Territory surely did some lousy things — walk with a ghost

[DIMMINGSUN]

Dimmingsun has had set paw in countless locations before, but he thinks the open moor has to be one of his favorites. Luckily, too; if he had been taken into another Clan with his injury, he might have encountered issues. The swamp or the riverlands don't appear too appealing. The former would certainly bog him down, and the latter... well, he has never tried to swim. He could be naturally talented at it, or he could sink the moment he set foot underwater. It's certainly not worth the risk.

The gentle breeze caresses him as he waltzes through long tufts of grass. All around him, the hills roll this way and that way, sometimes dipping and sometimes rising—hiding secrets all the same. He will need time to familiarize himself with every nook and cranny of WindClan, but he is up to the task.

His gaze stops on the far forms of two cats; one he recognizes as Merrystalk's, and the other... Dimmingsun doubts he's seen that one before, but the Clan is big enough for that to be a possibility. The tom could be a tunneler. It's an easy way for their paths to scarcely cross, anyway.

Dimmingsun bounds up to them, not at all worried that his presence may not be welcome.

"Mind if I join you two?"

He shakes his mane when something carried by the wind settles upon it.

"There's still plenty I need to learn about WindClan, and keeping company should help with that."

Dimmingsun loathes to admit it, but it's true; his knowledge lacks depth, and is entirely lacking in some cases.

@Merrystalk @Deadwood

 

[Merrystalk Merrystalk]

—————————————— Dreaming along in a pace you'll understand. ✦

As he often started his morning, Merrystalk stook out in serenity amongst the moors. While he was always a family and clan-oriented cat, he couldn't deny that a moment alone was something he cherished. Taking some good deep breaths with the ebb and flow of the rolling winds across the hills.

But, just as often as he started his mornings alone, there were fair few that remained that way. Though the tom didn't mind, especially as the new figure to their council ranks trotted up to meet him at the crest of the hill. "Mornin' Dimmin', nice to see ya' out on the moors." They hadn't gotten off on the best paw initially, but Merry had made sure the tom felt just as welcomed in the clan, especially now with the esteemed title of their medicine cat.

Though Merry froze up as the other spoke, blinking as his mouth opened as if to speak, but nothing came out. His eyes scanned the area, confusion knit across his face. "Us... two?..." Often he kept a cool demeanour, just as his brother taught him, but it was difficult to with a frightful realisation that came to mind.

Merry's fur prickled, unsettled with the reminder of what he was told echoing in the back of his mind. Even so, the tortie tried desperately to laugh off what the medicine cat said. "There ain't no one else out here with me, Dimmin'." He gave the other a watery smile, giving a half-hearted chuckle, not even believing what he was saying. 'Right?'

— And it's harder than you think,

Telling dreams from one another. —

• 
  Merrystalk
  ✦—Windclan Gale Guard | 31 Moons
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A skinny, tortoiseshell cat with bright green eyes and pelt speckled with hay.
  #9D6E46

 

[Deadwood]

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

He was no stranger to wandering. Meadow was busy many days—most days, really—and disturbing her was only so fun. So instead of staying cooped up in camp, he let himself roam. These lands were strange for sure, though Deadwood wasn't sure if it was merely because of how much time had passed since he last saw them, or the fact that he barely saw them at all in life... but there was a particular mystique to it. Wild, rolling, and so very free... and rather lonely, at times.

For better or worse, his company could never see him. These days, he found himself following that one strange moor runner that he had... introduced himself to. Merrystalk was... boring, actually. He didn't get up to enough, didn't cause enough chaos, just... went about his day. Ugh.

At least Deadwood wouldn't have to be bored much longer. A not-unfamiliar voice caught his attention, and he turned his head around in curiosity... and it took him a moment to realize the tom was looking at him. Deadwood knew that this cat was intended to be the new medicine cat, but he didn't realize the ... 'effects' had kicked in so fast. A smile split his face in two—Finally, something Fun—and he turned to face him, caring little about the deep gash on his neck that streamed endless rivulets of something dark and violently red.

"You're right, Merry." The tom grinned a toothy smile, cocking his head in a mischievous manner at the tom beside him. "There isn't anyone else out here but you." With this, Deadwood let out a wheezing laugh, something much more akin to a snake slithering over fallen leaves than anything warm and particularly living. "...And, well—" His pale eyes slid from the patchwork tom to the newcomer, and he looked the massive tom up and down with a particular impish look in his eye. He wasn't an unfamiliar sight to be sure, but this was the first time Deadwood could properly appreciate his stature... What in the world was up with all these massive cats these days, anyway? "Dimmingsun, was it?" He mused, raising a humored brow. "Merry's being good ol' classic Merrystalk, don't mind him." Once again, that awful, dangerous sounding laugh, as though the tom had no cares in the world left. "He hasn't realized I'm here... but I mean, who could miss a smile like this?" The smile that he often wore was once again flashed, as uneven as it might be. At least the tom could find some merriment in his situation, though he would never pass up the opportunity for a little more chaos.

