Open Territory SWIRL AND LINE, A LOVE DIVINE ––– ✧ / gone fishin’ (+ intro)

[pebbledream.'s icon pebbledream. pebbledream.]

PEBBLEDREAM ──

riverclan | warrior​

​

Like clockwork, they rise with the sun as it lights up the sky. Bluish-yellow hues cast long, dewy shadows upon the mist-covered marshes and plains that make up RiverClan's territory - and for Pebbledream, navigating it is as easy as it is for a fish to swim in water. Ironic.

Their steps upon the earth are calm and calculated, a soldier's purposeful march through the reeds toward the riverbank. What is Pebbledream, if not a knight that serves within the kingdom of their Clan? This is their home, their life, their purpose. And they wouldn't want it any other way.
Settling into a comfortable crouch, they stare beyond their reflection on the water's surface into the depths below. They've waded a small way into the shallows, but it doesn't bother them at all despite the water's leaf-fall chill. It only takes a swift movement, a singular snap of powerful jaws, to capture a minnow that now flails as its skin is pierced with the fangs of a warrior. Pebbledream brings it ashore and sets it down upon the sand after it ceases its panicked struggle, turning to start the process anew. If luck is on their side today, then perhaps they'll have a small haul by sunrise... another day of tireless service awaits, and a lifetime left to go for Pebbledream to look forward to.

a steadfast spirit, never to stall

the vow resounds: honor above all

• ooc:
• "speaking" | thinking | action

 

[CHITTERHUSK]

You watch them. You always watch. Pebbledream is there, moving like the sun itself has called them up, steady as the tide and twice as sure. You tell yourself it's nothing unusual—just another cat fishing at dawn, just another RiverClan morning—but you can't look away. Their paws press into the damp earth as though it answers to them, as though they are made for it. You envy that certainty. You fear it, too.

When they crouch at the water's edge, your chest tightens. Their reflection trembles, a face rippling and dissolving together in the current. You watch from a few steps back, half intrigued, half cautious; you know it will take you one day. You wonder if it will take them, too. But Pebbledream doesn't flinch at the chill, doesn't blink at the pull of the water's dark mouth. They slip into it as though the river could never betray them. As though StarClan themselves cupped their paws around Pebbledream's shoulders and said, Here, child, this is yours.

The snap of their jaws cracks the quiet, and you startle like a kit, though you mask it quickly. The fish writhes, then stills, and Pebbledream lays it down with reverence. You taste iron on your tongue, though the fish bleeds nowhere near you. You wonder if Pebbledream hears the same whisper you do in the current, the promise of endings disguised as beginnings. You wonder if they would still step so boldly into the shallows if they did. You cannot decide if you want to drag them closer to the water's truth, or keep them as far from it as possible. So instead, you take a step closer, murmuring, "A successful catch. You do RiverClan a service." Your head dips down, giving a single sniff to the deceased.