Relieve Me From Boredom [Seer/Oryx]

Minkstar was gone. It was fine, Atalante told herself. She was only here to care about Waterlily and her unborn kits. Saving the tom had only been a way to get a foot in the camp entrance, and anything that happened after that hadn't been her fault. Still, there was a faint tug of grief at her heart. He'd seemed like a good tom, and going out like that, in a sicknest, body simply too weak to continue living, had been an unpleasant sight. Atalante had stayed quiet and kept out of the way of the brown and white deputy and the tortoiseshell she-cat that had been by his side at the end, though the choice had been just as much her own as it was the fault of her broken ribs. They would take time to heal, and until then she was to have the nest and not be thrown out of camp.

It really was the little things.

She'd spent most of the past few days sleeping, but for the moment she was awake. The effects of the herbs she'd been given were beginning to wear off, and Atalante was acutely aware of the agony in her side with each breath. It made it difficult to think, let alone sleep, so she lay awake, ears twitching at the faint sounds that entered the den from the rest of camp. Rays of cold sunlight filtered in through the den entrance, just reaching her messy tortoiseshell fur, and she sighed quietly to herself. The den was unoccupied, and Atalante struggled not to fidget. She hadn't realized how much she would miss her brothers and sisters until she was suddenly alone, with nobody to talk to and surrounded by strangers. What she wouldn't give for a bit of conversation, even with some of the clan cats to learn more about where she would be staying for the foreseeable future.

Chance and bringer of fortune had turned stubborn winds in the long-awaited favor of Achelois; idle wandering had brought her upon the reluctant path of Stoatfur, who in turn bore her forwards to the awaiting curiosity of Minkstar, though she didn't quite fully understand the diplomatic rapport between the odd pair. Then the great grace of death allegedly visited Minkstar over and over, rending her sudden presence within the possession of ThunderClan virtually unseen in the aftermath of such an apparent tragedy. Though Achelois could not feign the energy or engagement to care entirely too much, for now she was nothing more than a stranger without a name, left free of the perpetual chafing she often endured with any passing responsibility.

Her newest comradery of consorts hardly spared her a glance, usually offering only slim cuttings of speech when she failed to meet the standard of appropriate behavior by wince-worthy markings. It gave her the freedom to explore, the forest and subsequent home of ThunderClan an entirely alien world; ever too quiet even at its loudest, the snow-suffocated forest often claustrophobic on the best of days. It was different, it was terrifying, it was exciting, it wasn't her home, but it was where she happened to be now. By her own doing. Though having Achlys here at her heels for every turn made it all the easier, a singular remnant of home and kinship always a toss in her sleep away.

A strange, pungent stench often wafted across the freezing air, slipping from the cool shade of an unknown den; it burned the throat and nose in a way that resembled the cold, making Achelois' eyes ripple with unshed tears when she had first trekked just on by. However, the faintest sounds of stirring incurred her interest, which happened to be quite the timely intervention seeing as though she found her sister currently sprawled out within the stale confines of a medical confinement nest.

"Ata!" Achelois gaped, jaw ajar with surprise at the sudden recognition of her littermate evidently stuck in this half-inhabited space, "what in the are you doing here?"

The arrival of the duo in camp had been so poorly timed, coinciding perfectly with the death of ThunderClan's leader who she had barely known for a few dawns before his passing, and she had felt a pang of sharp worry seeing his body spread across the camp for a last vigil as that was the only reason she had been permitted entrance. Her sister, who she adored, had barely flinched, instead continuing to traipse around the camp as if she owned it, insisting upon spending time with the deputy who was not much more than sharp insults and contemptuous snorts. Achlys had hid hard in her shadow, visibly worried about the warriors who seemed to scowl at their mere presence.

And stars- what about that other clan? ShadowClan? What happened when they discovered she now resided in the clan that preferred the canopy of the trees, would they kill her for her families attack on their clan? Would she be outcasted and separated from the sibling she had followed in all aspects of life? The worry was weighing on her, and she only slightly envied the way Achelois seemed to worry for nothing, finding more happiness in seeing her sister prance about like nothing bothered her. Today was another day of sticking to her, following her towards the den that reeked of sharp plant odours and stale cat-scent. As they made their way in, Achelois had gasped, and Achlys' eyes immediately darted to the source, her own jaw dropping a little.

"Ata!" The molly purred, tail waving in greeting, finally finding enough confidence to push past Achelois and settle next to her sister. "What happened to you?" She queried, narrowing her eyes as she noticed her breath hitch a little in pain when she inhaled.

Pawsteps sounded outside the den, and two cats were pushing their way inside. It was with a delighted grin that Atalante realized they weren't clanners, and their faces were as familiar to her as those of her parents. "Achelois! Achlys!" She purred in greeting. "I could ask the same of you, you know." She added.

"I helped Minkstar kill a dog. Broke my f-" A sharply indrawn breath announced the injury easily enough. "Broke my ribs in the process. They say it'll heal, but I'm stuck in here for now. Can you believe it? This den reeks and it's so quiet." She huffed. "He said he'd let me stay until I healed at least, and then they'd decide if I could join or not. Of course, he's dead now, so who knows where Stoat- Stoatstar's head is at. It's good to see someone familiar, though. What have you two been up to?" If they were here to protect the yet-to-be-met Waterlily, Atalante hadn't been told of it.

Despite the sudden forcing of movement inflicted upon Achelois' statuesque figure at the intervention of Achlys, a wide gaze remained fixed upon the sprawled shape wreathed in dappled light and strange smells; offering little but a reflective gleam in the exceedingly limited light offered by the reclusive protection of such a vital place within camp. "Just out making friends!" Though clean and bright, well-rehearsed and sweet enough upon the tongue for wandering ears and eyes to trust to be organic and without any fault, it was not the truth.

