[Strelles] Strike the Match

Chapter 2: The Proposal (Edited)

Soŕi stared blankly up at the ceiling of their heir's den, frustration welling within him as the prickles beneath his pelt seemed to grow strong by the minute. He shuffled with discomfort, trying not to dislodge the siblings that have curled tighter around him as the sensation rapidly began passing from 'irritating' to 'unbearable.' It felt like the moment before Vrayashu reached down, the tense, charged air making his pelt stand on end and the roots of every individual hair on his pelt stung with the slightest movements he made. He was exhausted, his muscles now cramped from going straight to sleep after the fierce activity of the earlier morning and the ruddy tom had only gotten intermediate gaps of sleep as the sensation peaked, periodically waking him up. His ears flicked furiously, it felt like there was some kind of insect standing on him at all times, but no matter how deeply he checked for fleas and ticks, he was barren of both bastard creatures; the ashweed and silvermint rubbed into his pelt daily driving the pests away from him.

He sighed, finally giving in as he rolled to his paws. The usually soft and comforting pressure of the collar around his neck signifying his dedication to the Souls had suddenly become itchy and restrictive. The longer Soŕi tried to resist the urge to scratch at it, the worse it felt; like it was branding into his pelt, a painful heat quite unfamiliar to a cat of the Skies. Even the scales trailing down his chest and stomach that he paid little attention to felt dry and sore, as if he'd forgotten to care for them.

Soŕi stepped away from his siblings to ensure he wouldn't wake anyone as he raised his hind-leg giving his ears, then his neck a furious scratch in an attempt to alleviate the prickling sensation. It died a little, but his pads still tickled with an urge for movement.

He conceded to the feeling, rising to his paws and began to groom his pelt; removing the stray bits of bedding in one last effort to encourage himself to sleep. When it didn't work, he fully gave up and started towards the tunnel that would lead him outside. His pinna twitched at the slightly cooler night air drifting down the gently swooped tunnel, his mouth lightly parted as he tried to decipher who was on guard. He caught the eager and curious scent of his sister laced through the den walls from when she'd been quietly called out by their mother.

Soŕi dipped his head to Neŕes as he passed the tom who made a remark about him being moon-led.

He wasn't sure where he was going, mostly just intending to wander about until he felt sleepy. He avoided the kit's clearing, far too smart to risk waking up the kits or worse, disturbing their parents on the way past the healer's den, instead electing to just make a wide lap down towards the bottom of the clearing. The main camp wasn't completely devoid of life, many night-farmers were stretching, preparing to head out and swap shifts with those that had spent the daylight out in the field.

A flash of silver caught his eye and Soŕi slowed, watching with curiosity as he identified his sister sitting with their mother and a brown furred molly he recognized as Osheŕa. A slight smile twitched at his muzzle when he realized what was likely happening given that his sister had a guardian's charm resting at her paws. Soŕi's pinna flapped in excitement for his little sister, even if his mother's ears periodically pinned against her head before straightening again - she was permitting his sister to train but it was obvious she didn't like it.

Soŕi waited patiently until his sister was dismissed, her collar adorned with the charm identifying her as a newly named squire. His mother made her way up the far side of the clearing, speaking to the few elders that had fallen asleep outside of their dens in the warm night while Osheŕa veered towards the cavern where the guardians tended to gather into. When they were out of ear-shot, he rose to his paws and padded over to Ahasra who was stretching forward, extending her back-legs with a cautious expression; observing the way they bent.