We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Aug 10, 2020 20:07:23 GMT -5
It had been a long night. As a warrior, Newtstripe was expected to perform other duties beyond simply helping Shadowchaser and Smokefur collect herbs and chief among them was hunting. Newtstripe understood the necessity of hunting - everything had to eat, after all - but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. In the many seasons he had spent in the warriors den, he had become better about not dragging his paws when he was assigned to those particular patrols, but tonight, he had found it particularly hard to muster up the will to put forth his best effort. The hours had crawled. And the forest had felt particularly lonely without Shadowchaser's quiet presence by his side. All night, he had felt the absence of his best friend like a thorn in his paw; they spent so much time wandering these woods together that going without him felt as unnatural as if he had stepped into the sun and turned around to find that he had cast no shadow. Newtstripe snickered - he was missing his Shadow. He would have to tell Shadowchaser that one. An ear flicked as an embarrassed heat rushed through him at the thought. Maybe he would keep that one to himself...
When he told Newtstripe he wanted him to stop by the den when he returned from his patrol, the younger medicine cat's golden eyes had glowed as warm as the sun against the backdrop of his dark fur. He had a surprise for him, apparently, and the orange tabby would be lying if he claimed that the prospect of finding out whatever made Shadowchaser smile like that hadn't also distracted him from the hunting he was supposed to be doing. It had been a while since the other tom had looked so satisfied.
The familiar pungent aroma of herbs that he had come to associate with the medicine cat den and its inhabitants no longer made his nose wrinkle as he poked his head into the entrance. "Shadowchaser?" In the moons during and following the extended hostilities with TreeClan, the den had become a second home. though his formal training had consisted of typical warrior duties and nothing more, Newtstripe had found himself working more with the medicine cats than other warriors. He acted as another set of paws around the end of the war, spending long nights helping Smokefur and Shadowchaser collect herbs from their various locations around NightClan territory and fetching those easily recognizable herbs from the stores while his friend performed his magic. Even under the stress of the war, they made a great team, working together with the comfort and familiarity of friends. More often than not, Newtstripe had woken the next day, confused and disoriented, to find himself pressed up against a slumber Shadowchaser's side, with only hazy memories of heavy limbs and heavier eyelids from the night before to tell him why he wasn't in his own nest in the warrior's den. Exhaustion of both the emotional and physical kind was a constant companion when clan mates were returning battered and bloodied from the border, but at least Shadowchaser didn't seem to mind when Newtstripe collapsed beside him as soon as they had finished taking care of their last patient of the day.
It was nice having Shadowchaser there, Newtstripe reflected while his gaze drifted toward the empty nest tucked away off to the side of the den. He settled himself down by the entrance of the den to wait. As the hostilities settled and peace returned, so too had he returned to his usual nest in the warrior's den - but that didn't stop him from quietly missing the warmth of their shared nest. For a cat who had spent the better part of his life sleeping alone, it was incredible how quickly he had become accustomed to having someone else there. Though they shared the same space, warriors did not tend to mingle with any cat other than close friends or family in the den, and sleeping next to someone was not the same as curling up with them.
It wasn't even close.
But that was fine. Right? It wasn't like he needed Shadowchaser there to sleep. It had just been nice.
Really nice. Fawn | background image
Note to self: "a remnant of an encounter the foxes that invaded the valley, he has a large scar across the right side of his face that has partially blinded him in that eye. the fur along his left shoulder also bears a faint scar from the battle."
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Post by Fawn on Aug 22, 2020 20:53:47 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser Shadowchaser's face wasn't the first thing Newtstripe saw upon the medicine cat's return. Rather, it was the generous gathering of oak-leafed twigs, dirt clinging to Shadowchaser's fur as he maneuvered his head sideways to fit his strange parcel into the den. Resisting the urge to sneeze, Shadowchaser took the twigs to a nook in the corner away from the stocks of herbs, setting the bundle down near his own nest. As soon as his jaws were free and his face no longer obscured, Shadowchaser let out a warm purr, tail raised and curling gently into a shepherd's crook at the tip. "I have something to show you!" He kept his voice hushed, keeping a wary ear out for the sound of clumsy kit paws or overly curious apprentices. This wasn't something that needed a lot of attention - at least not from those who would treat it like a toy. Or worse, *try to eat it*.