But what was the truth? Why had she come, why had she dragged her most cherished nestmate out into the world that held little regard for creatures such as them?

The surprise of finding her sister, one who she didn't willingly entangled down in the continual threading of her own disorganized webs, coiled hotly with a sharp flaring of guilt and upset which resided tight within her seized lungs. How had she gone unknowing of her littermate's presence within the same confines of this strange little home, how had her Stoatfur withheld such critical information from her prying insight? Faint weatherings of distress gentled the ever-coy expression which the young molly often adorned, perceivable only to those skilled enough to read such a well crafted mask.

"I can't believe you'd think it's reasonable to kill a dog Ata," Achelois plaintively admonishes in lieu of expressing the latest chafing wearing against her already tightly-constrained sense of being, instead leaning forward to bump a gentle cheek against Atalante's own with a greatly exaggerated shudder of dismay, "the forest is no place to find your grave! You can hardly even hear the birds sing in this place."

Stoatstar had witnessed the pelts of their newest clanmates disappearing into the medicine cat's den. For as agitating as he found the loner he had met on the border, she was persistent and generally seemed more flighty than anything. Regardless of his own reservations, Minkstar had declared them to be clanmates and so, she had her sister were as Thunderclan as the rest; a leader's word was law. To Stoatstar, death did not change a single thing. He briefly paused in his pursuits, remembering the last time he had laid paw inside this den. It had been some time and he couldn't avoid it forever.

Taking a deep breath, the little brown and white tom pressed on. He'd been meaning to speak to them anyways, and the other loner who lay recovering. It had occurred to him once or twice that perhaps the similarly pelted rogues might have some sort of connect. Stoatstar would not have been shocked but he had not found the time to ask, or really press. Flicking his tail, he slipped through the entrance to where they had already been chatting away. Perhaps this was a reunion of sorts. His eyes narrowed but only for a moment.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." He tipped his head in a slight question, stopping a fair distance away from the she-cats.

The purr continued to rumble in her chest, even after Atalante explained the circumstances of how she ended up here, and she felt a pang of guilt she had hardly noticed her littermate not coming home yet. Everything after Apollo's death had felt stagnant and empty, and she had simply clung onto Achelois when she was back to a functional state, an almost refusal of their normal way of life back home. This attachment had only grown stronger with their trek into the forest, but now there was another of her siblings here- Achlys felt like she could release the breath she was holding.

"I'm glad you're okay," The molly murmured, whiskers twitching in amusement at Achelois' dramatic reaction, venting her lack of love for the forest, a sentiment that was shockingly not echoed by the calico. Still, she remained silent, quietly content in the presence of her sisters. As if life itself was watching with a smirk, the content feeling evaporated like morning mist as Stoatstar made his way in, and instead her fur raised a little- her sister's positive attitude towards the tom not being reciprocated with Achlys.

As he paused with a bit of distance, the question lingering in the air made her feel deeply uneasy. Achelois and Atalante could handle this one, she decided, choosing to stay silent like she had when she first met Stoatstar.

Atalante laughed at Achelois' words, then immediately regretted it, wincing at the sharp pain of her ribs. "Well, it wasn't what I'd intended. Better the dog than us, though." She was alive, that was what was important.

"I'm healing... I'll be glad to not be cooped up in a dark den all day." She mewed, offering Achlys a small smile. She was glad to see that her sisters seemed well, too. It was nice to have some company in the quiet den.

Naturally, they weren't the only cats to show up. Perhaps two rogues slipping into the medicine den had garnered attention, only natural, after all. Atalante glanced up at the brown and white tom, whiskers twitching. She didn't know Stoatstar all that well, and couldn't tell what he thought of the situation.

"Not at all." She replied, "If I'd known they were here, I would've tried dragging myself out of this den sooner. It gets boring in here." If he didn't know they were siblings, he'd know soon enough or had to at least speculate. Their pelts were simply too similar in coloration to be anything but family.

The liminal moment, an infinitesimal reprieve of comfort cocooned away within the reclusive darkness of the pungent shade of the cleft, was all too sweet to last; what little protection offered in the stifling darkness of the relatively unused space was abruptly waxed wayward under the abrupt entrance of a fourth figure, chilly tendrils of judgement ever present upon the tactless air.

Whatever relieved remark had been weighing upon her tongue in response to Atalante, so elated at the sudden and strange little reunion between littermates that she had evidently paid too little to the reality of unwelcome eyes always lingering her eyes, promptly curled up and died upon her tongue in the place of continual humor and greed. Pale cheek remaining perched against the high ridge of her sister's own, Achelois pale gaze gleamed reflective and all-consuming within the limited light of the disarrayed Medicine Cat's den, posture relaxed where Achlys might've faltered.

"My, my," Achelois eventually trilled out, soft voice reverberating under the weight of her own rasp, "you sure do have a nasty habit of conveniently showing up wherever I might roam. Are you spying on me, Stoatstar?" The new moniker sounded strange upon her tongue, but the syrup-sweetness of her ever present need to control a situation held fast against the unfamiliarity. With the three of them clustered together as such, it was likely easy to piece together the similar oddities in their their mirror-like appearances. Easy to figure out a sharing of the blood, had their names not clued him in before. Though, truthfully, she cared little for Stoatstar knowing such things; he seemed only to actively scorn what parts of her were difficult to mold.

"Nobody informed me that you were hiding another visitor away in here, with hardly anything to keep her comfortable or entertained!"