It's going to take her forever to fix this nest up the way she likes. Swantooth stares hard at the little moss bed she'd claimed in this den recently as if she means to suss out what's wrong with it just from looking. Only, she knows what's wrong with it, and it's not the appearance.
It doesn't smell right. It doesn't feel right. It's not her nest yet—and that's irritating. She just wants it to be hers already. Just wants it to be right.
The moss is removed gingerly, carefully, stacked aside for now. It's perfectly good bedding, just needs to be out of the way for now. The dip it had lined is smoothed by paw, carved a little deeper—she needs to lay down and get up and lay down and get up and lay down and get up, again, just to make sure she fits just right—, and when she's finished there Swantooth not-too-slyly nudges at the edges of the nests around hers, pushing any debris spilling from those sleeping spots away from hers. She wants space around her nest. To walk. It's fine if she does this. It's fine.
Everything is better, now. Loose dirt will need to be swept away and so will the irritting pebble she'd unearthed, but once the moss is pressed back into place, Swantooth's feeling a little less restless, a little less agitated. It still doesn't smell just right, but she'll see that fixed soon enough. The last steps of the chore are handled, paws whisking loose earth and that stupid pebble out, away. All better; all clean.
Swantooth steps into her nest and circles, 'round and 'round and 'round, before sitting down to bathe herself.
SQUIRRELRISE she/her. 14 moons. small, scarred russet molly with brown markings and yellow eyes.
[ chill of death, hulk SMASH ]
after her excursion to dawning woods, squirrelrise slips into the hollowed trunk that makes up the warrior's den. luckily, her heart rate has slowed down by now - whole journey back to camp riddled with paranoia from the rustling noise. it seems she'll always be hyper vigilant when it comes to her surroundings. at least I've gotten better, though.., she thinks. she really has improved and come a long way.
padding towards her nest, she neatly tucks the starling feather underneath the moss bed just for safe measures. she'd hate to lose it! after settling in her nest, she blinks when she notices something in her fur. a sandburr..? how'd that even..when..? huh?, she wonders before craning her neck to carefully pluck the sandburr from her pelt.
Rest In Peace Jellie
Canary call... The first to fall... Forever caged in different walls....
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Shadow Fiend: Inactive | Beefed Up (T3) | Ultimate Predator: Inactive | Hulk SMASH! [Inactive]
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CW: Dissociation
Caught off guard by the movement, azure blue eyes snapped open and fixed themselves on the smaller cat held within his embrace. For a moment, any icy fog glazed over the bright orbs, expression hardening and filling with tension – however, it was but a moment. The dark-furred tom relaxed, stopping his previous task while the low purr rumbled within him grew in magnitude.
Nobody was perfect. Everyone made mistakes. The idea of his former mate that he held before, back when she was still Larkfire was long dead and gone, but even then, she hadn’t been perfect.
It was a surreal thing, this moment. Darkfall had long been held within the confines of his own mind, very slowly but surely loosening the binds that contained him. He didn’t know how long it would be before The Spectre took over again, but he wanted to enjoy the time he had to the fullest.
The enforcer before him had never been one that showed her emotions outwardly nor publicly, instead opting to have small but very adorable moments like this one. Wait… adorable? Lostspark? Darkfall blinked in surprise. Thinking of her as such was so… foreign to him. She was sometimes cute, yes, but long gone were the days when he teased her for such. For moons now, she held a closed and reserved persona – more so than before and kept to herself and a select few individuals. She… It wasn’t often that she allowed herself to be seen like this.
Despite that, however, he’d seen her at her weakest. It had been earth-shattering at first, the time she had almost died in the territory while bearing another tom’s kits. The way she behaved, the fear of her dying, it had all been a lot at that moment and had completely changed the way he viewed her. He had begun to see her as something fragile, something that could break with the slightest of mishaps, and her run-in with the ThunderClan warrior and the subsequent curse she took on only solidified that view within his mind. At some point, he had seen her less so as an equal and more so as something to protect, and it wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to either of them.
Speaking of something to protect, the massive tabby brought a paw around her and hugged her closer to him – gently stroking the length of her back with his long tail. Her face was wet, tears he presumed. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but clearly something serious had occurred if it was enough for her to seek him out instead of closing herself off in some sort of dark corner. For a few heartbeats, he said nothing. He allowed her to use him as her refuge against whatever troubles welled within her for the moment. The warmth of her body was a tantalizing call from reality that he knew he must resist. As much as he wanted to, as much as he missed it, they couldn’t stay like this. Not now.
Not anymore.
The soothing strokes of his tail stopped and were replaced by a gentle tapping. ”Come on, my dear. What is it that has you troubled so?” He asked in a gentle tone. Despite all that occurred between them, Darkfall still couldn’t bring himself to call her by her new name – Lostspark. It felt wrong. It felt abhorrent.
Once again, he was reminded of what was, and then what could have been. He loved her. He loved Lostspark so much.
Lark basked in the presense of her former mate. Who knew, perhaps this could be the last time she had this oppurtunity. To be held. Cared for. For a while, she lay there, in silence. But she couldn't do that. Not forever. Lark wanted to linger, hold on to what she could when she got it.
