private WOLFSONG ╱ A LONELY ROAD ´ˎ˗

Soon they will march upon RiverClan, and there is something about this knowledge that prickles along his spine. It was not the first time that they were to fight alongside the other, not even as warriors of WindClan, yet it is different nonetheless. Weighted enough that his gut is dark with it, and cold enough that his skin seems drawn taut. How they can sit here, so close to touching, and still not be as they were– awareness of this ending creeps ever higher within him. The moors are frozen in wait. So is he. The clouds slink low and slow across the horizon and the grass stirs alongside the breeze, but his paws do not even dream of chasing them now. Would he move if it were necessary? Could he push himself to action if the world began its end just now? Or would he sit alongside his friend, staring at the clouds, not saying a word?

"That cloud reminds me of the cairn you made, the day that I first met you." He does not look at Wolfsong even still, his gaze fixed upon a lopsided cloud, tall yet leaning strongly to one side. His voice is as quiet as the memory. The crunching of snow beneath their paws, quiet puffed breaths, words muted by the passage of time. "It was before I had learned not to tell you anything but the truth– I said that it was the most clever one I had seen in my life." A slow sigh gusts between his teeth, shoulders beginning to deflate. "It was not far off, in truth. That you got it to stand at all–! I was not wrong to be impressed."
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  • ooc:
  • SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
    —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
    —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
    —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.

    sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
  • "speech"
 
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──⇌•〘 INFO He is not tense, but it is more of a conscious decision than it normally is. Wolfsong is uncertain whether he's meant to be the first to apologize, if Sunstride waits for him to ask forgiveness for striking him. Especially now, on the eve of battle with a clan home to the very cat Sunstride questioned. Is this proof that he was right to confront Wolfsong for consorting with him? That he was right to cast aspersions on Wolfsong's character? No. He should not have questioned my loyalty, my reliability. Do I not demonstrate now that I am trustworthy? I will fight for WindClan. I will fight Houndsnarl if I see him in battle.

Inhaling quietly, he wrangles with indecision until Sunstride speaks. It's a memory his voice carries, and he seeks out the cloud in question, its rounded, wispy curves lopsided. At first, he wants to enjoy the memory with him, the call to a time when they were children, but one comment sits heavily in his stomach. "Before I had learned not to tell you anything but the truth." His gut twists. Is he telling me he spoke the truth during our argument? That he doubts whether to trust me?

"It should not have impressed you," he rasps. "I was still in my kithood, and you free of it. You had surely seen far more skillful feats already."
 
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A low chuckle answers his rasp, but still Sunstride does not turn his head. The sting of his blow still resonates within his very core, and though he will not demand an apology, to meet his gaze now is an insult. A cruelty that he is not yet capable of, or perhaps he was simply a coward. Should any other voice but his own call him as such, he would meet it with thorny teeth and tongue. Yet when it is his own, he cannot deny it. Despite the sweetness of this memory, the truth of who he was, what he was, in this moment, sours it. Where his mouth had once threatened to turn into a smile, it instead takes on a grim, unpleasant pull. A brief grimace that he is certain Wolfsong will not miss. They have not fallen so out of touch.

"Skill is a useless measure of what I find impressive." His paw lifts and falls again in a dramatic, if muted, stamp. More of a scuff, though reminiscent of something far more animated than this. "Anyone may be taught. That is the nature of all things. It was not skill. You–" the warrior's words break with a noise nearing laughter "–you were so stubborn. So certain that you could make it work. And through this force of thought alone, you did. You did not know how to give up on anything. You still do not."

He dares to spare a glance with the faintest turn of his head, yet nothing closer. "That you can be so resolute in who you are... I am uncertain how you manage it." A soft, low admission: "I feel as if I am someone new each day that I remain here."
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  • ooc:
  • SUNSTRIDE. named for his coloration and his bold chasing of fate.
    —— cis male, he - him. thirty-six moons old. lead warrior of windclan and former rogue.
    —— gay, but somewhat closeted. will not be open about his interests.  single, will be so.
    —— seems comparatively stranger than who he was some moons ago, serious and cool.

    sunstride is broad and bold– a creature standing above most of windclan, though not a beast beyond its borders, with fur that flames red at its base and deepens to a burnt amber with every whorl and stripe. his eyes, in comparison, are a pale summer's blue, still as bold as the rest of him.
  • "speech"