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

 

[harefoot]

☾ Harefoot listens quietly, sticking close to Merrystalk but not speaking, only properly touching the other when he begins to pick at the skin on his paw, gently pushing it down and away. Then he listens again, attentively. It is a long while before he speaks, as he tries to find words to say, to string together his thoughts… he lifts his head slightly, feeling the wind against his face. Then he turns back to Merry.

"I do believe you," Harefoot starts, "because I know you, as I know Sassafras." A beat. He studies the tallness of Merry, the scars that glint weakly in the sun. The shoulders that bear so much. "It seemeth to weigh heavily on you, all of this. But I do not think anyone blames you even half as much as you blameth yourself. We art all still grieving, Merry, in our own ways… even Sassafras. I did not hear what he said, but… his anger, it is grief also. Sometimes it is easier to be angry than sad. Though to take it out on you was not fair, nor right. And Meadow… she is young, and she hath seen too much already. She will understand, in time, why sometimes we fight when what we really mean to say is why, why is life so unfair? Why doth Death take without mercy?"

He pauses again here, still thoughtful, going over what Merry had said in his head again. Then, "I know very well the cat you can be, Merry. I am fond of that cat also. I am fond of who you were before, angry or not, because it made you who you are now, and who you are now… is someone I am fond of."

His ears flick as the wind picks up around them. But he keeps looking at Merry. "It pains me not to see you angry– it pains me only to see you fight it. Anger is not such a bad thing. If it is, is grief also bad? Is an emotion bad because it pains oneself? I do not think so. Anger is proof that you care. Grief is the reward for love that is lost."

☾ HAREFOOT. 24 moons
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[Merrystalk]

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

Words just seemed to tumble forth from Merry's mouth, not quite realising just how desperately he needed to let loose what was weighing on his mind. But for all the weight in his mind, his eyes softened as a gentle paw pressed against his own, ceasing his incessant grooming of his paw. His mouth grew dry, having not realised he had fallen back into another bad habit.

The first words out of Harefoot's mouth, it was enough to tighten Merrystalk's throat. His eyes cast down to the grass underpaw, bristling in the wind that always seemed to join them in conversations like these. 'He believes me...' He listened, silent, to every little wisdom. Moment by moment, the creeping dread seemed to lessen.

Merry was... All too aware he was guilty of tunnel visioning. Deadset on one idea, one thought or belief. Others usually saw it as devotion or loyalty; it often was. But in reality, he was as stubborn as a mule, and even that wasn't something he liked to admit easily. Though it was part of why he had grown so fond of Harefoot, the others' perspective wouldn't let him dodge around the fact of the matter. Where his own mind muddled his unignorable emotions on a matter with what is logical or reasonable, his judgment was more often clouded than not.

"Aye." His voice didn't seem to hold the heaviness it had before. He spoke slowly, still not looking back at Harefoot as he tried to wrap his head around everything. "Aye, yer right..." He breathed, not content nor resigned, but simply stabalised. "I- There ain't no excuse for what neither 'f us said, 'nd I ain't 'bout to go treatin' Sass like we're ol' pals but..." Merry clicked his tongue, thinking. "I think I understand."

The tom hadn't lost much in his 26 moons of life, his only loss was... So long ago. He never really stopped to process or... Grieve it. He supposed....

His throat tightened for a moment, there was a thought, one that sat in he back of his mind for so, so very long. One that only seemed to peer out on sleepless nights or times like these after a heated moment. For the first time since Harefoot began speaking in kind to his rambling, he looked to the other. "'m scared." There was a waver to his voice, and yet he seemed resolute. "I- It's all my anger's ever been." As if it were an admission. The shame of his outbursts made all the more evident. "The barn its.. It's all I had left y'know. I had one home ripped from me without my say before. It happened again and-" He faultered for a moment, just a moment, realising what he was saying, but the words slipped from his mouth. "I didn't wanna lose everythin' I knew again."

The tom's eyes dragged away from the other, looking out to the moors again. Wind suffocated the sound of anything else but the two of them. In that moment, Merry shuffled a little closer to Harefoot, resting an exhausted head on the shoulder of the other. "But I know I ain't lost everythin'. Yer still here, Goldy 'nd Hollow are." It was clear he was trying to steady his own breath as he spoke. "I- I upset a lotta cats, but I can fix that. Meadow's a good kid, a kind kid. She's hurt too, 'nd I wanna help her."

Merry let himself... Relax. He didn't realise how tight his shoulders had become, tense from ranting and pacing. The dull ache from his paw was a reminder that he was really there and it wasn't some strange dream. Harefoot believed him. He could talk with the other cats and work things out. He wouldn't forgive Sassafras so easily, but there was... An understanding. He felt that wind through his pelt, and as it whistled past, he spoke again. "Thank you, Harefoot."

— 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