- Dec 15, 2022
- 121
- 23
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Feathers for softness, he thinks that's what he needs.
Sleep had been coming to him a little bit easier each night since their return to camp. The nightmares of what he had done left him slowly, and these days it kept him up for only a few moments at a time whenever he awoke. And he no longer felt the need to run from camp and heave up his final meal. All in all, it was...progress. The slow and sturdy kind that he knows he should value, yet finds difficult to. It doesn't feel like enough. Certainly not when he's still falling asleep only late into the night and waking for each dawn patrol more tired than the last. Leafbare is steadily approaching and soon they will run out of heather to scent their nests. Crunchy grass and moss was the last thing that he needed for a cool night beneath the stars.
And so he plucks the feathers. It's a tedious task. Perfectly monotonous. One and then another, going for the soft downy parts closer to its throat than to the edge of its wings. He tucks them into his nest by the pawful and begins the work again, threading his claws and tugging, shoving, threading his claws, and– despite it being nearly sun-high, Sparkspirit finds his eyes drifting shut and his chin tipping lower, lower down, until it touches his chest and he stirs with a jolt, a bird at his paws and feathers in both. The cycle repeats once again, but this time he does not quite manage to wake himself. The young warrior drifts off sitting upright in camp, in desperate need of sleep, it would seem.
Sleep had been coming to him a little bit easier each night since their return to camp. The nightmares of what he had done left him slowly, and these days it kept him up for only a few moments at a time whenever he awoke. And he no longer felt the need to run from camp and heave up his final meal. All in all, it was...progress. The slow and sturdy kind that he knows he should value, yet finds difficult to. It doesn't feel like enough. Certainly not when he's still falling asleep only late into the night and waking for each dawn patrol more tired than the last. Leafbare is steadily approaching and soon they will run out of heather to scent their nests. Crunchy grass and moss was the last thing that he needed for a cool night beneath the stars.
And so he plucks the feathers. It's a tedious task. Perfectly monotonous. One and then another, going for the soft downy parts closer to its throat than to the edge of its wings. He tucks them into his nest by the pawful and begins the work again, threading his claws and tugging, shoving, threading his claws, and– despite it being nearly sun-high, Sparkspirit finds his eyes drifting shut and his chin tipping lower, lower down, until it touches his chest and he stirs with a jolt, a bird at his paws and feathers in both. The cycle repeats once again, but this time he does not quite manage to wake himself. The young warrior drifts off sitting upright in camp, in desperate need of sleep, it would seem.
- OOC. —
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🗲 . ˚ . SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. ————
✦ ECHOLIGHT xELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BYYEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ———————— - "speech"