- Oct 17, 2022
- 458
- 78
- 28
MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————
It’s been a long moon since windclan’s raid on their camp, and Snakeblink has not stood still for much of it. Hunting, patrolling, checking on clanmates, making sure everyone keeps eating and takes breaks, patching up dens and planning future attacks… Sometimes it feels like he hasn’t laid down a second since that battle, and that if he stopped his paws would immediately pop right off and take off running lest he puts them back to work. It’s tiring, which he considers to be a bonus. He’s not sleeping any better than usual, but at least now when he does he’s far too exhausted to dream.
Looking at Clayfur’s weary frame, he believes he’s not the only one plagued with nightmares of recent events. Although his are filled more with the flashing teeth of Thunderclan warriors than that of moor runners, the pain remains similar enough. But he knows, looking at the once-sunny tom’s grief-stricken face, that it’s in no way equal.
In many ways Clearsight’s death was a turning point for the clan, but he worries of the impact it had on the tom’s mate in particular. Even more so since the Sunningrock’s squirmish, which only seemed to pile more weight on the other tabby’s back — he believes the stones had a particular meaning to him and his lost mate? Either way, Snakeblink has taken to checking up on him more regularly than the rest of the clan, albeit not always outright — hovering near, pushing prey nearer in the hope of inspiring some appetite in the tom. They’re… friendly, he believes. Clayfur certainly seemed to like him well enough before, surprisingly: if he has seemed withdrawn and bitter lately, Snakeblink wants to believe it’s only grief, and not something he did himself. At least he doesn’t think he did anything worthy of scorn recently…
Today seems especially dark, perhaps because of the weather — the sky is heavy with clouds, threatening rain that has yet to fall, and the mood in camp seems just as overcast. It spurs him into approaching Clearsight for a more direct… wellness check. A friendly face usually makes any bad day a little easier, right?
”Ah, Clayfur,” he greets, tilting his head politely as he pads up to the warrior. ”Just the cat I was looking for. I’m heading to the river— you know how rain brings out all the fish. Would you like to accompany me?”
His quirks an awkward smile, eyes darting away, and adds, ”It’s no Sunningrock, I’m afraid, but… it’s not like the weather would permit sunbathing, anyway. Nonetheless, fresh air does wonders for the mind, hm?”
Looking at Clayfur’s weary frame, he believes he’s not the only one plagued with nightmares of recent events. Although his are filled more with the flashing teeth of Thunderclan warriors than that of moor runners, the pain remains similar enough. But he knows, looking at the once-sunny tom’s grief-stricken face, that it’s in no way equal.
In many ways Clearsight’s death was a turning point for the clan, but he worries of the impact it had on the tom’s mate in particular. Even more so since the Sunningrock’s squirmish, which only seemed to pile more weight on the other tabby’s back — he believes the stones had a particular meaning to him and his lost mate? Either way, Snakeblink has taken to checking up on him more regularly than the rest of the clan, albeit not always outright — hovering near, pushing prey nearer in the hope of inspiring some appetite in the tom. They’re… friendly, he believes. Clayfur certainly seemed to like him well enough before, surprisingly: if he has seemed withdrawn and bitter lately, Snakeblink wants to believe it’s only grief, and not something he did himself. At least he doesn’t think he did anything worthy of scorn recently…
Today seems especially dark, perhaps because of the weather — the sky is heavy with clouds, threatening rain that has yet to fall, and the mood in camp seems just as overcast. It spurs him into approaching Clearsight for a more direct… wellness check. A friendly face usually makes any bad day a little easier, right?
”Ah, Clayfur,” he greets, tilting his head politely as he pads up to the warrior. ”Just the cat I was looking for. I’m heading to the river— you know how rain brings out all the fish. Would you like to accompany me?”
His quirks an awkward smile, eyes darting away, and adds, ”It’s no Sunningrock, I’m afraid, but… it’s not like the weather would permit sunbathing, anyway. Nonetheless, fresh air does wonders for the mind, hm?”
——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
