you're making an aesthetic out of not doin' well // closed

[chill]

tidestar

tidestar wondered if the leader's den would ever feel normal to her, if it would ever feel like home, feel like a place she was meant to be in. at first she supposed it was a sense of imposter syndrome, the position of leader thrust on her so suddenly when sootstar had been taken by the two-leg invaders they had no hope of stopping. in her time as deputy, the she-cat had worked so hard to learn from the black tom, aspired to pick up his most admirable traits but also did her best to fill in the empty spaces where her strengths could carry any shortcomings he may have. she wanted the pair of them to be strong, smart, capable, unbreakable, and for (such a short) while, they were. tidestar had always been someone who saw her greatest strengths in herself, but now it seemed, without her most trusted ally, she wasn't sure where to turn (unsure what any of this was supposed to mean, to be frank).
after many (far too many) nights ruminating on just what she was going to do, stressful hours lying awake building up a strong facade while she tried to come up with a solution to a problem so much bigger than herself, the russet she-cat realized that the only answer was to trust those around her. sootstar had always trusted her, given her fair judgment, taken her opinions into account. and, while she may not have the black tom any longer (such a painful truth, the she-cat did have many warriors that she could trust more than she'd been willing to admit. warriors she'd grown up with, trained with, served her clan with. she knew each of them personally, knew they had unique perspectives on the situation, wise and perceptive and intuitive (how selfish of her to deny them a voice). tidestar had spent too long trying to carry riverclan's problems on her two shoulders alone- it was time for her to gather trusted advisors.
the first name that sprung to mind was whiplash. she thought fondly of the day she was named deputy, when despite the confidence, the hope that the position was hers, she was secretly certain she would lose out to the tom. his (unfiltered) loyalty was something that didn't go unnoticed, nor unappreciated. there was also cindersmoke, cider, a welcome presence in tidestar's company always. and of course, ripplestream. the leader winced a bit at the last name, emotions soft to the touch at that particular relationship (tense? hmm.) it was true that the she-cats were related by blood. in fact, tidestar looked at ripplestream and saw the roots of riverclan running through her, so many familial bonds weaving in and out of her. yet it was only tornwing they'd truly shared a relationship with. tidestar never found herself bringing up anything familial to the younger warrior, yet respected and admired her nonetheless. maybe that would change. maybe not.
so tidestar had asked them all to gather, here, in this place that still felt like it belonged to sootstar, to heatherstar, to all the leaders before her but not to her (never to her). she didn't want them to see through her, but she wasn't one to lie. she wanted them to speak, and she wanted to listen. and perhaps, (please, a miracle, starclan willing) she wondered to herself, they would make her feel like she belonged.

set in present! after the latest group of humans have left
DELAWARE + JAMIE [:ripples:]
Eppy for mention

[DELAWARE]

Whiplash was the sort of cat who believed that ten minutes early was perfectly on time and on time was late, and he scheduled his life appropriately, arriving to every training session, meeting, and patrol with the kind of punctuality that sparked fear in the hearts of grown men. Luckily for everyone else, Whiplash's standards had been forced to soften after meeting the reality of Clan life. For a while, in his youth, he had been persistent and pointed in his early arrivals, but it ended up being more of a punishment to him, since then he had to sit twiddling his thumbs and bored out of his mind until the others showed up. That had been a long time ago; since then, he was often exactly on time (though it never quite sat right with him), and once in a blue moon he was even late. By a minute to two minutes, but still. It was progress.

There were some events, though, that Whiplash preferred to be early to, and a meeting with the leader was one of them. Around five minutes before the appointed time, Whiplash had arrived fully groomed, breakfast-ed, and exercised in front of the leader's den, settling himself down. He watched the Clan as he waited, expression assessing but surprisingly mellow. To the casual observer, he even appeared relaxed. Only those who knew Whiplash well could see the tightness at the corners of his eyes, the press of his mouth, the periodic flick of his ear, that indicated he, too, felt the pressure the whole forest was under. The humans had left again, taking with them more RiverClanners than Whiplash cared to think about, but he knew they would be back. Everyone knew it. At this point, it was just a matter of when.

And whether or not, Whiplash thought to himself, the Clan could survive another round. Morale was low, lower than he could remember it being in a long, long time. Cats were stressed, scared, cowed. It was affecting all of them; lately Whiplash's temper was so short as to be nonexistent, and in a real feat of personal growth he'd been taking on more solo work, unwilling to subject his anger on undeserving members of the Clan. The departure of the humans helped things, but it hadn't solved them. Tidestar had been sparse on the details, her own face tense with worry, but Whiplash could already guess what this meeting would be about. Whether or not he and the other senior warriors would have answers for her, on the other hand... Somewhere outside of the camp, a great racket began as a flock of ducks were disturbed, launching themselves into the air. Whiplash tracked their dark bodies over the reeds for a second; when he looked back down, he saw another senior warrior heading his way. "Good morning," he said, nodding respectfully and a bit approvingly. Only a minute or so left before the start time, now.


