Of all the things Fellcone expected, it wasn't the choking sound that escaped the not-stranger. Hm, all this trying to strike a nerve paid off more than he thought it would. Was this freak really that upset? ..
.. Why did he dislike this outcome so much. This weasel had been stalking him, glaring at him, making him uneasy... And now he was upset, and that made Falcon upset. He wanted to do something. His paw itched to smack something. He growled lowly, though it wasn't meant for Frozen. He was.. frustrated, angry, didn't understand. Could not. "you are impossible." It's angry, sour. Bitter, maybe. This cat was making his head hurt in a thousand different ways, and he wished it stopped.
Most importantly, the stark revelation hit him this cat could not leave. He did not want him to. He was not getting away from him."Do not!" His voice raised to a hiss as he moved to intercept the cat.
Frozenberry stopped short at the growl, panic winding him. Already he was on the precipice of disaster and this was enough to shove him over, the rejection stacked on top of high hopes crumbling down into disappointment for both of them. He sucked in a breath, and another, and his lungs were full and he heaved as a convulsion forced the air back out in sporadic coughs. (Eyes on him. The humiliation, he could feel it.) He hated every second of how this had gone and didn't want Falcon to witness the breaking point.
How much he'd affected him. And still affected him even after the incidents he didn't even bother remembering, because he didn't care so why did Frozenberry have to care? Why was he the one waking up in cold sweats from nightmares revising the torture to honeyed words and promises that they could be wonderful without claws. That he loved him, wouldn't leave him, just please don't hurt--
He was impossible. Falcon was right, and so he waited to do something correctly since this was a relatively small ask. His body quivered under the scrutiny, fighting back the urge to flinch away from the suddenfalconinfrontofhim. (He didn't know if it was anticipation or apprehension.)
Yes, anticipation and desire. And a hell of a lot of fear that ramped up to one hundred in an instant. Because his survival instincts were sharp -- if the experience left him with anything, it was hyper-awareness of his surroundings at all times and right now he was trapped. TRAPPED inside the elders den and Falcon was blocking the exit and Frozenberry's claws shot into the dirt to steady himself from the wave of vertigo, edges of his vision tunneling as his mind raced get out get out GET OUT NOW GET OUT
adrenaline activated. habits died hard. instincts didn't fade when they were the only thing that'd kept him alive as Falcon's former prisoner. GET OUT GET OUT Frozenberry's gaze darted. Seeking. Desperate. But they were in a HOLE. underground. no exit. no exit but the one he was blocking.
That impulsive spark was gone almost as soon as it ignited, and Fellcone was left blocking the near-stranger's path. He stared at this cat blankly, as if confused as to what he had done. He didn't.. A huff, and he broke his gaze to look anywhere else, the wall, the floor, whatever--
This cat seemed scared dungless, and he was not going to hold him by force. He wasn't sure why he had felt so compelled to stop him anyway, it's not like he liked him. Or knew him. Or.. anything. He was just some freak that seemed familiar, and Fellcone needed to stop thinking about him. It was getting his brain wires all crossed and frazzled. "Get out." It's a dismissal as he stepped aside, simmering. "Get out now."
On the bright side, perhaps this cat would stop pestering him. (but he didnt really want that, did he)
It.. disturbed Frozenberry that Falcon knew the frantic demands blaring in his headspace, the alert system that told him loud and clear he was in the path of danger while Falcon was literally in his path. Panicking. Trapped. Terror kept him in its thorny grasp. This was bad. Very bad.
It may not have been the same Falcon as he used to be. Maybe he didn't remember, maybe he'd released those memories, maybe he just didn't want to deal with it. Logically, he knew... was certain this didn't pose a threat, but logic was drowned out by fight or flight -- it looked like him, smelled like him, it WAS HIM, and this was too hauntingly familiar and he wasn't dealing with it.
He needed out. NOW. His pulse hammered, legs felt like stone. Even so, his preference for being alive won out.
As Frozen fled, Fellcone released the tension in his muscles and slumped to the ground. His mind was whirling a million miles, throbbing like a turbo jet blasted through it and left nothing but pain and fire in its wake. To steady himself, his paw reached for his temple and he sank his claws in. The difference in pain - physical vs invisible - had somewhat of a grounding effect on him. It made him feel more.. real, present. Like he wasn't in some wild ass circus where strangers looked familiar, and he wanted to chase them down and lay claim to his property.
He owned nothing, least of all someone. That alien compulsion that lingered in him was mind boggling, to say the least. And he was exhausted from it, he just wanted to take a nap.
Where was the handsome deputy when he needed a distraction?
The old she-cat turned her head as Fallownose entered. She purred at the sight of her son. "Fallownose, what a lovely suprise," she said, beckoning her son over with a flick of her tail. She blinked when Fallownose asked about Crowdapple. Shr shook her head. "No, i don't. I'm getting worried about her," " she mewed
[ @Lillian sorry for the sloppy responsr, my computer isn't working rn ]
Fallownose's yellow-amber eyes glowed with sadness as his mother spoke, and he padded over with a gentle smile. "I'm sure she's okay," he murmured as he sat down beside the elder, bending his head to try and gently groom her pelt.