Beckoning Newtstripe over, Shadowchaser carefully pushed a paw into the tangle of twigs where the old twigs met the new. "Be very, very still. Do you see what I see?" Golden eyes fixed, he didn't have to focus hard to notice that one of the assorted twigs was... moving. That one of the twigs seemed to have... legs and antennae. The stickbug's touch was so light, Shadowchaser didn't feel it, but instead watched with tremendous pride as the creature slowly stepped onto his paw. When he was sure the creature wouldn't fall off, Shadowchaser held up his front limb, speaking in an excited, hushed whisper. "I found this little one when I was out collecting oak leaves. Just look at it, Newtstripe. A bug that looks like a *twig*. What a clever thing. I wanted to share our twig friend as soon as I brought them back, but Clovermask had you on patrol. I went out to get our twig friend more twigs to hide in, so they'd feel safe here."
It was clear by Shadowchaser's tone that trying to keep the stickbug a secret had been a little taxing. With his heart in his ears, he coyly tried to study Newtstripe's face, hoping it would light up with wonder the way he'd imagined it would. The way he'd hoped it would. Twiggy brought back memories of tending for Feathers, when he and Newtstripe had been little more than acquaintances, and Newtstripe had entrusted him with a secret. A life.
The situation carefully crawling through Shadowchaser's fur was nowhere near as dire. But the parallels were there, and Shadowchaser couldn't ignore the nostalgic warmth that made him want to stand even closer to Newtstripe and shut the world out so they could have this moment of serenity. medicine cat of nightclan Phoenix | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Sept 3, 2020 20:08:04 GMT -5
The sound of familiar paw steps approaching the den had Newtstripe turning with a smile and anticipation bubbling up in his chest, but instead of greeting the expected dark-furred face and glowing golden eyes, he was met with a bundle of leafy twigs and a layer of dirt. Pale green eyes widened as he scrambled to his paws, moving quickly out of the way so that Shadowchaser could squeeze by. Curiosity had his tail twitching in the air behind him as he followed his friend deep into the den, where he watched the medicine cat carefully add the new twigs to a small pile tucked into the far corner. What is this? Another smile began to tug at the corners of his lips.
He stepped forward when beckoned, orange fur brushing lightly against black in the small space, and eyes drifted from Shadowchaser’s eager expression to the pile of twigs. Newtstripe gazed at the cluster for a moment – and then he let out a quiet gasp. “A stick bug!” Face alight with wonder, the warrior carefully tucked his paws beneath him and crouched down for closer examination. Stick bugs were not uncommon in NightClan’s forest, but Newtstripe had always thought the little insects were particularly clever with their camouflage. The slender creature looked so delicate with its long spindly legs, and bright green eyes followed its cautious path as it daintily stepped onto Shadowchaser’s paw. Warm fondness crashed over Newtstripe like a tidal wave as he watched his friend hold the stick bug. Shadowchaser was a good cat; where another might have crushed the little insect, intentionally or otherwise, this dark-furred feline carefully lifted it for a better view. A quiet purr began to rumble deep in his chest, only growing in strength as he listened to the medicine cat’s story.
“If I’d known this is what the surprise was,” He murmured, unable to stop smiling. “I’d have skipped patrol and come straight here.” A pause. Newtstripe, who suddenly realized that he had gotten distracted fondly watching Shadowchaser fondly watch the stick bug, quickly fixed his gaze back on the little creature. “Shadowchaser, he’s so cute. It was such a good idea to get more twigs; I think you’ve made him feel right at home here.” Leaning upward and forward ever so slightly, Newtstripe carefully gave the stick bug a gentle sniff. It froze. He froze. And then, swaying in a nonexistent breeze, it carefully reached out with one spindly leg and stepped onto his nose.
As still as a stone, the warrior squinted and went cross eyed as he watched the slender creature step from Shadowchaser’s fur onto his, before it disappeared from sight as it crawled onto his forehead. Delighted pale green eyes found golden ones that glowed like the sun. Newtstripe beamed at his friend, trying with marginal success to stifle his quiet laughter to avoid dislodging the insect resting on his head. “Did you know, Shadowchaser, that this little guy could regrow a limb if he lost one? I think that's incredible,” He breathed, excitement evident in his tone despite the low volume. “Does he have a name yet?”
Fawn | background image
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Post by Fawn on Oct 8, 2020 22:32:07 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser Newtstripe's reaction was everything he hoped it would be. Shadowchaser lowered the paw that had supported the nearly non-existant weight of the stickbug, but the tingling sensation remained, and spread throughout his entire body like stepping into a cool pool of water. Newtstripe's happiness was a mirror of his own, and every time their eyes met, his heart fluttered uncontrollably.
