YOU WILL KNOW OUR NAMES | sunstar

[SOOTSPOT]

Sootspot seldom approached the leader's den since the day Scorchstreak had denied him the chance to see his dying mother. He had never been able to determine whether resentment or fear had kept him away since then, or whether it was an eclectic mix of both. Regardless, with Sunstar in a weakened state and the clan recovering from its second-biggest tragedy, the tom's lingering thoughts had made room for opportunity. Hauling a rabbit up to the tallrock took more effort than he would like to admit, the only positive being that the struggle and display were available for any sunbathing clanmates to see. At the top of the meeting point, he stared down towards the other warriors, elation plucking at that anxious string in his heart. 'They all look so tiny... like ants...' It was a view he could get used to, to be the smallest Tunneler was to have everyone else look down at him, they could use the reminder that he was beneath nobody. Like ripping off a bandaid, the chimera ripped his attention away from the throne's view and retreated into the leader's den, catch in tow.

His gaze was slow to find the gold within the darkness, taking in sights he had been forbidden from seeing all those moons ago. Past the gamey taste of rabbit, he couldn't smell anything familiar about the leader's den; any semblance of the past had died the day his mother did, her legacy forgotten by the same walls she'd convinced him she'd carved herself. With all other reminders washed away, it was no surprise the clan loathed him - his name would not let them forget what they had once been. When he was certain he'd been caught observing the area, he smiled and cast his attention to Sunstar, shoulders sagging in relief. "You have become a difficult cat to find," he observed with the gentle sway of a greyscale tail. There was a mirth to his tone, as if addressing an old friend, mirrored effortlessly from conversations he had heard around camp. "But ghostly you may be, I suspect you still need food like the rest of us. Such is mortality." 'With nine lives, could I live forever?' He thought of the hundreds of moons between himself and the elders, whether StarClan's blessing would be enough to ward off the burdens their age caused.

Carefully, he dragged the rabbit and placed it before the three-legged leader, its neck twisted and torn in a way that indicated struggle - perhaps struggle from a Tunneler who had always been too small to wrestle competently with surface prey. "Demands are... unbecoming of a warrior of my stature, so allow me to make a suggestion instead: eat, so later we may talk."

@SUNSTAR
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[SUNNVAR]

Before the flames took their home, Sunstar could say much the same. He did not enjoy this place. It was as if wickedness clung to its shadows; they were intent upon his heart and soul, and with every moment that he allowed himself to wither away in here, they would receive just that. Gauntness tugs at his frame, and grief at his eyes. They are half-lidded from the moment Sootspot enters his den. For a bizarre, fleeting moment, the green that is reflected back upon him and the blue ears that first poke through the cast shadows and into gleaming sunlight are Sootstar's, and this whole world is turned upon its head. He, the first leader of WindClan. Sootstar (he cannot imagine her name as anything else), the traitorous deputy to take his throat. His breath catches in his throat.

The next moment, it is merely Sootspot, and at his dark paws he has placed a rabbit and memory both. Aside from a slight squint of his eyes, played off as perhaps irritation at being roused, Sunstar keeps his expression well-managed. Hauling himself up is a slow effort. First lifting his head from his paw, then balancing himself upon the same one; he sways in a motion still unfamiliar but rights himself easily enough. The rabbit that's dragged closer to him seems recently caught; by the tunneler himself, perhaps? Stabbing unease tastes much like panic down his throat, worrying of– what, precisely, he does not know. Sootspot in his entirety.

He nods his appreciation at the meal placed before him, but does not yet reach to eat. Appetizing as it once may seem, even a feast would seem dull to his stomach. Grief has taken place of hunger like rocks upon his belly. Strength is a compelling consideration, however, and he very nearly forces himself to eat. "Speak plainly, Sootspot. My warriors do not need to bribe me for my ear."

𝐈 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒 ╱ ( 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝗕𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐆 ) 〚 06.03 〛 🟒ᨒ

• ooc: —
• ↟ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.  ╱  AMAB  HE - HIM - HIS.  LEADER OF WINDCLAN.  ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆  ⋆̶̬́̀
  ————  a rogue brought to windclan in a search for greatness, one of sootstar's most loyal warriors turned into her downfall. with a mate and kits to worry about, and now nine lives from starclan with a missing limb, windclan's leader has a lot to prove.
  
  
  
  a large chocolate and white rosette tom with seaglass eyes. the first thing many see when looking at sunstar now is not his proud posture or un-windclan build, but the scarred stump that remains of his front left leg. a wound that would have killed most other cats took one of his lives; not even starclan could repair it.

• "speech"

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[SOOTSPOT]

Narrow pupils fixated on the lapine presented to the rosette tabby. Hardly was it an apple in the garden of Eden, but Sunstar hesitated all the same as if Sootspot was tempting him with a break in the code. Doubt had always been a power of his, his motives were his own to know and there was a certain... strength he felt from such a thing. But the other spoke again and it felt more like a curse, a reminder he had played his paw too early - his smile grew acrid at the reminder. "Am I? Your warrior?" Dark brows flash as he tilts his head to one side, a coolness to the speculation. He had meant to talk to Sunstar about something else, the glaring issue within the nursery, a creature such an insult to his lineage that it was a miracle he had not snapped its neck. Instead, his favourite topic came up, and Brokenkit's name was sidelined in favour of himself. His single step closer looked more like the beginning of a lunge as he aimed to gauge Sunstar's reaction, whether the stagger to his paws was just an act, then, he settled back on his haunches and, with an air of indifference, began to groom the fur upon his chest.

"I lead no patrols, I train no young, I attend no gatherings. I know you cannot travel the same paths I do, so I can only presume I am shadowed at all times as well. There is a fine line between apprentice and prisoner, but whichever one I may be to you, I know I am not equal to those outside this den." Sadness shaped his ears into downward crescents, an indifference behind every blink that could not be matched to the frustration he felt in his heart. What did the other crowfood Tunnelers have that he didn't? It couldn't be loyalty, Bluefrost had stuck with Sootstar until the final battle and Scorchstreak had left Sunstar to die. It couldn't be skill, Mouseflight had gotten stuck in a cave-in. 'Perhaps it is because I have these things, that he is so scared of me, he has never seen such qualities before.' Smoke's aftermath moved against his lungs like a paintbrush as he inhaled, the slightest hints of a rasp entering his voice as he did. "So, this is not a bribe, but proof of my loyalty. Eat, and should I truly be as unloyal as Snakehiss, then at least you will know with seven lives rather than be left eternally speculating with eight."



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