Posts by cyclonebluster.

It was difficult not to avoid the medicine den. Cyclonebluster hadn't witnessed the horrific attack, but he'd heard the gory details after and had seen the heavy injuries that decorated the leader like a garish coat. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he couldn't bear to see Moonstar like that.

Despite his discomfort, he didn't hesitate to turn toward the medicine den when he heard his friend's voice, weaker than normal but steadier than he'd been expecting. His breath caught, dull gaze catching onto Sunspots and Hollowsun. "She's up?" He burned with the urge to enter the den and see Moonstar for himself, but he recognized the same truth that the warrior and elder had. They couldn't crowd her. Once Flameseeker and Sheepskin had departed, perhaps they would get a chance to visit the injured molly, but until then they would wait.

Cyclonebluster had been awoken throughout the night as his clanmates shuffled and twisted, yet he'd managed to drift into a deep enough slumber that he found himself disoriented when Flameseeker rushed out of the den. Sitting up, he blinked a few times, ridding his eyes of sleep. The warrior's normally wild fur had been mussed terribly by a bad case of nest-fur, but he spared only a few seconds to rasping it down before he headed out.

The scent of bile clung to Flameseeker, and as he neared, he heard the others voice their concern. Despite the possibility of sickness, he bent to bump his head against hers affectionately. "Morning." Offering the deputy and other senior warrior a smile, he echoed, "I'm with Sheepskin. Even if it was just bad prey, Ghosteyes might have something to help."

The wind was howling with ferocity that Cyclonebluster hadn't seen in moons. The rain didn't fall so much as it pelted against the ground, landing with the intensity and precision of an expertly thrown spear. Thunder boomed every few minutes, and although the gap between the loud echoes was nearly measurable, Cyclonebluster's heart jumped each time. The frequent cracks of blue-white lighting was just the icing on the cake. The storm was more than bad; it was hellish.

Venturing out was obviously not a good idea, and so the silver and white warrior had made himself comfortable with a group of others. They were hunched miserably beneath what little shelter the camp offered. As the storm grew in intensity, Cy tried to make eye contact with one of the nearby cats and weakly suggested, "What if we … tell stories to pass the time?"

It was entirely possible that Cyclonebluster had arranged to have an early morning patrol alone with Flameseeker. It was entirely possible that he'd done so because he wanted a chance to talk with the molly away from prying eyes. It was entirely possible, but it wasn't very likely.

The patrol had passed uneventfully. As the frail dawn sun rose steadily in the cerulean skies above, the air growing lighter one subtle shade at a time, Cyclonebluster favored his ginger furred companion with a soft grin. With the patrol's official business out of the way, there was a more personal matter he hoped to attend to. "How about we take the scenic route back?"

FLAMESEEKER - aaaaa i'm sorry this took so long to get up <3

It was the sound of his name that attracted his attention, drawing him from the conversation he'd been engrossed in. Cyclonebluster slipped through the camp entrance alongside another warrior, but as that one familiar word sounded, he glanced away from his companion, scanning the camp thoughtfully for the one who'd spoken his name. From a distance, he could be seen mumbling something to the other warrior and parting ways, stocky frame turning toward the warrior's den and the cats outside it. "Were you looking for me?" he asked, tail rising in greeting.

Although he had wondered what Flameseeker wanted, Cyclonebluster had initially been at ease, but he could read the anxiety behind the burnt molly's hesitation and it caused his nerves to stretch taut. Shifting his weight from side to side, the warrior eyed the two medicine cat apprentices as though they might be in on the secret - but when Flameseeker at last revealed what had been ailing her, he was sure that he was the first to find out. "You..." he began, but he stumbled to a stop, thoughts a jumbled mess. "But we--" He felt himself burning and then beaming, joy and excitement hesitantly bubbling in his chest. Bending close to the red tabby, seeking to nuzzle her if she was willing, he whispered, "That--that's amazing. You're amazing."

Some faces remain imprinted in the memory no matter how much time elapses between viewings. For Cyclonebluster, Robinfoot is one of those faces. She's his mother; she bore him, she raised him … she left him, but until he joined ThunderClan, he'd thought that was normal.