It was astonishing, to think that they could experience so much grief and heartache - sometimes together, sometimes apart - but still take such joy in these little things. To their Clanmates, this stickbug was nothing. To Shadowchaser and Newtstripe, it was a life worth protecting, worth paying attention to. Watching the stickbug slowly walk into the furred space between Newtstripe's ears gave him an excuse to study his Clanmate's face, the questions the ginger tom fielded him unintentionally distant as they clashed with the sound of his own heartbeat.
"No, no name yet. I thought we could name him together." Though he'd been mentally referring to the stickbug as Twiggy, the name was simply a placeholder as he immediately got attached to the little creature. Now that Newtstripe was here, the ginger tom's opinion carried more weight to Shadowchaser than his own. Newtstripe had a special love for the creatures that inhabited this forest, and that gentility and respect was one of the many, many things he loved about Newtstripe.
Taken aback by the bug's ability to regenerate a limb, Shadowchaser laughed softly, leaning in towards the ginger M marking on Newtstripe's face to get a good look at their newest friend. "Well that's certainly good news. Makes me feel better about our chances of keeping him alive here in the den." Great StarClan, when had they gotten so close? In his efforts to see the stickbug (which was now trying to walk behind Newtstripe's ear), they were nearly nose to nose, close enough that when he spoke, Shadowchaser's whiskers brushed ever so faintly against Newtstripe's.
The skin hidden beneath dark chestnut fur was set aflame, and he took a shy step back, gaze averting to the pile of twigs as he stammered into further conversation. "I-I don't know how Smokefur is going to react to it, but as long as our new friend doesn't eat any of the herbs, I think she'll let him stay." Shadowchaser blinked, smiling amicably even as he still felt the heat swarming around his face and neck, as if he'd gotten too close to his own personal piece of the sun.
Like the slow drip of honey from its comb, thoughts of Kindleflare and her talk of preferences, the steady realization that it was possible to love another cat of the same gender as one's own, trickled into Shadowchaser's consciousness. His heart rate increased at a jagged pace, and he suddenly felt stifled; stifled and a little scared of what that meant. Surely he and Newtstripe were just friends. He was a medicine cat, he didn't allow himself to fall in love, surely he'd know it if he had?
Surely StarClan would have warned him, scolded him even, for harboring such affections? It couldn't be such an uncontrollable thing. He and Newtstripe were companionable, and he valued the tom very, very much. As dearly as his littermates. But that didn't make it love. At least... At least not the kind that had tamed the likes of Blackwolf and Hollowcry and other difficult, uncompromising toms such as they.
This was just friendship. Friendship. medicine cat of nightclan Phoenix | 576 Words | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Oct 11, 2020 20:08:41 GMT -5
A shy, pleased smile flitted across Newtstripe’s face, and he glanced away from the intensity of Shadowchaser’s golden eyes. He always liked it when the two of them did something together; that the medicine cat had waited for him to be there when they decided on a name for their new little friend had something in his chest fluttering on butterfly wings. A name… The warrior closed his eyes, picturing the slender creature as he tried to come up with a suitable suggestion. “You’re better at this than I am,” He admitted quietly, opening his eyes again to try to gauge the medicine cat’s reaction to his suggestion. “But what about Twigs?” A pause. “He came in on twigs and he, um, obviously looks like a twig, so I thought…?”
The sound of Shadowchaser’s soft laugh had Newtstripe smiling in return and the butterfly wings in his chest fluttering even faster. With the stick bug out of sight, Newtstripe found his gaze drifting instead to the dark furred medicine cat, basking in the genuine joy that lit up the other tom’s handsome features. Golden eyes, fixed as they were on the insect he could feel stepping behind his ear, glowed as bright and warm as the sun, and a sudden rush of gratitude toward his past self – gratitude for daring to seek the assistance of this wonderful cat so many seasons ago – threatened to overwhelm him. Never had he ever thought he might find, let alone somehow befriend, another cat who held the same regard for non-feline life as he did, not in this clan where strength and fighting prowess mattered most, yet here stood Shadowchaser, marveling at the little twig-like insect alongside him.
