Private Camp AND IT'S BEEN AWHILE = ] dreaming / ghoststrike [

[THUNDERFLASH]

{$title} tw for descriptions of a nightmare, flashbacks, homo/transphobia, parental abuse, and a bit of gore!

Moonlight gilds the camp through clouds. It drizzles softly outside, the aftermath of a greenleaf storm soaking through the territory to promise for a wet hunt tomorrow morning. Bugs barely chirp but the frogs of the forest are loud, soaking in what puddles the storm produced. In the warrior's den, it's a different scene. It isn't peaceful, partially moonlit lands that drip with the promise of new beginnings. There's a shake and tremor to a warrior's shoulders as he rests, paws twitching and rapid breathing leaving him. It's the way it haunts him- it isn't just occasionally, it's nearly every night now.

Blood red eyes stare down baby blues. His cruel mouth is twisted open, spitting profanities at him. Him, him!. Thunder insists. He is no longer who his father wanted him to be. He's flung on his side, facing up at the leader of their colony, his father, who spits and stakes his claim on controlling Thunder's life. That the boy that he had crept out with to just share a night together would be tried for what was occuring. That Thunder himself would be guarded night and day, now, since he could not be trusted on his own.

"Do you think yourself funny, girl?" His father spits, lips pulled back to reveal savage fangs. Thunder has watched his father take lives with those fangs, gleaming things that kill. His vision shifts from the life stealers to his father's blood red eyes, bloodshot. "It isn't funny! You are who I say you are, and nothing more. No more delusions of becoming a son, or changing your name, of inheriting the throne just because you say so." There's a giggle somewhere behind his father, and Thunder flattened his ears, speaking himself now. "That isn't true!" He blinks directly after, and that was his mistake. Leaving his guard down, thinking that there wouldn't be physical consequence. Thunder's Father slammed a paw across his face, unsheathed, leaving a nick in his chin.

The air rushes from his lungs. Vision lifts to blood red, gleaming, cruel, angry, uncaring. Thunder's lip curls, and his Father lifts a paw again-

The Storm Guard sits straight up, trying to suck air into his lungs. There was never any use fighting the nightmares these days. No use trying to drag air into his lungs when these nightmares flung him straight into panic attacks. He pushes to his paws, staggering out of the den and slipping into moonlight, shrouded with rain that dampens his pelt. He keeps moving, heading towards Serpentberry's den. He can't breathe, or think. His body is moving on autopilot. But it isn't his best friend who he stops to see. No, he's pressing past the den, standing in front of the meager crack in the wall where Ghoststrike slept. Water steadily begins to drip from his chin, and he isn't sure if it's rain or tears.

Ghoststrike has seen him quite literally at.. well, not his actual worse, but one of the worst. Dying, bleeding out, side dripping with sluggish maroon. Ghoststrike revived him, dragged him through the forest, and now... now that they settled and became Storm Guards, the both of them... they haven't seen each other as much. Thunderflash had always made a point of trying to include the once stranger. He remembers being stuck in that log with the brute, wondering if he hated the rain. There's no blood dripping from his chin, which is a relief as he looks down at his paws, vision searching the crack to see Ghoststrike's no-longer-slumbering body. He had woke him up, probably, just simply coming around the side of Serpentberry's den.

"... Can I..?" Thunderflash asks. He doesn't even know what he's asking for. Hell, he probably looks crazy, fur standing on end despite the way the drizzling drives at it, eyes bloodshot and sunken, clearly not well rested.

_________ I'M LIVING LIKE A LANDMINE ☆ WAITING TO EXPLODE ! ______________

• "speech"
  // @GHOSTSTRIKE
  

• 

• THUNDERFLASH he/him, thunderclan storm guard, twenty-six moons.
  ☆ a sh/lh chocolate tabby with low white and stunning baby blue eyes. stands of average height with a 'mohawk' and spiky-shaped mane.
  ☆ mentored by n/a / mentoring hopepaw
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[GHOSTSTRIKE]

I WONT SMILE, BUT I'LL SHOW YOU MY TEETH

___________________________________________________________________​

Ghoststrike did not dream. Not in any way that mattered. Not anymore.

Sleep was a dead thing to him, shallow and thin, always waiting for the next distant snap of a twig or the muted sound of someone breathing in the shadows. The sort of rest that wasn't rest at all. But the alternative was worse, not an escape from the present, but a nightmarish portal to the past.

So he slept light, and woke frequently. Never let himself go that deep or stayed under long enough for it to catch him. At least, until the exhaustion caught up enough to finally pull him under.

