing that their full nights of sleep are numbered and growing fewer by the evening. They're also not as young as they used to be, moonlit hunts and late night jaunts well behind them by now ... for the most part.

"It's the middle of the night." Swiftdawn hisses at him, but they rise nonetheless. They stare into space periodically as they do so, a slow journey from reclined to upright pausing every so often to right themselves and the tilt of nausea that threatens to interrupt their movement. It doesn't, partially from Swiftdawn's careful behaviour and partially from sheer luck, but as the warrior squints at their ... their kits' sire, sleepy and unimpressed, they notice the air of faint desperation he carries.

"Fine. Where to?"

ooc ★ so i walk into the sun

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• SWIFTDAWN ★ they/any, warrior of thunderclan
  "a cream-and-white tabby with yellow eyes."
  
  — speech is in #EFD13F
  — tags | art by mercibun
  

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[CAMPIONSONG]

Although Swiftdawn seemed quite unimpressed with the sire of their kits and the soliticious nature of their encounter, Campionsong let out a hot sigh of relief. At least they had not told him off, had not brushed him off, had not wished him badly. He couldn't help the smile, thin as the slightest claw-mark of a crescent in the moonlit sky, that crossed a silvery visage. Despite the fervid emotions that swam within his cage of a gut and swarmed at bitten heart, he managed to keep a straight face. He managed it like the flammable forest managed to stave off the wolf-stomached wildfire. He managed it like the sun managed to shine in the sky forever and ever. The silver tabby noted how Swiftdawn struggled to get up, as though wracked by a balmy fever, though the kits that lie within their belly were no plague nor malediction. They were pregnant with Campion's kids, surely, and though Campion hardly believed them to be a mishap, he had certainly never been ready for such a big commitment.

"Uh, we can go to the Sandy Hollow. I doubt any cat's there in the middle of the night." He mewed as he stepped back from the den to allow Swiftdawn to at least exit without Campionsong breathing down their back. He didn't want to push his luck, but even stepping in the wrong places could drive thorns through his footfall. He had never been concerned with the opinions of most, but in this case, he found himself faltering from his usual acts of foolishness. Chills of brumal nervousness rippled along his flank and his limbs, as though he still harbored a pocket of wrathful winter, as dullard and dimmed as it was now. Even this was a foreign feeling, and to be afraid was such a wonderful and fearful thing. The tom just wanted to get out of the camp, dank in his regrets and the fragile slumbers of his peers. "Um... How's the pregnancy? Are you doing okay with it?" He mulled awkwardly. I want to help. Do you need my help? Do you need me? He bit back such uncouth questions.​