A medicine cat was duty-bound to show consideration for his clan mates, but such obligations did not extend to the other creatures of the forest. Newtstripe didn’t think he would ever be able to find the words to properly explain to his friend just how much he appreciated him and his patience, how his chest felt tight and breath came short – but in an inexplicably good way – every time the other tom smiled like he was doing now: peacefully and without reservation. To think that he had almost lost this friendship, this amazing cat, and all of these happy, quiet moments of wonder… But such thoughts had no place here, not where he was surrounded by the comforting evidence that the hypothetical future he feared had never come to pass: Shadowchaser’s scent, his voice, and of course, the wonderful cat himself.
They were standing so close. When their whiskers brushed, Newtstripe froze, wondering if perhaps he had simply imagined the contact that had set his heart thundering in his chest. A moment simultaneously stretched into a lifetime and collapsed into a single heartbeat. He didn’t breathe. But then Shadowchaser stepped back and his breath returned.
A small part of the orange furred warrior was, strangely enough, tempted to step closer to regain that heart-stopping and breath-stealing proximity, but his legs had suddenly frozen to the ground. He could not move.
Shadowchaser, uncharacteristically flustered, stammered something about Smokefur, and mention of the elderly she-cat suddenly reminded Newtstripe that little Twigs’ new residence was not yet guaranteed. A thin needle of anxiety threatened to pop the warm bubble of joy that had settled in his chest. He knew Smokefur, of course – one did not spend as much time around the medicine cat den as he did and not know its other inhabitant – but though they got along well enough, she was no Shadowchaser. When Newtstripe spoke with Smokefur, he couldn’t help but be painfully aware of the fact that he was speaking with an esteemed medicine cat, someone whose opinion mattered, and nerves had his words stumbling over each other as they tumbled out of his mouth accordingly. Not that Shadowchaser wasn’t also an esteemed medicine cat whose opinion mattered – he very much was – but it was – it was different. Somehow. It just was.
“We’ll bring him so much food, he’ll be too full to eat anything here,” The tabby warrior promised, unable to hide his concern at the thought of Twigs being found and cast out – or worse, trampled like the pest he knew most cats considered him. “Stick bugs eat leaves and berries, so we won’t have to worry about catching insects for him. They’re not too picky either. As long as we keep him away from the herb stores and give him easier access to other fresh foods, he should be fine.” He couldn’t help feeling like he was trying to convince himself of that more than anyone else.
It was stupid, really, how much the thought of sharing Twigs with another cat shook him. Of course Smokefur would have to be told; it was her den too. He should have expected it, yet somehow he had thought Twigs would be like Feathers, a secret kept just between him and Shadowchaser, where he knew it would be safe. He knew Smokefur was a good cat, but when it came to matters like these, she was, ultimately, an unknown entity. But maybe Shadowchaser knew? “Does – does she know?” He found himself blurting, unable to stop the words before they left his mouth and immediately regretting it when they did. “About this,” He tried to clarify, gesturing with his tail between the two of them. “Us. And… Twigs.” And Feathers. And their penchant for rescuing other little creatures.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Shadowchaser had done something incredibly special for him, and all it took was the tiniest sliver of uncertainty – unwarranted uncertainty because Smokefur was a good cat, right? – and here was Newtstripe, unfairly doubting his friend’s confidence in his mentor, whom he would know far better than the warrior, and ruining their pleasant night. “Sorry,” He said quickly, unable to meet those warm, sun-like eyes and staring instead at the wall over Shadowchaser’s shoulder. “Sorry, I know she won’t hurt him – I just –“
I just don’t want him or you or me to get hurt if something goes wrong.
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Post by Fawn on Dec 7, 2020 20:50:57 GMT -5
curiosity is not a sin... ...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity Shadowchaser “Does – does she know? About this, Us. And… Twigs.”
That wording sent a prickle of anxiety straight into Shadowchaser's heart, a glimmer of panic reflect ed on the golden surface of his gaze as he deciphered Newtstripe's meaning. U-Us? "Smokefur's not a cruel cat. She wouldn't hurt Twigs." Shadowchaser's brow was gently furrowed as he tried to assuage Newtstripe's fears.
"T-That's what you're worried about, right? I trust her. I didn't tell her about Feathers, because that's...well, complicated." He hated to say it but Feathers was a bird, a bird small enough to join the freshkill pile had they been coldhearted enough to end Feathers' suffering another way...