So, when the soft scrape of pawsteps reached him over the familiar backdrop of falling rain, he was already hallways to waking. One ear swivelling, the twitch of a torn appendage pinpointing on the way the once clear sound of falling rain seemed to dampen (no pun intended) as the rain went from pattering against the stone and puddles of the quarry ground, to the fur of a living, breathing animal.

His breathing slowed, not from sleep but from instinct– eyes still shut, body still, waiting. Measuring the weight of the silence that followed the steps. But silence could lie. Especially in the rain. So he opened his eyes, slowly, and stared out into the dark beyond his den's opening.

There, silhouetted against the faint sheen of silver moonlight catching on wet stone, stood a familiar shape.

Thunderflash.

Frustratingly so, he felt the stiffness in his shoulder abate some at the sight of the other tom, as if his body had already decided this wasn't something to worry about– as if Thunderflash himself could not be whatever threat he was expecting.

And that, in itself, was dangerous.

As tempted as he was to send them off just to prove a point to himself, the sense that something was wrong was hard to ignore. Thunderflash didn't come to his door like this. Respected what space and privacy Ghoststrike had. So the fact that he was standing there in the rain at this hour of night meant something, even if the distress hadn't been painted clear as day on their face.

"...Can I…?"

For a moment, the silence was only broken by the rainfall as he seemed to study them through the drizzle.

Not because he hadn't heard. Not because he hadn't noticed the tremor in Thunderflashs paws or the way his ears pressed low, as if the sound of his own voice was something shameful. Not even because he wasn't sure of what the answer was going to be.

He just needed a moment, to accept how quickly the answer had come to him.

Thunderflash had been distant lately– less laughter, less hovering. Less of him in general. And as much as it'd disrupted the routine he'd built for himself, Ghost had accepted it. Had told himself it was better this way. Cleaner.

But now that same cat was standing there, half drowned and shaking, asking for something that shouldn't have been so easily given.

And Ghost couldn't bring himself to turn them away.

This cat, who'd somehow managed to bleed through the cracks in his defences, like sunlight pouring through the cracks in a stone wall. Why was it so hard to tell them 'no'? Why was everything simultaneously so much harder and so much easier when it was them?

Resigned to his fate– and hating himself for it– he shifted in his nest, not to rise, but to make space.

"Get in." he said at last, gaze shifting to look at anything else despite his tone leaving no room for argument.

He didn't know why the chocolate tabby was seeking him out all of a sudden. A part of him didn't care. Was just silently relieved to sit among the warmth of the sun once more– even if it was dimmer, tonight, burdened by clouds and storms Ghost hadn't known were clinging to the horizon.

Besides, it wasn't the first time he'd be forced into close quarters with other cats. No, there'd been plenty of that with the Coalition-- entire patrols crammed beneath cars for days while dogs tried to dig them out, or winter-starved bodies packed tight on frozen concrete in an attempt not to freeze to death during the brutal winters. None of it appreciate or preferred, but endured all the same.

For some reason, it didn't feel like something to 'endure' now. Didn't seem like something he would suffer for.

Not in the way he was used to, at least.

​

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —​
• mentoring Rattlepaw
  no living relations
  unwelcomed/uninvited/unexpected physical contact may result in hostility/retaliation
  thunderclan stormguard- male - a sh black smoke tabby with low white and dark amber eyes. has a white mask and 'bone' markings on the knuckles of his paws. known for his towering size and multitude of scars

  ​

 

[THUNDERFLASH]

The silence yawns, just like it had in the moments before he escaped that hell of a warrior's den. Crowded, too many faces close to him. Too many lives. He normally thrived amongst the masses, lived as a social butterfly, but the fact that it set him off more then anything, the need to hide from them, was concerning. What was more concerning, despite the nightmare that had threatened him again tonight, it drove him right into the paws of the individual he feared was causing it. Nausea tumbled for a moment as Ghoststrike didn't answer, the apathetic part of him ready to say forget it and to try and find another desperate nook to tuck himself into while it rained. Then Ghoststrike was moving, and he was sure something was going to hit his head-

But all he did was move astride. Baby blue eyes widened briefly at the sight of Ghoststrike making space for him. For him? No, that couldn't be right. Despite the negativity in his mind, the way his side ached, Ghoststrike's timber still urged him to get in. And sure, that's... maybe what his heart and body wanted, but his mind was still catching up, somewhere else entirely. Thunderflash's head dipped down, ears burning with not romantic imagination but one of embarrassment. That he even needed to seek help with this, such an old pain in his soul. But he didn't wait for Ghoststrike to change his answer, either, even as the rain dripped down around them, muting the sound of other cats in camp.

