Private Leader's Den TONIGHT THE STARS SPEAK ☼ JUNIPERSTAR

[BURNINGDAWN]

There is still time to back down, if Burningdawn wishes to. He stands by the opening of the tree trunk that Juniperstar has claimed as her den — whether it's official or not does not matter; she is in there, and he itches to talk to her, so he is here.

The itch is unbearable. It is what had propelled him into action, rare as it is. A million questions whirl in his head about the past, the future, the present... does he have the right to voice his own thoughts, especially to their leader? Burningdawn doubts he would be able to sleep peacefully until his worries and inquiries get answered, but he loathes to think his presence will be unwelcome. There are so many important things to take care of. So many cats in need. He should not take up her precious time with theories and the like.

Just as he turns to stalk off to try and make himself actually useful, the emeralds of Juniperstar's eyes peek from the shade, and she steps forward into the sunlight that adorns her perfectly.

There is no escape.

"Juniper...star."

It is vital to add that last part. As foreign it is, it'd be wholly disrespectful to call her anything else.

"I didn't mean to... get in your way."

Burningdawn's entire body droops like a branch heavy from snow, gaze seldom meeting her own. He could make up an excuse here, but it would be transparent — none of his duties would explain the proximity in which he placed himself to her den. Perhaps he can get out the easy way; with a swift question, Burningdawn places the decision entirely into Juniperstar's paws.

"Can we- could we talk? If you're not too busy?"

@juniperstar

 

[juniperstar]

juniper

to be placed into a nest, held lofty in the trees with barren branches so that any might notice the bulge in the boughs... it is a pedestal that exposes her every move to the hungry predators that loom on the forest floor... and sometimes even the smiling faces of her clan-mates feel like the grins of wild dogs. there is a watchful, pleasant-faced stalker that looms on the other side of the shadow's rigid bars... they keep her caged in this web of roots and darkness, easily found and easily hunted.

she isn't sure when Burningdawn had first taken to roosting just out of the cast shadow of the den, watching... waiting... biting the insides of his cheeks, running his tongue over his teeth. he's anxious... and his antsy behavior makes her own skin crawl sympathetically. it is with a resigned sort of sigh that she admits her time to be alone and brooding over her young is over... that this needs confronting. new-leaf greenery pins him to his place as she draws herself from the shade, the inky blackness melting to reveal chocolate, speckled tones where she parts it. inquisitive, wary brows lift in quiet question, listening to the lilt of her name spoken hesitantly. like it is one that belongs to a stranger. "You're not in the way," she answers on an exhale, tail whipping at her ankles as a betrayal of her nervousness.

the prompt to talk is one that feels as if it has been burned into her skin, doomed to be read aloud and repeated as often as possible. what more was there to discuss, whose fears needed to still be assuaged, what temper would she be made to coax back to a simmer? "I have time." even though it never feels like she does. even though she begs for the chance to curl up in silence and spend a day rotting in her woes. Serpentberry wouldn't allow it... Graybird, equally keen to preen her ruffled feathers and set them straight again. they are selfish in their selflessness... and it makes her all the more thirsty to be left to her own devices, to marinade in her sorrows. "Keep your voice down... but you can come in."

──✩°｡⋆⸜ ✮

• juniperstar leader of thunderclan nine lives remain

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