But Twigs was a bug. He didn't belong on any freshkill pile or in the bellies of their Clanmates. Defending Twigs felt less guilt inducing, and for that he was grateful. In a softer voice, Shadowchaser put on his best smile, wanting Newtstripe to feel good about this - to be happy about this little gift of nature they were sharing - even if it meant more work for him in the long run. "I won't let anything happen to Twigs. If it gets to be unsafe, then we can take him to the loveliest part of the valley to live. Does... Does that sound okay?"
But what about us? Was this friendship something he needed to protect, to hide, too? There was nothing wrong with a warrior and a medicine cat being friends. Nothing wrong with one smile from Newtstripe making his whole day. Nothing wrong with falling asleep against the handsome ginger tom, sharing events of the day.
Unless it…wasn't just friendship. Shadowchaser felt that confusing fear creep back in and brush it's claws down his spine. How could Newtstripe - the way Newtstripe made him feel - suddenly be so frightening?
Shadowchaser swallowed a dry lump in his throat, trying to combat the sensation of being overwhelmed. This is fine. Stop freaking out. You don't have anything to be uncomfortable over. You're just overreacting. StarClan, he hoped those words were true. medicine cat of nightclan Phoenix | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix
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We are born with a DNA blueprint into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control |
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Co-Captain
INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Feb 20, 2021 13:02:06 GMT -5
A quiet voice, soft in tone but firm in its conviction, broke through his silent self-recrimination for ruining what had been a lovely moment with unfounded fears. An ear flicked. Shadowchaser, eternally patient, didn't sound annoyed at him for doubting the character of his mentor, and after taking a moment to pull his head above the crashing waves of self-chastisement and anxiety, he turned his gaze from the wall over a dark-furred shoulder back to sun-like eyes. With slight concern written across his features, Shadowchaser didn't look annoyed either as he clarified Newtstripe's poorly articulated fears - the warrior closed his eyes and nodded in silent response to the other tom's question: yes, that's what he was worried about - and then spoke of his trust for Smokefur. Newtstripe let out the shallow breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and replaced it with a deep one, trying to let his best friend's soothing confidence wash over him. Compared to struggling to stay afloat among the tumultuous waves of minutes before, listening to the medicine cat's calming promises felt like letting himself slowly sink beneath the quiet surface of a gentle pool of water. He knew Smokefur. He didn't think Shadowchaser was wrong, but-- No, he trusted Shadowchaser, and Shadowchaser trusted Smokefur.
If Twigs was in danger, Shadowchaser would know.
When he opened his eyes again, Shadowchaser was smiling in what had quickly become Newtstripe's second favorite way. If the first was loud in its unreserved nature, full of wonder, and completely genuine in the way that only happened when the smiler was so caught up in the moment that he was unaware of his own expression, then this second favorite way was the exact opposite: a quiet, private smile shared between just the two of them, replacing the mischievous glint of partners in crime with the warm affection of partners in... something else. Newtstripe's thoughts skittered sideways. He and Shadowchaser shared a lot of things; they shared tongues and prey and work duties and sometimes a nest, but they also shared friendship and time and thoughts and now Twigs. Was that what they were doing by sharing all of that, becoming partners in - in something?
Partners in what? And wasn't that what friendship was, being partners in... whatever friends were partners in?
Newtstripe blinked. He wanted to ask Shadowchaser, but the smile that had illuminated the medicine cat's face had knocked the air out of Newtstripe's lungs and Shadowchaser was still talking about Twigs anyway. He looked at his best friend as he promised earnestly that if Twigs was in danger, they would find the loveliest part of the valley for him to live in, and his chest suddenly felt like it would explode with the fondness he felt for this special tom. Who else in NightClan would take the time to not only carefully set aside a stick bug but also give him twigs and leaves to hide in and then also commit to protecting his safety and happiness as best he could? How had Newtstripe been so lucky to earn the friendship of this wonderful, compassionate tom? He swallowed and realized belatedly that he had simply been staring and had indicated his agreement only in his head. Hastily, he nodded again, unable to quite find the words to express how much Shadowchaser's reassurances - that he would not only find a safe spot in the valley, but find the loveliest spot in the valley for the little stick bug crawling back around somewhere on his forehead - had meant to him.
"T-Thank you, Shadowchaser," He tried, voice scratchy with some sort of emotion before he cleared his throat and continued, "For everything. For Twigs and, um--" A pause "--for being my friend." Something hung in the air for a moment, suffocating but maybe it wasn't overwhelming in an entirely bad way. Unable to continue holding his friend's gaze, Newtstripe glanced away.
And then a stick bug foot landed in his eye. Fawn | background image
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