❝ COLOR ME BLUE ❞ / o, return/injured

  • I should have stayed home.

    The comment is more of an after-thought. It is sulky and pained: a piece of regret riddled deeper in his bones than he could ever begin to convey. Helios, he wished he'd stayed home. He wished that he'd never wandered off the sands, not even for a minute of his anxiety-induced attempt at walking. He wished that he'd never said what he did to Aether, and he wished that he'd never left his children alone without thinking of the repercussions. But he'd panicked. He'd always been finicky that way - anxiety subtle until it became utterly overwhelming. And he figured that it'd be okay for that moment - that he'd take a small walk after that particular fight with his brother and the birthing and all things else. He thought that - with time to gather himself together - that he'd be perfectly fine like he always was. But just as he had been blessed with family and friends, he had been cursed with that ever-persistent weight of the world. It was a pressure that he could only lug along for so long before the fragile parts of himself started to crack.

    But I know better. He knows his limits, and he's known when he needs to get himself help, or just a friend. And yet he's broken that trust he's had with himself, his brother, his friends, and his lover. He's broken it every single time to keep up the act that he was fine. He wished, at times, that he didn't. When will it stop? He... He doesn't know. When will he finally open up again? When will he be free from the crushing weight of living, and when will he be free from the grasps of merely surviving? When will he finally be who he once was? Was there even whole pieces of his old self left? He doesn't know - he doesn't know a thing. All he knows is that he has to survive just a little longer, just a little further. If not for himself, then for others. For Sangria, and for Aether - even if his brother hated him. And for Marigold... Helios, for Marigold and for the kids, if no one else. Just a little bit further.

    Stuttering breaths left the small king as he wandered through the outer skirts of the desert he called home. The early night air was bitter and cold - a product of the hidden sun and wintry months combined. His movements were jagged and uneven along the way - each one a struggle as he dragged himself through the sands. The light - though he'd always admired it as beautiful - now danced across glistening, sickly evidence of what was once an attempted minute-long walk gone terribly, terribly wrong.

    There were wounds. Most of them were scabbed, and others bleeding a little as he moved. Others were just swollen and sprained. There wasn't a worrying amount of blood - though the dark that stained his cream pelt was evidence that there once had been. Lines of couple-week-old injuries lay themselves across his back and his shoulders - some gashes marking their way across his forearms, others along his sides. One lucky one struck right underneath his left eye - though it was small, and mostly dry of the blood it once dripped. What caused them wasn't exactly clear from just looking at them - some varied in thickness that it could have been caused by a nasty fall, a cut among rocks.. But others seemed to have the consistency of claw marks. But truly, not even he could tell which was which. It was all a blur: the fall, the fight, the scrambling. He'd been slammed upon something - or had he fallen? Which part were those from? He doesn't know, anymore. He doesn't want to. It doesn't matter, anyways. He didn't wish to rememberAll he really remembered was the ache of getting back up. The hurt of trying to get back home.

    But despite the various amount of cuts and bruises, there was more - however subtle. A lack of movement where it should have been easy; a stiffness where it was once fluid and smooth. He doesn't really feel it, whatever he was lacking. He finds it hard to feel much of anything but the sparks and aches that burned within each slight movement. But even as he treks on - half blissfully unaware of the pain, half tragically unaware of where he'd been or what happened (at least for now) - he can feel himself growing more and more tired. His shaky steps take longer, he's pausing more and more. How long have I been traveling? Days? Hours? I'm tired. A half-lidded glance would flick up to the moon, before his head hung low again. He was almost there - the camp entrance in sight, not too far away. With a small grimace he moves on.

    I'm here. There's relief in that - utter relief, as he stares at the gateway to his home. But it is the knowing that he is safe, at least here, that he finds it harder to go on. Harder to get to the medical guild, which was on the far side of camp. Harder to move even an inch more. With a shaky huff, he lowers himself down partially - part of him already closer to the ground, being he was dragging himself, mostly - and he sits half-up, half-down. His breaths are surprisingly inconsistent - shallow but spaced out one minute and deep and plenty the next. He gives a soft sigh, and he takes a breath, and another, as he shivers within the growing cold. He wishes to move - he's right there, after all, and he could make it. But instead... instead, rest sounded nice.

