Someday (East Shore)(Closed)

ooc: this topic takes place after Falconwing's "Family Reunion" topic, I'm assuming at this point that cats have started talking and the main panic phase is over

Flintfang had awoke a while ago, washed up on a strange shore with mud entangled in his fur. It was Falconwing who had found him first. Her yellow eyes were the first thing to greet the tom after falling unconscious in the waves. They had become a familiarity over the past few moons, that soft, caring gaze. His mate was kind, understanding, and strong. So why now, did he stray?

His adopted daughters, Mosspaw and Lilypaw were both safe. Flintfang smirked as he remembered their first meeting. It was Falconwing that decided they'd take care of them, much to Flintfang's dismay. And it was Falconwing that gave him that soft stare that melted his resolve. "Fine." He had said, persuaded by only a glance. Now he was tied down, committed to his kits like roots were to the ground. He wanted nothing but the best for Mosspaw and Lilypaw, but why did he have to be responsible for that? It bothered him, not that he'd ever say it, but the feeling ate at him like a fox.

The small Twoleg nests that dotted the landscape cast long shadows over the shore, leaving some cats to the sunlight, and shielding others in darkness. Is it that easy? Flintfang thought to himself, feeling like a scoundrel. Are we really all just black and white? Good and evil? Narrowing his eyes, the gray tabby let his gaze fall on a pretty, diluted tortishell. No. Flintfang knew better. Nothing is one way or the other. There's always a gray area, always an exception. Burntstag would agree. So was straying from Falconwing now all that bad? What if he had fallen for another? What if he didn't like being tied down? Did that cast him into shadows alongside murders and traitors? NO. His mind pushed harder. He wanted this, needed this. And while Flintfang would never wish any hurt on Falconwing, it was time to leave. The gray tabby rose to his paws, padding between throngs of water-logged cats, dismayed and broken. He walked between the shadows and the light, the small nests casting stripes of darkness over him. He wanted to see her, the cat Burntstag had introduced him to last moon. Littlepaw. Daughter of Lichenmask, and sister of change. It was who he wanted to be, someday.

"Littlepaw." The tom breathed, coming to a halt by the apprentice, bathed in shadow. "...how are you?"

Littlepaw was licking her wounds alone, away from what little clan-mates she had and all the strange cats that had gathered. Her fur was spiked and muddy, her paws clogged with muck. She had gotten some scratches from being banged around and tossed through the rush of water, everything hurt. Places she never knew that could hurt or be uncomfortable, was. She was still horribly muddy in places she could not reach, often too sore to groom herself properly. Too tired and hurt to move around much, she had stayed where she had initially washed up only moving away from the water to slightly dryer ground. So imagine her surprise when a cat, a mere acquaintance found and approached her. She was glad that he had not found or approached her any sooner than he did, or she feared she would have regarded...( what was his name? Flintfang? Yeah, Flintfang) Flintfang with hostilities.

Blinking at him, it took a moment to process what he was asking. While he had been from another clan, she wasn't as much as a stickler for regarding those from another clan with immediate hostility, after all, she and her siblings had grown up surrounded by cats of other clans united under a cause. Under her father. "I'm... okay. I'm a bit sore but that's what I get for getting washed away! Not like I or any of these other cats could help it, y'know? H-How are you? Probably fairing pretty well considering you've managed to be pretty active thus far, I've been watching! Oh, that sounds weird, but I've been watching everyone? I've been trying to see how many cats got stuck here and you managed to catch my eye, but only because you're familiar! I've also seen Burntstag, my brother! But I haven't seen Slatestrike! I hope he's okay... a-anyways how are you?" Littlepaw mewed hurriedly, her face is expressive but her normally emotive body was as stiff as a board. Due to how sore she was, and maybe not stretching them out was a bad idea.

Flintfang felt a small grin tug at the edges of his maw. Littlepaw's monologue seemed to stir at his heart, gently, but boldly. The tom found a seat, wrapping his gray striped tail over his paws, waiting patiently for the she-cat to finish. His green eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to break her down, and note all her features, those fierce green eyes that bore into his soul, and the way her tortoiseshell pelt swirled like the stars in the sky. It had sparked a feeling within the warrior ever since he had first laid eyes on the she-cat. Admittedly, it scared him. Terrified him. Flintfang had never felt this way with Falconwing, while yes, he cared for the brown tabby, she didn't make stars dance in his eyes like Littlepaw could. It was cruel and he knew it. Why was one cat more special than the other? What set the two apart? How did he fall so deeply for a cat he'd known less than a moon? Millions of questions swam in the tom's mind, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize Littlepaw had finished her dialogue.