Lostspark knew she couldn't. So she pulled away, wiped away her tears, forced them away, and then lifted her gaze to meet Darkfall's. Foggy amber eyes met azure blues. But it was different. They both knew she could see, despite the fact that she might not look it. A white-tipped paw lifted to cup his cheek, shifting to brush gently over his eye scar.
"Silverlark," she whispered softly, amber hues glazing over. "Mirepaw, Wolfkit, Sootpaw, Fallenkit, Larkpaw, Sorrelkit, Daykit..." The former enforcer searched his gaze. "Smokekit, Heronpaw, Moonpaw, Rainykit, Magpiekit, Gloomkit. How many more must we lose?"
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❝ I know life and fate are scary, but I wanna be legendary. ❞
The silence continued for a bit as the two former lovers sat there, embracing each other as if they were back in the old days. Part of him wished they were, that there was no bad blood between them, and that they could go back to sharing their small, innocent, but meaningful moments together. Darkfall had continuously been guilty of it – not appreciating those moments, that is. After he and the enforcer became mates, he thought that they would last forever, he thought nothing short of death could seperate them.
He was wrong. So very wrong.
Arising from the murky depths of his turmoil-filled mind, The Spectre seized the opportunity and began piloting the body that belonged to the dark-furred tom. It was as if he were a phantom, coming with no warning and wreaking havoc wherever he went. From that moment, The Spectre was privy to all of Darkfall’s memories that preceded him. He had known of the former enforcer’s weakness, had seen how he had given all of his love and affection to Lostspark and watched how it had backfired as if it meant nothing. It angered him. Why would someone allow themselves to be hurt so much? Why would they tear themselves apart for someone who didn’t feel the same about them? It had been clear. Very painstakingly clear that the grey and white she-cat’s heart no longer belonged to him, her affections were no longer for him. It was as if he were a stand-in for the tom that replaced him prior to his return or the tom that would one day replace him after their relationship dissolved. The Spectre had found it pathetic that the tom was holding out hope for a spark to reignite the dying embers of what had once been a love that could burn down a forest with its raging fire.
He was no longer needed.
Or so he thought.
As Darkfall held his former mate, he found himself tightening his embrace into a hug for just a moment before she pulled away. Seeing the silver of tears sliding down her cheeks, and how she wiped them away and harden her features – if just for a moment, tore him up inside. The familiar desire to protect bored a hole into what he had presumed to be a hollow heart. In this moment, he couldn’t help but reimagine that their old fire may once again be revived and they could give things another shot. He knew that the chances were slim, but the hope once more wormed itself into his weak heart. As he stared into her foggy amber eyes, everything around them seemed to disappear. The den, the nest, the other sleeping and waking forms of their clanmates, all of it. Right now it was just them two. Right now, nothing else mattered.
A white-tipped paw reached up to touch his cheek, and unlike the last time such an action had been taken, he did not flinch away, but instead leaned into it. The she-cats paw slipped along the side of his face, brushing the scarred flesh – a reminder – that lay beneath his eye.
A name was spoken, followed by many more familiar names and that’s when it hit him. Silverlark was dead. He and the now-deceased enforcer weren’t as close as the two of them were, but he still respected and cared for the tom. They had made plans that were no longer able to go into fruition. He would miss him. The nonsense that he said on occasion, the opportunity to work alongside him, fighting with him in battle, all of it. Darkfall wasn’t the greatest at establishing relationships, whether it be friends or with family, but Silverlark had become something akin to a brother perhaps, or simply just family in his eyes. His absence would be felt for many moons to come.
Unable to keep up the tough facade, his features softened and he leaned to gently touch his forehead to hers. Azure blue orbs closed for a moment as the massive tom took a deep, shaky breath, a warm wetness escaping despite his best efforts and possibly falling upon the she-cat’s fur. It was a valid question, one that he didn’t want to think about. How many more would they lose? Would it just be the two of them left after some moons? Kits dead or missing, extended family dead and gone? The thought was depressing and while The Spectre was in charge, it was something that he didn’t have to think about, but once again those treacherous feelings of depression and anxiety welled within him and threatened to once more explode into a roaring flood.
”I don’t know,” Darkfall whispered, remaining in the position for a moment longer before leaning up to lick the top of her head comfortingly and pulling away. Once again bright blues met foggy amber hues. Despite all of her scars, despite the dullness of her once bright eyes, Lostspark was beautiful, and seeing her like this in such an intimate setting made his heart skip a beat. ”I don’t know.” He echoed.
”All of them… they may no longer be with us for one reason or another, but it’s our job to remember them. It’s our duty to honor them. We must do what we can to protect the ones we have left, and make the most of our time with them.” That was the conclusion he came to in his moment of thinking. They couldn’t protect them all, they couldn’t save them all, but that didn’t mean they should mope around when they still had sons and daughters, nieces and nephews to take look after. Sadness filled his gaze, but behind that sadness lay a glimmer of hope, of determination. ”Whatever differences we have, whatever anger or sadness we may hold towards one another, can we put that aside for a moment?” He asked before pausing, searching her gaze, scanning her features. ”Will you work with me?” Darkfall asked ”Let’s protect what’s left of our family.”
”Let’s try again – the right way” Was what was left unspoken, left to be filed away in his thoughts for later. Would he regret this decision later on? He wasn’t sure, but right now? Right now wasn’t the time.
Re: ShadowClan Warriors' Den
Re: ShadowClan Warriors' Den
Rest In Peace Jellie