[ ooc I'm assuming it's morning but if it's not u can pretend he said whatever greeting was right lol chill. he's talking to whoever comes next! + JAMIE [:ripples:] ]

[+ JAMIE]

Nuts. Whiplash.

Almost turned around. Almost. Didn't. Three reasons:

1. Got up early for this.
2. Meeting with Tidestar. And:
3. Most important. Whiplash had already seen him. Good morning.

Small talk. "Yeah it is. Hi." Brusque. Not unfriendly. Not overfriendly. Since their fight: amicable terms. Not friends, not enemies. But not just professional coworkers. Even Cider's friends had remarked. "You're getting along better." The same tone. Careful amazement. A miracle in front of their eyes. Intervention by God.

As if. Cider wished he could tell them: nothing like mutually assured destruction to win friends and influence people.

Luckily (or not): the approaching destruction of the Clan overshadowed their weird relationship. Hard to think of anything else. Humans all over their land. Traps in every corner. Cats kidnapped. Day to day changes. No prediction. No pattern. No logic.

Exhausting.

Most days: too tired for thinking. Disturbed sleep. Awake at every noise. Last night no exception. Might have slept through for once (a blessing) but Cider's fatigue: infinite. All over his face. Whiplash's too.

Sat near Whiplash. Angled: not next to, not far away. Two men sitting in a hot tub. Copied him: watched the Clan.

"Know what you'll say to her yet? Because I've got no idea." Her = Tidestar. Say = answer the inevitable question. Only one reason to gather senior warriors. Well: two. But recent events were real party-killers. Call him a prophet. "No nightmares last night. At least." Looked over. "You?"

Mutually assured honesty? Enemies to confidants? Subtextual homoeroticism?

No use overanalyzing. Bare facts only. In the chaos: Cider trusted himself to be 100% honest with only Whiplash.

But not too honest. That took time to build. House foundation laid: structural support now. Hopefully Ripplestream would arrive soon. Or Tidestar would call them in. Whatever came first.

DELAWARE [:ripples:] chill

[DELAWARE]

As a general rule, Whiplash was not the type to be uneasy. The word was a clumsy one in his vocabulary, and if asked, he would have been hard-pressed to describe the feeling. Whiplash caused uneasiness; he didn't experience it. Even on the rare occasions - mostly in his youth - where he'd been an emotional disaster worthy of his name, he'd still approached life with stubborn certainty. And to be honest, he wasn't even sure that what he was feeling with regards to Cindersmoke was unease. All that Whiplash knew was that their interactions weren't... easy. Sure, they'd reached an agreement of sorts, and Whiplash felt a complicated mix of respect, trust, and frustration (well, a leopard couldn't change all their spots) towards the other warrior, but it had not led to social grace between them.

Case-in-point - Whiplash flicked an ear, trying not to betray his mild but instant aggravation - Cindersmoke was always so weirdly relaxed about things. It seriously threw Whiplash off. Like, here he was, chatting in the same convivial tone one might use to talk about the weather, with no hint to their shared history or Whiplash's secret or the fact that, you know, Whiplash had - ah - beat him up for learning said secret. Whiplash genuinely had left that conversation half-believing that Cindersmoke would never speak to him again. But no, Cindersmoke had spent one week exactly avoiding Whiplash like the plague, just as he had promised, and then, overnight, he had hit him with a level of "normal" that would put friendly lifetime college friends to shame. (There is probably some joke to be made here, but for the life of him, Whiplash couldn't see it.)

Truthfully, though, it had worn Whiplash down alarmingly quickly. Hence the whole uneasy-because-it's-too-easy business. Add in a dash of resentment because Whiplash didn't like having to deeply reconsider his personal relationships, a pinch of admiration because it wasn't just any cat who could even force him to get to that point, and here they were. Watching ducks. "I have a few ideas," he said finally, slightly more emphatically. This wasn't the weather they were discussing after all, no matter Cindersmoke's tone. "I would like to see what she says, first. Some of my ideas may not be useful, depending on that." It took him a longer moment to form a reply to the second question; it felt... too personal, somehow, but also not something he could shut down, like he would have in the past. "I had one two nights ago, but not since then," he said. "It wasn't too bad. They've been growing less severe. Or we've gotten too used to them." Honestly, with everything the Clan had been through over the past few years, the recurring nightmares felt more like permanent inconvenience than anything else.


[ ooc whiplash: *has a normal interaction with someone who, like any emotionally well-regulated adult, is willing to let bygones be bygones*
his 'you're-in-danger' spidey sense: *starts blaring*

+ JAMIE chill [:ripples:] a very indulgent post... sorry... ]