A few awkward moments passed before Flintfang composed himself and managed to speak. "I'm surviving, thank you." Playful sarcasm was carefully intertwined into the tom's voice, his smile grew bigger. It was uncharacteristic for Flintfang's face to portray such emotions, but it didn't surprise him. "Your family will be fine... Burntstag always talks about how strong you all are... I'm glad to hear he's safe too." His eyes never left Littlepaw's. It took all his willpower to stay cool and composed. Normally it came naturally to the tom, but all his walls had fallen. Both cats had been dirtied by the flood, sticks and burrs clung to their pelts, and mud was caked to their fur. A particularly big one was tangled to the front of Littlepaw's paw. Flintfang imagined that it must be painful, and lifted her paw with his, grasping at the burr with his teeth. The tom's pelt grew hot with embarrassment as he realized his actions, but continued to pull at the burr until it was free, depositing it on the floor.

"Uhh yeah, that was normal." Flintfang nodded, "I always do that..." That's a lie... Littlepaw must've thought him a mousebrain. Where had his confidence gone? Usually the tom carried around an overabundance of it, but it must've been washed away in the flood. "...sorry." He mewed defeatedly. You mousebrain!

Littlepaw seemed to blink, looking off to the side awkwardly during the silence that stretched momentarily between them. Littlepaw smiled softly, nodding as she made eye-contact with Flintfang's. Littlepaw didn't tear her eyes away, though found it a little bit awkward at the interest he was showing her. Was it polite to continue staring into his eyes? Did that mean something? She didn't make much eye-contact with her clan-mates, only ever doing it if they were telling her important things! Oh dear Starclan, did he like her? What would she do if he liked her?! Surely it was just the awkwardness of the situation, the stress of getting washed up? Yeah, that was it! And suddenly his paw was under her webbed ones, her fur over her cheeks heating up. And then he was bringing her paw closer to his mouth and her fur was rising against her back as her eyes got wider.

Warm breath brushed against her fur as he tugged out a large matted burr from her foot, and Littlepaw was minutes from imploding. And all too quickly or too soon her paw was hers again as she was staring up at Flintfangs green eyes in shock. "Th-Th-Thank you" She stuttered, her voice shaking. "That was very kind of you! I-I-I really ap-appreciate it!" All efforts to control her voice was all for naught, and in her embarrassment, she crouched and tucked her fluffy tail over her nose, her own eyes looking up at him. Once she got herself under a little more control she straightened back up and gave him a soft smile. Littlepaw's eyes flickered from his face and down his matted body, her eyes catching on a twig stuck in his tail. "Uhm.. he-here." She mewed bashfully as she leaned forwards and tugged said twig free. "Now we're even!" She chirped, determinedly shoving her embarrassment down into the dark abyss that was the negative emotions Littlepaw did her best to never touch. She saw what they did to her father, to Slatestrike, to Shade.

Flintfang's pelt flashed with heat as Littlepaw's muzzle neared his neck. He breathed out with shock as the stick was ripped from his fur, ears burning. "Thanks..." He gasped, green eyes narrowed to hide any facial expressions. The warrior watched her with a meticulous gaze, ever calculating. Every move Littlepaw made seemed to throw Flintfang deeper into the pit, he was falling for her. And it terrified him. The tom wasn't good with relationships, either he was too off-putting and cold, or he strayed too easily. Like with Falconwing... It made him paranoid, he wanted to believe there was something more, wanted to believe he was better. But am I? Flintfang shoved the thoughts down, claws digging into the mud. He was a scoundrel, disliked and distrusted by most of ThunderClan. He shouldn't even be seen with Littlepaw, let alone flirting with her. The warrior didn't want to ruin her reputation, feared getting her in trouble. After all, they were from different clans. Flintfang sighed, a mass of thoughts swimming in his head. They weren't painful like before, but still called for a solution. You're acting like you've been mates for moons... You barely know this cat!

Every thought seemed to push Flintfang deeper, he had fallen so fast, so hard. It didn't seem possible. The tom fought with himself for what felt like days... wrestling with his mind, searching for some sense of normality. Any words would be good, something to break the silence...

"It...doesn't feel real. The flood..." Flintfang let his gaze drift from the dilute calico, flicking over the shore. "My half-sister...Bluepaw, I saw her body on the shore... Dead... But, don't feel bad for me! I'm alright, really, I just..." He sighed, thinking. "I know we've all been hit hard by the storm... And, I mean, I'm here to talk to... if you need anyone..." The empathetic tone was rare, so much that it surprised even its speaker. Flintfang felt himself inhale slightly, shocked by the words that fell from his mouth. What's wrong with me...?