[ti]Open[/ti]Look at the Stars

[M'Lady]

It wasn't uncommon for Whitepaw to sneak out of camp at night anymore. The apprentices had come to expect his nest to be cold in the morning, his mentor found that he was a minute or two late for training. He looked more exhausted  each and every day, and yet not a word would escape his muzzle. If they thought he'd been closed off before his sister died, that was nothing compared to now. He still did what he was asked to do, but nothing more. All of his free time was spent in the meadow, day or night. But of course, night time was his favorite. 

A cold breeze bit at his ears as he flattened them against his head, treading through the open forest to make his way to the meadow. It was dark, incredibly dark, and his snowy pelt shone stark white with the light of the moon. He looked like a ghost, haunting the lands which he used to hunt. He made his way quickly, icy eyes as cold and bright as the stars that lingered above. Finally, he was out of the trees, and was met with a large grassy meadow coated in frost. He slowed to a stop, soft pants fogging up the air before him. Then, he sat down, looking up at Silverpelt that stretched and twinkled above him. 

"Hi Ash," He spoke softly. His voice was deep, deeper than anyone would expect. And though it sounded a bit tired, it carried the same surprisingly musical tone as his sisters. "I'm sorry I couldn't come by last night," He murmured, hardly louder than the rustle of grass and leaves. "I was busy." He sighed, almost exasperated. "I don't know what to do around them. I can't talk, and I can't listen anymore." He glanced down at his snowy paws, flexing his claws as he did so. "They say I look like a ghost. I feel like one too. Not really there, but not really gone." Starry eyes looked up at eye-like stars. "I miss you. It's like missing my other half." He said that even softer, just barely a whisper. "What do they expect me to do?" 


(and there you have it, the most whitepaw has ever said ever)

[KingHarry]

A sniff disturbed the otherwise silent air around Whitepaw, revealing the approach of Mothstar. The leader of the forest's newest clan liked to wander off by himself sometimes. If he got into trouble, he was sure that he could hold his own - especially now he had nine lives - and so he never paid much thought to what he was doing. Instead, the hairy, hulk of a cat just impulsively went on a walk by himself sometimes - happy to spend some time alone with only his thoughts.

Today, though, he'd stumbled across a former clanmate. Had he accidentally wandered into MistClan territory? Possibly. It was certainly something that could happen while his thoughts were elsewhere.

"The dead can't respond to you, Whitepaw." Mothstar grumbled, moving to sit next to the apprentice. Surely he would be a warrior soon? That seemed correct if the leader's memory was to be believed. "They can hear you, but it's unlikely that you'll get an answer so there is no point in speaking with them."

Before he could say anything else, Mothstar sneezed - masses of fur flying in all directions as his head shook. He must have picked something up from someone in the clan, he supposed. Tallspark had been sneezing lately too, so perhaps from him? Not that it mattered. A cold wasn't going to harm anybody.

"You shouldn't be out this late. Go back to your camp." That was the reason why Mothstar had decided to speak with Whitepaw once he saw him - to tell him to go home. Apprentices, even older once that were on the verge of becoming warriors, shouldn't be wandering about in the night. They would surely end up getting hurt if they did that too often.

[M'Lady]

His white fur bristled with surprise as the Mothclan leader approached him, and every muscle in Whitepaw's body tensed. Had this been moons ago, before Ashpaw had died, and he was confronted with an enemy warrior, Whitepaw would've leaped at the intruder without a second thought. His duty was to the clan, he was dedicated to the clan. Now, he just felt tired, and greeted Mothstar with indifference. He felt compelled to respond to the leader's words, which was strange, Whitepaw never enjoyed social interactions with unfamiliar cats. Maybe he felt like he had to defend her. He always sprung to his sister's defense.

"I don't need her to respond." He spoke quietly, wincing as Mothstar sneezed, waiting for the tom to regain his composure before he added softly. "She'll answer me when I see her again." Then the apprentice fell silent, icy eyes drawn up to Silverpelt once again. He was a ghost walking with solid paws, if Mothstar didn't know him from his days in Mistclan, it would've been easy to mistake the apprentice for a Starclan cat as well. He glanced at the leader when he spoke again, and shrugged slightly. It didn't seem like Whitepaw had any intention of leaving. He just got here!
Besides, it wasn't like he could sleep much anymore anyway. He shook his head in defiance at Mothstar's words, instead choosing to curl his tail over his paws to get more comfortable. It was a chilly, but clear night. Ashpaw would be listening for him. And Starclan forbid he disappointed his sister.

[KingHarry]

"Ah, this is about Ashlark?" Mothstar guessed. His mind turned back to when he received his leadership name and how the deceased cat had given him a life. It had come with disobedience, if he remembered correctly. Not exactly something he thought was super useful, but oh well. He supposed he could claim he was using it to forge a place for MothClan alongside the other two clans in the forest.

Of course, he was not allowed to mention that aloud, though. Leaders were not supposed to speak of the naming ceremony that they went through.

"You shouldn't hope he see her again too soon, what with the fact that such a thing would require dying." Even though Whitepaw was in MistClan and not his own, Mothstar was not cruel enough to allow the young cat to have ideas about dying anytime soon. He'd get over Ashlark's death eventually - the leader was sure of that. Dying would just be wasting the life he could have.