    A quiet hum would leave him as he sat (not daring to lay down, as he feared he wouldn't be able to get back up), doused in that faint moonlight with his billowing breaths illuminated by the reflected glow of the moon; acting as a beacon for any who would see the signs that he was alive, that he was there, that he was home. His gaze parts just once more - bleary eyes focusing upon the dim light above him as he tried to gather what strength he needed to go on. And his eyes close momentarily, relief expressed as he breathed out. "Home." The word is barely uttered as his eyes drift out of focus and closed, but it brings solace to his weary heart and aching mind. So, shifting his paws among the soft sands - he would sit up partially, breathing steadying. He's home. And.. for the first time in a while, he's glad that he is.


    claes got himself Messed Up and he doesn't remember much but he will later!! rn he's kind of? sitting up on the entrance to camp, just kinda chilling until he finds the will to move again lmao. he's got a buttload of injuries, but none of them are serious/new - they're mostly a couple weeks old.

    injuries include:

    - a couple of gashes that look like they're caused by falling, along with a couple bruises.

    - some that look kinda like clawmarks, but no one really knows

    - some swollen areas where smth might be sprained or broken? probably in one of his paws

    - broken rib :0

    - anddd his right hind leg is paralyzed but no one can really tell until he tries to hobble around :)

    i am so very sorry for this but also: he's back!!

    "speech." & tags

  • ☆☆☆ it had only been a few weeks, marigold had to remind himself. a few weeks was nowhere near as long as it felt, he reminded himself. another few reminders later, and he still felt odd when he looked at the vulpine. where had his liege been? how odd everything was, and how much everything hurt to think about. the only things that mattered to him at that very moment, marigold considered, were his children and claes. as if an angel sent from helios had descended from whatever heavens there were to believe in, his problems were instantly solved just by him stepping out of his little hut to get a breath of fresh air that evening.

    ☆☆☆ he stood as a statue for a few moments when sight of his king took hold, filled with too many emotions and all at once. would his kids⁠—their kids, he again reminded himself⁠—recognize the man? was he okay at all? it was hard to tell in the growing darkness, but it seemed that claes's pelt was darker in spots than it should have been. this was claes, after all, right? there weren't any others who looked like that, who looked as stellar even if there were some abnormalities in marigold's memory. helios, was he relying on his memory to remember what claes looked like?

    ☆☆☆ "claes," he breathed as he stepped close. no, not a step, a bound, pulling claes into a deep hug the moment he was near enough. "claes," he said again, taken up entirely by the thought of the fellow. he couldn't dare let go, out of fear that he was dreaming and that claes would slip from his grasp and disappear if he let up whatsoever. "i missed you." we missed you. i couldn't function without you. why can't you just tell me before running off like that, and spare us all the trouble? helios, you had me worried. he couldn't say a single word more, the ideas too complicated for him to grasp when he was too busy thinking about how claes was there, in his arms, and not disappeared off somewhere unknown.

    ☆☆☆ he'd let up just the slightest bit, against his better judgement, having noticed the slightest tremble and unusual warmness at spots of claes' torso. he had to see the fellow, after all, not just bury his face in his fur and repeat the phrase "i missed you" over and over until claes understood the concept, and it seemed there were small patches with scabs replacing fur. "you're alright, mate..?" he murmured, wishing for that to be true. no, claes had gone and been completely fine, right? nothing bad could've happened. "you're okay, an' all."

    ☆☆☆ oh, it began to hurt to think about again. claes was absolutely okay, no doubt about it, and marigold wouldn't take no for an answer. he wasn't sure if he could handle a "no." claes couldn't have gotten hurt so soon after their children were born, right? sure, he'd disappeared right there and then, leaving only a sixfold trace of his presence, but there was no way that he could be hurt. "helios, i missed you, claes." he didn't want to think about the possibility of injury, so he simply didn't let himself, settling his head against his liege's neck and not letting him move away no matter what, even if he'd surely mold himself to any movement if they were to happen.




    male domestic cat + knight of sk + nightscout of dd + tags

  • He shouldn't have let himself fade into the background as he had.

