nightly sighting [closed]

The night possessed a stark atmosphere of mystic mystery; perhaps, bleak to those who sought the radiant illumination of daytime... yet, for Featherpaw, one who flourished in the chilling comfort of silence, it was a space to revere. Nothing but the bercueuse of the stars, to gently lull her into serene tranquility; like a twinkling lullaby, always unheard, yet always to linger. Each scintillating lustre in the vast expanse of sky was like a heartbeat, a pulse, to listen. It was there. It would always be there. The darkness was the one thing that would never abandon her. Distance was an illusion; it was a quilt to envelop her, to embrace her when no one else would. Nostalgic rue would forever be a blessing, a burden, a perpetual accompaniment throughout life. There was always refuge in being solitary. There was always sanctuary in secrecy. There was always rapture in sentimentality.

And that was why the night was her best friend.

Perhaps, however, she was not the only one who sought its enchanting spell...

Since when had the world been so... muted?
She hadn't even realised that she had company.

Until a faltering voice piped up.

It was delicate; frail. The world wrote a tale of vulnerability.
And it evoked a reminder of herself.

Pewter. The moon touched Featherpaw framed her in chrome rays, as she revealed herself in its glaring spotlight; it was like the silver that emitted from the WindClanner's eyes, blinking like beaming orbs, fluorescing like the moon. Silver. Silver pupils, shimmering, shivering. Her face was traced with the scars of her story. This much could be ascertained: she was blind. This was a cat who had endured anguish, too. This was a cat who had, and still had, so much of life to crawl through. This was a cat who had been pried open by fate; this was a cat who would have and will have to live with rue. Featherpaw knew that this she-cat had been resilient, and strong. Fate was a foe. And... if they shared this aversary... was this an instant friendship.. too?

Another voice, mellifluent like honey resonated around the empty space. Those cerulean depths, captivating her with their contented sincerity, locked her into place. The ShadowClanner instantly radiated an aura of comfort, an essence of sweetness. Featherpaw instantly liked this her. As the stranger sighed about the dullness of life... she knew what she meant. Tired. This she-cat was tired; and Featherpaw knew how that felt better than anything. When was the last time she had ever... not been tired? Perhaps, it wasn't surprising when she found herself unable to answer her own question. Was her memory really that withered? Or... had it always spoken truth? Fatigue had flooded her chapters, and it had would continue to flood more. The words that the ShadowClan cat spoke reverebrated internally. Those were the same tasks that she forced herself to overperform, all just to... occupy herself. Maybe, it was becoming obsessive. But who would care? What else did she have to do?

What she mused upon the most was how similar their lives were,
despite the ShadowClanner speaking about...

Warriorhood.
Something she knew nothing about.

Everyday. All day. Moons; moons to come. When– no... if– I become a warrior... would it still be the same..? If hunting and fighting and patrolling is all that I'm ever destined to do, then... what's the point of it all? Would life forever be this... perpetual, mundane, tediously cliché routine; would we all descend into mechanical thoughtlessness, all tired in an inescapable, restraining system? If this is how the world works, couldn't they all... live without me? If we all have one, meaningless purpose... one life...

Would they care if...

There she went again. Spiralling into her clock of inevitable pessimism. Spiralling into oblivion of the world tracing her. It felt constricting. Silence had befell her once again. The clock ticked, the clock struck, and it shattered. Stars. How long had she been lost in her thoughts for...? How long had they been awaiting her response? Open your mouth and talk, Featherpaw!

"...O-Oh. I– uh– no, it's okay, everything's al.. a-alright. I.. I'm s-sorry to intrude."

A wavering, rasping exhale carved into her chest.

"I can.. l-leave.. now, if you want."