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[DIMMINGSUN]

Although Merrystalk had initially looked upon Dimmingsun's approval with lack of trust—a very sound response, all things considered—, he likes to think that they can put that behind them. Dimmingsun doesn't need to be liked, but it would at least make his life easier if he can be tolerated. That's why he doesn't expect Merrystalk to stare at him with something akin to horror. Dimmingsun makes a show of looking behind him, a humorous attempt at trying to mend the situation.

It is to no avail- when Merrystalk speaks next, Dimmingsun feels his blood run cold.

He looks back at them; first Merrystalk and then the stranger.

"Yeah?"

he confirms, though his voice is uncertain now. Joining WindClan has been a series of wild and quick events; even so, he doesn't think that he has lost his mind already. StarClan and nine lives and all that aside... surely, it isn't all getting to him now, causing hallucinations?

When the stranger finally faces Dimmingsun, he starts to understand it. A deep gash gapes back at him, blood dripping dark and dreary, almost completely drenching the darker fur on this cat's chest. That isn't the kind of wound that you simply walk off. Moreover, there is a different glint in those eyes. A faraway look, almost, if Dimmingsun stops considering that the unsettling gaze locks onto him no problem.

Is this cat really here? Creampaw had looked much different, but then again, she had appeared to him in a dream. This is still reality, as far as he's concerned.

"I don't mean to startle you..."

he begins, shooting Merrystalk a sympathetic look. The waver in the gale guard's voice and smile tell Dimmingsun that feigning ignorance would be preferred here. His tail curls in interest; the strange, presumably dead cat talks to him, and Dimmingsun simply cannot leave this be.

"Perhaps I'm losing my mind already. But you seem to have a companion."

Dimmingsun regards said companion. He addresses him, utters his name, and appears more than amused by the whole situation. Evidently, WindClan's medicine cat had walked into quite the predicament. Idly, he wonders if he ought to feel fear- wary of the implications, and terrified of the possibility that an attack may be lined up. Somehow, Dimmingsun doesn't find it in himself to worry. If Merrystalk has been walking around with this thing following him, and he is still alive... surely that must mean that such "spirits" are incapable of direct harm.

Only one way to find out.

He takes a step forward, thrusting his muzzle closer to the stranger. No scent. Dimmingsun cannot perceive the smell of gushing blood, and whatever else may cling onto such unruly fur. Still, his eye doesn't betray him. Probably.

"Who are you?"

 

[Merrystalk Merrystalk]

—————————————— Dreaming along in a pace you'll understand. ✦

Whether it the wind playing tricks on him or the dawning realisation that maybe Dimmingsun wasn't playing an ill-timed joke on him, Merrystalk's fur bristled with a cold sensation, like all the warmth from his bones was sapped in one fell paw swipe. It was the sight of brief terror in the eyes of the emdicine cat that only confirmed his fears; Dimmingsun could see something at his side.

Worse, even, someone. Merrystalk knew exactly who. Glancing to the empty space at his side where the other's expression was trained. He didn't have to see the apparition for the threats made to him as claws sank into flesh with a promise.

I'll be keeping my eye on you.

A threat with a smile, just the thought made his stomach turn as his paws felt weak beneath him.

Dimmingsun tried to apologise, but as much as Merry desperately hoped the other wouldn't press further, the curiosity of the tom seemed just as persistent, the confirmation making the gale guard's eyes grow wide and wild. An unsure smile as he tried to laugh like it was still some sick joke.

"D-don't say that-" His voice caught in his throat. Fear crawling up his spine as he became far too aware of the hidden and healed scarring under coarse fur he had managed to hide away with his own bare minimum knowledge of herbs (and the assistance of Sparrowpaw, the kid's quick thinking and willingness not to tell a soul why the gale guard was suddenly frazzled and nicked up in the middle of the night.)

Merrystalk stepped back slightly, clawing at a desperate attempt to maintain some kind of composure. Biting his tongue hard enough to fill his maw with that all too familiar metallic scent, turning his stomach with the scent only reminding Merry of him. But as he stepped back, Dimmingsun stepped closer, inspecting the air with a curiosity. The gale guard was past the point of convincing himself that the other was just taking a joke too far; he could see it.

The enormous tom scanned the air with a clinical eye, sniffing the air as if there was meant to be something in the air, but the sweet grass that punctured the air with a delicate aroma was unbecoming to the situation. It was as his question hung in the air that Merry found the word falling from his lips, nothing but a whisper, but sealing his own fears to reality. "Deadwood..."