    He had abandoned his friends, abandoned his children, and the people that he cared about. He should have been there for them all, and yet, here he was, back around only to discover one of the few people here that he found himself genuinely interested in hurt and afraid. As soon as he had caught Claes' scent, the sha had been quick to search out the other, a fear that he was unused to heavy in his chest as he found the scent of blood intermingled.

    By the time he reached the entrance of camp, he caught sight of Claes with Marigold standing over him, and he slowed to a stop. He held back from moving forward; he had no right to pretend he could help in any way, to pretend that he cared when he hadn't been there for either of them when they were struggling. Both of them were people he cared for, people he wanted to spend time with and to make sure they knew he wanted them to be happy, but he didn't have the right, did he?

    He clenched his jaw for a moment as he watched, then hesitated before turning around, going to search for SANGRIA . . While he couldn't do anything, he knew that she could, especially if Claes was hurt.

    i don't want to talk about it


    solaris kingdom | penned by mystify

  • ・゚ ✦ ° ― he recognized the scent . first of blood -- and overwhelming amount of it -- and then marigold . but beneath it all was one that tugged at some locked away memory , and instinct buried deep within that he hadn't thought much about . until now . something urged him towards the scene , and the young kit came to a stumbling halt beside troublelove's now vacant spot .

    solkatt's sun coloured eyes widen at the sight before him , and an audible breath is sucked in . bloody and beaten is claes , the father he'd thought had surely left them for good . questions swirl endlessly in his head , and his vision swims with it . he wants to move forward , but he finds himself caught by an invisible source . a choked noise catches in his throat , and the angora kit falls into a seated position .

    he watches blankly as marigold , what ? protects his other father ? takes care of him ? he's certainly not doing much , but it's more than solkatt could ever manage . he hopes troubledlove has gone to fetch help . the kit manages to pull himself to his feet once more , taking a few stumbling steps forward . " dad ? " comes his shaky inquiery , though it's unclear now who the term is directed towards .





  • Time was always fickle like that - always changing perceptions, always altering ideas and memories. Claes always had a habit of looking to the past and letting nostalgia block anything bitter or bad - always making things out to be better than they were. Maybe that was the undying optimist in him? Or maybe it was just his foolish tendencies that Aether always warned him about? Truly, he didn't put much thought into it. But what he did think about, now, was how certain factors of the past were to affect those that he loved and cared about. For some, memory wasn't so kind - like it wasn't for a lover who had been heartbroken and forced to carry on, or for a friend of long passing who felt guilt. Or -- most devastating of all -- for a child so sweet and innocent now looking to who they knew by story to be their missing father. No - memory wasn't very kind at all to those who hurt and were hurting. But there was only one remedy to that: to replace the doubt and the absence with being there in whole for the rest of the time to come. And I will, he promised himself, he promised all of them. I'll be here, from now on. I'm sorry I was ever gone.

    His ear twitches for a moment - a reaction to the faint movement ahead of him. His tired gaze parts and he has to blink it into focus. Once- twice- his gaze flitters open fully, eyes looking through the dim night's light. He doesn't need to take a second look at the figure, doesn't need to make another check or a moment longer. Relief is an instinct that causes his heart to jump and the pain, momentarily, to clear. Marigold. He doesn't find the strength to speak his name aloud, doesn't find the power to launch himself up like he wished. But his name repeats within his mind over and over and over again - and with each repetition comes the brimming of tears of relief and joy. He was right there. Right there, after what felt like so, so long.


    The utterance of his name in such a way typically would have made him shiver - but this time it allowed the pent-up tears to flow. His body practically fell into the other's - a shuttering breath released as he wrapped his arms around and clung on. "Mari.." Claes whispers, pulling him closer. His mouth parts as he Marigold goes on - I missed you. The words cut and heal all the same, and Claes pulls tighter, mouth parting and closing as he tried to say sorry, as he tried to respond. "Mari-" Claes began. He cut himself off abruptly as he tried to steady his breaths, tried to keep himself, "-I'm.. I'm here. I'm right here," he thought, for a moment - of saying sorry. Sorry, a thousand times over. But his breath catches him at just the right moment, and he thinks not of himself and explaining it, but of Marigold - who he'd been missing from, for all this time.

