[redshiftreign]

TELL ME ONCE AGAIN. I COULD HAVE BEEN ANYONE- ANYONE- ANYONE ELSE BEFORE YOU MADE THE CHOICE FOR ME.

THE WIND SPIRIT.
kitty softpaws.
silver tongue.
lyrebird's lullaby.
the collector.

20-something moons
intersex, tom aligned [any/all]
demi-romantic pan
loner

elusive and elegant, silksong thrives in mystery and intrigue. much a fan of a cleverly crafted word over claws and teeth, he enjoys the finer things of life like bathing in the moonlight or wading through cool tides. silksong has found that he exists somewhere in-between everything, really, with a penchant for getting his paws caught in clan problems. silk does not concern themself with the struggles of daily life, finding that they're quite content to live in each moment and enjoy what is offered. an adept hunter and stealthy tom, silksong is somewhat of a myth around the shadowclan borders for his elusive nature and grace. he has been, and likely will be again, mistaken for a ghost. they suppose it's because of how silksong carries themself with such lightfooted grace and elegance.
silksong is not a prince. nor a knight. nor anything inbetween. silksong is the wind. strong, untamed, and poised.
toyhouse gallery
cw: death, manipulation.

 

silksong's memory began with a bang. in a thunderstorm. stumbling through the storm with his father and two older siblings. none any older than three moons, paws ruddied with mud as red as blood, tripping and slipping over wet grass and slick earth as their father nudged them frantically along. silksong was born into fear. thrived in it, and they adjusted accordingly. thunder, lightning, storm clouds and heavy rain drops.

running.

from what? to where?

the river, swollen and hungry. desperate, devouring, encompassing. running from something- someone. silk, ash, gold, and their father, wolfsharp. ash fell first, and silk remembers watching her lose her footing, tiny arms straining to hold onto the bank before the churning floodwater took her. wolfsharp grit his teeth, silk remembers, and swallowed hard but pushed forwards. for his kits. for the two that had a chance.

gold stumbled, but wolfsharp caught her. silk was shaking like a leaf, but they didn't really feel all that afraid. not that they can recall, anyway.

then, in a blur, they both go tumbling into the water spray. a streak of silver and orange-red, small but fierce. silk steps back, golden eyes wide and watches the scuffle, water splashing up and rolling down their thick fur, streaking the mud that had caked them to their chest.

blood, silk recalls. the way it mixed with the brackish torrent that was the river. the she-cat- their mother, silk recognized, wrenched herself and the ball of fur in her jaws out of the water.

guilt flashes, brief, as she checked gold for signs of life, but tiny lungs had filled with riverwater and a tiny body had the heat stolen from it, still and stiff like a corpse. silk wasn't sure what death was at the time, but how fast it could happen made them a little less afraid.

their mother's copper eyes turned to them, sharp and firey. she never liked silk. she had wanted daughters, not whatever he was. unfortunate, silk thought. unfortunate. they had learnt that cold apathy from her, he thought.

with the massacre complete, the grieving, fire-y she-cat took her last child in her jaws, and they left.

silk- given the name silksong (like a warrior, his mother- silvercry -had told him about how she had once been a proud riverclan warrior. how she had made the grave mistake of falling for that worthless father of his. another clan. another rule broken. he had tried to take her children from her. raise them as her enemy. he had fled far, too, but not far enough) never asked. never questioned his mother, because they had seen what happens to cats in her path.

they were content, regardless. silksong was always good at that. that sort of hard contentedness that came with having very little. they were good about that. being content.

silksong's mother passed a few short months ago, and it should have felt like freedom, finally. but it didn't. of course, it never would. silksong could not be so lucky. and their mother dearest, of course, stalked their dream on occasion to make sure her darling child behaved.

PLAYLIST.

The Calling - The Amazing Devil
"Back then, I was dauntless, and Dawn could never know. And my weakness made me weep less than I would ever show you. I burned so bright it blinded, though I know that light guided me here.
Somewhere Only We Know - Keane
"I walked across an empty land. I knew the pathway like the back of my hand. I felt the earth beneath my feet; sat by the river and it made me complete."
Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics
"Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree? I've traveled the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something."
Tom Thumb - Bitter Ruin
"I'm waving in the wind a flag of white, but I'm not scared. See, this whole scenario can only to me serve. Become a bounty hunter, justifying laws I break by bringing bodies back to bounds. And I know I'll be burnt, but I can stand a flame or two. To catch you."
Who is She? - I Monster
"I call her name across an endless plain. She'll answer me wherever she may be. Oh, who is she? A misty memory. A haunting face. Is she a lost embrace?"
Bernadette - IAMX
"You and me in our playhouse. Living in a veil, we never need to go without. Memories bring no joy or peace. We are alone, and all we need. Tuning out of the poison. Every waking day, intolerance to overcome. Fortune's won by the boys with the guns. We are alone, nowhere to run."
Daydream in Blue - I Monster
"Daydream. I dream of you amid the flowers, for a couple of hours. Such a beautiful day"

IDEAS.

Peace of Mind.

lostspark's life has been nothing but strife and struggle as of late, and existence in shadowclan has been plenty stressful. if lark's mind is a thunderstorm, silksong's is a peaceful meadow during the gentle rain. a field of flowers, empty, devoid, but peaceful. calm.

i imagine that their first meeting is complete accident. silksong, resting somewhere in the outskirts of shadowclan territory, just so happens to accidentally find lostspark among their peaceful, calm dreamscape. silksong is a lucid dreamer and often chooses quiet, calm, and reclusive areas to relax in during their dreams (mostly incase their mother dearest decides to stop by), but also because the peace is a nice break from the chaos of wilf survival.

one accidental trip into silksong's dream might be a guilty comfort for lark, with how calm and tranquil it is. no arguments, no fights, no medicine or strife. just a peaceful meadow. in fact, the first time, they might not even speak. perhaps silksong and lostspark make eye contact from across the dream, but neither move to speak or draw closer. and in separate silence, they both bask in the calm quiet until day breaks and the dream ends.

perhaps this becomes a sort of ritual for them, who have not yet even introduced themselves. silksong dreams a quiet, beautiful dream. and lostspark joins them in silence.

finally, one day, silksong is the one to break the silence.

and they find, surprisingly, that they're not so different. and that maybe silksong's stability and calm is a good foil for the chaos and fire that dominate lostspark's current life. they are solid, certain, and unfazed. objective. an outsider's perspective and an ear to listen and an impartial witness to simply. . . be there. to comfort. and to share hushed words.