ONCE UPON A DECEMBER | joining

[cyantist]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-size:10pt;font-family:verdana"]It had been to long since she was last here. She had fought for groups that had fallen, and she had not seen her family in almost two years at least now, if she had to guess. That mattered not she supposed, but she had heard of another group, one that she was interested in checking out. Was the rumour that her brother was leading what led her to at least be somewhat curious about the group?

She hadn't seen him in, well, ages. Song had long lost track of her family, from her mother and father to all of her siblings. When she caught the name of Jericho being passed round as the leader of a group called Sunhaven, well, it would be a wasted opportunity to not go and see what was going on. It is for that reason that she finds herself approaching the floating town, bright and colourful and unlike anything she had ever seen.

The black cat looks bewildered as she approaches, the ribbons around her shoulders fluttering gently in the wind. They are wrapped tighter around her forelegs, with only small sections able to flutter so that they don't impede her movement. After all, she can always loosen them to dance. It is this state of near-wonder that she waits for someone to find her.

[ceilidh]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 520px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; font-family: arial; text-transform: lowercase;"]She couldn’t resist the temptation of exploring. All of this land to navigate through, expanses of mountains and meadows nestled into the peaks. Bridgette knew she had things to do, materials to prepare to open her shop, but she wrote off her adventuring as ... supply and stock gathering. Yes, she was collecting an inventory for her shop but also frolicking through the territory. It wasn’t her being lazy, she was multitasking. Her life had always been work, work, work, and now she had nothing to do. Bridgette was enjoying her first moments of play, of freedom. She’d never felt like this, ever, and was learning to let go as an adult.

So she happened upon Wardance with a wide grin, almost passing by the stranger with a nod of her head. But she didn’t recognize the feline, and paused mid-step, looking back over at her. "Hey, I’ve never seen you here before ..." Birdie hummed, shoulders bobbing as she padded over to the black cat. "You're in Sunhaven, I’m Bridgette, what can I do for you?" The blonde tabby questioned, giving a warm smile to Wardance. Her ... ribbons were intriguing, something that seemed to fit right in with the creative bunch that dwelled in Sunhaven.

[cyantist]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-size:10pt;font-family:verdana"][color=#C9B0BE]"I've never been here, so I would assume not." She replies to Bridgette coolly, perhaps with a little more hostility than she intends. It works it's way into her voice most of the time, so Song is aware that she sounds like a bitch. She is also aware that the majority of the time, she also is a bitch, so what is detracting from the usual impression?

[color=#C9B0BE]"I heard that a cat named Jericho is leading your group. I am Cries and Songs of War, or Warsongs if you would rather not recite the long name. I believe that he may be my brother, although it has been years since I last saw him." She gives her reasoning for coming, before pausing with a sigh. [b][color=#C9B0BE]"I would also like to join if that is the case."

[jericho]

It's been a long time since Jericho has even thought about his family — longer than he'd like to admit.  His childhood is made up of flashes in his mind, and suddenly just... nothing.  He remembers leaving his birthclan for a long time and then returning to find that nothing was the same.  He carried that guilt with him for a long time, he carried all of that regret and longing for a place that no longer existed.  Eventually he found a new place and began calling that home, and for a while it felt like a betrayal until it just didn't anymore.  He figures that's when he learned to let go, when he realized that he'd never see any of his childhood friends and family again and it was best to simply move on.  So he did.  He's thought exceedingly little of the people and places of his youth ever since.

Similar to Bridgette, Jericho tends to use exploration as a form of particularly pleasant escapism.  On one hand he's trying his best to get to know every dip and rise in the earth of the territory that's somehow supposed to be his, but on the other he simply takes solace in the canopy.  Nature has always been a kind reassurance — especially the flowers.  The little tabby likes to go herb hunting in his free time, and not only for supply.  New and alien as this territory is, it's nice to think that marigolds are still marigolds and lavender still lavender no matter where he goes.  It's a comforting reminder, a beautiful constant.  Whenever he can he spends his time wandering aimlessly, collecting plants in the little leather satchel that drags just slightly by his side.

He's just closing his bag when he hears muffled voices carried in the passing breeze.  Ears pricked, the Sunhavener moves to investigate, wondering vaguely as to what it might be — new as they are, there have been few visitors as of yet.  Jericho arrives as Bridgette finishes speaking, but he pauses before doing so himself, stricken with the familiarity of the stranger's scent.  It's one of those smells that takes you back to a different time, but exactly what it is he cannot place.  He finds his brows furrowing in thought — and then she speaks her name, and suddenly the puzzle piece clicks into place.  "Warsongs," the Helion echoes, both in vague disbelief and confusion, as if he's uncertain that it could be true.  It is though; he doesn't know how, but he can tell.  "I-I — I mean, yeah, um, it's me," he adds hurriedly, shaking himself from his train of thought, "H-How've you been?  I, um... it's been so long, I, ah, I didn't think..."  The blind feline finds himself trailing off, gnawing gently upon his bottom lip in contemplation once more.  He didn't think he'd ever see her again?  No, he supposes not, but he hesitates at saying it aloud.  The ginger tabby's words seem to hover in the air until finally he smiles; it's meek, and yet almost relieved in its tired warmth.  "I... um, sorry, i-it's good to see you again."

[cyantist]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-size:10pt;font-family:verdana"]She watches the Hellion as he reaches the correct conclusion. Somehow, the stutter in his voice is irritating to her. She thinks that if he is a leader, he should sound more certain, more forceful. Song has a hard time imagining him leading a group, but she keeps that thought to herself and hums in confirmation when he says her name. At least he remembers that, as she remembers his name.

The past, their birthclan, is a murky and misty memory. She remembers leaving clearly, and then the rest is taken by the clutches of time and the idea that she doesn't care all too much. She was not shaped by the clan of her birth, or by her parents. She was shaped by her training, her dancing, her fighting. That is who she was - perhaps her given name reflected the path she would always take.

[color=#C9B0BE]"It has been too long." She offers, a clear contrast. He seems so uneasy, as if he anticipating her to snap at him or something. At the question of how she has been, the answer catches on her tongue and she doesn't reply straight away. The silence stretches on a little too long to be comfortable, so she ignores it entirely. [color=#C9B0BE]"There is no need to apologise. Our paths diverged, tis fate's fault not yours. Ah, it is good to see you too."
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