    But just as they came together, Marigold begins to loosen up and his paws hold a bit more tenderly. But Claes, for a few moments more - remains utterly still in his hold. A second stretches to another, and he is reluctant to even look up, as he buried his face in Mari's fur. But slowly he pulls his head back again, and he shifts to look at Marigold - gaze finding Mari's and staying there, as if there were more he was trying to say - much more he was trying to convey. The other is busy, he can tell - thoughts racing. He can see the questions and the worry, however well-hidden. He can see the denial of the bad - an attempt to focus on the good. He blinks, wide gaze closing and openly slowly as he smiles, however simply. You're alright? "Yeah.." Claes breaths out quickly. He doesn't think twice - doesn't try to look back to whatever happened (what did happen? he doesn't care to pry, anymore). Instead, he tries to interrupt where the other's gaze was beginning to fall upon wounds. He blocks any look to his injuries by leaning subtly one way or another, and he smiles - bright and sweet and reassuring. "Yeah, I'm okay... I'm okay." He doesn't even ponder what he says. He doesn't have the heart to. He pulls back into the hug - his only way of keeping himself upright - and he lets himself lean upon the other. "I missed you, too," More than I could ever say.

    A quick movement catches his eye behind Marigold - and he sees the briefest form of what he could have sworn was Troubledlove. He blinks - trying to see better, trying to confirm it was him.. But just as he does he is quickly on his way. There is a brief moment of confusion that washes over him. Stay, he wanted to call. Stay here. But the words never make it out of his mouth before another movement distracts him. And within the pale light emerges a small and even-paler figure that takes his breath away. Solkatt.

    Claes's breathing stops as he looks upon the mirror image of the little kit he birthed, not long ago. He blinks, and he leans back from Marigold just slightly - tapping the other dad repeatedly as he looks straight to their son - trying to grab Marigold's attention. The taps and prods are quick, and the stare towards their child is equally hard to decipher. The little prods were erratic and excited and awed and nervous all the same - though he supposed that excitement was most to blame for his poking. Look - there's our son, his movements are saying - proud, of course, as if Marigold hadn't been alongside them and was seeing him anew just as he was. He's seeing little Solkatt-Amadeus, now grown from that little ball of fur before.. and there's nothing, truly, that could dull this moment.

    "Solkatt," Claes finally whispers, mouth turned up into a smile beaming like the moon before them, "Solkatt, my little sun, my little light.." his son of the sky and captured light - his little ray of warmth and opportunity. His voice trails off as he forces himself to take a shaky breath. He wants to rush forwards, he wants to sweep his son into his arms and never let him go.. But he is stopped - if not for his lame leg and various old wounds, then for the fact that he remembers that he is nearly a stranger to the child he so adored. "Sully.." the nickname is spoken sweetly, a gentle laugh following as he makes a small motion towards the space before him, beckoning him over. "Do you remember? It's.. It's okay, if you don't.. But it's.. it's Claes, or-or daddy, or..." whatever you want to call me. His voice falters for a moment with the realization that his children might not even remember. It's fine. It's fine, and I can fix it. I will if they don't. He gives a shaky breath, hopeful honey gaze landing upon his kid, searching his reaction - searching his response. It's me. I'm sorry I've been gone so long.

    "speech." & tags

  • ・゚ ✦ ° ― sully .

    it's an utterance that he hasn't heard since his birth , but he remembers it as if it were just yesterday . among the haze of his first moments on this earth , that above all else remains clear as crystal . it's the name he'd heard just then , and had always longed to hear once more . a nickname given when he could hardly comprehend his full name , and one that he had carried in his heart since . anyone else who tried to shorten his name got the kit's wrath since then .

    no one else could hold that same position as the father he hadn't been able to conjure a proper image of . every attempt at a nickname was met with a snapping response or a tired ' it's solkatt , solkatt - amadeus . ' would that all change now that claes had come back ? he doubts it -- sully is too important to him . but alongside this love , this continued relief that his other parent had returned , is anger . anger at the fact that he'd been left so soon after being brought into this world . had they been too much for the dawningcrown ? had he wanted to abandoned them ?

    but the love and tenderness and nervous excitement that is painted on the injured male's visage is clear , even to the kit . the anger dissipates , though it's not wholly gone . for now , the remnants are shoved deep down within , and the kit makes a tumble towards his parents . he stops short of collapsing on top of claes , just barely mindful of the injuries . instead , he gently seats himself up against his now - returned father , pressing into his fur and ignoring any transfer of blood to his own pelt . " o-of course i remember , " he stutters , voice wavering only slightly . if he closes his eyes , he can pretend he's hours old once more , seeking the warmth of the one that had sired him .