— And it's harder than you think,

Telling dreams from one another. —

• 
  Merrystalk
  ✦—Windclan Gale Guard | 31 Moons
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A skinny, tortoiseshell cat with bright green eyes and pelt speckled with hay.
  #9D6E46

 

[Deadwood]

——————————————— Skin and bones, and brains and blood ☾

There was something so gratifying from the pure, unadulterated fear that emanated from Merrystalk. Deadwood couldn't help but revel in it—The tom had never much sought to wreak as much havoc as the others he often found himself in the company of, but even he couldn't turn up terrorizing someone like him. Besides, he deserved it. The tom barked a laugh as he watched Dimmingsun make a show of looking behind himself—now he seemed like fun. Something he could bounce off of... and he wouldn't say no to finally having an audience that consisted of more than dear Meadowpaw.

There was that certain kind of fear in Dimming's eyes as well, though Deadwood couldn't say he was surprised. It was a similar sort of grotesque surprise and concern he once wore, long ago. It was really such a fright getting the first glimpse of himself, though he was more than used to it these days. He'd seen worse in the Dark Forest anyhow. At the mention of losing his mind, though, the smile on Deadwood's face only grew larger. "Oh, good." The tom joked happily. "So that makes two of us... three soon, if you keep giving him a fright like this." Pale eyes slid over to once again study Merry, taking great delight in the way he seemed to shakily step back.

As Deadwood was distracted, though, Dimming made a move towards him. "Woah, hey-" With a surprised yelp, the brown tabby fell back onto his hind legs. "You'd think you'd ask before just sniffing a guy!" Of course, he knew better than any cat that this large tom couldn't lay a claw on him, but it still didn't change how offputting it was to suddenly have his muzzle in his face. He hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling of a cat passing through his immaterial body, and by all means he would like to not have it happen again.

At Dimmingsun's question of who he was, though, his face fell somewhat—owed mainly to the tom beside him rather than the actual question. Deadwood quickly leaned further back on his haunches, bringing up a shush-ing paw to his own lips... but of course, his gesture to Be Quiet fell on deaf ears as Merry whispered his name. All the same, a grin broke back out behind the lifted pawpad. "Oh, well—" The tom hummed, dropping his paw back to the floor as he turned back towards the medicine cat. "You heard the man... though it's really too bad. I always liked a little bit more an entrance than that. Just a little flair can do wonders, you know." Deadwood shrugged off his mild disappointment easily, rising from his sitting position to instead pad forward. His gait was long, uneven, and thoroughly bloody, his wounded neck leaving a glistening path behind him that only he could touch. He couldn't help but circle Dimming with a curious, mischievous glint in his eye. "That's enough introductions. I'm looking forward to working with you—you'll be much more fun than the last poor soul, I'm sure.... though we never got to talk much." Once again, that awful, grating laughter, trailing off with a sort of wheeze as blood bubbled from his nostril. He hadn't heard of a medicine cat working with a Dark Forest warrior like him before, but he'd like to get that ball rolling sooner rather than later. After all, the medicine cat den was rather comfy these days, and he'd hate to lose that free housing.

They followed us into the trees

Wearing crowns of twigs and leaves

• 
  Deadwood
  ☾—Dark Forest Warrior | 19 Moons
  ☾—He/Him
  ☾—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ☾—A thin, dark brown tabby tom with pale eyes
  #A68040 #ACAB9C

 

[DIMMINGSUN]

Dimmingsun feels a pang of pity towards Merrystalk. It's not often you learn that a spirit has been trailing after you, likely for not so nice reasons. He, too, would probably be more frightened of the situation, had he not been steadily coming to terms with the Clans' odd connection to the dead.

"Deadwood,"

Dimmingsun echoes, trying the name.

"How... fitting."

Ill-fitting, maybe. He is surprised when his direct approach seems to startle the deceased cat, though the setback appears to be wholly temporary. Dimmingsun supposes that if spirits can really roam the land of the living like this, seemingly at their whims, then they must not be used to being seen... much less approached in such a fashion.

Dimmingsun snorts.

"I'd say your entrance was interesting enough."

He glances towards Merrystalk; tips his head in the direction of the gale guard.

"I promise I'm not talking to myself here. Though I suppose you'd rather have that...?"

A thought comes to him then.

"How did you even get a- companion, like Deadwood? Just ill luck?"

Merrystalk doesn't strike him as the type to warrant permanent curses... but then again, Dimmingsun still has plenty to learn about his Clanmates. No matter how nicely the majority of WindClan had allowed him into their ranks—mostly out of Dustystar, Meadowpaw, and the council's desperation—, they are bound to keep secrets. Everybody does.

Evidently, Deadwood is not so keen on being talked over for too long.

"Working with me?"

Dimmingsun blinks in surprise.

"I'm afraid I won't be too interesting. I mix herbs for a living."

Inadvertently, he glances at Deadwood's gaping wound. How odd... does it never cease its bleeding? Creampaw had not had such a wound on her, or at least not one that he could see.