Chocolate fur brushed against the darker tabby's as he slipped in, carefully turning around in the small crack. He imagined it was already cramped enough with Ghoststrike's larger body, but with him jammed in here now, they were snug together again. He doesn't bother trying to pull away like he had in the log, though he isn't pressing into Ghoststrike either. Their shoulder were touching, his flank brushing against Ghoststrike's with each breath, but he didn't complain or try to move away. It.. it helped. It lifted a weight off of his shoulders, even just settled next to the masked tom. He felt like he could breathe... but sleep was another story.

Achingly tired eyes slid close as he lowered his head to his paws, quietly speaking to Ghoststrike. "M' sorry. I'll.. make up for i' another time. Build y' a new nest so i' doesn't reek of me or somethin'." He manages, a sore attempt at humor.

_________ I'M LIVING LIKE A LANDMINE ☆ WAITING TO EXPLODE ! ______________

• "speech"
  

• 

• THUNDERFLASH he/him, thunderclan storm guard, twenty-six moons.
  ☆ a sh/lh chocolate tabby with low white and stunning baby blue eyes. stands of average height with a 'mohawk' and spiky-shaped mane.
  ☆ mentored by n/a / mentoring hopepaw
  ☆ whichever relations / want listed
  ☆ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ☆ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

 

[GHOSTSTRIKE]

I WONT SMILE, BUT I'LL SHOW YOU MY TEETH

___________________________________________________________________​

While the decision to let Thunderflash in had been frustratingly easy, keeping his head clear was decidedly not. Because now that the other Stormguard was settling into his nest beside him, nearly flush against his side, he couldn't keep the thought of that traitorous dream out of his head. How could he, when it was now halfway true?

Halfway, because this wasn't the imagined softness he'd been tormented by in his sleep. This was real, and volatile, and a far cry in circumstances. Damp fur. Shaking breath. The fading scent of fear and panic still clinging to their pelt beneath the dampness of the rain.

"M' sorry. I'll.. make up for i' another time. Build y' a new nest so i' doesn't reek of me or somethin'."

Ghost blinked slowly, dark eyes watching the other where they lay beside him with eyes already closed. A part of him thought to tease them about how quick they were to make themselves comfortable, but the part of him that knew the other tom would never ask to invade his space like this knew that whatever had them finding such quick comfort in Ghosts nest, must have been bad enough to drive them across the lines they normally only toed at.

"It's fine." he said, voice low in the darkness, but not quite soft. He didn't do soft– not well, at least– but he had made peace with the consequences of letting this happen. "I've slept in worse smelling places."

It was meant to mirror the others attempt to joke, but it fell a little flat even to his own ears, too distracted to deliver properly. Whatever exhaustion was dragging the other down had all but left Ghost by now, a half-dozen reasons to stay awake circling in his mind like sharks waiting to frenzy. So he tried to keep things tactical, told himself he was doing this because it was the right thing to do as a Stormguard even though he couldn't imagine letting another cat share in the same privilege had they come looking.

Insisted that the concern he felt over the damp fur and the seeping chill whenever their shoulders brushed was nothing more than a product of obligation from one Thunderclan warrior to another.

It would have been easy to look away and pretend he didn't notice. Thunderflash was nothing short of capable, and if they'd cared about catching a chill they would have taken the time to groom themselves dry before settling in. Any other day under any other circumstances, Ghoststrike might have been compelled to let him face the consequences of his actions, but tonight it felt wrong. Whatever had driven the other tom into his nest had left him shaken and vulnerable, and something bristled violently in his chest at the thought of leaving them unprotected in any capacity.

And if Thunderflash couldn't take care of himself right now, that made it Ghoststrikes problem.

Because it's my job.

That's what he told himself, anyways, as he shifted to sit up.

"Wet as a dog." he grumbled, but didn't move away. "Medicine cat'll cuff you like a kit if you waste her herbs on a summer cold."

He wasn't sure if they were even awake enough to hear the poor excuse. Maybe it was better that way.

He started at the shoulder– a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue through sodden fur. Grooming wasn't something he did in a social capacity, though he could sometimes be persuaded to linger nearby whenever Thunderflash and the rest of the clan 'shared tongues' at the end of the day. But necessity made for strange bedfellows.

And that's what he was calling this– something necessary. No different from cleaning a wound, this was just Ghoststrike keeping his fellow Stormguard in working order. Nothing more, nothing less.

​

OOC NOTES . ◭ . CHARACTER INFO

• ooc : —​
• mentoring Rattlepaw
  no living relations
  unwelcomed/uninvited/unexpected physical contact may result in hostility/retaliation
  thunderclan stormguard- male - a sh black smoke tabby with low white and dark amber eyes. has a white mask and 'bone' markings on the knuckles of his paws. known for his towering size and multitude of scars

  ​