  • Time was a concept that seemed to run from Sangria far more than it lingered. It seemed that days bled into weeks of Claes slowing down, of her brother bulking up in his midsection but his apprentice never seeming to notice. It seemed that weeks of his disappearance were made unclear as she was captured by the thrall of her family - all until Marigold approached her with the soft, scared words. Ones that she never heard before, ones that she never wished to hear again. It wasn't long after that, that Marigold assumed position as the temporary leader, wasn't long before a basket of children were found with paper slips assigning them names. Whereas before it seemed that time enjoyed to play games, to tumble and fall and stretch and bend - the last few weeks happened in a blink of an eye. She hadn't the chance to fret or cry over Claes' disappearance when she was busy trying to keep their children fed, busy trying to keep Marigold afloat, busy trying to be the sole Healinghand though her full promotion was only a few days prior.

    She was too busy. And time wasn't a mistress that wished to wait for her.

    Sangria wasn't on her path to try and seek out Claes or the heartfelt reunion between mates or even father and son. She wasn't even sure why she traveled the desert so late at night - maybe insomnia had reached its murky claws back into her mind and she couldn't sleep. Maybe the shadows melted to form a face she knew was long decayed, maybe she was too busy having nightmares over her mother's almost death, and how she almost caused it. She was far too muddle minded to think that this night would be the night to send her over the edge, to be the beginning of the end.

    Last she saw Claes, he was in the body of a cat, midsection swollen though she hadn't the capacity at the time to discern why. And now, he was scratched up. Scarred. He was on the business end of tooth and nail when he had never once shown an aptitude for battle. He held one of his legs awkwardly and wheezed when he spoke and the image all together was heartbreaking aside from the hugs and tears that already sprung from those who made it here before her. But it was him - it was incredibly and solely him, and there was no doubt in that. Any doubt that she had, she swallowed almost immediately, determined to think otherwise. Determined to have something else, something positive, to occupy her mind.

    Helios - she was hurting. She knew in the moment her legs stilled and tensed, her mismatched eyes staring at the men and boys before her - she knew that she wasn't healing anymore. She knew that the direction she was taking was far from the one that would help her. But, in the same shaky, broken breath, she knew she couldn't voice that. Sangria knew she was selfish, knew that having eyes on her would result in more than enough attention credit to last her a month, but this wasn't her show. Truthfully, it shouldn't be a show at all, with all of the drama that fell through.

    But it was Claes' time.

    And he was hurt.

    Dare she think it, but he was hurt far more than her. He was far more important than her - with wounds both physical and mental, with a boyfriend and children and a whole Clan on his shoulders once he felt up for it. To think of herself would be rude, to think of him would be right.

    Sangria didn't know how long she was stilled, staring at the little family in mild confusion before blinking it away. She moved closer, almost lurching in her steps like a child learning to walk again. She couldn't collapse into him, crying, due to the crowd that was slowly forming around him. She didn't even think she could hug him with how tight of a grasp Marigold had - but she could linger. Lingering was enough for her, and hopefully her words would be enough for him.

    "Claes," she swallowed the lump in her throat again, ears pinned back as a few subtle tears streamed down her cheeks. She held out a paw towards him, mangled and laced with old injuries, wrapped up to cover a new one, and tried to rest it on his shoulder. It was the most she could do in her current position, "We should - I'm - ah," words jumbled in her head and she couldn't quite get her smile on right. She pulled on a tight lipped one, huffing out a breath to try and calm herself, "Let's get you inside, and treated. I'm - I'll take care of you," she had to turn her gaze away from him partially, feeling all too emotional, "I'm sorry - we were just... so scared, Claes. I'm... I'm just glad you're here. You're alive," with how broken he seemed to be, she considered it lucky that he survived whatever he did. She pulled her paw away from him, nodding her head idly, "Marigold - can we...?" she didn't wish to tear apart the reunion, but she wanted to be sure her former mentor's injuries were seen too before she got too snotty nosed and misty eyed.