Now, he picks up Flameseeker's scent and follows her voice, drawing up beside her fondly. Robinfoot, as a spirit, doesn't have a scent, and a long moment passes before he notices her. His mouth goes dry as he takes in her silver and black swirls and the vibrant blue eyes his sister inherited. His heart is thudding, ba-boom, ba-boom, because this is his mother, this is Robinfoot, and she must have died, and he never knew. "Ro-Robinfoot?" he needs to verify, voice cracking painfully. He raises a paw to step forward but hesitates, and as his eyes fly back to Flameseeker, he explains, "My mother."

A sense of fate or drama should have woken him, but instead it was the cold nose of an NPC queen that jolted Cyclonebluster awake. The queen didn't need to say anything, although she did, for there was only one possible explanation for her pre-dawn visit. The silvery tabby left the warrior's den in a daze; if not for the NPC nudging him toward the nursery, he might have remained frozen in place until the kitting was complete.

Kitting. Flameseeker had done it twice already, but Cyclone had never imagined that he would be a father to one of her litters. Their relationship still felt fragile and young--and then he was in the nursery and all thoughts left his head. Flameseeker was soaked in sweat, a huddle of queens encouraging her. They parted as he joined the ginger molly, ears flickering hesitantly as painfilled cries tore from her throat.

For a long minute, he was too anxious to doo anything but hover. Anxious because he'd never been present during a labor before and didn't know to expect Flameseeker's pain; anxious because she was giving birth, because she was having kits, because he was becoming a father. His anxiety would have been worse had he known that just across camp, Moonstar was dying, but that wasn't something he would discover until later in the day.

"Flameseeker," he whispered now and again, or, "Love." Later, he wouldn't know what he'd said, the words falling instinctively as he alternated between trying to encourage and comfort Flameseeker and trying to follow the directions of the other queens.

Time was a slow blur, his whole world narrowed to contain only Flameseeker and, eventually, the five squirming kits beside her. Useless energy thrummed in his paws as, slowly, his family grew.

Cyclone hadn't wanted to leave the fiery tabby's side but the urging of the other queens and the distressed cries from outside the nursery conspired to cause his departure. In the time that elapsed before Flameseeker awoke and hurried to her side, he'd learned of Moonstar's … Moonstar's death. Such news was impossible to hide, but although it made him feel like a traitor, the silver tabby wished he hadn't found out. His world had fractured, and he'd ended up slumped outside, prone until Flameseeker's call roused him.

"Flame." His demeanor had been melancholy when he entered the nursery, but as his hazel gaze found the five squirming bodies of the kits, a smile flickered hesitantly across his face. If only they were all the Clan would deal with today...

Don't let Flame know. She'd probably be furious if he hid the news, but there was no way Cyclonebluster could share it. Instead, he tried to hide his distress and knelt to nuzzle the queen, purring, "The-they're beautiful." Just like their mother. "How do you feel?"

This was supposed to be a happy time. The juxtaposition of one of his closest friend's death at the same time that his children were born had left Cyclonebluster in a state of dissonance, unable to mourn and unable rejoice. Moonstar had been buried, and although he knew he owed it to his friend to join the patrol, Cy had remained hunched in camp, hazel eyes downcast. He stirred as Sheepskin clawed up High Root, dully reading the grief etched into the curly furred tom's face.

Moonstar had died too soon. She was his age; a warrior, a leader, a friend. She had looked beyond his accusations when he had first joined the Clan and extended an olive branch. She'd nurtured the Clan. She'd given up too much for them, and as he looked around the group, he could see his shock reflected in the others' expressions. "Moonstar wa-was," he started to say, but his throat caught and he found himself unable to continue.

The eldest kit cried, a welcome distraction from the myriad thoughts swirling chaotically within him. Cyclonebluster could see the worry he'd inspired in his ginger pelted mate; that she'd seen through him was no surprise as he'd always been an open book, especially to those close to him. "Are you alright? You look … off." He very nearly startled at the question, ears flicking uncertainly as an uneasy smile formed on his snow stained maw. He was at a loss, unwilling to outright lie to Flameseeker but desperate to occlude the truth from her when her joy was still so fresh. He was saved from the query by the crowding of the nursery and gratitude shone in his gaze as his clanmates complimented the newborn kittens.

