camp YOU'RE MAKING ME A LIAR ☼ GUARD DOG

[DIMMINGSUN]

A B C​

The air is thick enough to cut; tension does not ebb and flow like water, but instead, it settles and weighs heavy on them all like morning fog. Dimmingsun's jaw aches with the strength he keeps rows of teeth clenched and pressed together in uncomfortable company. It's not like there is anything to say... and yet, with each breath he releases through his nose, he fears he might yowl profanities.

How could all this occur? The dominoes tumble over one another, creating a chain reaction akin to the ravaging wildfires a few moons back. How far back had the first one been placed? Perhaps not even all-knowing StarClan might know.

Malaise clings to his skin. None of this feels right... and solutions feel far and few inbetween.

Finally, he puts a decisive end to his movements; his paws had kicked up dust in the small circle he had been trekking along, but now, he allows his body to meet the earth. He will not be sleeping anytime soon — fleeting adrenaline might leave him tired, but he will forego the pleasant unconsciousness in order to keep close watch on Bluefrost. Thriftfeather has not yet emerged from Sunstar's den; the noxious beatings of his heart leaves him breathless; his tumultuous mind speaks of DuskClan reigning supreme after Thriftfeather puts a cruel end to all of Sunstar's remaining lives.

It is the vermilion hues of the settling sky that grounds him. Dimmingsun's lone eye traverses the fading colors, wishing hope would find its way back into his every vein.

Set directly after this thread.

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[Cricketcry]

Cricketcry attempted to 'befriend' Bluefrost because of a litany of ulterior motives. From beneath a shrub along the the barrier of camp he watched the true colors of Bluefrostt be painted loud and clear. He tried to turn a blind eye to for his own personal sordid needs and as he saw the defense of a Duskclanner unfold before his wistful eyes, he very nearly felt barmy to have even considered Bluefrost to be the best course of action to gain any semblance of respect.

Stress and embarrassment set alight his skin beneath his dirty fur as he remains beneath the shrub, processing what just occurred. He has no plans to remove himself from the creeping shadows, maybe he will remain here until the threat of Duskclan exists no longer, be the coward he knows himself to be. His fur prickles and a noxious feeling constricts his chest, sending shudders through his small frame as his mind runs wild with the imaginings of all which Bluefrost may have divulged to Thriftfeather in their clandestine meetings. What Thriftfeather told Duskclan in turn... to have the tom live in camp may force Cricketcry to remain in the tunnels, hide beneath the earth rather than face the realities that press Windclan's moral.

The only thing keeping him from a hysterical display of fawn fur dashing towards the exit and into the closest entrance to the tunnels is the hypnotizing pacing of Dimmingsun, which abruptly stops as Dimmingsun lays down. The abruptness forces Cricketcry forward, concern obvious on his downcast features. He limps to the tom and only stops once he is hovering over Dimmingsun. Cricketcry rasps, "Dimmingsun... c-can I sit with you?" He only asks after a long pause where he considers if he should just turn around and return to the bush, maybe Dimmingsun would be sickened by the sight of such a coward. With a crackling sigh he sits back on his haunches anyways, deciding it would be best for his own anxieties to be in the company of a true friend.

WHITE NOISE, WHAT AN AWFUL SOUND

• OOC—
• CRICKETCRY —— Tunneler of Windclan 𓆧
  𓆧 he/him / 28 ☾
  𓆧 timid, cynical & wistful

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[DIMMINGSUN]

A B C​

The sky is blotted out by Cricketcry's tufted head — a welcomed change to Dimmingsun's environment. It is always pleasant to be reminded of friends, especially when you are quite literally down in the dirt.

"'Course. You don't need to ask." He considers emphasizing the word you; the likes of Cricketcry and Slateheart can always approach without a second's hesitation. The same would not go for Periwinklebreeze... but ultimately, Dimmingsun decides against it. The moment can be shared without conversing at the expense of others. Upcoming days will wholly center around the betrayals anyway.

Dimmingsun regards Cricketcry; the small, self-deprecating Cricketcry. Once again the ever-complaisant Dimmingsun has pulled quite a loner into his orbit. He does not mind.

At first, he is at a loss of words. Simply sharing one another's company only satisfies Dimmingsun for a flimsy moment — he finds a way to break the silence. "What'd you think? Of all this? Crazy." Despite his earlier thought, the conversation quickly pulls back towards the matter at paw... it is inescapable, and Dimmingsun detests it.
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[FEATHERSPINE]

Featherspine's fur had not stopped prickling for what felt likehours. She had been the one to fetch Sunstar, had looked her father in the eye and told him one of his lead warriors had apparently been making off with a Duskclanner - he'd been pacing, tensing, narrowed eyelids twitching. A bittersweet concoction had thrashed in his chest at the time, and had only grown more sour as time had passed. Ever an insomniac, the marbled molly was of course awake... though for once she wasn't spending her night staring at the ground, avoiding the shapes that leapt from the dark if she looked up.

It augured ill for it to apparently be so easy to sneak off- Featherspine's eyes were on the distance before he even registered Dimmingsun nearby, Cricketcry at his side. He offered the lead warrior a nod of respect- over the moons he had shown himself, thankfully, not to be a horrendous hindrance to the workings of WindClan... in fact he had proven himself quite beneficial. His presence on Bluepool's fatal patrol aside...

"Yes, c-crazy," Featherspine spat in his usually-pithy manner when absolutely disparaging something or someone. It was both, tonight ... both the situation and the cats involved. Bluefrost's complete conflagration of much of the good will that she had spent moons earning was something to be marvelled at. A white tail-tip irritably twitched. "I don't think Sunstar is very happy, I'll tell you that." As his daughter, perhaps her word would be trusted, here.​

✦ penned by pin​