Backwritten WindClan When my dreams go up in smoke 🌾 Harefoot

[Merrystalk]

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

That next day, following one that seemed to stretch on unreasonably slow, Merry felt... Strange. The majority of his rage had fizzled out, especially after the barrage of questioning from his clanmates and yet something remained. Claggy and heavy in his chest, it weighed him down even as he awoke, later than usual, too. The first beam of light was usually enough to stir him awake as it had for moons before, but that day the sun hung high in the air. Merrystalk's paws felt uncharacteristically heavy, exhaustion a dead weight on his shoulders. Dead weight...

He blinked hard. This awful feeling, he hated how it suffocated him. Merry knew it wasn't his fault, his outburst. It wasn't his fault so many cats witnessed him at a low point. But dear Starclan, the disapproving looks, the disappointment, and sorrow. They made it feel as if it was. It felt like no one stopped to even try and hear him out, seeing him only for the rage that seeped from him. Like it was a poison that drove his friends away from his side.

That was all except one. "I don't know why you carry so much anger in you, but there is no need to take it out on Merry, or anyone else for that matter." Merry's paws shuffled beneath him as he pushed himself from his nest; there was always one voice of reason he could seek. One he had looked to for many a moon now, his dearest companion and mate.

It took a little wandering through camp, there were certain glances shot his way, eyes on his pelt, he silently shrugged off. He knew it could be worse; if he had attacked Sass like he was winding up to, he might not have even been allowed back in camp. But eventually his gaze fell to that of Harefoot, and for the first time that day, a smile found Merrystalk's face. The tom wandered to the other's side, pressing an exhausted muzzle to his shoulder. For just a moment, he hesitated, words caught in his throat. Not quite sure what to say, so instead words tumbled from his mouth. "Can we take a walk..."

— And it's harder than you think,

Telling dreams from one another. —

• 
  Merrystalk
  ✦—Windclan moor-runner | 26 Moons
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A skinny, tortoiseshell cat with bright green eyes and pelt speckled with hay.
  #9D6E46

 

[harefoot]

☾ After the previous day's events, Harefoot had elected to give Merrystalk some space. The fog still seemed to cling to the other's fur, a stubborn and unwelcome companion, and harder still to shake. Harefoot was not one to force a conversation, at least not if until it seemed necessary… so he had left him with the fog, to ruminate, to consider.

He finds something to do with his paws in reinforcing the nursery den. Merrystalk appears later than usual from the warriors' den, and he comes to find Harefoot, his demeanour gloomy.

"Of course," Harefoot says, nodding his head towards the mouth of the camp, walking alongside Merrystalk. Once they're outside, Harefoot looks over at him once more. "You carry too much," he says softly. "The weight of all those stares, of disappointment and sorrow… 'Tis not your burden to bear, Merry. Not on your own, at any rate. You can put it down h're, with me, if need be. You are… not alone."

☾ HAREFOOT. 24 moons
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[Merrystalk]

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

The two walked side by side, in silence, for a short while. Merrystalk didn't know what to say, he just knew he wanted the others' company. That was, until Harefoot spoke first as the two were finally away from camp. There was a moment when Merry couldn't speak. The last time that had happened was at Harefoot's side, but what he wouldn't give for that air of joy to be what hung in the air and not the heaviness that made every pawstep thud against the ground. "Thank ya', Harefoot...." He stumbled on words, lolling in his mouth as he tried to form a thought. He always toed a line, one where he was a bleeding heart and his emotions were hard for others not to see plain and simple, and his need to seem like someone stronger than he was. Like Goldy.

He faltered, stopping in his tracks for just a moment. 'What a sad state 'm lookin' in.' The tom thought to himself. He never let himself mope, and yet- Something settled in his mind. Rather than a clarity like something rolled in past the hills and clung to his paws that seemed to sink deeper to the soil below. "That sonnavabitch Sassafras." He spat, like the name was hemlock on his tongue, his own thoughts enough of a tinder to reignite the fury in his chest. "Had me cursin' his name where our own friends died."

His voice wavered, for just a moment. He took a breath, trying to keep his cool, but it was about as fruitful as a bloom in leafbare. Only Starclan knew if Hoot would have been disappointed in his actions, but the old tom knew him just as well as Harefoot. "'m not proud of what I said back there Hare. But ya' know me, I ain't 'bout to speak like that when the ashes only just settled."

He looked to Harefoot, there was something in his eyes. But he blinked hard and stepped away from the other. Merrystalk continued to walk, pace even; his chest burned, but it wasn't just that red-hot rage. He didn't have it in him for that after the day before. No, it was something more. Shame, pain, sorrow even clung to the edge of every word. Even if he had somehow earned the ire of his clanmates, it wasn't wholly his fault.

"No one else heard what that foul-mouthed tom had to say, I tried my damnest to keep my own trap shut." He huffed, sitting for a moment and absently and almost incessantly preening the side of his paw. The fur seemed to have thinned there, skin reddened underneath from absent overgrooming. "Ya' gotta believe me. I never wanted any 'f y'all to have ta' see the kinda cat I can be, 've been tryin' my damnest to get past it."

Just as quick as the fire thrummed in his chest, it fizzled out. Merry didn't fight the dying ember, didn't try to spark it to life again. For all the fury Sassafras could earn from Merry, he didn't want to tend that flame. It was something he let fizzle out long ago, but maybe the ongoing of the last moon or so had had a worse effect on the tortoiseshell than he could ever comprehend.

For a moment, just a moment, the sorrow he tried to dampen spoke far louder than he expected. "Ya' saw that look on lil' Meadow's face." He refused to meet the other's gaze. "I damn near broke 'er heart." For all that happened, Merry's only true regret was the pain he had brought to the cats close to him for letting himself get into the argument in the first place.

— And it's harder than you think,

Telling dreams from one another. —

• 
  Merrystalk
  ✦—Windclan moor-runner | 26 Moons
  ✦—He/Him
  ✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
  ✦—A skinny, tortoiseshell cat with bright green eyes and pelt speckled with hay.
  #9D6E46