The thought of naming the kits was exciting; hey'd been bouncing names around since the pregnancy had been discovered, half afraid to seriously consider any of them until he saw the kits with his own two eyes.

Before he could speak, Flameseeker turned to Shimmer, begging information from the silver lynx point. "Flame," he started gently, voice a low rasp, "Names first. You're right, there's ... been a surprise in the camp, but let's keep this moment focused on us and the kits. Please. What … what names did you have in mind?"

Cyclonebluster wanted nothing more than to remain beside Flameseeker, but in the turbulence following Moonstar's death, he felt the need to show Sheepskin his support. Nonetheless, his arrival was hesitant, as though he'd been hoping that enough volunteers would arrive before he could pitch in.

// can cy go to riverclan, please?

Honeykit and Fallowkit. The names were different from the loner names he and his siblings had once bore, yet they struck Cyclonebluster as perfect. A soft purr of agreement fell from his lips, and once Cloudpaw had made her quiet offer, he bent toward the last calico kitten and suggested, "She sounds as sweet as a songbird. What about Wrenkit?" Even among her siblings, she struck him as a noisy one - and her fur pattern somewhat resembled the small brown bird. His gaze fell thoughtfully on the two young toms, and although he didn't know how conventional the name was compared to other Clan names, he suggested, "And Skitterkit." The firstborn; perhaps he was reading too much into it, but he could already imagine the fiery kit racing around camp.

Delight bloomed from Cyclone's chest, twisting through his arteries across his body and slipping onto his face. As Flameseeker leaned toward him, he tilted his head, rasping a soft kiss against her unburnt side. The moment came to an end all too soon; as the green eyed tabby suggested a final name, he felt himself stiffen. Surely all of ThunderClan knew of his animosity with the deceased Asphodelpaw. The name sat bitterly on his tongue, the association almost too much to overcome.

But, for all his faults, Moonstar had once loved Asp. There was no way for the silver tabby to suggest naming for Moon - and really, it was too soon for that, the possibility more painful than respectful - but in a way, this was something like that. This was a name that Moonstar might have liked, and Cy was willing to rewrite his prejudices in the name of the friend who'd helped him find peace in ThunderClan. Slowly (painfully), his muscles loosened, voice subdued as he agreed, "Asphodelkit."

It sometimes felt as though he had lost two friends in one day.

First, Moonstar. She had been, at various points, a stranger, a clanmate, an enemy, and a friend. The last title was how he would remember her, although the others lingered in the recesses of his memory. There were few cats who cared so genuinely that they were universally beloved, but the sleek tigress was easily one of them. Her loss was an ache deep within him.

Second, Flameseeker. She hadn't died, but Cyclonebluster knew his mate. She folded her grief within her, shuttering herself away from the Clan. Away from her family. Away from him. He couldn't blame her for that, for although he ran from his grief, she hid from hers. Nonetheless, it ate at him, and he spent his free time beside her.

He'd just returned from a patrol when he spotted Flameseeker emerging from her self-imposed isolation. Normally, he would take time to smooth down the wild tufts of fur that mussed easily in the wind, but when he saw the flame colored tabby, he decided grooming himself could wait.

His crooked grin was for Flameseeker alone, relief lighting his gaze. That she'd left the nursery was surely a good sign, although he didn't know if she'd done it because she was ready to start the healing process or because she'd been coaxed out by another cat. He pressed against her lightly, offering himself as support, and then settled into a sitting position.

Glancing around at the others, Cy offered, "There's a whole freshkill pile if you're hungry, Jester. I can grab something for you."

Cyclonebluster had always been a strong proponent of accepting outsiders. Lonerborn himself, it had been Blackstar's kindness that had led to his current home. He couldn't, in good consciousness, turn away someone who might need the same chance he'd once needed. Of course, the decision wasn't his. "You'll need to speak to Moons--Sheepskin," he amended shakily, throat growing dry.

sheepskin.