"How have things been since the move? Have you settled in well?"
@nykyrian [If you want Crowdapple to join! Also pretending that it did not take me over a month to respond to this...]
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if i look back, i am lost
passive & healing powerplay permitted The Archives
At fifty-eight moons of age, Dapplebreeze did not consider herself an old cat. She had just the right amount of seasons to be in prime fighting condition and the wisdom to know better than to attempt hare brained strategies against less than honorable opponents. That said, it was truly disheartening to know just how few of WindClan's wonderful, capable warriors did not make it to old age, the elder's den near emptiness a testament to this sad truth of clan life. Unlike the sheltered, easy life the other clans held - surely must be, considering how much trouble they enjoyed seeking outside of their already overstocked borders - WindClan cats had to face a daily struggle against the elements, to hunt for prey, even to seek out the very herbs the medicine cats sought to tend to their wounds. It was an unending fight against nature, and the seasoned warrior loved every part of it.
There was no denying WindClan's superiority against the savages that played clan beyond their borders. The ones that killed on sight yet pretended to care about the warrior code or the honor that being a warrior carried with it. And yet even with this clear advantage over the others they had, there was one clear problem amongst their ranks of late. The apprentices were all a bunch of slobs. Look at this place! It was almost as if the young paws had forgotten that it was up to them to ensure the comfort and well being of the oldest that still walked among the living. For shame, truly. And yet... she couldn't blame the apprentices. Not really. Teaching such lessons fell on their mentors. Just like it had fallen on her with her lovely Moorpaw. And she'd failed, just like the rest of them.
Dainty, tan socked paws dug out dirty nesting material as the patched molly felt her ears burn with shame. So close. Her apprentice had been so close to assessment. She had gone to the apprentices' den, hoping to ask her how she felt about the idea, if she preferred having another warrior assess her for lack of bias. Dapplebreeze had to admit to having grown fond of the apprentice, perhaps becoming more blind to her faults than she cared to admit. But then... there were no faults, truly. A hot temper than could easily be molded, be directed towards the enemies. A lack of confidence that would vanish with time as she realized how capable she truly was. And yet she had gone. Vanished with the breeze. Just like her Bravebird. And her troublemaker Ryepaw. Perhaps... perhaps the problem did not lie in the other mentors. Maybe the problem was her?
A sigh escaped the former queen, sorrow making it shaky, holding back tears with the help of pride that refused to let go. Refused to become a bumbling mess. She had already messed up enough, not realizing that her darling had been missing something. Must have been something dreadful that she had missed... to have gone away from WindClan. Dapplebreeze wondered if it was too late to start over. Perhaps a third litter? New young ones to love and care for. She did miss being a queen, and with no apprentice to care for, none of her own kits still living, she dared hope for a moment that perhaps this was a sign that she should try for kits once more, only to dissuade the option entirely a second later.
She may not be an old molly, but she was certainly not young. Definitely not young enough to consider most of WindClan's eligible, single candidates as romantic options for herself. With a scoff, she knew she'd been through this train of process before. When her two kits had... well, gone. She'd arrived to the same conclusion then as she did now. Blue eyes considerably duller as she felt a wave of loneliness creep on her, Dapplebreeze carried the scrapped nesting material outside, deciding to focus instead on the task at paw.
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| Open |
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Lightningstorm is WindClan's current medicine cat.
She has a semi-closed den policy.
Goldenpaw he/him | WindClan Apprentice
Kitty Softpaws - always active
With little fanfare, Goldenpaw padded into the Elders' Den and set down three pieces of prey: a vole, a mouse, and a bird. It was a conscious effort on his part not to looked annoyed as he checked the den for anyone who might want them. He was quite proud of his prey, of course, and thankful that Deadmoon hadn't just up and turned him into Twilightstar for being out of camp alone, but why did the prey have to go to the elders? Couldn't he give it to cats who were actually providing for the Clan?
Instead of saying anything, Goldenpaw sat before his prey and cleared his throat to grab anyone's attention.
he/him | WindClan Apprentice Kitty Softpaws - always active
Oh, someone actually wanted the prey! Despite his unwillingness to be in this den, he felt a rush of pride knowing that someone appreciated the fruits of his labor (or Deadmoon’s labor, he supposed, since she was the one who caught the bird. Still.) Goldenpaw dipped his head to Oatwhisker politely.
After side-eyeing the last two pieces of prey and trying to ignore his own hunger, he meowed, “Would you like me to leave these here for the other elders?”
[ @SandWing sorry for the late response! i hadn’t noticed someone responded ^^ ]
Re: WindClan Elders' Den