    [ TAGS ]

    i believe that you will see a better day


    late princess sangria tormenta million, lightbringer of the commune guild, healinghand student and suncircle knight of solaris kingdom

    icon art by antiigone♡

  • the news of her mother's disappearance had been disturbing to her. not only did it invalidate her confidence in her birthrights and overall greatness, but it was just genuinely distressing. even to someone as self-centered as her, the potential loss of a parent was worth moping over. especially a parent whom she was very proud of, being of a supreme rank and passively feeding her a great amount of self-worth. even if he hadn't given her much time of day, her mother had been of importance to sonata. arguably more so than marigold, despite her father devoting more time to her. in fact, perhaps that merely added to her bias. that marigold was a voice of restraint, holding her back from running wild.

    that being said, sonata really didn't know her carrier on a personal level. whatever bond she felt to the male was based more upon her expectations than his genuine personality. after all, he was a ruler of the solaris kingdom. without a personality to scrutinize, his rank had been the second best way to judge him. besides, it just felt good. to know that she had blood relations to such an important figure within the solaris kingdom. whether her concern had been for her pride or his genuine safety, no one could say. not even sonata herself, who lacked the introspective skills to differentiate between her goals and her personal relationships. yet without the veil of wish fulfillment, the former was likely.

    seeing him return, the female did seem surprised. not because he'd come back. sonata had been rooting for his return, regardless of the odds. in reality, she was surprised to hear solkatt call him dad. wasn't marigold their father, and claes their mother? that was her personal understanding of how it'd gone down, since the mother was apparently the one who fed them when they were little. that individual had been claes, so therefore he was the mother. besides, calling both of them by the same term was unappealing. for that reason, sonata stuck to her guns on the subject of parental titles. solkatt was a pretty annoying brother anyway, so his opinion was easy to discard.

    "hi mom." the female usually wouldn't have even bothered with a greeting, yet she did so regardless to hammer in that she wanted to use that term to address claes. solkatt annoyed her, so trying to return the favor every now and then was quite satisfying to the feline. "what happened to you?" certainly not one for tearful reunions, that's for sure. the female's thirst for knowledge merely kicked in before such things could even occur to her, scanning his injuries with little understanding as to what they meant for him. after all, she had experienced no such thing.



  • "Is this a joke?"

    "I can always depend on you" — Ashe

    Ashe felt bad for not being there. Claes was his friend and yet when the hard times had came he just faded away himself and seeing the commotion which brought curiousity into his olive green eyes he had approached the group carefully and when his gaze landed on Claes a weak smile appeared on his gaze. "Welcome home Claes" he said with warmth coming from his tone.

    Truth be told, he was glad to see Claes, of course it was concerning to see him i jured and Ashe knew he'll support his friend and make sure that Claes got the needed rest. This time he'll make sure he didn't disappear on his friend. Truth be told, Ashe didn't want to lose another friend and when Claes had disappeared he was worried about the male. Probably not as much as Marigold had but he was worried and afraid.

    He was afraid that he had lost another friend. The archer didn't want to lose someone else that he was close with and seeing Claes here made a flood of relief rushed through him. Though he knew that he was concerned about Claes and his injuries. At this momenr of time he was glad Claes was safe and he didn't want to leave his friend's side.

    Even though he didnt want to leave Claes' side he knew it wasn't his place to stay near him. It was Marigold and the kid's place and he knew that both Marigold and Claes had a bunch to catch up on. Though he was happy to see his friend, he will support him and allow him to rest. He carried a warm smile upon his maw grateful to see his friend alive although injured and probably really tired. Having Claes home was better than not knowing where he was and having the thought and fear running rampid through his mind that Claes had died.

    "That's how it goes."

    "Speak" "Thoughts"

    I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk today.———— ・゚✧ 」

    I have so far left to go.— information


    Ashe Ubert/13 moons/SK/SV/VF/Male/Archer

    penned by Ravenwatcher